by J. D. Faver
“You did?” Oz put a forkful of food in his mouth.
“I did,” she said, her eyes alight. “Methodists. There are lots of them out there. They get married and need photographers, too.”
Oz smiled at her and continued to eat.
“And I went back to Gus’ and printed the rest of the proofs on the new memory card. I returned the rented camera and paid for the aluminum case I used to bash Luka with.”
Oz laughed. “You’re going to keep it?”
“Sure. It’s a darned good case.”
“It came in handy,” Oz said. “Since I was taking a nap on the concrete.”
“That was horrible, Oz.” Micki shuddered. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Not me, baby.” He winked at her. “You’ll never lose me.”
Micki looked at him, suddenly solemn. “I didn’t think I’d lose my dad either. I thought he was Superman, but it turned out he was just a human being after all.”
Oz put his fork down. “Sorry, Micki. I didn’t mean to bring up anything that would make you sad.”
She swallowed the lump that had unexpectedly formed in her throat. She gave his arm a stroke. “I’m just aware that you’re not invincible and I don’t want to lose you, so do something for me, Oz.” She fixed him with an intense gaze.
“Anything, Micki,” he said. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Be safe. Don’t take reckless chances. I need you in my life.”
Oz pulled her into his lap. “I don’t know what put all this in your head, but I do my job pretty well.”
“I know,” she said. “But don’t be Superman.”
“I’m not Superman,” he said.
“How’s your meal?”
“Super meal,” he pronounced with a grin.
#
Oz spent the next morning sorting through the pile of files he’d gathered from Lloyd’s office. The dog-eared folders contained voluminous amounts of paper and scribbled notes regarding his various employees. There were absentee reports and annual evaluations and doctor’s excuses and even a few injury reports. The collected information concerning the Park Departments maintenance men was generally less than enlightening.
Oz compiled names and ran them all through the system to see if there were any hits. More than one had a rap sheet, but other than the aforementioned Leo, nothing major showed up.
He set the files aside and walked down the hall to the lab where he found Aida peering into a microscope.
“Hey, Aida,” he said. “Anything interesting?”
“Not to normal people,” she said. “However, I find it fascinating.”
“You’re normal, Aida,” he said. When she looked up at him with a puzzled expression, he added, “In a weird sort of way.
She smiled and looked back into the microscope. “I’m looking at hair follicles.” She made a minute adjustment to the setting. “This hair follicle was found in the boat with the blood spill. It may have been there before the body was dumped, but it definitely doesn’t belong to Randal Knox.”
“And how do you know that?” He asked because he knew she liked to be asked.
“Randal’s hair was a nice dark brown and it was loaded with steroids.
This particular hair is lacking pigment and the former owner is taking Vicodin.”
“What do you mean, lacking pigment? Like an albino?”
“Good gracious no.” Aida laughed raucously. “You’ve been seeing way too many movies. I mean lacking pigment as in aging. Loss of original color.”
“I’ve got to go!” Oz ran down the hallway.
#
Lloyd opened his office door to Oz. “Well, come in. I’ve been expecting you.”
Oz sighed and handed him the armload of file folders, his chest heavy with regret. Regret for what he was about to do in the line of duty.
Lloyd dumped the files on his desk.
“Sir, would you step outside?” Oz asked.
“Sure,” the old man said. He indicated a wood bench sitting along side the entrance to the maintenance office. “You mind if I sit down? My arthritis has been acting up lately.”
“No sir. Go ahead.” Oz shifted his weight. “You take something for pain?”
“Vicodin when it gets bad.” Lloyd rubbed his hands together.
In uniform, Vinnie stood a short distance apart, allowing enough space for the two men to talk and yet providing back up if needed.
As if. Oz snorted in disgust. “I didn’t find your employee file with the others.”
“It’s in the front office. I don’t keep my own file.” He gave Oz a look that told him it was a stupid question in Lloyd’s opinion.
“Your full name is Lloyd J. Montgomery and your daughter is Lissa Montgomery?”
“That’s right. Lissa is my baby girl. I couldn’t allow her to be hurt again.” He looked up at Oz. “Did you ever love someone so much that you’d do anything for her and never mind the consequences?”
A slight roiling in his gut acknowledged the question. “Yes, sir,” Oz said. “I know just how you feel. I have to take you down to the station. You can make your statement there.”
“Sure,” Lloyd said. “Let me lock up here.” Lloyd stepped back into the office and fished the pry bar out of his tool bin. He handed it to Oz. “You’ll be wanting this.”
Oz gave himself a mental head slap when he realized he’d handled the murder weapon the last time he’d visited Lloyd Montgomery’s office.
Lloyd took a faded jacket off a hook and locked the door before turning to Oz again. “I was just trying to protect my girl.”
“I understand completely,” Oz said.
Vinnie drove the squad car and Oz sat beside him, turned so he could watch the prisoner. Lloyd looked shriveled and frail as he slouched on the rear seat, his expression devoid of hope.
When Lloyd gave his statement to Lieutenant Qualls, Oz stood silently in the back of the interrogation room. Lloyd removed his frayed baseball cap and set it on the table in front of him. Released from its confines, his mass of graying hair presented damning evidence of his presence in the boat used to dump Randal Knox in the lake.
Oz offered him a cup of coffee, cringing at the look of gratitude he received in return.
He listened to Lloyd explain that Randy had come by the Montgomery home looking for Lissa on her night off but that she’d gone to a movie with a girl friend.
“I told him not to come around because of the restraining order, but he just laughed and asked me what I thought I could do about it.” Lloyd removed a cotton handkerchief from his pocket and blotted his eyes before noisily blowing his nose. “I told him I was gonna call the police, but he shoved me against the wall. Then he grabbed me and lifted me off my feet. I felt like a darn moron with my feet dangling in the air.” He cleared his throat and glanced from Lieutenant Qualls to Oz, his expression grim.
“Then what happened, Mr. Montgomery?” Oz prompted.
“He was making fun of me, but I didn’t care what he said about me,” Lloyd’s mouth twitched. “But he told me he was going to wait for Lissa and I couldn’t let him do that so I hit him with the pry bar. It was hanging on the loop of my pants right here.” He put his finger in a cloth loop sewn into the side seam of his pants. It was designed to hold tools.
“Mr. Montgomery,” Oz interrupted. “At the time you struck Mr. Knox were you suspended in the air?”
Lloyd turned to look at Oz with surprise. “Why, yes. I was dangling there like a complete fool while he was threatening my baby girl.”
Oz exchanged a glance with Qualls.
“Thank you Mr. Montgomery,” Qualls said. “We appreciate you coming in. I’ll have to hold you, but I doubt that the District Attorney will bring charges.”
Lloyd looked from Qualls to Oz. “You mean it?”
Lieutenant Qualls shook his head, solemnly. “Mr. Montgomery, Randal Knox threatened you. He injured your daughter and violated the TRO you filed against him. The fact that he h
ad his hands on you amounts to assault. That you struck him definitely constitutes self defense.” He stood up. “I’ll talk to the DA, but I don’t think he’ll be bringing a case against you. You can wait in a holding cell while I confirm this.”
As if in a daze, Lloyd picked up his hat and jammed it back on his head. He stood and shook each man’s hand in turn.
Relief flooded Oz’ insides. He blew out a stream of air through his pursed lips, glad that he didn’t have to stress out the man who had done what Oz would have done to protect someone he loved.
Qualls got Vinnie to take Lloyd to a holding cell while he left a message for the District Attorney. He turned to Oz and shook his head. “A jury would never convict that man.”
“Not if there were any parents on the jury,” Oz agreed. “What about the body dumping?”
“I’ll talk to the DA. I think we can drop it.” He clapped Oz on the shoulder. “Good work on closing out this case. It’s not always about a conviction.”
#
CHAPTER NINTEEN
Oz was quiet during dinner and remained distant afterward. He sat, staring at the television screen but hadn’t turned it on.
Micki left the dishes on the counter and sank down beside him. He was wrapped so tight she was reluctant to intrude. She hesitated, starting to rise when he didn’t acknowledge her presence. “Have I done something to upset you?”
Oz frowned, focusing his gaze on her. “No, baby. I’m sorry. It’s work.” He put his arm around her and drew her back onto the sofa.
“Are you mad or sad? I can’t tell,” she said.
“I’m disappointed,” he said, “in myself. I put a man ...no, a whole family through a lot of misery today. I thought I was onto something and I went after them, rooting around in their personal lives and I brought up some things they would have preferred that I hadn’t.”
Micki had never seen Oz so introspective. He was always sure and confident. “You were just doing your job.”
He nodded. “But there are consequences. I saw Hobart Jobe’s face. He looked like a squashed bug when he left the station. I caused that pain. I was so sure the Jobes were involved, but all their secrets revolve around their sexual relationships and, even then, I only have Laurel Jobe’s word that Hobart is a player.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand people like that.”
“You don’t have to, Oz,” she said. “Finding the killer was your assignment and that’s what you did. You had to follow up on all the leads that you uncovered.”
“I couldn’t stand by silently if I knew you were having an affair.” He gazed into her eyes. “I could understand if Jobe wanted to kill his wife’s lovers, but I can’t understand why he didn’t.”
Micki grinned at him. “You are such a guy. Some basic cave man DNA must have filtered down to you.”
Oz’ face split into a grin. “I guess I’m pretty basic all right.” He raised her hand to his lips. “I’m just bummed that I caused the Jobes to have to acknowledge their pathetic little lives.”
A fit of laughter assailed her. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You must be the only person in the world to feel sorry for them. People hate them for all that they have. People envy them for their power and possessions, but nobody feels sorry for the Jobes.”
“I’d rather be us,” he said.
“Me absolutely too.” Micki placed a kiss on the side of his mouth, right where the dimple appeared if he was grinning; only he wasn’t grinning. He hugged her, but his melancholy continued to prevail.
“So, it was the father of the Jobe’s nanny who killed her boyfriend?” she asked.
“Lissa had a restraining order against the dead guy so she technically wasn’t dating him at the time of his death, but I gather she still had feelings for him.” Oz absently stroked her hair as he stared into the darkened television screen. “The ex came looking for her and her father tried to protect her and resisted when he was attacked. He dumped the body to keep the fact from his daughter.”
Micki nodded. “I see what’s going on. Cave man having sympathy for killer because he understands crime of passion.”
He looked at her earnestly. “I can understand doing anything to protect someone I love. To protect you.”
“I know that Oz. It’s just one of the many things I love about you, but it’s also one of the things that makes me crazy. You don’t think I can take care of myself.”
Oz looked at her, quirking up one side of his mouth in a funny little smile. “No, I don’t.”
“Don’t make me remind you about Luka.”
“Ha! You’re feeling pretty good about that, aren’t you?”
“I’m just pointing out that I’m not as helpless as you think.”
Oz narrowed his eyes, giving Micki a look that sent a shiver down her spine. “And you’re not as tough as you think either.”
#
The next morning Oz got an early call from the dispatcher. Yawning, he sat up, running his fingers through his hair and squinting at the clock. Four thirty. Too early for Micki.
He gazed at her sleeping soundly, like a child with her arms flung wide. Any other time he would lay back down beside her and enjoy the fact that she was in his life, that they were engaged and that she would wake up and he would make love to her again.
He slipped out of bed, grabbed his clothes and crept to the bathroom with as much stealth as he could muster. He stubbed his toe and gritted his jaw together to keep from cursing aloud.
When he left, he set a quickly scrawled love note on the bedside table to explain his absence. It had ended with, ‘call me when you wake up’.
He smiled as he drove to the crime scene. Yes, he was a lot luckier than Hobart Jobe.
Pulling up into the alley behind the Jobe Towers, he parked along side the police cars with red and blue flashing lights reflecting off the buildings.
Vinnie was there in a patrol car. “Hey, Oz,” he called. “Look at this guy.”
Oz followed Vinnie to the dumpster and stopped cold when he recognized the victim slumped against the brick wall with his mouth hanging open. He felt a fist clench in his stomach as he looked into the blank, staring eyes of yet another of Laurel Jobe’s lovers. Jason Best had been shot at close range with a small caliber weapon.
Perhaps Hobart Jobe had blood instead of ice water running through his veins after all.
Oz squatted down beside the body, shining a flashlight over it. He could see gun powder residue on the side of Jason’s face and the tiny hole behind his right ear. Only a small trickle of blood escaped indicating that the killer used a hollow point that had exploded on impact and would leave minute fragments inside Jason’s skull for the coroner’s man to retrieve.
There were no defensive wounds. His skin had lost the bloom of his fake tan. Jason was dressed in a set of fleece warm ups and his cross-trainers.
Oz wondered if Jason had been coming from or going to Jobe Towers at the time he was killed. He stepped back and let the crime scene photographer do his thing. Another tech stood by to gather trace evidence that might bring the killer to justice.
“Whadda ya’ think, Oz man?” Vinnie asked.
“It looks like someone dragged the body back behind the dumpster to keep it from being seen right away. The back of his white tennis shoes have scuff marks.”
“Good one, Oz,” Vinnie said.
“Let’s expand the perimeter and see if we can find the murder site.”
Oz directed the other officers to block off both ends of the alley and he and Vinnie searched the area with the crime techs.
“Here’s a shell,” Vinnie called and a tech photographed and bagged it. “It’s small, a twenty-two, I think.”
“It’s a twenty-five caliber shell casing, Sir,” the tech said.
“One thing for sure,” Vinnie said. “It wasn’t that Luka guy. He’s in the slammer.”
Oz tried to envision Hobart Jobe gathering enough passion to cap his wife’s boy toy, but couldn’t.
#
When Micki awoke, she felt disoriented, not knowing where she was for a moment. The missing factor was that Oz’ big loving form wasn’t wrapped around her. She stretched out her arms and legs, trying to take up the whole bed by herself, but it wasn’t the same.
She rolled over and spied his note. Smiling, she reached for it. Call me. He says, call me.
Micki dialed his cell and waited until he answered.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“What time did you leave?” she asked.
“Way too early. I’ll try to come home for lunch. Any leftovers?”
She chuckled. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to anchor me here so I don’t go out.”
There was a silence. “Maybe.”
She heard the grin in his voice. “Face it, Oz. I’ve got your number.”
“And I’ve got yours,” he said. “Is there any reason why you can’t put off whatever you have planned and meet me there for lunch?”
“No, there isn’t. I have no plans and will be happy to nuke some leftovers for our lunch. And, I’ll be naked.”
There was another silence. “Naked?”
“Just in case.” She hung up giggling.
#
“What are you grinning about,” Lieutenant Qualls surprised him with a clap on the shoulder.