“I suppose I can at least do that, but don’t get your hopes too high. I have no clerical skills whatsoever.”
T.J. didn’t argue. “See you at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Have a good day.”
Deidre mulled over his words all day, and that evening, she told Ben what he had said.
“T.J.’s a good guy. Just a day ago you were telling me you needed something meaningful to do. Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.” He smiled and took her hand. “See what he’s offering. It might be too good to turn down. I’m behind you whatever you decide to do.”
*****
Deidre went through the usual early morning ritual: fixed breakfast, made bag lunches, and ushered her family off to their destinations. Then she headed to T.J.’s office. He was working at his desk when she cracked the door, wondering if she should just barge in or knock first. The lawyer saw her and rushed to invite her in.
“Deidre, great to see you! What have you been up to, working the land or becoming a hunter-gatherer? I haven’t seen you in town for ages.” She could tell by the smile on his face he was glad to see her.
“Oh, I’ve been around. I guess our paths just haven’t crossed.” T.J offered her a chair and pulled up another near her.
“I don’t have too much time. I have to be at the courthouse for an arraignment at nine. Here’s my offer.” He wasted no time getting to business. “My practice has grown this past year, and I’m having difficulty keeping up with some of the things I have to get done. I think I’ve gotten the reputation of being a decent criminal defense attorney, because many of my cases lately have been of that nature. I’m to the point where I have to hire a private investigator to do some of my investigative work for me, and you’re the person I’d like to hire.”
The thought had never crossed Deidre’s mind, but she quickly recovered. “But I’m not licensed, and I have no experience.”
“No experience?” T.J. echoed. “No experience? What do you call the years you were a deputy, or the years you were sheriff, or the time you spent on the seven graves case with the BCA? You’ve got more than enough experience. Add up the hours and you far exceed the state requirements.”
“But I don’t even know the registration process,” Deidre argued while she tried to wrap her mind around the idea.
Again T.J. torpedoed her objection. “I’ve got the forms run off.” He handed her a folder. “The filing fee is eight hundred dollars. I’ll pick up the tab on that. I even have a friend in the registration office who has told me he’ll speed up the process. Said he can run it through in two days. After that, there are some continuing ed requirements to keep your license, but that’s about it. What do you say? I think you’d make a great PI.”
Deidre was silent for several seconds. “T.J., I need time to think this over. I have to talk to Ben and run the idea past my girls. When do you need my answer?”
“Well, I was hoping by nine o’clock, but I guess that wouldn’t be fair to you. How about coming with me to the nine o’clock preliminary hearing? Watch from the gallery to see what your first investigation would be about. You can give me your answer tomorrow morning. Okay?”
Together, they walked to the courthouse. Deidre took a deep breath, and the freshness of spring was in the air. Spring is a special time in Two Harbors, and it was impossible to not experience a sense of elation over the demise of winter.
Deidre was sitting in the gallery when a deputy of the court marched in with Jimmy, who took a seat next to T.J. behind the defense table. The bailiff announced, “All rise. The Minnesota Court of the Sixth District is now in session.” The Honorable Jeremy P. Quinn took his seat on the bench, and instructed everyone to sit.
Jimmy’s appearance wasn’t exactly what Deidre had expected. He was large, she expected that, but his beard was neatly trimmed and his hair well groomed. He wore long sleeves that covered his tattoos.
The court administrator announced the case, “The State of Minnesota verses James Peter O’Brian.”
Judge Quinn looked over the top of his reading glasses. “Mr. O’Brian, are you represented by an attorney today?” Jimmy looked totally ill at ease.
“Yes, I am,” he said in a weak voice.
“You are accused of second degree murder in the case of Justin Peters. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor.” Jimmy hung his head in disbelief of his situation.
The judge continued. “You do know that by law in Minnesota, because this has been deemed a hate crime, any sentence against you will be of a higher degree?”
Jimmy’s head came up and his eyes widened. “I didn’t know that,” he responded in a sharper voice.
“Well, I’m telling you now,” the judge instructed. “I find evidence sufficient to not require a grand jury being seated. The trial date will be set by the court administrator. Until then, you will be held in the Lake County Jail.”
“Your Honor,” T.J. said as he rose to his feet. “About the matter of bail, my client is not a risk—”
Before he could finish his sentence, the judge snapped, “Bail will be set at one-point-five million. Bailiff, you will escort the prisoner back to his cell. Next case.” T.J. had no opportunity to argue.
*****
That night, when Deidre and Ben were finally alone, Ben asked, “So, what did T.J. want to talk about?”
“I think we need a glass of wine before we get into that.” Deidre went to the kitchen and came back with two goblets of chardonnay filled a little more full than usual. She handed one to Ben and sat down.
“He wants me to become a licensed PI and work for him.” Before she could continue Ben cut in.
“A PI. That would be a perfect fit for you.” He caught himself. “If that’s what you want.”
Deidre laughed. “So much for wanting to ask for your input. But really, what do you think of the idea? It might interfere with some of our fun, get in the way of family time, you know, things like that.”
Ben thought for a moment. “You can’t sacrifice your training and what you do so well just to sit around waiting for us. It’s not your job to make us happy or to create our fun. That’s our responsibility. Seriously, I say if you’d like the challenge, go for it. I’ll back you a hundred percent.”
Deidre went over to the sofa where he was sitting, plunked down next to him, and pulled his arm around her. “Thank you.” She laid her head on his chest.
Chapter Seven
Deidre called T.J. at eight the next morning, wondering if he would be in his office that early. He asked if she could come in right away to fill out the PI application and to give her impression about the case she observed in court the day before. She was at his office at eight thirty.
“You’ve made my day,” T.J. exclaimed as he came around from behind his desk. He shook her hand, then directed her to a chair and took one facing her.
“What did you think of Jimmy?”
Deidre pondered the question for a moment. “I felt sorry for him. He looked totally confused. How did he hook up with you?”
“Oh, Jimmy and I go way back. He lived on the same street I did, down on South Avenue. He was kicked around quite a bit by his drunken dad. We played together when we were kids, were friends in grade school. We kind of kept in touch in high school, but our paths took different routes. He hardly graduated, got a job as a welder. I went to school and got my law degree. We only say hello, been that way for at least ten years.
“He was pretty shook up when he called me last Sunday. After I met with him, I walked away believing he’s innocent. I doubt if he’ll ever be able to pay me, but I can’t get the good times we had as kids out of my mind.”
T.J. convinced her with his sincerity. “What do you want me to do now?” Deidre asked. “Do I have to wait for my license to
come through before I can do anything?”
Her new employer said he wouldn’t ask her to do anything requiring a license until it came. He did ask, though, “Do you have a conceal to carry permit?” The question stopped Deidre.
“No, do you think I’ll need one?”
T.J. nodded. “I wouldn’t let you work for me unless you did.” The thought made her uncomfortable. “I have court this morning. The first thing I want you to do is to meet with Mrs. Peters. I’d like to know more about her son, Justin. Think you’re up to it?”
Deidre didn’t like the idea of visiting a grieving mother so close to the time of her son’s death, but she realized they had limited time before a trial would be held. T.J. would try to stall for more time, but it was conceivable they would be in a courtroom in less than two months.
*****
Deidre stepped up to the door and rang the bell. She heard movement in the house, and the door was slowly opened to her. Behind the screen door stood a haggard woman, and Deidre recognized the look. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her hair was flyaway. She wore a disheveled robe. “Yes?” she asked softly.
“Mrs. Peters, my name is Deidre Johnson. I’m so sorry to have to bother you at a time like this, but I have a few questions I’d like to ask, if you can find it in yourself to talk to me.”
The lady looked at her for a second. “Aren’t you the woman who was sheriff? I suppose if your questions will help convict that man who did this to Justin, I’d better cooperate.” She held the screen door open. “Come in.”
Deidre was offered a chair at the kitchen table, and she took out a small notebook as she sat down.
“Thank you for being kind enough to see me. I’ll be as precise as possible so I don’t interrupt any more than I have to. Is there anything you can tell me about your son that might help?”
Mrs. Peters wiped her eyes and shrugged. “He was a good boy, kind, gentle, intelligent. As a child he was a real loner who loved to read. Justin spent a lot of time with me. We both loved gardening.”
“Did he have many friends?” Deidre could tell she hit a nerve.
“No. Like I said, he was a loner. Besides that, many of the other kids bullied him, because he didn’t stand up for himself. The older he became, the more isolated he was. In high school he did meet some boys he hung around with, but they were more or less outcasts like himself.”
“Did he have a girlfriend?” Deidre asked, thinking it was a safe question.
There was a long silence. “Justin was gay. Oh, how I prayed that he would survive in this crazy world, that no one would want to harm him because of the way he was. So much for prayers, and don’t tell me God had a plan that I don’t understand. That’s pure garbage.” Deidre could see Mrs. Peters was becoming riled.
“Was he still being bullied in high school?”
Mrs. Peters didn’t have to think before she answered. “Bullied? Continually. Finally, things became so toxic I had to go to the superintendent and threaten a lawsuit. He set up a meeting between the students who were bullying, me, and their parents. The bullying stopped, but the shunning was almost worse. Even some of the teachers went out of their way to ignore Justin. I thought if he could last until he graduated, he could escape this place and have a new start somewhere. Then he’d be safe. That’s why I didn’t want him out at night. He was at his best friend’s house just a few blocks away and was supposed to be home by nine thirty. He never made it.”
“Can you tell me who the bullies were?”
“Over there, a folder. It has all the information about our meeting with the superintendent in it. Help yourself.” She wept into a towel while Deidre copied down several names and closed her notebook.
“Mrs. Peters, I am so sorry this happened,” Deidre said as she finished. “I’m sure whoever did it will be caught and punished. I’m sorry.”
The distraught mother looked up. “Get caught? You have him in jail, that biker. Who else could it be?”
Deidre didn’t answer the question but stood to leave. “Thank you, Mrs. Peters.”
“No. Thank you. It’s comforting to know that you officers are on the job.” Deidre felt a pang of guilt, but she didn’t correct Mrs. Peters.
She stopped at the courthouse to find T.J. Deidre wanted advice about where to turn next but was told he had left for his office. She caught up with him there, where the attorney was busy at his desk.
“Discover anything?” he wanted to know.
“It’s strange being on the other side of the fence. Mrs. Peters didn’t ask who I was working for, but I know she surmised I was law enforcement. I didn’t tell her I wasn’t. Hope that’s all right.” T.J. raised his hands to signal he didn’t want to hear.
“Sometimes, the less I know, the better,” he said, and Deidre expected him to plug his ears and sing “la-la-la-la.”
“Did you know Justin was gay?”
T.J.’s brows furrowed. “I surmised that, especially after the judge gave his spiel about the stricter sentencing guidelines. Did she tell you that?”
Deidre nodded. “She told me how he was bullied when he was in school. Should I check out that angle?”
“Do that, and also, I want you to check out the biker hangout. Find out what you can about the members. Better jot these down,” he advised Deidre, and she reached for a notepad on T.J.’s desk, slightly embarrassed that she had not been prepared. “I want you to interview Jimmy’s employer. He’s a welder for Two Harbors Steel Fabricators. Before you do that, I’d like you to run up to the soccer field and go over the crime scene with a finetooth comb. I doubt there’s any evidence left, but you never know, they might have left something behind.”
Deidre looked up. “I don’t think I can get all of that done today. My girls get home from practice at six, and I’d like to be there for them.”
T.J. laughed. “Don’t burn yourself out on the first day. Try to get through the list by the end of the week. Take it as it comes, but take care of your family first. Sometime we might get in a real bind, but until then, don’t kill yourself. Work at it like any other job.”
Deidre took him at his word. “Oh,” he added. “You don’t have to check in all the time—unless you come across something that’s too hot to wait.”
Chapter Eight
On the way to the soccer field, Deidre mulled over what her boss had said. She knew herself and how driven she could become. She would have to learn to leave her work outside when she got home.
She parked partway down the ditch where Justin’s body had been found. The scene was easy to discern by the matted-down grass. First, she slowly walked the area, her head down, scanning for any sign of something significant that had been missed. Then she expanded her search beyond the perimeter. By the time she finished, she had found nothing. Deidre decided she would literally crawl over the site.
As she slowly moved on her hands and knees, she roughed her hand over the beaten-down grass, standing it up, even bending it over in the opposite direction. She had nearly covered the immediate area when a swipe of her hand exposed something shiny. It was a piece of metal that had been stepped on and pushed into the dirt by someone’s heel. She could see the imprint left behind.
Deidre was in a quandary about how to proceed. She had hastily put together a few things she thought she might need, but they were of little help at this moment. She stuck her ballpoint pen in the ground near the find so she would be able to relocate the spot, planting it deep enough so it couldn’t be seen from the road. Fifteen minutes later she was back from the hardware store with a bag of plaster of Paris, a small plastic bucket, and a jug of water. Now her dilemma was if she should first remove the metal object or make a cast of the heel imprint. She decided on the former, but then it dawned on her she should call her boss.
A myriad of thoughts rushed throu
gh her mind. How could she preserve the integrity of the site and still collect the evidence? She knew a good prosecutor would claim she had planted it, even if that wasn’t the case. While she waited for T.J. to arrive, she decided to scrutinize the ground around her find more closely. On her hands and knees again, she gently moved the grass from side to side. Again, she caught a glint of something partially buried in the wet soil. Parting the grass, she was sure she was looking at the jagged edge of a broken bottle. Not only that, but there appeared to be dried blood on the glass.
“Deidre, what have you got?” T.J. wheezed as he made his way down the sloping bank. “Here, let me see.” The attorney bent down so he could take a closer look. Deidre didn’t think he’d kneel on the ground and soil his expensive suit, but he surprised her. After a close look, T.J. stood up, wet patches on the knees of his trousers. “Photograph the site, get pictures of me touching the pen. I want pictures from every angle so the spot can be identified. Then you can remove whatever is in that heel print.”
Deidre snapped a number of pictures to document the object. Setting aside her camera, Deidre teased the metal object with a set of forceps she thought might be handy when she put together her makeshift inspection kit. To her surprise, as she gently lifted it from its place, an empty shell casing emerged. Without touching it, she dropped it in an evidence bag and labeled it. Taking a cursory inspection, she noted the inscriptions on the shell: USCCO, and the number ten. Setting the bag off to the side, Deidre took more pictures of the heel impression, sans the shell.
It took a few seconds to mix the plaster, which she poured into the depression. When it set, she gently lifted it from the ground. Whoever made this had a very large foot, she thought. Wonder if it will match Jimmy’s boot?
“Let’s get going,” T.J. urged. “I have court in an hour, and I’m going to have to change before then.” He started to walk away.
“Wait!” Deidre blurted out. “There’s one more thing over there in the grass.” She pointed to the spot where the glass shard was buried. “I found what looks like the broken edge of a glass pop bottle over there. I’m almost certain it has blood on it.” T.J. wheeled around and rushed back to her side.
Preying in Two Harbors Page 4