by Anne Hagan
Kris watched through the glass front doors from behind the cash register counter as the driver’s side door swung open and someone started to step down. One of the pumps was in her line of vision so she leaned out over the counter to try and see who had been driving. No one was visible.
Looking confused, she stepped out from behind the counter and over to the double doors. The driver was lying face down on the pavement, not moving. The door was still hanging open. All she could see of him was about mid-back, down of a man in dusty Levi’s and steel toed boots. “JD, drunk as usual!”
Kris stepped outside into the humid evening air, “JD?”
The prone man didn’t respond.
She moved forward and stopped at the service island but didn’t step over it. “JD?” she called again. He still didn’t move or respond.
Kris stepped back and walked around the island to his side of it, stopping near his head. She stooped down and put a hand on his shoulder and called, “JD” again as she attempted to turn his face up to her. She fell backwards when she saw his bloody, battered face.
After scrambling back to her feet, she ran into the station, picked up the phone and dialed Mel’s desk phone number at home.
###
Mel
We were looking through the local realtor listings on my computer when the phone rang.
Dana was closer to it. She glanced at the caller ID and said, “It’s Kris calling from the station,” as she picked the handset up.
“Hey Kris, what’s up?” she asked my twin sibling.
Even though the phone wasn’t on speaker, Kris’s voice came through loud and clear, “Tell Mel she needs to get up here right away. I think JD is dead!”
I grabbed the phone from Dana, “It’s me, sis. What’s going on?”
“JD pulled in here in that big SUV he was driving the other day and he literally fell out of it. He’s all bloody and he’s not responding. I think he’s dead.”
“Did you call 911 for an ambulance or for the police?”
“No dummy! I’m calling you!”
“Kris, listen to me. Don’t touch him or his vehicle. Call 911 and get an ambulance and some of my deputies to the scene. I’ll be right up there.”
Kris hung up on me without saying anything else.
“Sorry Dana! Duty calls.”
“Go; I’ll hold down the fort here.”
“Thanks babe.” I kissed her forehead, grabbed my wallet style badge and my go bag from my den closet and then I headed up the street to the gas station in my pick-up.
When I got to the station, all of a quarter mile away, the neighbors and the looky-loos were already starting to gather around the place. News travels fast in a tiny village like this one and a potential dead guy at the gas station is definitely news.
“Hey there Sheriff, it’s about time you showed up!” nosy old man Purcell cackled loud enough for all that were gathered around to hear. The old coot had only had to walk 20 yards across the street to get to the station. I ignored his barb.
“Everyone needs to move back please. A squad and other officers have been called and they’ll be arriving soon.”
“Don’t need no squad Sheriff. You need the Coroner for that one!” Purcell piped up, yet again. “He’s dead as a door nail!”
I stared at the old man hard. “You didn’t touch him did you?”
Purcell shrank under my gaze. He shook his head no and then stepped back into the gathering crowd.
I bent down and felt for the pulse point on JD’s neck. There was nothing. He wasn’t moving and there was no indication he was breathing.
Turning to Kris, I handed her the keys to my truck. “Park it across here so nobody can gape at him from the front.” I motioned for her to park the vehicle sideways blocking entry to the pump island and the view of the most likely deceased Jeremy David Roberts.
Once Kris had started to move my vehicle, I bent back to JD, took hold of his shoulder and gently tried to turn him over. I wasn’t prepared for the amount of damage I saw to his face.
JD had been beaten to a bloody pulp by someone. His fall from the SUV probably only heightened injuries he already had when he tumbled. His neon green road construction crew tee shirt was also marked with either his own blood or someone else’s but it appeared to be mostly dry now. Bending low over his face, I tried to feel for inhaled or exhaled air while I watched his chest for rise and fall. There was nothing but, even with the matted and congealing blood, I could detect the faint odor of alcohol.
I looked at his hands. His visible knuckles were scraped up pretty bad. They were all the proof I needed that he really had been in a hell of a brawl.
Standing, I stepped over him to the SUV. The door was still open. It was obvious JD had hit it on his way down. There was smeared blood on the window, the upper door just below the window and on the arm rest. Poor JD was as good as dead when he pulled in but his fall finished the job.
Once the ambulance and a couple of my deputies arrived, we cordoned off the area temporarily and started talking to the gathered crowd. We tried, in vain, to find a witness that had seen or knew anything more than the direction JD came from when he pulled in. Kris had been able to supply that information herself. No one else knew a thing but everyone sure seemed to have an opinion.
The squad guys did what they could for JD which primarily consisted of covering his body with a sheet and calling the County Coroner to come and do the actual pick up since the cause of death was more than a little indeterminate. I called for a tow truck and had the big SUV he’d been driving hauled to the impound lot. Trying to figure out who owned it and if it should be searched or not could wait until morning.
Chapter 3 – Cue it Up
Thursday Morning, August 7th, 2014
While I waited for the Coroner’s initial report, I ran the tags on the SUV JD was driving. He’s a local boy that grew up in Morelville and never strayed far from it. Kris had said she thought the SUV belonged to his boss, the guy who owned the road construction company he’d been working for, Oscar Stiers.
The Escalade had Florida plates on it. I didn’t know much about Stiers other than to know he’d grown up in the Zanesville area too and that he liked to give back by hiring mostly locals to work on the jobs he got. Right now, he was doing some freeway construction work nearby as a sub on another company’s big state supported contract. JD Roberts was a drunk and a small time criminal. He’d been lucky to get hired on to a legitimate outfit to do real work.
When the plates came back as registered to Stiers at a Florida address but with an Ohio contact number I figured the vehicle was probably his snowbird transport south for the winter months. I called the number the system kicked out and got dumped into voicemail on what was likely Stiers’ personal cell phone.
I buzzed my assistant, “Holly, can you get me the name and number of the road construction company that Oscar Stiers owns? It should be Zanesville based.”
“On it Sheriff. It should only take a minute.”
“Thanks.” Holly and I had come up through the ranks together. She’s a Sergeant in her own right and often pulls double duty by manning the intake desk on weekends when she isn’t playing the role of my right hand. She’s a good cop and a good friend.
Only a few minutes had passed when Holly buzzed me back. “Sheriff the company is Stiers Asphalt Paving.” She gave me the number. “Oscar Stiers works out of a home office in Zanesville some of the time but his garage and shop are near Columbus since he does a lot of sub work, it appears, for Koko Construction.”
“I see. Good to know.” And out of my jurisdiction...
“One more thing Mel; the preliminary findings are in on Roberts. The Coroner’s initial report shows a blood alcohol level of .10.”
“Anything else?”
“Just that so far. I’ll let you know when he’s done with the autopsy.”
“Okay, thanks Holly.” I hung up. So, JD was legally drunk when he died. Frankly, given his long history o
f alcohol abuse, I wasn’t surprised.
###
Stiers Residence, Zanesville, Ohio
Oscar Stiers was actually relaxing at home and not working in his home office when I got a hold of him. I’d forgotten what it felt like to take a day off in the middle of the work week. Must be nice!
I decided to pay him a personal visit. Minutes later, when I pulled up in my county SUV and started to dismount, he walked out of the house and right up to me. He was dressed simply in shorts, a tee shirt and basic leather sandals. Even in the August heat, He looked rested and relaxed.
“Sheriff.” He nodded his head to me. “That was fast.”
“I was right downtown and, frankly, until JD died, it was a quiet week for me. Nobody gets up to much of anything when it’s this hot.”
Oscar smiled, “I know I prefer to be here than in the shop or out overseeing road projects this time of year if I can help it!” He looked me up and down in my full uniform. “You’re probably roasting because I know you have a vest on. Come on inside.”
“Thank you. It’s all part of the job but the dog days make it a little tougher.”
We headed into his nice but modest home. I knew he was a millionaire several times over but he didn’t live like one here. Maybe his home in Florida was different. Somehow, I doubted it.
He led me right into the kitchen and indicated that I should take a seat at the island.
“Sweet tea Sheriff? It’s a weakness of mine.”
I nodded. “Thank you. That sounds great.”
He filled two glasses with ice and took a pitcher from the refrigerator. While he poured, I started my quest for information. “So, can you tell me, how long has JD Roberts worked for you?”
“As far as I know,” he slid a glass to me and took a quick sip of his own, “he started this summer and he hasn’t been with me previous to this.”
“Did you know him before you hired him?”
He shook his head no. “I don’t believe so. Road crew guys come and go. It pays well but it’s hot dirty work and it’s only seasonal here. If they find something full time in the off season, I usually don’t see them the next summer.”
“Do you also do paving work in Florida?”
“Not if I can help it!” he laughed. “Sometimes a contract is too good to pass up but the bulk of my equipment is up here and so is my only maintenance shop. It’s a pain to move everything down there – or anywhere – so the money has to be right.”
I switched topics, “We have your SUV impounded right now. We’ve done a cursory search of it but we didn’t turn up anything. We won’t do a deeper search of it unless we have probable cause.”
Oscar, still standing across the counter from me, flipped his hand back quickly. “It’s no big deal. Do what you need to do with it. I bought it down there in a bank repo sale to use up here for those times when I have to be here in the dead of winter.”
“Why did you lend it to JD?”
“Well, that’s just it. I didn’t lend it to him...not directly.” At my raised eyebrow, he continued, “He didn’t steal it or anything like that, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“My daughter Olivia actually called me a week or so ago whining that her car was in the shop again. She drives some overpriced foreign job; an A5. The only place around here that can fix it is the Toyota dealership but they always have to wait for Audi to send them parts. Anyway, she wanted me to pay for a high end rental. I lent her the Escalade instead.”
He drummed his fingers on the island, “I figured it would slow her down some by not having that sports car she usually drives to the breaking point and by having to keep the SUV in fuel. Olivia must have lent it to him.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about where he might have been or where he may have been headed while he was driving your vehicle? It would be really helpful.”
He shook his head again, “I’m sorry but I just didn’t know him that well. I didn’t even know she knew him but then, she’s pretty hard to keep tabs on now that she’s back in town with her mother gone and all. She just flits from guy to guy and spends her future inheritance like it’s endless. She’s been in and out of school and she works at this or that, only when the spirit moves her.”
“How would I get in touch with Olivia?”
“I’ll give you her number but I wish you luck. I texted her right after you called me but she hasn’t responded. She doesn’t usually talk to me unless she needs something.”
“JD was in work clothes last night when he showed up at the gas station where he died. Was he on a local job site?”
“I assume but I wasn’t out there. He’s assigned to a repaving project on I-70 with at least a dozen other guys. The foreman on the job would know for sure.” Stiers checked the time on his cell phone. “If we leave now, we can catch them as they break for lunch and talk to the lead and probably most of the crew. Someone may know something.”
###
I-70 Road Repaving Site, East of Zanesville
Oscar Stiers introduced me to his site foreman who could only confirm that JD had, in fact, been at work with him the day before. He’d been assigned to hang off the back of a truck and set traffic cones in the morning, a solitary job, and then he’d done jobs alone and with one or two others the rest of the day.
He pointed out a few men from the Stiers crew who were sitting on a hillside eating their packed lunches under what little shade was available in the area. I approached them hoping that at least one of them had, had a conversation with JD the day before.
Two of the three men eyed my approach. One was busy, filthy hands and all, digging in his lunch bucket. I took my hat off and mopped my brow as I stepped to the edge of their semi-circle on the hill.
“I’m Sheriff Crane.” I looked at each of them. “JD Roberts, who worked with you all day yesterday, died yesterday evening. I’m trying to get a fix on where he was between leaving work with you all and the time that he died.”
None of the three men said a word.
“I know that JD was in some kind of fight before he ended up where he did. No one is under suspicion here. I’m just trying to piece together when he left here and where he went.”
I felt, rather than heard Stiers come up behind me.
“Men, help the Sheriff out. Robert’s was driving my Escalade, unknown to me, last night. We need to figure out where he went and what he got himself into.”
The man digging in his pail jerked his head up. “That was your ride? That lyin’ mofo!” The other two men laughed uneasily. “JD said the wheels were his, man. He acted all big shit and all about it!”
One of the other men chimed in, “Man, I’m sorry that he died and all but I didn’t believe half the stuff that fucker said. He was always runnin’ his damn mouth.”
“What time did you guys knock off yesterday?” I looked at each of them.
The second man to speak shrugged, “About 5:00 or so, like normal.”
“Did JD say anything to any of you about where he was going after work?” Both men who had spoken looked to the third man who hadn’t had any input into the conversation so far. The guy, knees drawn up, looked at the ground between his feet.
I addressed him directly, “Did he tell you anything?”
The man only glanced at me and then looked back down at the ground. “He didn’t tell me nothin’ but I saw him.”
“Where did you see him?”
“He was at a bar I go to. I see him in there sometimes.”
“What bar?”
“Ray’s place up near the steel mill.”
“I know it. About what time did you see him there?”
He shrugged and looked away again. “I dunno. I live near there. I went home and got a little cleaned up first. Musta’ been after 6:00.”
The other two men laughed at that. He shot them both a look. “I wasn’t keepin’ tabs on him like Sheriff. He was there, I was there. We wasn’t there together.”
It’s like pull
ing teeth with this guy. “Was he with anyone else?”
“He was playing pool with some other guys...three of them. I don’t know them.”
“Were they friendly to each other?”
He was quiet for a beat and obviously agitated. Finally he spat, “Look lady, I don’t know what to tell you! They may have been arguing about something from the looks of it but I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that. I stayed out of it.”
“Let me have your name, address and contact information please.”
“What for?”
“In case I have any follow-up questions.”
“I told you everything I know.”
Oscar Stiers had remained present but quiet throughout my conversation with the three men. Now, tipping his head toward the man, he spoke up again, “This is Sterling Moon.” He stepped toward Moon and glared down at him, “You need to give the Sheriff the information she needs. If you have a problem with that then you have a problem with staying employed with me.”
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t need anyone fighting my battles for me. Battles...wait a minute... I looked at Moon’s hands. They were dirty but otherwise unremarkable. If he’d been in a fight recently, it wasn’t evident.
###
Ray’s Bar, 6:00 PM, Thursday, August 7th, 2014
Ray’s bar is a dive in the Northeast part of Zanesville. It isn’t far from the AK Steel mill and its usual clientele is reflective of that. I walked in there in full uniform just about the time Sterling Moon said he was in there the day before. I was hoping to catch the same staff working the same hours. I was also prepared to catch a little flak from the bar patrons. My history there wasn’t a good one.
The place smelled so badly of spilt beer and old, stale cigarettes that my nose started to twitch as soon as I walked in. Surprisingly, it was all but deserted. One guy sat at a grimy table eating fries while another quaffed beer at the end of the bar. The pool tables were empty. I guess the summer heat was even getting to the mill guys used to working in a place where molten hot metal was their constant companion.
Kevin was behind the bar. He’d been the usual bartender at Ray’s for as long as I could remember and probably a dozen years before that. I nodded at him and headed his way.