He put Jim in charge of this segment of the investigation, a decision that obviously did not sit well with Paul. Fred realized that nothing Fred did would satisfy Paul, so the hell with him.
Chapter 18
When Paul and Jim left his office, Fred called Mrs. Slivers, identified himself, and asked to see her. She was less than enthusiastic but reluctantly agreed to meet him at her house in a half hour.
Fred had learned from experience that he had to structure interrogation techniques on a selective situation basis depending on the personalities he was confronting. When dealing with the accused, the key was to let them believe he had more evidence then he really had. This frequently resulted in the inadvertent release of details of the crime or, if he was lucky, a confession. When more than one individual was involved in a crime, his preferred method was to play one against another. Rarely did loyalty come to the forefront in such cases. And once one party started talking, it was relatively easy to accomplish the same with the other.
The most difficult aspect of any investigation was that which he was about to do. He had to get information out of the loved one of a spouse accused of murder. His approach was to appear sympathetic while at the same time obtaining as much incriminating evidence as possible. Not only was the task difficult, it went against his very principles. He very much wanted to give this task to Jim who had the finesse to succeed in these delicate situations. But he hadn’t delegated the assignment for two reasons. First, he needed Jim to help keep tight reins on Paul. Secondly, it would not be fair to give this objectionable task to Jim. After all, Fred realized, he was now making the big bucks and had to deal with the assortment of responsibilities that came with it.
The Slivers’ home was in the remote eastern boundary of Sarasota County. The development’s gated homes were significantly larger and more expensive than those in most areas of Sarasota. Fred surmised that one had to have a fairly high annual income to purchase and maintain a house of this size. Paul wondered if Slivers’ position as the head of an insurance agency would provide him an adequate income. Jim had conducted a thorough financial paper trail and concluded that Slivers was well off. Fred needed to verify that for himself. On the other hand, even if there was a money problem, it didn’t seem to have any link to the murders.
Fred knew the area well, although he had never actually been in the development. The development’s swampy land had been elevated through the use of thousands of tons of fill dirt. Arcadia, the closest eastern small town of any magnitude, was over 40 miles away with no lifeline gas stations or restaurants in between. At night the small two lane road was often occupied by alligators seeking new breeding grounds as dominant males would drive out smaller ones from their watery domiciles. But within the tranquil urban setting of the area in which the Slivers lived, many of its residents lived out their peaceful lives without ever seeing the predatory creatures of the night that lurk and kill just a few miles beyond their backyards.
Fred jumped into his bright red Miata, and went east on Fruitville Road, out to the development in which Slivers lived, a trip which took about twenty-five minutes. It would have taken only about fifteen during the summer, when the snowbirds were not populating the county. A local radio disk jockey joked every winter with the question, “If this is snow bird season, why can’t we shoot them?” Fred wondered how many vacationers from the north continued to listen to that station after hearing the same joke time and again.
Fred followed the street numbers until he reached the address. The front lawn was well manicured with two palm trees on each side of the walk leading to the front steps. Like many Florida houses, it was constructed of cement block which had the collective advantage of saving on building costs and discouraging year-round ravenous termites. Off to the side of the house was a small lake. In the north, Florida’s lakes would be at best classified as ponds since they are usually employed as small catch basins capturing runoff water during heavy rains to preclude flooding of the low lying lands. With an average altitude of only 13 feet, Sarasota needed all the methods it could muster to prevent flooding. On the far shore of the lake, Fred observed an anhinga drying its wings.
He knocked on the front door; Mrs. Slivers opened it immediately. She was impeccably dressed in a navy blue blouse and a tan skirt that fell just below her knees. She was a middle-aged woman who Fred guessed to be her mid fifties. Her hair was just starting to show faint traces of silver. Fred projected that the total transformation to gray was probably another ten years or so away. He appreciated the fact that she did not attempt to disguise her age but was dressed appropriately for her mature years. He showed her his badge, she nodded.
Without smiling, she said, “I have been expecting you, Lieutenant. Please come in.”
She pointed to a peach and aqua upholstered sofa. He took her cue and sat; she sat down in a matching chair across from him. The floor was tiled in a white ivory color with a darker cream grout, a popular choice for Floridians since tile provided a cool surface underfoot, much appreciated during the burning summers. The living room was spacious, to say the least. Fred could see past the formal dining room to a large enclosed swimming pool in the screened lanai. Framed pictures of what Fred suspected were their children at a very young age, were situated on both end tables. Pictures on the wall across from him displayed her and her husband at the beach, hugging two older children posed in front of them. Those are the same children, Fred surmised, with age progression. He thought he recognized them from the picture that was in Slivers’ office. Nothing in the house appeared out of place. It was well cared for; and the expensive furnishings indicated they were the property of an upper class family.
She opened the conversation directly. “Lieutenant Harris, I’m not sure I have any desire to talk to you. I have been contacted by my husband’s attorney and he cautioned me about talking to anyone from the police department without his presence.”
Fred said, “I understand and if you feel that anything I ask you is inappropriate you’re free not to answer me, is that reasonable?”
She reluctantly nodded and said, “I guess so.”
Fred asked if the pictures on her end tables were those of their children.
She said, “Yes, I’m very proud of both of them. One is now a computer scientist and the other a veterinarian.”
So far to Fred this seemed like a typical upper class family. No signs of a crazed killer living here.
Fred decided to attempt to probe the financial situation of the family. “I can understand your reason for being very proud of the success of your children, Mrs. Slivers. Higher education is very expensive nowadays, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is; we are so thankful that both our children were industrious and worked their way through college. That helped significantly as did their scholarships.”
Fred thought to himself, so far, there seemed to be no financial reason that Slivers would be robbing a bank or acting as a hit man for some unknown reason, not that he ever suspected that was the case.
She offered Fred a cup of coffee. Fred hated the thought of coffee, but wanting to have an excuse to stay for awhile, Fred replied, “No, thank you; but a glass of ice water would be nice.”
While she was getting the water, he decided on his next approach. He concluded that he would be totally honest with her and solicit her input on that basis alone without any distortions or attempt to coerce. When she returned he said, “Mrs. Slivers, I have to tell you I have talked to your husband’s employees and they could say nothing but positive things about him. He appears in their eyes to be of the finest character.”
With tears in her eyes Mrs. Slivers said, “Yes, then I don’t understand why you are accusing him of this crime. I just talked to him at the county jail and he told me he didn’t have anything to do with it; and, Lieutenant, I can assure you that my husband does not lie. Maybe you don’t know that he is a respected member of the community and a deacon in our church.”
Fred thought, great, in the
eyes of the world, not only should this guy not be accused of murder, he deserves to be put up for sainthood.
“Mrs. Slivers, I am not challenging the fact that your husband was a valued member of the community or a good husband. I am simply trying to reconcile that with the fact that he alone was responsible for the murder and injury of several innocent people.”
She responded in anger, “That’s not true, that is simply not true!”
Fred waited a few seconds and speaking in a calm voice said, “Mrs. Slivers, we have a videotape of your husband with the murder weapon in his hand, shooting bank customers and bank personnel. Your lawyer has been provided with a copy of the same tape. There’s no question that he did it.”
Mrs. Slivers’ response offered the same rebuttal logic that had troubled Fred earlier, “Why would he try to rob a bank? More money at this stage in our lives is the last thing we require in this world.”
“I understand; and like you I don’t believe he entered that bank with the intent to rob. The question is, why did he enter the bank, what was his purpose?”
Mrs. Slivers was silent for what seemed like minutes. When she finally spoke, her composure had returned and she seemed for the first time to have taken in the reality that her husband was in fact involved. “I don’t know, my husband has not been depressed or unhappy about anything in our lives. The only thing—”
“—Yes” Fred interrupted, “What were you about to say?”
“Well, this can’t have any bearing but Jim has become rather forgetful lately.”
Fred could not see how this could possibly link to the crime, but he asked her to provide more details.
“Last week he often came home from work much later than normal and he couldn’t remember where he had been. We even made an unscheduled call to our family doctor fearing Jim might have an early onslaught of dementia. Jim was tested and the results indicated that he had greater recall than the vast majority of men his age. Our doctor said forgetfulness often stems from the pressure of work. He suggested we take a cruise and relax for awhile. Officer, our cruise is scheduled for a couple of weeks from now. Oh, God, will we ever be able to take it now?”
Fred had empathy for this very devoted wife who had a hard time processing the reality of the situation. He spoke to her very softly, almost at a whisper level. “Mrs. Slivers, unless we can find some breakthrough in this case which would prove your husband innocent, I really don’t see how. I can only promise you that I will try very hard to understand what went on; and if the facts support your husband’s innocence I will do all I can to make sure he is released. But to be realistic, I can’t see at this stage how that can happen.”
As he made this statement, Fred realized that he was being purely honest both to the grieving wife before him and to himself. If for some reason Fred found Slivers to be innocent, he knew at this very moment that he would resign from the force before he would see him convicted.
Fred asked, “Were there any other recent problems that your husband had—anything at all?”
Mrs. Slivers paused before she spoke. “No, other than the fact he just stopped smoking; that has had a mild irritating effect on his personality.”
Fred nodded, mentally dismissing nicotine withdrawal as a reason to commit murder.
“If you can think of anything that might help your husband, here is my cell phone number. Call me day or night. Please take care.”
Chapter 19
When he returned to the station, Jan told him that two more videos had come in from the bank. She said she already had them copied into DVDs.
“Thanks,” he said, “how many DVD players do we have in the station?”
“Only one.”
Fred said, “Round up two more.”
She said, “Well, I can probably get them from the DA’s office, but why?”
“Because I need to view the shooting simultaneously from as many perspectives as I can; maybe a range of views will uncover something we previously missed.”
As he entered his office, he noted both Jim and Paul were busy checking addresses from the list of bank employee and customer names. Jim had already compiled a list containing the members of the church Slivers attended, his addresses for the past twenty years, the names of his past high school and colleges, and a list of all of his present and former employees and employers. Both Jim and Paul were so deep in thought they didn’t notice him enter.
Picking up one of the lists, Fred noted that Jim had divided the master list into two segments. The segment that Jim had retained for his own interviews included the next of kin of those killed in the bank as well as an assortment of other customers and employees. Paul’s list had no next of kin on it.
Good decision, Fred thought to himself. One of the many things Paul lacked was discretion and empathy. He would be the worst person in the world to interview the grieving relatives. Delicacy was not Paul’s strong point; but at the same time Fred wondered, what in heaven’s name was his strength? At any rate, he thought, both Paul and Jim will be armed with detailed information on Slivers’ past; so if there was any possible match with his victims or intended victims it should show up.
He asked Paul how he was coming.
“Good, I found and recorded the addresses of most of the people on my list.”
“Great” Fred said, “The interview process will take a few days so we need to get started. You can finish looking up the addresses when you arrive tomorrow.”
Paul said, “Okay,” and left the office, list in hand.
Jim said, “I better get started as well.”
“No,” Fred replied, “the additional bank videos are in. I want you and me to look them over without Paul around.”
In a few minutes Fred and Jim were seated in rock hard un-cushioned chairs around the conference room table. Three DVDs were projecting simultaneously on three TV screens. Jan was assigned the duty of stopping all three on command. This time all three of them tried to focus directly on Slivers’ actions, even to the most seemingly insignificant detail.
Fred noticed for the first time, that Slivers had taken a moment to quickly scan the lobby of the bank before he drew his weapon and started firing. None of those present in the room could determine who or what he was focusing on, even after playing the DVD several times. They all felt that he seemed to be concentrating toward the left side of the lobby. Those ultimately killed in the melee, however, were from all parts of the room. One video projection clearly showed Slivers firing and another video camera situated behind Slivers showed the immediate impact of his firing. The third video provided a close up of the tellers’ cages and the customers in front of those cages. That projection didn’t seem to provide any additional information, so Fred told Jan to shut that DVD player down.
With only two DVD players operating, the three participants started noticing things previously overlooked. Jan noticed that at selective times, Slivers seemed to stop firing and then after a brief pause he would start again.
“Maybe his weapon jammed or he got tired from holding it?” Jim offered.
“Perhaps,” Fred responded, “but, as you know, jammed weapons don’t normally clear by themselves. I believe the temporary halt in the firing was the result of human intervention, not weapon malfunction.”
“Well, he certainly wasn’t through with his massacre, because after a momentary pause he started firing again,” Jan injected.
After an hour went by all the DVD players were turned off. Fred said, “Okay, Jim, give me a summary of your impressions. And, Jan, I want you in this discussion as well.” Jan blushed with pride. This was the first time she was actually involved in a police role other than purely administrative and secretarial. Fred did not include her to boost her ego; he felt she had an exceptional grasp of details.
Jim opened the dialogue. “Well, I’m not sure; but I believe Slivers was looking for something or someone before he started firing. I also believe the firing was periodically halted for a reason; but for the life
of me I can’t guess what.”
Jan offered one more explanation for the interruption in the firing. “Perhaps,” she said “he’s unfamiliar with using a weapon.” She continued, “If it were me firing the weapon, I would quickly grow tired holding the trigger down and supporting the weight of the weapon.”
Fred reflected on her statement. “Good, Jan. Certainly, Slivers didn’t seem to be a man familiar with guns, so your reasoning might be on target. Jim, I guess that after years of police work, a tired trigger finger is not something we would think of.”
Fifteen minutes later the discussion had produced no further insights. Fred said, “Okay, let’s think this over after a good night’s sleep. I think we’ve exhausted our ideas for this day; but it was useful brainstorming.”
But to himself, Fred thought, “Damn! We’re no further along than we were before we started viewing the videos.”
Chapter 20
Fred decided to take off early from work. Of course, early was a relative term since he had been working over twelve hours a day since his promotion. He needed desperately to clear his head and was looking forward to bouncing some of his ideas off Maureen. Perhaps she could help crystallize them into something meaningful, but right now they seemed to consist solely of unlinked random impressions. He called her about a half hour before he left the office.
Their home was an unpretentious small two-story house in the northern section of the city not far from the John Ringling Mansion.
After dinner he and Maureen settled down in the living room, he with his favorite Mexican amber beer, and she with a mellow chardonnay that she had purchased from the Vanderbilt estate when they vacationed in the North Carolina Mountains the past summer. Fred found Maureen to be an effective sounding board as well as a valued independent objective observer; her ideas were free from bias or political and emotional detractors.
Mind Switch Page 7