by Al Boudreau
“I might have something, here,” he said while holding up a tattered envelope between us. “Postmarked June eighth, and mailed from Afghanistan.”
I stopped sorting and focused my attention on the find. “Let’s hope that sucker contains something we can use,” I said as he tore it open and removed the contents.
I watched James’s lips moving as he began reading what ended up being a long, hand-written letter. No more than five seconds had passed when his expression changed. “Here we go, here we go, listen to this. ‘Telling me we’re done in a letter was a real bitch move, Robbie, and you know it. You won’t answer my calls. You won’t respond to my emails. Did you meet another guy, or what? I’m so totally pissed-off right now, I could rip someone to shreds.’” James tossed the first page into my lap then continued to read the remainder of the letter.
I looked over the passage James had quoted, then began reading from the top to get a feel for where Jackson Cole’s head was at.
“Here’s another bombshell,” James said. “‘Don’t it just figure you’d hit me with this right after I find out I’m heading home. You might want to make yourself scarce by the time I get there. I can’t make any promises about how I might react once we’re face-to-face.’”
“Whoa. That’s damning stuff, right there.”
“Yes, it is. We got our break.” James went silent for a beat, then said, “Give Sarah a call over at The Shallows. See if Bruce Scott will let her back into Cole’s place. I’d like to have a second document with this guy’s handwriting on it to show Chief Goodhue when we hit him with this. I don’t want him to have any reason to refuse to authorize a formal manhunt for our boy Jacko.”
Chapter 17
“This is huge,” Sarah said as I recited the passages from Jackson Cole’s correspondence to his now-deceased ex-girlfriend, Robbie Kramer. “So, tell me again exactly what you need from Cole’s condo.”
“Grab anything that has his handwriting on it,” James said as he leaned in toward my cell phone. “We’ll need it in order to verify that this letter we’re holding was written by him.”
“Got it,” Sarah said. “Bruce is opening Cole’s door for me right now. I’ll call you back when I find what we’re looking for.”
I ended the call and finished going through the stack of mail James had handed me. “Guess that’s the only letter from the guy.”
“Hopefully, it’s the only one we’ll need. It’s not going to be the evidence enough to put Cole away, but it’s certainly enough to put some additional manpower on hauling him in for a little chat.”
“Without question. Thing is, I’m still having a problem coming up with a theory as to why this guy would want to do harm to Mark Cutter and Vincent Sprague.”
James let his head fall back against the car seat. “That makes two of us.”
“I remember you mentioning that Cutter’s wife was real emotional when you interviewed her. A little time has passed. Think it’s too soon to pay her another visit? Cole wasn’t on our radar when you spoke to her last, know what I mean?”
“Absolutely,” James said. “I’ll make that my first priority after we get this letter to the chief. Speaking of which, guess I ought to head back to the station.”
“OK. I’ll go get Sarah,” I said---just as my phone began to buzz. “She must have ESP,” I said as I checked the screen. “What did you find?” I asked as I placed my phone on James’s dashboard.
“Either we missed an elephant in the room, or Jackson Cole has been here since our last visit. I’m standing next to at a small triangle of material that looks like it may have come from the t-shirt Robbie Kramer was wearing when she was discovered out behind the strip mall.”
“Where at?” James asked.
“On the carpet, next to the door trim on the hinge side of the entry door,” Sarah replied.
“Did you move it?” I asked.
“I did not.”
“You still carrying my spare weapon.”
“I am.”
“Sit tight,” James said. “We’re on our way.”
* * *
I checked the time as we rolled into The Shallow after having followed James and his cruiser clear across town. I hadn’t covered so many miles in such a short a period of time for as long as I could remember, his lights and siren buying us clear passage along the entire route.
“You drive like a maniac,” James said as he slapped my shoulder while we walked toward the building.
“I had no choice if I wanted to keep up with the likes of you.”
Manager Bruce Scott met us at the door and let us inside. “Sarah’s inside Cole’s unit. She asked me to keep an eye out for you. And, for him.”
“Continue to do that, would you please?” James asked.
“Yes, sir. Happy to help.”
James pulled out a fresh pair of gloves and entered the unit. “Hey, Sarah.”
“It’s right there,” she said, pointing to a piece of cloth no bigger than a dime.
I stood and stared at the remnant as James got down on his knees for a closer look.
“There’s no way all three of us could have missed that, right?” Sarah asked.
“Not a chance,” I said. “That dark material stands out like a neon sign against the beige carpet.”
“It appears to be blood-soaked,” James said as he picked the cloth up and dropped it inside an evidence bag. “I’ll get it over to the lab, immediately.”
Sarah walked over to the dining room table and grabbed a document. “Here’s a note I found inside one of the kitchen drawers. It has Robbie’s name at the top, and was signed by Cole.”
“With love,” James said as he studied the piece of paper. “Yeah, right.”
“You want us to speak with Mark Cutter’s wife?” I asked. “See if she has anything to say about Cole?”
“Please. That’ll save us some time. Getting this evidence to the lab and the letter and note in front of Chief Goodhue are of utmost importance right now. I just can’t be in two places at once.”
“We’re on it,” Sarah said.
James gave a wave and took off.
I checked the hall then turned to Sarah. “Does the manager have any idea what we’re up to?”
“He found out about Robbie, somehow, and started asking questions, but I shut him down. I haven’t shared any details with him.”
“Yet, he’s willing to help out.”
“Guess so,” Sarah replied. “I really like the guy.”
“We should head over to Cutter’s place. See if his wife is home.”
“Lead the way,” Sarah replied.
We met Bruce at the front door. “We’re done in Cole’s condo for now. Mind locking it back up for us?”
“I’ll do it right now,” he replied.
“Couple other things before you go,” I said. “First off, if you happen to see Mr. Cole, we’d appreciate a discreet phone call. Second, please, do not, under any circumstances, let him know any of us were inside his unit, including you.”
“I understand,” he replied. “I won’t mention a thing.”
“Thank you, Bruce,” I said as I reached out to shake his hand. “Your assistance is very valuable to us.”
“Pleased to be able to help.”
Sarah gave Bruce a wave and we left the building, bound for an uncomfortable conversation with Mark Cutter’s widow. “Might as well walk over.”
I nodded and grabbed Sarah’s hand as we walked.
“There’s no reasonable explanation for that blood-soaked piece of clothing to be sitting there on the floor of Cole’s apartment,” she said. “No way was it there before. I’m absolutely certain.”
“No point in overthinking it until it comes back from forensic testing. Our tech is so good these days, any human who came in contact with that evidence left their DNA on it.”
“True, but Cole’s could be on it by virtue of the fact it was there on his condo floor.”
“I don’t disagree. All I
’m saying is that if no other DNA shows up, other than Cole’s and Kramer’s, that’s one story. However, if there’s other DNA present, it’s another story. We won’t know till we know.”
“Do we have any idea when Cole purchased his condo?” Sarah asked. “It stands to reason that if he’s owned it since it was new, there’d be zero chance of the evidence being contaminated by a previous owner’s DNA.”
“Excellent point,” I said as I pulled out my notebook and jotted down a reminder to find out the chain of ownership.
“You ready for this?” Sarah asked as we arrived at Cutter’s door, the laughter of his children carrying through an open window.
“Yep.” I reached out and rang the doorbell.
“I’ll get it,” one of the children cried. A few seconds later Cutter’s son appeared in the doorway, his mother not far behind.
“Michael, honey. Go back in the dining room with your sister, please,” Mrs. Cutter said, then waited until he was out of sight before speaking to us. “Hello? Can I help you?”
“Mrs. Cutter, my name is Carter Peterson, and this is my partner Sarah Woods. We’re working with the Bridgeport Police---”
“Please,” she said as she held up her pointer finger. “Let me come out there with you before you continue.”
We stepped back so she could swing the screen door open and join us out on the walkway. “I’m assuming this concerns my husband, Mark,” she said.
I responded with a simple nod.
“If this conversation is to go any further, I need you to understand something. Neither of my children are aware of the fact their father is gone,” she said. “I’m not about to get into the details of why with you. Just know I have my reasons, and that it’s been a challenge to keep them isolated from the news. Therefore, I’m asking for your discretion.”
“Not a problem,” Sarah said, lowering her voice. “We’ll keep this as brief as possible.”
“That’s right,” I added. “Mrs. Cutter, does the name Jackson Cole mean anything to you?”
She wore a blank expression as she shook her head. “I don’t know that name. Should I?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “He’s a person of interest we’re looking into. Did you, or anyone in your family, experience conflict with any of the residents of The Shallows?”
Again, Cutter shook her head. “The police detective I spoke with after losing Mark asked the same question.”
“That would be Detective James,” Sarah said. “We’re working closely with him on this case.”
I nodded. “Is there any chance you may have asked your children the same question?”
“No, I---oh, my goodness, yes. Well, not my children, but you just reminded me of a conversation I had with Mark a few days before his death. I … I wouldn’t describe the encounter he told me about as being a conflict, necessarily.”
“No matter,” I said. “The smallest detail can sometimes change the course of an entire investigation.”
“OK, well, a man approached Mark and Michael one evening while they were playing catch out in our side yard. Mark described the man as being agitated. Something about my son’s incessant chanting.”
“Did your husband mention the man’s name, or give you a description of what he looked like?” Sarah asked.
“No. Only that he’d come from the direction of the condos.”
“Was he a resident?” I asked as I wrote her answers down.
“He didn’t say one way or the other, but it would make sense.”
“What was your husband’s disposition with this individual?” I asked.
“Mark told me he kept his cool with the man, but let him know, in no uncertain terms, that he wasn’t going to ask our son to stop being a kid. It wasn’t as if Michael was out there screaming in the middle of the night. This encounter happened mid-afternoon, on a Saturday.”
“Do you happen to recall how long ago?” Sarah asked.
“I couldn’t give you an exact date, but it was definitely last month,” she replied.
“So, a Saturday in June?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Do you suppose your son would be able to describe the man?” Sarah asked.
Cutter pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to risk having him discover the truth about his father just yet.”
“The answer could prove crucial to finding and prosecuting whoever was responsible for harming your husband,” I told her.
Cutter crossed her arms and began pacing. “Look, the best I can do for you right now is try working the question into a conversation with Michael, later on. If he reveals any details that might be helpful, I’ll contact you and let you know what he said.”
I looked at Sarah. She gave a subtle nod then turned toward Cutter. “That would be so appreciated, Mrs. Cutter. We’re sorry for your loss, and sorry to interrupt your lunch hour.”
I took a card out of my wallet and handed it to her.
Cutter did her best to give us a smile. “Thank you. Please understand, I’m not trying to be difficult. This is entirely about the welfare of my two children. That said, I’ll see what I can do.”
We turned and walked away as Mrs. Cutter disappeared inside her home.
“Well, that was frustrating,” I said. “I understand wanting to spare the children from the pain of losing a parent for as long as possible, but wouldn’t you think she’d want to speed the capture of her husband’s killer?”
“Take it from a mother, Carter. The kids always come first. I got the impression she wants to help. I doubt she was stonewalling us.”
“I agree, but it’s a tough pill to swallow, knowing crucial information may be available, but just out of reach.”
“If her husband’s death was a stand-alone murder, instead of being related to two others, she’d likely be our prime suspect, so why aren’t we looking more closely at her.”
“Opportunity, for one, I suppose,” I said as I opened the car door for Sarah. “Mark Cutter was busy at work during the week. Someone had to be there for the kids. I’m lost for a motive concerning Vincent Sprague, too. Why would a mother of two young kids want to knock off a homeless veteran?”
“Maybe Sprague witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to. Don’t forget what you said about family men. That guys like Cutter have affairs. Robbie Kramer was all alone a lot of the time. Right next door. Maybe Mrs. Cutter caught them in the act.”
“Hold that thought,” I said as I closed the door and went around to slide behind the wheel.
Sarah picked up where she left off before I could even get my car door closed. “Seriously, think about it. Why should Cole be any more of a suspect than Cutter’s widow?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The threatening letter we just found this morning? The bloody remnant found in Jacko’s apartment?”
“The letter might be nothing more than Cole blowing off steam,” Sarah said. “And, how do we know that Cutter’s wife didn’t plant that evidence inside Cole’s condo?”
I nodded as I started the car. “I can’t deny it. Your points are all valid. Every one of them. Proving them, on the other hand … that’s the tough part.”
Chapter 18
“We’re a go,” I heard Detective James’s voice announce through the speaker on my cell. “You and Sarah still over at Mrs. Cutter’s place?”
“You talking about the manhunt?” I asked.
“Roger that. Goodhue just signed off, which means I need to give up sleep for the next few days.”
“That’s both good news and bad, I guess. To answer your question, we’re about two minutes away from our place.”
“You mind taking a drive over to where Kramer’s body was discovered? I just got off the phone with Wayne Sophia. Claims the demolition guys found something behind the strip mall we might want to check out.”
“Remind me who Wayne Sophia is again?”
“Carter, you don’t remember?” Sarah teased. “The quirky buil
ding inspector guy from earlier this morning?”
“That’s one point up on the scoreboard for Sarah,” James said.
“Yeah, yeah, how could I forget Mr. Code Enforcement? Think I might be losing it.”
“It was barely daylight when I introduced you to him,” James said. “We’ll give you a pass on this one?”
“It’s just the usual brain fade that happens as you grow older,” Sarah chimed in.
“Gee, thanks. You two are too kind. Getting back to the task at hand, the answer is yes. We’ll go see what Mr. Jitters has for us,” I said, my answer giving the double-teaming duo a good laugh.
“Any luck with Cutter’s wife?” James asked after he calmed down.
“We’re not sure, yet. Remains to be seen.”
“Fair enough. Give me a shout if need be.”
“You got it,” I said.
Sarah grabbed my phone to check the time. “Worst hour of day to be headed to the south side of the city.”
“Yep. The lunch crowd will be out in full force.”
“What do you suppose they found over there?”
I tossed my free hand in the air. “That site is such a cluttered trash heap, it would be no great surprise if we missed finding a limb.”
“Ew,” Sarah responded as she slapped my hand down. “That’s just uncalled for.”
“Just getting you back for picking on me,” I said.
“Ha. You’ll know it if and when I ever decide to really pick on you. You’ve got it easy.”
“I do, don’t I?”
* * *
“Wow. I can’t believe how different it looks over here,” Sarah said as we drove up to the site where the strip mall had stood.
“Scenery tends to change quickly when entire structures disappear.”
“No kidding. I wonder what they’ll build in its place.”
“I have a hunch it’ll be another one of those self-storage facilities. It’s one of the few businesses that’s booming these days.”
“Unfortunately, you’re probably right. As George Carlin used to say: ‘Everyone needs a place to put their stuff,’” Sarah said---just before she nearly jumped right out of her skin.