The Strategist

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The Strategist Page 13

by John Hardy Bell


  “Okay Mr. Rooney. I have one more photograph to show you. This one I want you to take your time with.” Graham paused before turning the photo, building the suspense in the room to exaggerated heights. “Have you ever seen this person?”

  Sullivan audibly gasped when she saw the photo. By the time Graham slid it across the table she was already out of her chair. “Detective, may I have a moment with you?”

  Graham’s eyes were wide with confusion as he looked up at her. “Excuse me?”

  “I need to talk to you outside,” Sullivan replied firmly.

  Dale Rooney and his wife sat in nervous silence as Graham stood up. “We’ll just be a moment folks,” he said with a nonchalant smile. “As I said Mr. Rooney, take your time with that photo.”

  Dale held it close to his face as the detectives walked into the hallway.

  “What the hell is that?” Sullivan said before the conference room door closed behind them.

  If Graham was surprised by Sullivan’s outburst, he didn’t show it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “The photograph of Stephen Clemmons.”

  “Listen–”

  “Don’t you think that was something we should have discussed beforehand? The pictures of the car are one thing. But a blow up of Clemmons’ driver’s license photo? That’s so far over the top I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “The only thing that’s over the top is you pulling me out here in the middle of a goddamn witness interview,” Graham snapped.

  Sullivan shook her head. “If we tried to present any aspect of this exchange as evidence, Clemmons would have every constitutional lawyer in the country wanting to take up his cause. How could you not think about that?”

  “Just calm down, Chloe.”

  “How am I supposed to calm down when you’re compromising the entire investigation?”

  “Because I’m not compromising the investigation.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “It’s really simple. The car that Dale Rooney identified as being in front of Julia’s house belongs to Stephen Clemmons. Is it at least plausible to assume that?”

  “It’s plausible, yes.”

  “And if we’re operating on the theory that Leeds and Clemmons knew each other, perhaps even had something of a relationship – and right now that’s the prevailing theory – then it stands to reason that he could have visited her house prior to the murder.”

  Sullivan was quiet as she let Graham’s line of reasoning sink in.

  “Therefore there is at least a possibility that Rooney has seen him before, particularly if he is as in tuned to the neighborhood as we think he is.”

  Sullivan wanted to disagree, but she couldn’t. “I suppose so.”

  “Fantastic. Now can we stop dicking around out here? I really don’t want to keep those people waiting all day.” Graham didn’t wait for a response before opening the conference room door and walking inside.

  Sullivan took her seat without saying anything. Her head was swirling with a mix of thoughts that she couldn’t wrangle in. Despite Graham’s logical explanation for showing Clemmons’ photo, something about the tactic felt wrong.

  “Sorry about that,” Graham sighed to the couple as he sat down. “Just some procedural mumbo-jumbo. No big deal.”

  Dale’s wife looked at Sullivan as if she wanted confirmation. Sullivan could only force a smile.

  “Have you had a chance to look at the photo?” Graham asked.

  “Yes,” Dale replied without taking his eyes off of it. Then he looked at Sullivan. “Is this the man you think murdered Julia Leeds?”

  Sullivan crossed her arms and looked at Graham to answer.

  He didn’t hesitate. “We can’t say that as of yet, but he’s someone we’re interested in. I wanted to show you the photo in the event you may have seen him around your neighborhood at any point prior to Julia’s murder.”

  Dale held up the picture in front of his wife. “Maggie?”

  She gave the photo a quick glance. “He doesn’t look familiar to me.”

  Dale placed the photo on the table and slid it back to Graham. “I mean, he could have been the person in the Impala, but I couldn’t swear to that. And I would certainly remember if I’d seen him in the neighborhood.”

  Of course you would, Sullivan thought. “Did you get a good look inside the car, Mr. Rooney?” she then asked.

  “Not a good one. Again–”

  “It was dark.”

  Dale appeared put off by Sullivan’s interruption. “Correct.”

  “So in fairness, how could you even speculate as to who was in the car, or how many of them there were for that matter?”

  Dale pulled at his shirt collar. “I’m not trying to speculate. I just figured that by you showing me the photo,” he paused to clear his throat. “I just figured he was someone important in all of this. Look, I didn’t know Julia Leeds all that well, but there isn’t anyone alive who wants to catch this maniac more than I do. I can’t even begin to tell you how it felt to walk up to her house and see…”

  Maggie grabbed his arm and squeezed. “It’s okay.”

  “We understand you’ve been through an awful lot, Mr. Rooney. You and your wife,” Graham said. “You’ve been nothing but helpful.”

  Dale took off his glasses and wiped both eyes. “We’ll continue to do whatever we can to help, Detective Graham.” The emotion of his eyes was offset by the sudden conviction in his voice. “If I have to keep looking at that photo I will. If I need to look at more photos, I’ll do that too.”

  Graham opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by Maggie.

  “Should we be worried about him? The man in the photo?” she asked. “If he’s capable of doing something like this, who’s to say we’re not in danger because we’re talking to you?”

  “You’re not in danger.” Sullivan’s answer was almost dismissive, even though she knew the question was perfectly legitimate.

  “I agree,” Graham interjected. “You shouldn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable. We have multiple detectives involved in the investigation, and we’re monitoring every aspect of it as closely as possible.”

  “Including him?” Maggie asked.

  “We’re monitoring every aspect of the investigation,” Graham reiterated.

  “So what should my wife and I do in the meantime?” Dale asked.

  “Just hang tight for now,” Graham advised. “I may be calling on you again depending on where the process takes us.”

  Dale blew out a loud breath. “Understood. For now, is it okay if I look at that photo again? I just need to be sure there isn’t something about him that I missed.”

  Sullivan looked at Graham as he took the photo out of the folder and slid it back across the table. Graham did not look back.

  *****

  After more time with the photo and an extensive question and answer session regarding the early morning walk that led Dale to Julia Leeds’ front door, the interview was finally over. As the Rooneys left, Graham went to great lengths to reassure them that Julia’s killer would be caught, in large part because of Dale’s invaluable testimony. Sullivan knew that his reassurance was hollow at best, and she added it to the growing list of thoughtless tactical errors he had made.

  After Graham finished shaking hands with them he sat back down and watched from his chair as they walked out of the room. Surprised that he had not led the couple out, Sullivan took it upon herself to do so. But before she could leave the room, Graham stopped her.

  “Detective Sullivan, can you stay for a moment? Officer Davies can escort Mr. and Mrs. Rooney out.”

  “Of course,” Sullivan replied as the couple continued on without her.

  “Could you close the door please?”

  Sullivan did so and took a seat in the nearest chair.

  “I’ve been meaning to have this conversation with you since our briefing in the lieutenant’s office,” Graham said. “But I thought it was
something that could wait. Now I know it can’t.”

  Sullivan suddenly felt nervous. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Your attitude.”

  “My attitude?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Chloe. Just don’t ever do it again.”

  “Do what?”

  “Undermine me.”

  Sullivan’s mouth flew open with shock. “Undermine you? What are you talking about?”

  “In Lieutenant Hitchcock’s office. You basically made me look like an idiot in there. And you tried to do it just now when you pulled me outside at the most crucial part of the interview. Do you have any idea how bad that made us look?”

  Sullivan moved her lips to speak, but failed to produce any words.

  “I don’t have to tell you how long I’ve been doing this,” he continued. “So I think I know a thing or two about conducting a murder investigation.”

  “I never suggested you didn’t.”

  “But you certainly make it seem like I don’t when it comes to Clemmons.”

  “Again, I never suggested that. There are just some things that don’t add up.”

  “This isn’t ‘CSI’, Chloe. Things rarely add up. But we work with what we have until the job gets done.”

  Now she was getting angry. Sullivan tolerated a lot from him, most of it because she had to. But the one thing she wasn’t going to allow Graham to do was patronize her. “Stop right there, Walter. I know how to work the job, okay? I may be the newbie here, but I put in my beat time just like everybody else. I’ve seen plenty of crime scenes, and plenty of home invasions. I can spend five minutes in a house that’s just been hit and give you the exact MO the perps used, down to the model of the sledgehammer they busted down the back door with. And nine out of ten times I’d be right. So when I tell you that the Leeds scene is unlike any I’ve ever seen – home invasion or domestic crime – that’s not just some wild theory I’m trying to talk myself through, that’s based on years of picking these scenes apart inch by inch.”

  Graham sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “That was a hell of a speech. I’m impressed, really. But it was completely unnecessary. I’ve been around you long enough to know that you’re more than capable out there. If I had even the slightest bit of doubt about that, you and I would have stopped riding together a long time ago. The point of this conversation is to stress how important it is that the two of us are on the same page going forward.”

  This time it was Sullivan who sat back in her chair and folded her arms.

  Graham got the cue to keep talking. “I realize there’s always room for divergent opinions when it comes to conducting an investigation. And a lot of times that can be a good thing. But this one is different, Chloe. Hitch was right when he said the scrutiny on the entire department is going to be through the roof. We have zero room to screw up. That’s why we have to keep our focus tight. We don’t have the luxury of speculating why the perp used a particular gun, or how he was able to shoot both dogs without either one of them taking a chunk out of his ass. We have to work with what we’ve got. This case is three days old, and do you know how many legitimate tips we’ve gotten in that time?” He made a zero shape out of his fingers.

  “I know,” Sullivan said, already feeling like she was going to end up on the losing end of this argument.

  “For a murder this high profile that’s almost unheard of. By now the number of tips should have been in the hundreds. And of those, at least five would have held up as genuine leads. So the fact that we have none should tell you how up against it we are here.” He paused to emphasize the point. “Hitch says he’s bringing in even more detectives to help, but ultimately this falls on you and me, Chloe. We’re the leads, which means we set the direction of this investigation.”

  “I understand all of that, Walter. But the photo of Clemmons? What did you hope to achieve by showing it to Rooney? Aside from planting a seed that wouldn’t otherwise be there?”

  “I’m sorry if my tactics don’t match up to your time-tested ethics. But sometimes you can only play the hand you’ve been dealt. And right now all we have is Clemmons. I don’t think what I did was questionable in the least, and if you do then you obviously have a lot more to learn about how this process works.”

  There he was patronizing her again. She decided to let it go this time and keep the focus where it should be. “And it didn’t worry you that Rooney took so much time looking at that photo after he said he didn’t recognize Clemmons? It was like he was trying to convince himself that he did.”

  “In my mind he was only being thorough. Where is the problem in that?”

  Sullivan shook her head. “The whole thing just seems wrong, Walt.

  “What the hell is it with you and Clemmons?” he barked. “Just because he’s a mail clerk you don’t think he’s smart enough to pull off something like this? Can mail clerks not pick up shell casings or commit a murder without leaving behind fingerprints? It doesn’t take a friggin’ master’s degree to be a smart criminal.”

  “From day one what have you always told me is the most important thing that a detective can have? Instincts they can trust. Well I’ve always trusted my instincts. And right now they’re telling me that Clemmons is not who we want.”

  “What else do you have aside from instincts to tell you that?” Graham asked.

  “The victim’s car, for starters. If Clemmons was so methodical in leaving nothing behind at the crime scene, why would he steal it and park it a half a block away from his own house, in a place it was guaranteed to draw attention to itself?”

  “Because he was arrogant enough to think that it couldn’t be traced back to him? Because he really is that stupid? Who the hell knows? It’s pure speculation either way, Chloe. And speculation isn’t enough.”

  Sullivan struggled to find a response.

  “Do you know what I have to tell me he did it?” Graham continued. “His car at the crime scene. When I put that together with where the victim’s car was found, that’s all I need to go after this guy with both guns.”

  Sullivan sat back in her chair, massaging her pulsating forehead. Now she really felt like she was losing this argument. “So what’s the bottom line, Walt?”

  “The bottom line is that despite what your instincts say, the evidence says that Clemmons is the guy. I’m going after him and I need you fully on board with that.”

  “And what if something else comes–”

  “Right now there isn’t anything else. There’s only him. If we’re going to have a problem working together on this, I suggest you put in for a case transfer right now.”

  Sullivan was stunned. She never imagined he would take it that far. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Believe me Chlo’, it’s not what I want. But I also don’t want this investigation compromised because your head is someplace else. I can’t have you half-in on this.”

  Sullivan pushed her chair out from the table and stood up. “Fine.”

  “Fine as in you want to be transferred or fine as in you want to actually be my partner on this?”

  “I’m your partner, Walter.”

  Graham looked at her with weary eyes. “You’re absolutely certain about that?”

  “Yes.” There was nothing else she could say.

  Graham stood up, then inexplicably extended his hand. “Glad to know we’re finally on the same page. We’re a much more effective team that way.”

  Sullivan shook his hand without saying anything.

  “I think it’s time we have our first face to face with Clemmons,” Graham said. “The officers who initially questioned him told him to stand by for follow up, so he should be expecting our visit.”

  “It’s been three days. If he really is the guy, aren’t you worried he’s on his way to Mexico by now?”

  “We’ve had two details assigned to his house since this all happened. Aside from a couple of quick trips to his car, he hasn’t left his house. I’m not expecting t
o get a lot out of this first go-round, unless Clemmons decides to do us a favor and confess. We’ll just consider this one a short meet and greet. Sound good?”

  Sullivan nodded, then followed as Graham made his way out of the conference room. She was actually looking forward to meeting Clemmons, to see for herself if her instincts were as honed as she thought they were. And if they weren’t? If Graham was right all along? Then that would be fine too. It would only prove Graham’s point that she still had a lot to learn.

  But while it may have been true that she had a lot to learn in general, when it came to Clemmons, Sullivan’s instincts were not ready to concede just yet.

  CHAPTER 20

  Despite his wife’s repeated attempts to engage him in conversation, Dale was quiet for most of the car ride home. The image of the man in the photograph, and what he had possibly done to Julia Leeds, kept playing over and over in his mind. When Detective Graham showed him the photo, he wasn’t surprised by how the suspect looked. In fact he expected it. What did surprise him was the venomous hatred that washed over him the instant he saw the man’s face. He knew he was looking into the eyes of a killer, and even though his face was two dimensional, Dale could feel those cold-blooded eyes looking back at him. He didn’t know the first thing about the police or how they conducted murder investigations, but he did know that Detective Graham showing him that photograph was no accident. He didn’t come right out and say this is the man who murdered Julia Leeds, but he didn’t have to. Everyone in the room, Detective Graham in particular, seemed to know it.

  Dale had told the truth when he said that it was too dark to see inside the car. But he also told the truth when he told Detective Graham that he would do anything necessary to help him find Julia’s killer. He knew right now that he was the only one who could do so. He was the only one who heard the music that night, the only one who saw the Impala, the only one who found Julia Leeds’ open door and the utter destruction that took place on the other side of it. And he was the only one who saw the picture of the man police were sure was responsible for all of it.

 

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