“Open it and stand back,” Ahern ordered.
With shaky fingers, Tapper punched in a code on the electronic keypad.
The contents included a spiral bound business checkbook, a plastic case of DVDs and a .22 caliber handgun.
“Now see, this entitles you to be our guest at the station,” Lenora said, pulling a plastic bag from her belt.
Tapper held up his hands. “You got it all wrong. I could never hurt Coop.”
Lenora put the gun in the bag and handed it to Ahern. “You’ll forgive us for not taking your word for it.”
The detectives put Tapper in an interview room while they scanned a couple of DVDs with Jake, their IT whiz, then went in to talk to Tapper.
“The lady was right,” Lenora said. “McGill keeps good records. Spread sheets seem to have everything—who placed the bets, how much. Want to tell us how you and McGill worked this?”
Tapper pursed his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Those belong to Dirk. I just let him use my safe.”
Lenora stared at him. “Sure you want to stick to that fairytale?”
A range of emotions sweep across Tapper’s face.
“Your choice,” Lenora said. “We have a weapon and probable cause to arrest you.”
“It’s the point spread,” Tapper quickly said. “You bet a team will win by a certain number of points. They take a game by less than that, you lose. Everybody was betting the Titans would run away with the game, maybe win it by 20. McGill bet Titans would pull out a squeaker.”
“How much did Mr. GQ win?”
“Couple hundred thousand.”
Ahern whistled.
“Bets are big during the playoffs,” Tapper said.
“How could he call it so well?” Ahern asked.
Tapper clasped her hands together, lowered his head into them. Finally, he looked up. “Cooper deliberately shot off the mark to keep the point spread low then brought it out at the buzzer.”
“And it was all McGill and Cooper. You had no role in it?” Lenora asked.
Tapper fidgeted in the chair. “I let Dirk keep his DVDs in my safe because Coop asked me to. Coop loaned me the money to open my club. I couldn’t say no.”
At that moment, the door opened and Miller stuck his head in. “You two.”
In the hall, Miller said. “This guy’s got some bad karma. Got another body in his parking lot.”
McGill was slumped over his Mercedes steering wheel. When the techs pushed him back they saw his silk shirt crimson with blood.
“Same M.O. Shots to the chest,” Ahern said.
“We know one thing. It wasn’t Tapper,” Lenora said.
In addition to having the perfect alibi for McGill’s murder, ballistics didn’t match Tapper’s gun as the weapon used to kill Cooper.
“Two partners in an illegal gambling scheme dead. Has to be connected to their operation,” Lenora said when they briefed Miller in his office.
“This city will explode if it gets out Cooper was fixing games,” Miller said. He regarded her steadily. “How long can we keep this quiet?”
Lenora met Miller’s stare. “What are you saying, Sergeant?”
“Mayor is already warning me what the city stands to lose if this gets out without us controlling the details. Just wondering if we can keep this under the radar until we nail the perp.”
“You mean bury Cooper’s crime,” Lenora said.
“You didn’t have to,” Lenora said, getting disgusted.
Ahern was slouched in the chair. “I agree with the sergeant. We don’t have proof Cooper was a willing participant, just Tapper’s story.”
Lenora rubbed her eyes. They were on fire from no sleep. “I know it’s hard for you to accept that Cooper was anything other than this gifted, generous guy, but that may not be all he was.”
Ahern jerked his head in her direction. “So what, now we target the victim? That how they did things when you were in St. Louis PD?”
“No, they did what you’re suggesting,” Lenora fired back. “Which is why I left after ten years.” Ahern turned his gaze to the wall.
Lenora directed her next words at Miller. “How can we solve this case without looking at the possibility that Cooper and McGill were murdered because of their little venture? Or that Cooper was doing something else that got him killed?”
Miller stared at them through tented fingers. “Your plan?”
Lenora looked at Ahern. “Tapper’s security tapes showed nothing. We need to go over McGill’s DVD files like we’re mining for gold. Check Cooper’s foundations. If he was willing to be a part of McGill’s scheme, who knows what else he had going.”
Miller looked at Ahern who avoided his gaze by studying his crinkled pants. “All right,” Miller said. “But be discreet. If this embarrasses the city, my job is gone which means yours is, too.”
“C’mon, Sarge—” Ahern started.
“What do you want from me?” Miller said throwing up his hands. “We needed an arrest yesterday.”
Ahern bounced up from the chair. “Count me out. I won’t help smear a decent guy.”
Then he stormed out.
Lenora didn’t mind working without a partner. She’d rather be solo than saddled with someone throwing tantrums every five minutes. So alone, she sped to Indy Sports Rehab. The timing gods were with her. Jamie Simmons was hobbling out of the building wearing a soft knee brace.
“Ouch. Are you going to be ready for tomorrow’s game?” Lenora asked, showing her badge.
Simmons glanced at the shield but kept hobbling. “I’ll be ready. Played with much worse.”
“Can we talk?”
“I have an appointment.”
“Shouldn’t take long. Just tell me why you and Cooper were fighting.”
She thought his hobble slowed a bit.
“Not a fight. Just a little disagreement.”
“I heard it was pretty heated. You were so mad you punched him into a wall. Makes me wonder if you were angry enough to kill him.”
Simmons stopped. Stared down at her from what had to be almost seven feet. He was a good-looking guy with deep chocolate skin. “That fake got what he deserved. He was a liar, a cheat and a coward.”
“Tell me how you really feel. Maybe we should go to the station for a longer chat.” Simmons started walking again. “Don’t have time.”
“I can make you take the time if I have to. This is a murder investigation.”
He sliced a glance at her. “Everybody covered for Cooper. I got sick of it.”
“I need details, Mr. Simmons.”
She saw his jaw muscles tighten. “I used to admire the guy like everybody else. Then he hurt me on a deal. I agreed to do some events for his charity. He was supposed to return the favor. He didn’t. Reneged on me three times. Cost me money; made me look like a fool.”
“You confronted him?”
“He had the freakin’ gall to get pissed at me. Almost broke my nose. I defended myself unlike other folks he messed over.”
“Cooper had a history of violent behavior?”
Simmons said, “A long one.”
Simmons gave Lenora the names of two people who’d also been on the receiving end of Cooper’s rage. One was Charles Kapinski who lived in senior housing not far from the Jazz Showcase. In the kitchen of his tiny apartment, he told Lenora how he was crossing the street after taking the bus from his double shift.
“He hit me with his fancy car. Stopped just long enough to lean out and see me lying on the ground. Closed the car door and burned rubber. I was on the ground, but I saw him. Everybody knows Bryce Cooper. I couldn’t believe it. Ten surgeries and I’ll never walk without this cane, but at least I’m alive.”
“There’s no police record of this.” She had checked.
“His lawyers came to see me.” He looked at the floor as if ashamed. “I needed to eat, have a place to live. I took a deal and kept my mouth shut.”
The other person Cooper’s lawye
rs had paid to keep quiet was Ashley Jacobs. She’d charged Cooper with assault last year for an attack in a Carmel, Indiana hotel where she’d had a one-nighter with the “family man.” She told Lenora he’d beaten her so badly, she had to have surgery to repair a cheekbone.
Cooper had everything, all right, including an ugly sadistic streak that had caused a lot of pain. Nancy Cooper at five months pregnant getting on a slide didn’t make any sense. But Lenora dismissed it at the time because they’d been so focused on her grief. But now, Lenora was thinking Nancy Cooper might have been a victim of her husband’s brutality, too. Women in abusive relationships often reached a point where they couldn’t take it anymore.
Lenora figured she might as well not bother checking hospitals. No way Nancy Cooper would have gone to one. That would be like posting it on Twitter. The world would have known in seconds. They’d have had a doctor come to them. Maybe the team doctor.
Lenora called Humphrey and told him she had a few more questions. He was still at the fieldhouse so Lenora pushed past the speed limit down Meridian to get there.
“I’ll get right to the point, so don’t tip-toe around your answers to my questions. I know all about Cooper’s violent behavior and the incidents you and the Titan’s organization covered up. Was he beating his wife?”
Humphrey took a deep breath, a look of resignation on his face. “All right, yes, he was.”
“You had the team doc treat her to cover it up.”
Humphrey nodded. Then he told her every horrible detail.
“Why didn’t you get the guy some help? He might be alive today if you had.”
Humphrey’s shoulders sagged. “I kept hoping he would get it together. I talked to Coop until my tongue was about to fall off. Nancy couldn’t have done this. She loved him too much.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” Lenora said.
On her second drive to Geist, Lenora tossed around how Nancy Cooper could have killed her husband. The squad had picked her up at 3:30 a.m. Cooper’ time of death was 1:55 a.m. Enough time to kill Cooper and get home. But could she drive with that arm? Shoot a gun?
Maybe she’d had help. Like from a protective brother.
The siblings greeted her with anxious expressions.
“You have news?” Chambers said.
“Actually, I need you to clarify a few things.”
“Okay,” Nancy Cooper said softly.
Lenora was purposely blunt. “Mrs. Cooper, I know your husband was helping McGill win bets on the games. I know he abused you and that his coach and the team covered it up.”
Nancy Cooper’s eyes darted at Chambers, who put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That, that was in his past. Bryce had changed. He never hurt me.”
Lenora went on. “I know he hurt another woman last year.”
Nancy Cooper swallowed hard, gave her brother a please-help-me look.
“Just what are you getting at?” Chambers said, indignation in his voice.
Lenora ignored him. “Your husband is responsible for your injury, isn’t he?”
Nancy Cooper began to chew her lower lip.
“You got tired of the beatings,” Lenora said quietly. “No one would blame you. But why didn’t you go to the police? Why didn’t you leave?”
Tears began trickle down Nancy Cooper’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t…He wouldn’t…”
“You don’t have to say anything else,” Chambers ordered.
“Forget it, Mr. Chambers. Humphrey told me everything,” Lenora said. “About the cracked ribs. Bad bruises. The team physician treated you.”
Lenora turned to Nancy Cooper. “Women have used abuse as a successful defense before. All—”
“She’s not responsible for Bryce’s death,” Chambers said.
Again, Lenora ignored him. “I understand. You endured so much.”
Nancy Cooper began to sob.
Chambers jumped to his feet. “Stop! Just stop.”
Lenora waited.
“It’s me you want,” Chambers finally said.
Nancy Cooper stared wide-eyed as if trying to comprehend what he was saying. Lenora saw Chambers swallow hard. His voice trembled with his next words.
“Don’t say anything,” Chambers ordered his sister. He said to Lenora, “I was tired of him hurting her. So I killed him.”
“Troy,” Nancy started.
“Everyone covered for the creep. I tried to talk to him. Threatened him even. But he wouldn’t stop. Every since we were kids, I looked after her. Promised our folks that I always would. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was pissed when she called and told me he’d smacked her around again because she wanted him to stay home instead of going to that club. Some hero beating his pregnant wife.”
“Where’s the gun?” Lenora asked.
“What?” Chambers said, looking confused for a minute. Then said quickly, “I threw it in the Canal.”
“What kind of gun was it?”
“A…uh…I have a .38.”
“Oh, Troy,” Nancy Cooper said, sobbing.
“What really happened, Mr. Chambers?” Lenora asked.
“I told you. I killed Bryce to stop the beatings.”
“No. You didn’t. Cooper was shot with a .22. You’re trying to protect your sister, but—”
“You think I killed Bryce?” Nancy Cooper shouted, eyes wide with horror.
Guilt was in Chambers’ eyes. “You were gone for hours. No one knew where you were.”
“I had Louis drive me to the park so I could think. I could never hurt Bryce. I loved him.”
Lenora could see Chambers’ jaw twitch. “Is that what you call it? That’s not love. That’s sick.”
Lenora dragged herself back to the station. Eight o’clock and folks had cleared out, including Miller. She usually avoided caffeine but needed a shot of energy so she grabbed a Coke and slunk down at her desk.
She could sleep for a week.
Three partners. Two dead. The one partner left had an alibi.
She had to find the connection.
Lenora pulled out the DVDs they’d taken from Tapper. Too bad Miller had let Ahern get away with throwing a hissy fit. These could have been reviewed.
There were at least ten. She didn’t know if she could keep her eyes open long enough to go through them all.
She called Jake. He was young and single; seemed to live at the station.
“What are we looking for exactly?” he asked, as he sat down at her computer.
“Size of the bets,” Lenora said. “How many. Anything.”
Jake nodded. “Okay. Let’s see if we can sort these files first.”
She sipped her Coke. “Can we sort winners and losers?”
“Quick as a Google search.” After a few keystrokes, Jake hit the print key. Fifty pages with bets ranging from $10 thousand to $400 thousand started spitting out.
“Lot of losers,” Jake said.
“How else would McGill make money?”
Lenora rubbed her tired eyes, scanned the list. Most had lost a few thousand dollars. Except one. He owed McGill a bucket of money.
Jamie Simmons.
“Sorry to bother you so late,” Lenora said.
Simmons looked down at her, eyes wide in surprise at her standing at the door of his West 86th Street home.
“See you’re still in the brace,” Lenora said.
“How can I help you, detective?”
“You can tell me about the money you lost on Cooper and McGill’s gambling venture.”
“Who’s this, Daddy?” a tiny voice asked. It belonged to a curly-haired, chocolate-skinned boy about four years old who wrapped his arms around Simmons good leg.
“Someone I need to talk to. You go back in there with Mommy.”
After his son had left, Simmons said. “I lost money. Not a crime.”
“Murder is.”
Simmons bristled. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I suppose you were home the night Cooper was murdered.�
�
“I was.”
“Where were you this afternoon?”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” he ground out.
“You lost $400 thousand dollars to McGill. You’re hurt all the time. Might be your last season. I say you got desperate.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? Educate me. Tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you right now. The fact that you owed that kind of money to McGill gives me enough to do it.”
Simmons stiffened.
“That would be horrible for your family.”
He stared at her for a long time. Finally said, “It wasn’t my bet.”
What Simmons told her was going to hit Ahern harder than Cooper’s death. He might give up basketball altogether.
From the car Lenora called Miller at home to tell him why she needed Ahern and a patrol team to meet her.
“Holy Mother. You sure about this?”
“I wish I weren’t,” she said. Then she had to ask, “Sergeant, you knew about Cooper’s violence didn’t you?”
Miller was silent for a moment then said, “Sometimes there are things beyond my control, Detective Wise.”
Humphrey was getting ready for an interview with Channel 6 TV when the detectives surprised him in the station’s green room.
Eyes wide, he said, “You must have news. It’ll be good to have closure before the game.”
“They may have to play this one without you, Coach,” Lenora said.
“Come again?” Humphrey asked.
“There’s a little matter of huge gambling debts you racked up with Dirk McGill who was murdered this morning.”
“Gambling debts? I don’t know where you got that.”
“McGill kept good records. Had Jamie Simmons’ name.”
Humphrey arched a bushy silver brow. “Really? Doesn’t surprise me. With his knee, he’s through. Guess he was looking for a little insurance.”
“No, Coach, he was doing you a favor.”
“Me? That’s crazy.”
“We know you had Simmons place the bets for you.”
Humphrey gave an aw-shucks smile. Looked at Ahern. “So I gamble a little. Who doesn’t?”
Ahern looked like a kid who’d just learned there was no Santa Claus.
“Right, who doesn’t owe $400 thousand in gambling debts?” Lenora said, laughing. “You owe bookies all over the country. You’re a mess.”
Hoosier Hoops and Hijinks Page 17