He looked it over and laughed.
“Something funny?” I asked.
“Yeah. I have no clue where I was on those dates and times. I might know a few, maybe, but I don’t keep a neat little record. I know where I was yesterday and maybe the day before but three or four weeks ago? Forget it.”
“Sorry Mr. Greenly, that isn’t going to fly. You are going to have to come with us to the station to see if you can do better than that.”
“Look, I just don’t remember where I was. Do you know where you were at those exact times? I doubt it. I want my lawyer.”
“That’s fine. You can call him from the station,” I said.
Dan cuffed him and put him in the back of the patrol car. I was pretty sure he wasn’t the guy. He was too cool and calm. He was angry and I couldn’t say I blamed him but I still needed better answers to totally eliminate him as a suspect.
Three hours later we cut him loose. He never did call a lawyer but he did manage to remember where he was for most of the times listed, especially at the time when the judge was being shot. If he had cooperated in the first place we would not have wasted his or our time. I don’t know what it is that makes people behave sullen and uncooperative. Maybe it is just the nature of the adversarial conditions they find themselves in. Whatever it is, we often find they had nothing to do with it and could have been eliminated easily if they had been more cooperative.
We decided to hit one more name on our list before calling it a day. It was already going on four o’clock and at least five food stops for Dan.
“Okay, this is a guy named Mallory Keebler. His relative was raped and her throat slit. Her husband found her and was a prime suspect for a short time. Later, after the trial, he committed suicide. The guy who did it only got eight years. It was a pretty big story at the time. The woman was Brandi Wilcox and her husband was James. The brother, Mallory, is just a little over six foot and two hundred and twenty pounds. No record,” I said, filling him in while he drove.
Mallory lived in a modest ranch house with a nice fenced in yard. A fairly new Ford Fusion was parked in the driveway. Nothing about the place stood out, other than it was well maintained.
We went up and knocked on the door.
“Yes,” the guy said.
He was nice looking without being gorgeous. Solid, I guess would be a good description.
“Are you Mallory Keebler?”
“I am. I take it you are the police.”
“Why do you say that?”
He laughed, showing a mouth full of white teeth that must have cost a fortune.
“I’ve been expecting you. I just heard that Judge Edgewood was shot and had died. Boy did that make my day. Please, come on in,” he said opening the door.
The inside was well appointed. It was not an over the top man cave, but masculine overall. The most striking thing was the television that was about the same size as my house and a ton of electronic paraphilia that I had no idea the function of.
“Wow. Nice set up,” Dan said, starting to drool.
Men.
“So how can I help you? I hope you weren’t expecting me to feel sorry for the bum. I’m surprised he has made it this long. I thought someone would knock him off sooner,” he said sitting down.
“Why is that?”
“Look at his record. I sure have. He was a disgrace to the entire criminal system. I can’t understand how he managed to make it this long.”
“You know, Mr. Keebler, we are investigating his death and those kinds of statements are not in your best interest.’
“Why? Has the first amendment been suspended? Damn right I’m glad he got his. I hope he didn’t die right away. If it had been up to me he would have suffered for a long time like my sister did before she finally bled to death,” he said.
His smile was gone and he looked menacing now. I saw Dan sit forward ready to move if necessary.
“Mr. Keebler, I understand how you feel. He was a rotten judge and someone got tired of him and his actions and decided to take matters into his own hands. That still doesn’t make it right. We have a duty to find that person and bring him to justice,” I told him trying to calm the situation down.
He took a deep breath and relaxed.
“So it wasn’t just a robbery? The news didn’t say. I just assumed it was something like that,” he replied.
“No, it wasn’t a robbery gone bad. His wife was beaten pretty badly as well. She is in a coma and they don’t know if she will recover.”
“That’s too bad. Why take it out on her?” he asked, more relaxed now.
“We don’t know. Mr. Keebler, I need to inform you that you are a suspect.”
“Gee, I would never have guessed. So you want to hear my alibi I suppose.”
“Actually we need to know where you were on several occasions,” I told him.
“Why? I thought this was about the judge.”
“It is more complicated than that,” I said, handing the sheet over to him.
He studied it for several moments before handing it back.
“What?” I asked.
“I can’t remember all of those times. You’re asking about things that happened three or four weeks ago. I might be able to fill in some but I certainly can’t remember them all.”
“What about the last one? That is the time when the judge was shot,” I said.
“Let me think. That was what, two days ago? I guess around that time I was driving home from my Aunt’s house. She lives in Muncie. I went up there to check on her, stayed part of the day, and drove home.”
“We are going to need to know what time you left and when you arrived home and the name of anyone who can corroborate that.”
“Well, I can tell you when I left. It was around 3:00 p.m. I got back to my house around 5:30 or there abouts.”
“Did anyone see you?” Dan asked.
“Maybe a neighbor saw me when I pulled in. I didn’t see anyone around but then again I wasn’t looking.”
“Mr. Keebler we are going to need you to come along with us and make a full statement. It will help us to eliminate you as a suspect.”
“Am I being charged with anything? Using harsh language about a dead person, anything like that?”
“No sir, you are not.”
“Then fine. I want to call my lawyer and let him know what is going on.”
“Why do you want to do that?”
“Give me a break. I would have to be a fool to think you are just trying to help me. You are looking for someone to blame this on and it isn’t going to be me,” he said.
Well that went downhill fast.
***
We took Mr. Keebler down to the station and put him in one of the interview rooms. He refused to talk to us until his attorney arrived. He seemed like a nice enough guy but he was starting to irritate me by being so uncooperative. I wondered how I would react if the situation were reversed. Probably a lot like Keebler.
I was watching him through the viewing window when the captain came in.
“You need to come with me. Farling has our guy.”
I frowned and looked over at Dan. He just shrugged.
“He said that?”
“Just come. Save the doubt for later,” he said.
We followed him to the viewing window of interview room B. Agents Farling and Conroy were in with a guy that looked to be right at six feet tall, maybe one eighty and clean shaven. He certainly was ordinary looking. Nothing really stood out about the guy. You could have passed him twenty times on the street and never have realized it.
“Mr. Zimmerman, I am going to read your rights,” Farling said.
“You did that already,” he replied.
“Yes, but this is for the record. You are being recorded and videotaped. Do you understand that?”
“Yeah, I get it. You want to CYA.”
Farling didn’t let it get to him, he just went about the business of reading him his rights and having him sign that he u
nderstood.
“Do you want a lawyer present?”
“I don’t have one. Never had the use for one.”
“The court will provide one for free.”
“I don’t need a stinking lawyer. Just ask what you want and let’s get on with it,” Zimmerman said.
“Do you know Judge Edgewood?’
“I know him. I also know he got blown away. Can’t say I’m in tears about that. I hope he died on his knees begging for his life,” he replied.
“You hated the judge.”
“Hated is too mild a word. I loathed the man. Detested everything he stood for. Am I glad he is dead? You can take that to the bank.”
“So you killed him to get even for the sentence he gave the man that killed your daughter?”
The man just smiled but didn’t answer.
“Did you kill him Mr. Zimmerman?”
“Every night in my dreams. Different ways. I must have killed him a thousand times and each time I enjoyed watching him die.”
“I am talking about two days ago. Did you kill Judge Edgewood?”
“I’ve already answered that.”
Farling took a deep breath and Conroy took over.
“Mr. Zimmerman what we want to know is where you were during the following times. Would you mind filling in the times?”
Zimmerman looked at the sheet of paper, picked it up and studied it and then wadded it up and tossed it in the corner.
“Don’t remember where I was during any of those times.”
“We are getting a search warrant to go through your house as we speak,” she said.
“Good luck with that,” he replied.
“You may think you have gotten away with it but we are going to nail you,” she said and stood up.
“You can try,” he said and leaned back and crossed his arms.
I looked at the captain.
“What?” he said.
“They don’t have a thing on this guy. You can’t arrest a man for hating someone. Everyone we have talked to hated his guts. So what? They don’t have squat.”
“They are getting a search warrant,” he said.
“And if they find nothing?”
“We start over,” was his only reply.
We went back and talked to Keebler for a few more minutes. He was less hostile this time but still wasn’t much help in filling in the missing times. Farling and Conroy must have gotten bored with Zimmerman because they wanted to talk to our guy as well.
We decided to not fight it. Maybe they could get more that we could from him. It turned ugly almost immediately. Conroy must have rubbed him the wrong way because he almost came over the table at her once. She did little to help the situation. Finally he refused to even speak to her or answer any of her questions. They stormed out of the room and went back to talk to Zimmerman. We finally let Keebler go.
I know the FBI thought they had the right guy but I wasn’t so sure. If someone had killed my daughter I’m sure I would have plotted ways of getting even. I think that is pretty natural.
His daughter was murdered less than a year ago so he hadn’t had much of a chance to heal yet. He was still angry at the system and the judge. I honestly couldn’t say I blamed him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The search at Zimmerman’s house turned up absolutely nothing of value. There were pictures of his daughter, a copy of a letter he had sent to the paper about how Judge Edgewood was incompetent and a few other odds and ends but nothing that indicated he was the person responsible. He didn’t even have a gun.
“I don’t think he is our man,” I said to Dan.
“I have to agree. He is angry, but that’s all,” Dan agreed.
“So we need to keep going.”
“To lunch?”
I chose to ignore his question.
We were surprised to find that the next person on our list had moved to Alaska almost a month ago. The surprise came because Eric and Miller had somehow missed that fact. At first I thought he might have changed his name and tried to throw us off the trail but after checking it out, we verified that he actually had moved to Alaska.
I guess it was his way of dealing with the loss of his wife and two kids. He simply moved as far away as he could to try to start over. Everyone has to find their own way of dealing with grief.
“Next?” I said.
“Donny Lawrence. His brother was killed by a gang just looking for someone to kill. He was simply walking along and they shot him because he was there and was a white guy,” Dan said.
“A gang related murder?”
“Yep.”
“Well that would certainly give him a reason to start with gangs first. Maybe the rest just sort of evolved,” I said, thinking out loud.
“Could be,” Dan replied, “Seems kind of a long way from gangs to judges.”
“Let’s go check him out.”
***
The Lawrence house wasn’t exactly a slum but you could tell there was a lot of deferred maintenance. It needed to be painted and one of the gutters was hanging down. A widow had been broken and a piece of wood had been set over it and was held in place by duct tape.
“This should be interesting,” Dan said as he got out.
We knocked on the door and a guy in dirty bib overalls with no shirt opened the door. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few months. He had on one sock and no shoes.
“Yeah?”
“Detectives Bartoni and Roberts. We would like to talk to you about Judge Edgewood.”
“I got nothing to say except whoever killed him gets my vote of gratitude.”
“We understand how you feel but we need to ask you some questions.”
“You have no idea how I feel. As far as an alibi, I have been right here in my house for the past week. I went to the store once to get booze and that’s all. I can’t prove it so if you want to arrest me then go ahead. Not only can I not help you, I have no interest in helping solve his murder. The guy that did it is a hero as far as I am concerned.”
“Mr. Lawrence, we have a job to do. We can’t let people go around murdering others because of the things they may have done,” I said.
It sounded lame to me but I had to come up with something.
“Well, I hope you never get the guy,” he said.
“I don’t suppose you could tell us where you were during these times,” I said, handing him the paper.
He looked at it for several minutes and finally said.
“I was here in my house. Alone. Probably drunk. I lost my job and will likely be evicted in a month or so. Can’t tell you anything more than that.”
“Alright Mr. Lawrence. Thank your for your time.”
I could see Dan look at me. He was wondering why I wasn’t taking him in for questioning. It was simple. He was definitely memorable, with a beard and long dirty hair. People would definitely have remembered this guy.
The last guy on our list, Stan Knap, wasn’t much better. He was a total drunk and could barely stand while we were talking to him. He told us he was most likely at the bar down the street during those times since that was where he practically lived.
His alibi was easy to check out. We stopped by the bar and the bartender just laughed. He said Stan hadn’t been totally sober since his wife was killed. He never caused any trouble. He just sat at the end of the bar and slowly got sloshed until he was cut off. He always paid cash and never caused a problem. He would always walk to the bar and then stagger home.
It was a dead end.
“He won’t last long if he keeps going like that,” Dan said.
“I think that is exactly what he wants. He doesn’t want to face reality and just crawls up in the bottle to forget. Unless something comes along to snap him out of it he will be dead in five years,” I said.
“Edgewood was a bad judge. He has caused a lot of people grief. Instead of helping them find closure, he managed to deepen the wounds even more.”
“So our guy did another good
deed?” I asked.
“No, I’m just saying.”
“Yeah. I get it. The bottom line is we have to catch him. He can’t go on killing people like this.”
“Even attorneys?” Dan asked.
“Dan Roberts, you are so bad. Funny, but bad.”
***
When we got back to the station we found that the FBI was actually considering charging Zimmerman even though the search of his house turned up nothing more than a few newspaper articles and a letter to the editor he had written about the judge. No weapon was found and I, for one, thought they were barking up the wrong tree.
“They seem to think he is the guy,” the captain said.
“They are morons. They have nothing. I doubt any prosecutor is even going to touch this case with what they have. So far we haven’t had one person who could fill in the blanks about their location except for one drunk. His is the only alibi that has checked out 100 percent,” I said.
“Okay Bartoni, what is your gut feeling?” the captain asked.
That was a pretty unusual question for a guy that lived and died by facts.
“I don’t know about the people they have talked to but only one of ours stands out in my mind. He is smooth and I think he fits the bill better than anyone we have talked to. Of course I could be full of crap but I don’t think so. It is just a matter of tripping him up.”
“Who is that?” the captain asked.
“Mallory Keebler.”
“Why?”
“First, he totally fits in terms of being invisible. He has hardly any unique features about him, no tattoos, no facial hair. He dresses conservatively, not flashy. Pretty non-descript. He was easy going with us but once the FBI got involved, I saw a different side of him. I think he can keep his temper under control most of the time but when he snaps, he goes off the deep end.”
“Dan?”
“I’m with Angie. It was interesting to see the transformation from when he was talking to us and then with the FBI. I don’t think he likes authority very well. He tolerated us but his demeanor changed when Farling and Conroy took a shot at him.”
Victim's Advocate: Angie Bartoni Case Flie # 12 (Angie Bartoni Case Files) Page 15