She was thoughtful, “You know, you can’t tell with these old people. Some of them act like they are home eating cat food, and then they die and leave the center a hundred thousand dollars. We had that happen back in 1959.”
Roger got her back on track “Nettie had a niece, Joy Covington. Did you know her?”
“Oh yes! Didn’t come here very often, but she’s a professional cook you know. When our cook was sick last year, Joy came over one night and helped us out. We had already advertised a spaghetti dinner and everything. Oh Dear, we were in such a mess! She really saved the day!” Maribell continued, “You know it is hard to keep places like this from just dying off, literally. We lost three people in just the last two months, Nettie, Phil, Burna….”
Roger spoke, “Are you talking about Burna George?”
Maribell lit up with the question, “Well yes, did you know Burna? Poor thing was really quite ill there at the end.”
Roger didn’t think Maribell knew that Burna had been murdered too. “Were Burna and Nettie friends?” Roger asked. Maribell said it was important to remember that your real friends talk nice about you when you are not there. She didn’t think Burna really had that many friends anymore. Roger thought that was kind of a nice way to say that. He was thanking Maribell for her time outside of her office when he noticed the event calendar on the wall. January 9th speaker: Attorney James Devon.
Roger was tapping the calendar where January 9th was, “Do you have many attorneys that come here and speak?”
Maribell rolled her eyes, “The good ones don’t have time for the likes of us.” She had her mouth crimped tight. “Now Nettie really pushed this guy on all of us, knowing we are old and all, needed wills, etc. I heard her say he gave her money for every new client she could push his way, but I do have to say he was fast and cheap. He would come to your house with his paper work, and not make you drive to his office.”
Roger thought he probably didn’t want people to see his office, “How often does he speak here?”
Maribell looked thoughtful, “I’d say about every other month for about the last couple of years. He does all the funerals too, doesn’t miss a one. Hands out his cards like it’s a political convention or something. I don’t know, guess even lawyers have to make a livin’.” Roger thanked her for her time, wished her a merry Christmas, and went to his car to write down some notes. Attorney Devon is looking more like a predator type lawyer than a killer, he thought as he left to return to the police center. Too bad. His was the only name that seemed to touch more than one victim.
Roger parked in the assigned space at the police center and noticed the snow was coming down steadily now. Huge fluffy flakes, the size of quarters, they called it lake effect snow. It was beautiful. It was a white Christmas after all. He felt something at his feet, looked down, and there was that black cat again. “Whoa there fella, didn’t you go home? Maybe you don’t have a home?” He reached down and stroked the cat’s back. It was rubbing up against his pant legs. He walked to the door and held his foot out for the cat to stop. It did. When he shut the door, it was looking at him through the glass with snow piling on its head. “God what have I started,” he mumbled to himself. He opened the door, and the cat came in and waited for him to walk. As he neared his office the cat rushed ahead of him, assumed its position on the credenza next to the coffee pot, and lay down. “What is it with me and cats?” he asked it. He could have sworn it winked at him. Again.
Paul walked into Roger’s office, “Got a minute?” Roger looked up and saw Paul looking at the cat and shaking his head. “Got a guy at the front desk wants to know if we are going to charge him with the murders, or not. He doesn’t want to pay an attorney unless he has to.” Paul was grinning.
Roger sputtered, “What?”
“I told the desk guy to put him in the interrogation room with the observation window. Care to join me?” Paul started laughing. They both knew this was probably some crazy confessor, but at least it provided a little humor to break up the day.
They waited in the observation room and soon the door opened. A man came in and was told to sit and wait. Roger spoke first, “Isn’t that the loud mouth from the PUB?”
“I think you are right Sherlock. Well, you or me?”
“By all means Dr. Watson, you,” Roger smiled. Paul grabbed a yellow legal pad, entered the interrogation room, and sat at the corner of the table, so Roger could clearly see their mystery man.
Paul started, “I need to get a little information from you before we can start, is that okay?” The man nodded. His shoulders were all hunched forward and his eyes kept darting around the room. He was void of the arrogance Roger and Paul had witnessed at the Pub. Paul smiled, and positioned his paper to write and asked, “Your name?”
The man looked at Paul and said, “Oh come on man! Let’s not waste time, okay? I know you know my name, where I live, where I work. Hell, even my bar!” He had put his head into his hands. Paul looked sideways toward the glass window and raised an eyebrow. They didn’t know anything about this guy.
Then Paul spoke again, “Well this is for the official record sir, so I have to ask these questions.”
The man sighed and said, “Okay….Okay…My name is Jack Simpson. I am Joy Covington’s boyfriend. I knew Nettie like a Mom, and I flirted with Darla, a lot, and I work at Davis Construction and I know, knew, Karen Smith…and she probably didn’t like me…that is three of your dead women by my count! I’m thinkin’ I best be talkin’ to my lawyer maybe?” Paul pushed his chin forward in his thoughtful tick, he wanted to keep Jack talking, but he had already mentioned a lawyer.
Paul asked him if he would like a soft drink, and Jack said “Sure.” Paul excused himself and went into the observation room where Roger was waiting. They just stared at each other.
Roger handed Paul the pop can he was carrying. He hadn’t opened it yet, “Ask him if he has a dog.”
Paul went back into the interrogation room and handed Jack the pop. He opened it, took a big gulp, and shook his head. “Never really liked this stuff,” he said. Paul asked him if he had a lawyer. He had mentioned a lawyer to the desk sergeant. Jack took a minute to answer, “In a way I do, and in a way I don’t. If it wasn’t Christmas, he would be here right now.” Jack thought that was probably true. He wasn’t sure, but he had heard if you give the guy money he would do anything. Paul was concerned about questioning Jack without his lawyer present. They couldn’t risk getting any of this statement excluded as evidence in the event it really was something.
Paul decided to play it safe, “You know Jack, under the circumstances your lawyer may be willing to come in today. What is your lawyer’s name?” Jack pulled a paper out of his breast pocket and handed it to Paul.
Paul looked at it and said, “Let me get you a phone, so you can call him. See what he wants to do, okay?”
“Yup,” and Jack put his head in his hands again.
Paul came in where Roger was waiting. Roger said, “Let me guess, Devon.”
“Yup.” Paul was shaking his head, “This should be interesting.”
Roger touched Paul’s sleeve and said, “Wait, he isn’t confessing to anything. He is asking if we are looking at him in this. I think we can ask him a few questions without his attorney. Why don’t I call the D.A. real quick.” Paul heard Roger apologizing on the phone. By Roger’s facial expression he didn’t like the answer. Roger came back to where Paul was waiting. “D.A. says we’d better be careful, reminded me it was Christmas, said to let him go.”
Paul looked through the observation window and said, “Look at that!” The black cat was on the table, and Jack was rubbing its back and talking to it. Roger rolled his eyes.
Paul went back in the room with Jack and said, “Looks like you found a new friend.”
Jack answered, “Animals like me. I’ve got a great dog, Flea Bag.” Roger had said the dog’s name in his head at the same time Jack said it out loud.
Paul said, “Well Jack, you are n
ot here today to tell us you killed these women are you?”
“Oh HELL NO!” Jack said. “I come in because everywhere I turn is you guys, and I wanted to let you know I ain’t done nothin’! I figured you came to my house, and my bar! I’m just here to tell ya you are wastin’ time on me.”
Paul looked sideways at the observation window then said to Jack, “I think that we will ask you to come back and answer some questions. Not today though. You make sure your lawyer knows you came here, and that we will be calling him tomorrow.”
Jack sat up straight, “Are you saying I am not a suspect in this shit?”
Paul answered, “Let’s say you are now a person of interest.”
Jack thought a moment, “I can live with that. Yeah, that’s not near as bad as being a suspect.” Jack stood up and asked, “Can I just leave now? Go home?”
“Yes you can Jack. Just don’t be leaving town without letting me know.” He handed Jack a card.
Paul noticed the black cat ran out of the room. He watched Jack strut down the hall, saying ‘bye to everyone he passed, and then he was out of the building. Paul watched him get into an old Dodge pickup and drive off. When Paul got back to Roger’s office, the cat was back on the credenza, and Roger was sitting at his desk.
Paul spoke first, “What was that? Do you believe this guy? Thanks to your cat we found out he has a dog without having to ask the question.”
Roger raised one eyebrow, “I have met Flea Bag. He is a very unusual dog, and he is yellow.”
Paul’s smile went away, “Yellow dog, huh?”
Roger brought out his notebook and told Paul everything he had found out about Attorney Devon. After a minute Paul said, “So you think our lawyer friend is just a funeral chaser, and not our do-er?”
Roger answered, “I think we need to get a lot of information on both of these guys, fast. Either the world’s smartest lawyer is soon going to be representing the world’s dumbest drunk, opportunity there. Or the world’s smartest drunk is about to suck in the world’s dumbest lawyer, opportunity there. Either way, we are going to be severely hampered by attorney / client privilege.”
Roger told Paul to brief the task force on what had developed, and remind them that it was imperative to the investigation not to leak to the press they were looking at anyone. The rumor would already be flying around the station that some guy came in and confessed. Roger called the FBI Data Agent assigned to the case, Agent Ray Davis. He instructed him to start sending anything he could find on Mr. Jack Simpson and Attorney James Devon. It was probably going to be a very long night. While he was on the phone, Ray told him he had just sent over the security tapes from Kroger for the entire day of the 23rd of November. He also instructed Roger on how to freeze frames and zoom, on the new software. Roger swore they changed the software they used for this stuff every time he figured it out. Ray sent him photos and stats of Devon and Simpson from DMV records.
Roger walked over to the window, leaned against the wall, and pulled his wallet out. He flipped to a well-worn picture of a beautiful woman sitting at the edge of a canyon, blowing a kiss. Sharon. It had been five years now and his heart ached like it was yesterday. He looked out at the snow, remembered their first snow ball fight, and how he had let her win. He had tackled her and kissed the snowflakes from her face. On Christmas he proposed to her, and she had said no. Her doctor had just told her she had cancer. A bad one. There was nothing that could be done. In her eyes that night, he saw himself dying too.
He had taken a family leave from the Agency to be with her. The cancer had eaten her alive. It was like watching her vanish from life, a little piece at a time. Roger took care of all of her needs. Near the end he stayed in bed with her as much as he could. He read to her, sang to her, and brushed her hair. She was so brave. She had held him in her arms, on her bed, to comfort him, and she had whispered, “Promise me you will love again.”
He had promised, even though every cell of his being was screaming, “How?” He had felt the warmth of her last breath on his cheek. It was another six months before he returned to work. He thought he was ready. He talked to people who had lost loved ones who said they were empty, hollow, just going through the motions of living. He envied them. He had a burning sword piercing his heart. He returned his wallet to his pocket, poured a cup of coffee, stroked the cat’s back, and downloaded the files from Ray. Roger wondered if he would ever keep that promise to Sharon.
He had been reviewing the Kroger tapes for an hour in fast speed when Paul came back into his office. “How can you see anything that fast?”
“This is now about noon on the 23rd, and I was just getting ready to slow it down,” Roger hit pause and turned to look at Paul. “Anything of interest in the ‘room’?”
“Yeah, we have a couple of tip line calls that might pan out. Detectives are on them now. I think a couple of guys think we messed up bad letting this Simpson guy go home. Just getting tired of the hunt, you know?”
Roger nodded, “Wait ‘til the Captain hears. He is the one getting heat from the press.”
Paul asked, “Mind if I watch with you?” Roger turned back to his monitor, adjusted it so Paul could see better, and set the video for normal speed x two. Fast enough not to take all day and yet slow enough to catch something. They watched the store fill up with customers, and they went to a split screen showing four camera views at once of different aisles. After about an hour of viewing, Roger reached over and hit the stop button then backed up about six frames. He pointed to the top right view. “Who does that look like there?”
Paul squinted, “Maybe, let’s follow that camera a few more frames”. They watched two women walk through the front door, grab a cart, put their purses in the cart basket, and start walking through the store. One looked like the right description for Karen Smith, and the other fit Valerie McDonald.
Paul was tapping the screen on another camera view, “Go back to the front door.” A man in a long dark trench coat had walked in, grabbed a cart, and moved up fast behind Karen and Valerie. He had the right color hair and body shape for Devon. They watched as the three progressed through the store. The man who looked like Devon put a few items in his cart, but most of the time just looked at items and put them back on the shelf. As the three turned the aisle corner there was a full face shot of them all from the third security camera. Paul leaned forward, “There! Freeze and zoom on that!”
Roger looked at his notes, and Paul just hit a couple of keys on the computer. They were looking at Karen Smith, Valerie McDonald, and with the aid of the pictures sent by Ray, a perfect shot of Attorney James Devon. “What do you know?” Roger said, “Let’s keep going.” They watched about ten minutes more when Roger said, “I don’t believe it!” He hit stop, backup, stop, and zoom. There was Jack Simpson putting a case of beer into a cart, obviously saying something to Valerie and Karen as they passed by him. Devon was close behind.
“Are we back to two do-ers’ again?” Paul looked at Roger. They watched as Karen and Valerie stood at a freezer case. Jack went past them, through the check out, and out the door. Devon was across from Karen and Valerie and picked up items on an end cap display. He put the items back and moved toward the check out right behind the girls. Karen and Valerie went out the front door no more than two minutes before Devon. Reviewing the checkout again, Devon had pushed his cart to the side at the last minute and just walked through without making a purchase.
Roger called Agent Smallwood back, “Yeah, Ray, do you have parking lot video for around 12:45 p.m. on the Kroger? Great. Send it now would you?” Paul and Roger watched the store video again while they waited for the parking lot video. A pop-up told them the video was there, so they brought it up on the screen. It clearly showed Karen and Valerie walking to Karen’s car, unloading groceries, and pushing the cart to a bin. Karen drove. As they backed out, they saw a light colored Buick slide in behind them and leave the lot. “Didn’t you say you saw a Buick at Devon’s place?” Roger asked Paul.
> “Yup, and I think that was Simpson’s Dodge pickup. Right at the beginning, at the top of the screen, leaving the lot.” They played it back, and it did look like Jack left the parking lot about when Karen and Valerie were coming out of the store.
Roger was back on the phone to Agent Smallwood, “I want every traffic camera from the Kroger to Valerie Smiths house from noon to 3:00 on the 23rd. You know, get me the camera at the corner of Lincoln and Michigan too for that time.” He clicked his phone shut and looked at Paul. “Gut?”
“Devon,” Paul answered. “And he is going to have a late Christmas gift when Jack calls.”
Roger looked at his watch, “What are the odds we call Devon at 6:00 p.m. on Christmas, he’s home, and he lets us come up and talk to him?”
Paul said, “I like the odds better, we just show up.” Roger nodded agreement, pet the cat, and grabbed his coat. Paul said, “You leaving that cat in here?” Roger reached around the back of his desk and pulled out a bag that had a travel litter pan in it. He peeled the cover off and put it in the corner, took out a small paper plate, and emptied a can of cat food on it. Pulled out a small plastic bright blue bowl, and emptied his water bottle. Paul was laughing, “Always prepared, my man, always prepared.”
Roger said, “That cat has been bringing us good luck.” They turned off the office light and shut the door. Ellen walked over to the litter and rolled in it for a while. She sniffed the food and almost threw up. She knew she had to make it disappear, so she buried it in pieces in the litter. She did get a drink of water then she vanished. She had to beat them to Devon’s place.
* * *
CHAPTER 14
Alcohol Was Not Involved : A Shallow End Gals Trilogy Page 11