Driven Be Jack_A Jack Nolan Novel

by Robert Tarrant

  PJ said, "The reports said that some of Jessica's friends mentioned that she had been dating Freeman Robinson. But, somewhat secretly. Why secretly? Was it because he's black?"

  Windy cocked his head as if analyzing the question. Then he replied, "Probably partly that. It would certainly not have set well with Butch, and Jessica was still living under his roof. But, beyond that I would say it was that Freeman didn't really have the best reputation those days. After he was hurt in football and dropped out of school he seemed to be spiraling downhill. Almost overnight, he went from being the local football hero to being just another uneducated, underemployed black kid. It was sad, real sad."

  PJ said, "According to trial testimony, Jessica and Freeman were seen talking sometime after she left her friends that night. Their cars were parked side by side and they were talking in their cars. The theory was that he then followed her out to the spot where her car was found and she got into his car, either voluntarily or otherwise. Something went wrong and he killed her, disposing of her body in one of the canals."

  Windy interrupted, "Yeah, all conjecture, except for the damn DNA evidence."

  PJ continued, "Woman's panties with her DNA were found in the glove box of the car as well as her DNA found in both the front seat and back seat. Of course if they were dating that could all be explained. It was her DNA found in the trunk that was really damaging."

  Windy interrupted again, "Yeah, nobody was buying Freeman's story that they were getting a blanket out of the trunk one time and got so passionate that they had sex over the open trunk."

  PJ muttered, "Got to admit it sounded like a pretty convenient story."

  Windy said, "I know. I know. And, maybe he did kill her and transport her body in the trunk as the prosecution argued. I don't know for sure. I just don't think it sounds like the Freeman I know."

  I asked, "How do you know Freeman?"

  "He worked at the local garage where I took my cars for service. Real good with cars. Started working there when he was about fifteen. Even when he was the big football star he worked every evening after practice and all day Saturday. I had an old Ford at one time that was always giving me problems. Seemed like I was in there every few days for something or another. That's how I got to know him. I'd hang around and talk while he worked on my car. I liked the kid."

  PJ looked at me and I could read her mind. Windy liked Freeman and thus he couldn't see him as a killer. Rose colored glasses and all that stuff.

  I said, "So, as soon as they learned about Freeman and Jessica dating the police focused on him. The testimony was that the chief interviewed Freeman and asked for permission to search his car. Freeman gave him permission and that's when he found the panties. The chief got a search warrant and that's when they found the DNA. Can't really fault the course of the investigation. Seems pretty straight forward."

  Windy lit a cigarette, "Yeah, but they didn't look at anyone else. Freeman's explanation might sound contrived, but it is certainly plausible. What about some former boyfriend who was upset over her dating Freeman? If she was going to go with him voluntarily that night why drive way out near her house to leave her car? Why not leave it here in town? If she didn't go voluntarily why did she drive right past her house to a secluded spot before he took her?" He took a long drag on his cigarette, "I just think they should have looked at alternative theories. But, as you say, maybe they did and it just didn't make it into the reports."

  PJ asked, "What can you tell us about Chief Davies?"

  "Truth be told, I don't have much respect for Chief Davies. He's a local boy, that's how he got the job. Enlisted in the army right out of high school and went to work for the police force right after he came home. When the former chief retired he got the job. I don't think he's much of a cop and certainly isn't any kind of leader. Turn over in the police department is atrocious. Nobody stays more than a couple of years."

  PJ interrupted, "But, he wouldn't ask for help on a case as serious as this?"

  "Hell no. Not only wouldn't ask, I'd be willing to bet he turned down offers from the state. Don't know that for a fact, but I know enough about how the Florida Department of Law Enforcement works to know they would have been all over this offering assistance. It was too high profile a case not to want to get involved."

  PJ said, "And you think that Chief Davies would have resisted because he didn't want to appear to need anyone's help."

  Windy nodded, "That would be my take on the situation, yes."

  I asked, "Any history between the chief and Robinson? You said Robinson's life had been going downhill, but we didn't see any prior arrests in the police reports. Would the chief have known him before the murder?"

  Windy replied, "Unless you lived under a rock, everybody in town knew Freeman Robinson. As a running back, he was the real deal. He had offers from half of the Division I schools in the country. People were already talking about him and the Heisman. He was going to put little 'ol Pineywoods on the map. No, there was no doubt Chief Davies knew Freeman Robinson."

  PJ said, "Davies looks like he may have been a football player once himself. Would he have admired Robinson for his achievements on the football field?"

  Windy paused while he lit another cigarette. I was starting to feel light headed from the second-hand smoke, I didn't know how he was still conscious. After a long exhale he said, "That's a tough question. Davies was a local football hero in his day, but nothing near what Freeman achieved. I think he probably respected what Freeman did on the field, but what he did off the field really bothered Davies. He couldn't stand that Freeman was such a ladies' man. Especially, the fact that most of the girls he squired around town were white. I heard Davies spouting off about that more than once at Pappy's."

  PJ's eyes narrowed, "And in this case we have a white victim and a black suspect."

  "Exactly, once there was any focus on Freeman, I don't think Davies could see past it, even if he tried."

  I said, "He would have been blinded by his prejudice."

  Windy chucked, "You state the obvious, my friend."

  I asked, "What about the prosecutor? The prosecutor has a responsibility to see to it that the police have done a thorough and comprehensive investigation. Where was the prosecutor in all of this?"

  Windy started to laugh again, but ended coughing. He regained his composure and said, "The prosecutor, Bradford Palmer, now State Senator Bradford Palmer, wasn't about to tell this town that the chief had the wrong guy. No way he would have taken the political hit that could have cost him. Emotions were too high in town. Bradford Palmer is a lot of things, but a man of principles is not one of them."

  I blurted, "We're talking about a man's life here. How could he not do his job?" I felt a heavy lump form in my stomach. I hope in my days as a prosecutor I'd never turned a blind eye to shoddy police work to serve some personal agenda.

  PJ steepled her hands in front of her on the table and gazed across at Windy. "If you were us Windy, where would you be looking? You say you don't have any real suspects, but where would your gut lead you?"

  Without hesitation he answered, "Like any case of this nature, I'd start as close to the victim as possible and work my way out from there. I'd start with Butch, but as bad a feelings as I have for him I think he had a solid alibi. I think he was out of town on his delivery route. The only thing I don't know is if Davies actually verified his alibi or just took him on his word. Once I got past Butch, I'd start looking at other guys she dated, and I can tell you there were plenty. Jessica was . . . shall we say, 'active socially.'" He paused and took another drag on his cigarette before saying, "The problem is that most of the guys we're talking about have long ago moved out of the area. As you can see, business isn't exactly booming around here. Finding people won't be easy. And I know you don't have a lot of time. Well, Freeman doesn't have a lot of time."

  I asked, "How do we find the names of the guys she dated?"

  PJ spoke up, "We can start with those mentioned in the reports, t
he people interviewed when she was first missing, and try to learn about people she dated from them."

  Windy muttered, "Yeah, but that's a lot to do and not much time to do it."

  PJ nodded, "Let me ask you one last question, Windy. Do you think it would do us any good to try to talk to Jessica's mother, Amanda?"

  He exhaled deeply, "Can't hurt to try. I haven't seen her since she was committed, but I hear that she has good days and bad days. On the good days she is very lucid and much like her old self. I just don't know how often the good days come along."

  PJ stood and I followed suit. We all shook hands and PJ thanked Windy for his help, gave him her business card and promised to keep him appraised of any progress we made.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  As PJ and I got into the car the cell phone in my pocket vibrated for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour of our meeting with Windy. I had glanced at it the first couple of times and seen text messages from Elena, but hadn't read them. I realized that the last few instances had been missed calls and voicemail messages. As PJ drove us out of town I listened to the voicemail messages. One was from Marge, one from Moe, and one from Dana. They all had the same theme, Elena was calling everyone looking for me. She was telling them that I wasn't responding to her text messages and that she was worried about me.

  I called Marge. When she answered she sounded worried and asked me if I was all right. I told her that I was fine and apologized for Elena worrying her. I asked her to tell Moe and Dana that I was fine and that I was sorry Elena had been bothering them looking for me. Marge said that none of them minded Elena calling them, their only concern was that something had happened to me. At the end of the conversation we chatted for a few minutes about a couple of business issues. That diversion tempered my rising anger some, but not enough.

  I hastily checked the six text messages I had received from Elena. They started with a simple request to call her so we could talk about her dad's birthday party to a final message stating that she was so worried that she was going to call the police if she didn't hear from me soon. I hit the speed dial for her number.

  "Hello, thank God you're alright, Jack." My name must have come up on her phone.

  I barked, "How do you know it's me? It could be the kidnapper calling on my phone."

  "Jack, don't joke. I was worried sick. I didn't hear back from you and nobody at Cap's had seen you all day. Moe even went upstairs to make certain that you weren't sick or hurt in your apartment."

  I yelled into the phone, "Damn it Elena, what's wrong with you? Your first text message came in an hour ago. You don't hear back from me for an hour and you go off the deep end? There's lots of times I'm away from my phone for more than an hour. You know that. What's gotten into you?"

  There was a long pause and then she said, "I was just worried, Jack. I can't explain why, I just had a bad feeling. Where are you anyway? Nobody around Cap's Place seems to know. That just added to my worry. Where are you?"

  Now I was really yelling, "What difference does it make where I am, Elena? I don't report to you and I don't report to anyone around Cap's either. I don't ask you where you are every minute. I don't know where you are and I don't care."

  "You don't care?"

  "Okay, poor choice of words. It's not that I don't care, it's that I don't need to know where you are every minute. I don't presume because you don't immediately respond to a message from me that the world is ending."

  Another long pause, "Jack, I care about you and I'm worried. Please tell me where are you, so I know you're safe?"

  "Look Elena, I'm really quite busy right now. Your text said you needed to talk to me about your dad's party tomorrow night. What do we need to talk about? I told you I'd be at your place at nine. Is there something else I need to know?"

  "Well, I guess not. But . . ."

  I cut her off, "Listen Elena, I really have to go. I'll be at your condo tomorrow at nine. I'm looking forward to it. We'll have a great time. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye." I ended the call and tossed the phone up onto the dashboard as if it had just become radioactive.

  PJ muttered, "Trouble in Paradise?"

  I abruptly turned toward her, but the impish grin on her face drained my residual anger. I sputtered, "Yeah . . . something . . . something like that." I looked around at the passing scenery, "Where are we headed anyway?"

  "We're headed for Arcadia to see if we can see Amanda Bennett."

  "I thought you were saving that for another day, the length of the drive and all?"

  "Windy changed my mind. We do need to start as close to the victim as we can and I think her mother is our best bet at this time."

  I asked, "You think they'll let just anyone see her? I mean we're not family or anything."

  PJ shrugged, "Don't know. I do know from experience that they are much more likely to say no on the phone than if we're standing right there."

  I nodded, "Agreed. It's a nice afternoon for a drive anyway. Especially since you're doing the driving."

  PJ said, "After the last two hours, I feel like we should put all of the windows down and air ourselves out. They should call him Smokey, not Windy. It's surprising he's lived to be as old as he is given the way he smokes. I can't wait to get home and take a shower."

  I deadpanned, "Yeah, he looks pretty good for twenty-five."

  PJ laughed and I couldn't help but chuckle at my own joke. Mostly, I was trying to improve my mood after my conversation with Elena.

  We rehashed our conversation with Windy as we drove. We had both come away with the same feeling, that while he certainly had his personal opinions about the people involved, his instincts were probably accurate. There was obviously something amiss between Jessica and Butch. Butch may have had an alibi, but given the shoddy nature of the original investigation we couldn't have any confidence that it was ever confirmed. If Butch was eliminated, why hadn't former boyfriends been investigated. It was hard to believe any of this was done, because it would have been in the reports and asked about by the prosecutor during trial. Showing how thorough the investigation had been would demonstrate to the jury that it was an objective inquiry that led to the defendant. None of this was mentioned, most likely because none of it happened.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  As we drove into Arcadia it was apparent that it had not fallen on the same hard times as Pineywoods. The buildings in the downtown area were all well cared for and painted in an assortment of vivid Florida pastels. The main street had a vibrant small-town energy about it. PJ followed the mapping app on her phone to a location at the edge of town. A long winding driveway, marked by an ornate wooden sign announcing Greenhaven, led into a grove of sabal palms. No buildings were visible from the road.

  We drove up the driveway and found an expansive lawn of well tended Bermuda grass on the other side of the palms. On the far side of the lawn stood a large two-story sandstone building that looked more like a hotel than a medical facility. A deep covered porch dotted with white wooden rocking chairs ran the entire length of the front of the building. It reminded me of an understated version of the Grand Hotel on Mackinaw Island. We followed the driveway to a small parking area in front of the building.

  We climbed the wide stairs to the porch and entered through the double doors into a large foyer. A receptionist desk, staffed by an attractive woman in her sixties, stood on the far side of the foyer. A number of Mission Style chairs of dark wood with neutral leather cushions lined the two side walls. My first impression was functional, but not cold, and quality, but not ostentatious.

  The receptionist looked up at us and asked, "May I help you?"

  PJ stepped forward and said, "Yes, we are hoping that we can talk to the doctor in charge of Amanda Bennett's care."

  "Well, may I ask what you would like to talk to the doctor about? Is there some problem?" PJ had told me that she thought our only hope to see Amanda was to demonstrate our concern for her well being and that there would be no better way to do that t
han to ask to talk with her doctor to determine if it could in any way be harmful to talk to her. We both knew it was unlikely we would be given access to Amanda without her doctor's consent, so why not hit it head on.

  PJ smiled and replied, "Goodness no, not that we are aware of. We would like to talk with Amanda, but don't want to do anything that could possibly jeopardize her care."

  The receptionist returned the smile and said, "Well, we certainly appreciate that. If you'll have a seat I'll see if Dr. Burns is available. May I tell him who's calling on him?" We gave her our names and took a couple of chairs along the wall. The chairs looked more comfortable than they were. We could hear her talking to someone on the phone, basically relaying what PJ had said to her. After a brief conversation she hung up the phone and said, "Dr. Burns will be out in a couple of minutes."

  I had just started to page through the National Geographic magazine on the table next to my chair when a door opened in the wall behind the receptionist and a tall lean man wearing a white lab coat came out. He appeared to be in his late sixties or early seventies. As I stood and tossed the National Geographic back onto the table I wondered if any of their subscriptions were sold to individuals, or if all went to doctor's offices.

  Dr. Burns, that's what it said on his lab coat, strode confidently across the foyer and introduced himself to us, shaking our hands in the process. He asked us to follow him to his office where we could talk. We followed him through the doorway from which he had just entered and down a short hallway lined with what appeared to be small well-ordered offices. The doors were all open, but none were occupied.

  We arrived at the last office on the hallway and entered. A simple sign on the open door announced, Dr. Burns, Administrator. The office was roomy, but not oversized. Dr. Burns took his seat behind the desk and we took seats in the two chairs in front of the desk. A small couch set against one side wall and a bookcase lined with thick volumes stood on the other. Once we were all settled Dr. Burns said, "Now what is it I can help you with, Ms. Johnson?" Again, I'm invisible.