A Bleak Prospect

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A Bleak Prospect Page 15

by Wayne Zurl


  Corliss nodded, but he didn’t look very proud of Lonnie Ray or me. “I still don’t like the way you obtained this information tying Leary to the murders.”

  I shrugged. “Neither do I, but the direct approach of going at ‘Andy’s’ email account straight on netted me and the entire task force—including the legendary detective Lew Schmecke and his cyber PIs—nothing more than a computer trip around the world. Using a back door represented either knowing something or letting the killer continue to march.”

  Corliss screwed up his face as if he still didn’t give my cunning plan much hope.

  “Do you feel comfortable with this approach, Heidi?”

  She nodded. “If we handle it properly and the data we obtained legally provides the same link, yes. We’re under no obligation to ever mention Sam’s foray into Leary’s computers.” She turned to me. “I know you’re not going to be a problem, but will this Wilson keep his mouth shut?”

  “I believe so. Confidentiality is part of his regular business. But I’ll insure that he does.”

  Heidi was glancing at a document but tilted her exceptionally dark brown eyes up at me. “Should we know how you intend to do that?”

  I smiled. “I don’t ask how you supervise Ralph Oliveri. I’ll take care of Lonnie Ray my way.”

  Carl broke in just as Corliss was about to say something. “Then our best bet is to assemble our task force and revisit all the information on record. We’ll look at Sam’s two cases first. They’re the most recent. He can brief us on everything and end up with his suspicions of Leary, leaving out any mention of what he saw on Leary’s computers. I’ll make sure someone who worked on the civil rights case is present to hear your theory.” Then he did something I’d never seen him do before. Carl actually smiled and winked at me. “With luck, that agent will remember seeing a reference to an email from ‘Andy’. Then off we go.”

  He made our little game of role-play sound so easy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  On Monday morning, Terri Donnellson began working for Prospect PD. Mayor Ronnie Shields swore her in. She signed an oath of office that Trudy Connor notarized. John Gallagher handled all the new employee paperwork, and Bettye constructed a personnel folder that she would send upstairs to Human Resources.

  Simultaneously, an FBI investigative team descended on the Blount County Justice Center and assumed responsibility for the Riverside Strangler task force. Detective Sergeant Hugh Bledsoe was the only county officer permanently assigned. Detectives Artie Bonnet and Leo Turner had been relieved of duty and placed on indefinite suspension.

  A squad of Federal computer geeks sat with Lew Schemcke and his three private eyes attempting to learn if the legendary detective had found anything germane to the killings.

  On Tuesday, I showed up and, for the record, began discussing my two cases with Carl Harmon, Heidi Piper, Bonnie Rowatt and Ralph Oliveri. Senior Special Agent Marty Saunders assumed the role of second in command and worked with four agents on the other seven murders.

  At around three p.m., I got around to mentioning ‘Andy’, how we legally obtained that information before Lonnie Ray hacked Leary’s computers and my suspicions about Ryan Leary based on several pieces of important, but circumstantial evidence.

  For the record, Bonnie stated that during her time assigned to the civil rights team, she had occasion to work on analyzing information taken from Ryan Leary’s departmental computer. Although it appeared to have no bearing on Leary’s communication with other officers regarding the Farris Tingle beating, she remembered a fairly cryptic email from the screen name ‘Stones’ mentioning ‘Andy’ in the text and that it was routed from Leary’s departmental computer to his home PC.

  That was the magic ingredient. With that convenient revelation, I worked with Heidi Piper who prepared an application to extend our search to electronic data already in custody pursuant to their earlier search warrant.

  At 1:30 the next day, Carl Harmon called me at Prospect PD to let me know the warrant extension had been signed, and an agent named Al Hahn had just left Knoxville with it in hand.

  I pulled into the parking lot of the Justice Center and walked into the building just behind Al who held one of the front doors for me.

  “Any problems getting a judge to agree to this?” I asked.

  “No, but it’s limited to only information dated after that slime ball Tingle boosted the duffle bag from Leary’s car.”

  “We pretty well figured that.”

  “The judge did mention that if we find usable stuff and can reasonably demonstrate that Leary is linked to the murders, we should apply for a search of his work and home computers going back to the date of the first death.”

  “Mighty nice of him.”

  “Isn’t it though?”

  “Like no one else would have thought of that.”

  Al Hahn laughed. “That’s why he’s a judge and we’re only gumshoes.”

  * * *

  We weren’t upstairs in the task force room ten minutes when Dayton Corliss, two field agents and two technicians walked in. The assembled crowd made the large room feel small. If nothing else, the FBI likes to overwhelm everyone with their manpower commitments.

  While Heidi, Carl, Corliss and Alex Rand, the supervising agent of the civil rights team, discussed strategy, and a platoon of computer technicians attacked Leary’s hard drive, Ralph, Bonnie and I adjourned to the coffee room.

  Bonnie poured herself a steaming cup as Ralph and I waited our turns.

  I said, “Now that we’ve got legal evidence linking Leary to ‘Andy’ and sooner or later, some computer guy will probably find ‘Stones’, I can’t help thinking that some non-electronic tangible evidence would be nice to have—something to actually place Leary at the scene of at least one of the murders.”

  “And how do you plan on finding that, Sherlock?” Ralph asked.

  Bonnie spoke before I could answer. “Leary was careful to lawyer up quickly on the brutality charges.”

  “Okay. Tolbert won’t let him talk about these murders if we name him as a suspect. I know that. Ryan won’t give us spit. So while the heavies sit on their asses down the hall making their war plans, let’s go out, and see what we can find. I’ve got an idea where to start.”

  Before I could elaborate on my potentially brilliant strategy, Heidi Piper stepped into the coffee room. “Sam, can you call the IT man who helped you find the evidence against Leary? Our guys want to pick his brain. They figure he can save them hours of work.”

  “Sure, just have your check book handy. He’ll work for anybody, but his seventy-five an hour is non-negotiable.”

  “I’ve got plenty of vouchers.”

  “Our tax dollars at work.”

  “You bet.”

  “Hey, I was just thinking about the bag of goodies that creep Tingle glommed from Leary’s SUV. As you recall, the same SUV that we think ‘Andy’ used to meet Rosanna Wakefield.”

  Heidi frowned, and her eyes narrowed. She looked interested.

  “Corliss and his boys have established with certainty that once Leary showed up at the Justice Center the night Tingle got collared, he took custody of the gym bag,” I said. “Bonnet and Turner confirm that, as do the uniformed cops who made the arrest. Then Leary and the bag disappeared for an hour, undoubtedly to sanitize the embarrassing contents. All along, we’ve thought it was to lose the porno discs and drugs. In the big scheme of things, this porn represents a ‘so what’. If the FBI attempted to do something about all the porn found in PDs around the country, they’d be busy for a thousand years. And the drugs could have been explained away as sloppy evidence handling. Surely Bonnet and Turner would have lied to back up their boss’s tall tale. But Leary put himself on the line when he removed evidence from the police facility. He’s no fool. There might have been something really embarrassing in that bag.”

  “And how do you intend to learn what?” Heidi asked.

  “I asked the same thing two minutes ago,” R
alph added.

  “There’s only one starting point—Farris Tingle. Are you okay with the three of us talking with him?”

  Heidi shrugged. “I can’t see it doing any harm. But agents from the civil rights team interviewed the hell out of the kid. Why do you think you can get more out of him?”

  “We won’t be shotgunning questions at him about getting beaten and tortured. We’re looking for something specific related to something beyond the scope of the civil rights investigation. And just recently I was told that I had a knack for extracting things buried inside a person’s head.”

  She frowned again. “I hope you’re not planning another end run around the Constitution with hopes that I can make whatever you find admissible.”

  “Now you’ve hurt my feelings. I had assumed that young Tingle would have his lawyer present while we spoke.”

  “Okay. I can see Corliss getting his shorts in an uproar over you backtracking his case, but go ahead, I’ll cover that.”

  “You’d have to give that mope a pass on anything criminal he admits for his lawyer to produce him as a witness. But it would be worth lots if pimply-faced Farris saw a bloody knife in the bag that he has yet to mention.”

  “Or something else.” Heidi nodded. “More physical evidence would be very nice.”

  “We need a hard object to shake up the jury,” I said. “People don’t often feel outrage looking at a stack of emails.”

  “Mmm. I’ll call Chalmers for you.”

  Perry Chalmers was an oily specimen in a three-thousand-dollar suit. His offices looked like the interior of the Governor’s Palace at Colonial Williamsburg.

  Farris Tingle had yet to collect anything from either Ryan Leary or Blount County in his pending brutality suit settlement. He didn’t come even remotely close to having spent one percent of Chalmers’ worth on the hoof for his wardrobe of faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

  Chalmers’ tongue and groove paneled office was large enough to hold a desk upon which a talented pilot could land a Chinook helicopter. Then you could toss in two walls of built-in bookcases, full of leather bound volumes, and still have space for a conference area with two leather covered sofas. Add to the picture four wing-back chairs and a four foot square cocktail table with Queen Anne legs and you might infer I was impressed by the furnishings.

  Bonnie and Ralph sat on one couch. I used a chair on the north end of an antique Persian rug, while Chalmers and Tingle perched on chairs to the south.

  “You people hope to learn something more about the contents of the bag Farris removed from Mr. Leary’s vehicle?” Chalmers asked.

  He was careful not to say that Farris took, grabbed or stole the bag.

  I nodded. “We do. And we’ll be giving you information explaining why we need to go over that inventory in great detail that must remain one-hundred-percent confidential. Just to put your mind at ease, nothing we learn from Farris at this point would have any negative impact on his civil case against Leary.”

  Furrows appeared on Chalmers’ forehead. He looked intrigued, but sat patiently, nodding very slightly.

  “Special Agent Rowatt is an attorney herself, and she’ll be asking you both to agree to some very specific stipulations. You will be the only people given these facts, so once you agree, you, of course, understand that should this information leak to the press or be divulged to anyone else, you or your client could be charged with lying to a Federal officer. And since we will be pursuing a secondary criminal case having nothing to do with Mr. Tingle, hindering prosecution and other counts to be determined later. If you wish to proceed, I’ll pass the torch to Agent Rowatt.”

  Chalmers’ frown intensified. Tingle sat in the horribly expensive leather covered chair showing no more intelligence than a piece of shelf fungus.

  “Ms. Piper has agreed to grant Mr. Tingle immunity on any issues that might come to light during this conversation,” Chalmers said. “Are you aware of that, and do you agree to that stipulation?”

  “I certainly do,” I said and extended a hand toward my Federal colleagues.

  “I speak for the FBI,” Ralph said. “Mr. Tingle doesn’t contest stealing the duffle bag. We doubt anything he could say would place him in any further jeopardy.”

  Chalmers’ face relaxed. “Then we agree. What do you have to say, Ms. Rowatt?”

  Bonnie straightened up a smidge, crossed her right leg over the left and ended up showing about three inches of thigh below her maroon skirt. “First, I want it understood that none of us represent Ryan Leary’s interests in his capacity as a defendant in the Federal violation of civil rights case based on Mr. Tingle’s complaint or as respondent to the civil suit we understand you are initiating on behalf of your client.”

  Chalmers dipped his head an inch. “Understood.”

  “Mr. Tingle must understand he is not a suspect. We wish to question him as a possible witness, or at least someone who might be able to furnish useful information—a friend of the court, so to speak.”

  Chalmers nodded again.

  Tingle shot his lawyer a concerned look. “Huh?”

  Chalmers raised a hand a few inches off the arm of the chair. “We’re good here, Farris.”

  Tingle wiggled around in his chair.

  “Next, as Chief Jenkins has stipulated, what we tell you must remain in this room. No one, especially the media, is to hear anything from you. His mention of a criminal prosecution for a violation of that confidentiality is not a threat. It’s a certainty. Please be sure your client understands that.

  “Lastly, if Mr. Tingle admits to some minor violation of law while answering our questions, he will be granted immunity from prosecution in either a state or Federal court.”

  “What about major crimes? Your definition is a little ambiguous.”

  Bonnie, never one to mask her emotions, rolled her eyes. “As I said, he’s not a suspect in anything. He’s being asked for help. But, in addition to immunity, we’re prepared to offer him a recommendation of no jail time for his pending case of theft from Ryan Leary’s SUV. Short of admitting to murder, yes, he gets a pass.”

  “You’re asking for help,” Chalmers said. “How about a walk on the larceny charge? Save me time and aggravation. Farris was tortured by Leary and his men. I’ll get it thrown out anyway. I’m doing this pro bono. My time is money. Throw me a bone here.”

  Bonnie shifted into top gear. “Mr. Chalmers, you’re getting priceless publicity for your expenditure of time. The beating took place after he was apprehended and in custody. No one attempted to beat a confession out of him. He wasn’t in any way coerced into admitting his guilt. The police had him cold—caught with the proceeds. The beating occurred because Leary, and the detectives to a lesser degree, were looking to keep Mr. Tingle’s mouth shut about the contents of Leary’s bag. We’re looking at two separate incidents.”

  Chalmers chewed on the side of his lower lip but said nothing. Tingle looked like he was contemplating an epileptic fit.

  Bonnie kept charging ahead. “We’ll win you a civil rights conviction. And with that, may I add, we’ll be handing you a victory in your civil suit. With our zealous assistance, Mr. Tingle will be a wealthy man. But without us going to bat for him with the court, he might have to wait to spend his newly awarded money after doing felony time in a Tennessee prison for grand larceny. As you remember, the bag he stole contained drugs and a loaded firearm.”

  Tingle looked at Chalmers like his hopes and dreams of a swimming pool full of greenbacks might be circling the drain.

  “Okay,” Chalmers said abruptly. “We agree to all. I’m going to trust you people here—don’t disappoint me.”

  I saw an opportune spot to stick in my two cents. “And tell Farris not to disappoint us. We need the whole truth. No evasions. No half truths. And no lies.”

  The bastard had the nerve to look shocked. “Why would you expect him to lie?”

  “Come on, counselor, and no offence, Farris, but he’s a known burglar and
a drug addict. He doesn’t have a reputation for doing good amongst humanity.”

  “Farris will tell you the whole truth.”

  Everyone spent a few brief moments looking at each other.

  “Since I assume we’ll be here for some time,” Chalmers said, “would anyone of you like a beverage? Coffee? Tea? Something else?”

  I shook my head as did Bonnie. Ralph answered for us. “We’re good. Thanks.”

  However, Farris wasn’t. “I wouldn’t mind havin’ me a soda.”

  I sighed. Ralph momentarily closed his eyes and shook his head, and Bonnie did her eye rolling thing once again. I thought that perhaps the entire human race bored her.

  Chalmers looked a bit put out, but he had offered and would accommodate his client. “All right, Farris. I’ll get you a soda.”

  He stood up and walked toward his desk, the one large enough to get its own zip code, and the phone.

  “A Mella Yella if ya got one,” Tingle said. It was the first time he smiled since we arrived.

  “I don’t know if we have that, Farris,” Chalmers said. “I’ll get you something good.”

  “Okay, but I don’t like no Dr. Pepper. Gives me the burps.”

  Chalmers smiled. Or was it a sneer? He nodded and lifted the phone.

  “Look, Farris,” I said. “I want to remind you, you’re not being looked at for committing a crime. We’re asking for your help. I’m not blowing smoke at you, son, I think you can help us. I think you may have seen something we’d find useful. And I want to help you remember what you actually saw because you may have forgotten after Leary and his two detectives tuned you up. Understand?”

  Chalmers had finished on the phone and walked back to the chair he’d been using.

  “What’s this you’ve been saying?”

  “I told Farris we’re not trying to hurt him, only assist him in remembering something that may help us.”

 

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