by Rick Reed
He exited the elevator on the third floor, turned left, and then another left. His spit-shined shoes whispered on the thick burgundy carpeting. He had dressed in the black suit, white shirt, and black tie he’d seen hotel security wear. He’d changed his appearance, enough even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him. She hadn’t been around for a very long time.
He stopped at the door to room 3120. The do not disturb placard was hanging from the door handle. He could hear the television playing.
He reached inside his overcoat and took out a 9mm-Beretta fitted with a heavy silencer. He knocked on the door three times, then again, louder, and watched the peephole for movement. Nothing. He stepped to the side of the door and reaching across his body, fired three shots into the door’s locking mechanism. He fired two more where he knew the safety latch would be if it was engaged. The armor-piercing rounds punched through the metal door like it was made of paper. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The bathroom door was closed and he could smell dampness.
An empty whiskey bottle was on the floor, and another one was on the still made-up queen beds. The other bed was all rumpled sheets and covers. He walked to the windows, checking the floor beside each bed. Denny wasn’t passed out there. He went to the closed bathroom door and called out, “Denny. Come out. It’s me.” Nothing. He stood back and fired six times through the cheap bathroom door, starting at chest-high and staggering the shots, moving downward. He turned the handle and opened the door. The room was empty.
He went back to the bedroom and found the cell phone he’d given Denny next to one of the pillows. It was laying on a folded piece of hotel notepad. He spread the paper open and read, in large, cursive letters:
The next time you see me
will be on the news.
I’ll call you.
He crumpled the note and went back to the bathroom. There was still water residue in the sink and a damp hand towel. He tossed the note in the toilet and flushed. He’d just missed him. Dennis James was full-blown paranoid or he was smarter than he’d given him credit for, but Denny had made a fatal mistake. He didn’t think Denny would go to the police. Or the news media. He was an accomplice, after all. And with Denny’s reputation and the absence of any evidence, who would believe a junkie? He was as good as dead.
He took the stairs down and exited through a side door. Denny didn’t have a car and he knew Denny couldn’t rent one, so that left cabs or maybe city buses. He’d left the cell phone behind because he was afraid he could be tracked. He was right about that.
Dennis James wouldn’t go very far, but he couldn’t risk the man getting picked up by the police. He was a drunk, he liked to fight, he was a burglar and thief, he would commit some type of crime when he ran out of the money he’d been given. With the investigation open again, he couldn’t afford for Denny to be found and interviewed by Murphy and Blanchard. It would ruin everything. He was angry with himself for not taking care of the Denny issue years ago. He’d had several opportunities to orchestrate a fatal accident, maybe an overdose. Instead of killing the man, he’d helped him out all these years and this was how he was being repaid for his kindness. He’d heard it said a thousand times in his career: “No good deed goes unpunished.” Well, no bad deed would go unpunished, either. Denny was dead. He just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter 28
Back in the car they sat quietly, each in their own thoughts. Janet Cummings told them nothing that would help. They still were unable to locate Dennis James, and if the teller was right, he had no home, no friends, no work of any kind, and worst of all, he might have left Evansville. Angelina’s information seemed to back that view up. And now Claudine had compounded things by airing Double Dick’s taped conversation and adding her own spin on the other incidents. If Dennis James was smart and saw the news, he’d be on a bus and far away from Evansville.
Talking to Dan Olson hadn’t gotten them very far, except to strengthen the rumor of a cover-up. Dan Olson was a pathological liar, or worse, he was complicit. He and Mattingly had butted heads over these cases and it was a toss-up as to who was being truthful. Jack’s money was still on Mattingly.
Jack felt a vibration in his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone, saw the caller ID, and put it on speaker.
“Jack, where are you?” Captain Franklin asked.
“We’re near downtown, Captain.”
“You need to come to the Chief’s office right away.”
“Okay.”
“I called Sergeant Walker in. He has the ballistics back. Claudine has started a tsunami of public opinion. We’ve set up a special telephone line to take calls from the public expressing their outrage, asking about rewards, etc. But that’s not why I called.”
Jack waited. He hated that Tony had given up his vacation just to get mired in this political marsh. But police officers and doctors were always on call. If they didn’t answer the call, bad stuff happened.
Captain Franklin said, “Mayor-elect Benet Cato wants to talk with the investigators of the Max Day case. We haven’t told her that you’re also investigating Harry Day’s murder or that of his wife, but she’s not stupid.”
“Captain, she’s not the mayor yet. And she’s not a cop. I hope the Chief told her to piss up a tree?” There was a pause and he added, “sir.”
“That’s the other thing. Mayor Hensley will be here also. He’s the one who called Chief Pope and insisted on the briefing along with Benet Cato. Chief Pope will be there, as will I.”
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men…
“That’s swell, Captain. Will Claudine be there? Can I bring a date?”
“Don’t be childish, Jack. You know what’s at stake here. Behave yourself, and that’s an order.”
“I do know what’s at stake, sir. Can’t you do anything?”
Captain Franklin said, “If I could, we wouldn’t be talking, Jack. Just come in. Behave.”
The call was disconnected. Jack said, “Are we going to tell them everything or should we lie to our boss?”
“You’ll do what you want, pod’na. You always do.”
“Damn right.” Jack allowed himself a few choice curse words and added, “Behave, my ass.”
“You’re cute when you’re mad,” Liddell said and batted his eyelashes.
“Maybe Double Dick will be there and we can question him in front of his current boss and future boss.”
Chapter 29
They were pulling into the rear of police headquarters when Liddell’s phone rang. It was Little Casket.
“You might want to get over here ASAP. I’ve got something good for you.” She hung up.
“That was—”
Jack said, “I heard. I wonder what she’s got for us. Well. She’ll have to wait. We’ve got bigger sharks to deal with at the moment.”
They entered headquarters and the Chief’s secretary, Judy Mangold, buzzed them inside and pointed at the Chief’s conference room.
Jack and Liddell entered the conference room. Chief Pope, Captain Franklin, and Mayor Thatcher Hensley were seated around the large table and a chair was in a corner away from the door and the other men. It was occupied by the slouched figure of a young woman in her mid-twenties, dark, short hair combed across her forehead into uneven bangs. Her clothing was more appropriate for hiking than meeting with the most powerful men in Evansville. She appeared more at ease than anyone in the room.
“These are Detectives Murphy and Blanchard,” Chief Pope said. “And—”
“I know who they are,” the young woman interrupted and remained slouched in the chair.
Chief Pope continued as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “…this is Tilly Coyne. Mayor elect Benet Cato’s campaign manager. She will be the new mayoral assistant.”
Good behavior. Don’t get mad. Correction: Don’t get madder. “I understood Mrs. Cato would be joini
ng us?”
Tilly’s eyes narrowed, daring anyone to challenge her. “Do you see her?”
Jack bit his tongue. She reminded him of someone. Then it came to him: Tilly could be Little Casket’s love child. He said, “I was hoping to meet her.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be in a meeting with her after the first of the year. Have you cleaned up this mess yet?”
Thatcher Hensley cleared his throat. “Detectives, I hope you have some good news for us.”
Jack said, “Mr. Mayor. Jilly… I’m sorry—I didn’t catch your last name.”
Tilly said with a slight smirk, “Get on with it.”
I really dislike this bitch.
“Mr. Mayor, we were given this case yesterday. It’s gone unsolved for thirty-seven years. It most likely won’t be solved immediately, since most of the witnesses and evidence are in the wind. We’re in the process of running down some leads.” Jack wasn’t sure how much the Chief wanted either the mayor or Cato’s assistant to know about the missing files and physical evidence.
Chief Pope said, “My detectives are working diligently on this, Mayor Hensley. We have hopes of—”
Tilly interrupted the Chief of Police. “Hope in one hand and shit in the other, Chief, and see which pleases the voters more.”
Thatcher must have found his balls and said, “Miss Coyne. Your disrespectful remarks are not helpful, nor wanted. If you can’t behave in a professional manner, you’ll leave. You’re in my office as a courtesy to Miss Cato. Personally, I think Benet herself should have come.”
“As far as any of you are concerned, I am Benet.”
“I refuse to deal with you any further,” Mayor Hensley said. “And you can tell her that.”
Jack could see a vein pulsing on the mayor’s neck. This was the first time Jack ever felt like hugging a politician. “Mr. Mayor,” Jack said. “I think Tilly here needs to hear the truth about what we’re doing. Undoubtedly the news media will be feeding off the investigation, and since Miss Cato campaigned on a transparency platform, she needs to see for herself why total transparency isn’t always the best option.”
Hensley seemed grateful for Jack to take Tilly’s heated glare off of him.
“Yadda yadda,” Tilly said. “Listen closely. I’m here because I get results. I know people. I know what works and what will sink a government. You think I’m a hired gun, but I’m a nuclear response. You’re a screw. Don’t screw with the screwdriver.”
Jack ignored her. She might come in handy if he needed resources or permissions and someone had to light a fire under Hensley’s ass. He asked, “Is Sergeant Walker going to join us, Chief Pope?”
Tilly again. “I saw him and told him not to bother. You can talk to him later. I don’t need to hear a bunch of forensic jargon. I want results. I don’t care what you’ve done unless you’ve caught the asshole that’s messing Cato’s plans up. Do I make myself clear?”
Jack took his cell phone from his pocket and said, “Just to make myself clear, I’ve been recording this conversation since entering the room. In the interest of transparency I can make this recording available to Claudine Setera and I’m sure she’ll have an orgasm.” He watched Tilly Coyne and saw a bit of perspiration on her top lip. “Or I can keep it for the memoirs I always wanted to write. I don’t like being bullied. I don’t like self-important pricks. I don’t like a lot of things. But to be crystal clear, Miss Coyne: I don’t like you. When you get some power to back up your mouth, you can fire me. Until then, keep your mouth shut and your ears open or get the hell out. And you can tell Benet Cato what I said.”
Tilly’s mouth drew into a straight line, her jaws clenched and she gritted her teeth. He had to give her credit for having balls. She’d sat through all of this and still thought she was the alpha male.
Jack decided to finish her off. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Have you heard of Murphy’s Law, Miss Coyne?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Murphy’s Law says don’t screw with Jack Murphy. You should take that to heart. Now, if you’re done marking your territory, I’d like to answer these men’s questions. I have an investigation to get back to. You’re dismissed.”
The Chief’s lips twitched in a quick smile.
Tilly’s face was a mask of rage. She started to speak, but Jack interrupted, stood and pointed at the door. “I’m sorry if that wasn’t clear enough. I said get out!”
Tilly rose from the chair and walked to the door. She opened it and said evenly, “I’ve got things to do. Call me if you make any progress.” She left without another word or a glance back.
Jack watched Judy Mangold buzz her through the doors and flip her the bird as she left.
Jack gave Judy the thumbs-up and returned to his seat, awaiting his punishment.
“I apologize for my detective, Mr. Mayor,” Chief Pope said.
“Not at all,” Hensley said. “Magnificently put, Detective Murphy, even if it bounced right off her. That woman has a hide like a rhino. Please continue with the briefing. Chief Pope, please ask your sergeant… uh…”
“Sergeant Walker,” Jack offered.
Hensley said, “Have Sergeant Walker called back to the meeting if he’s not too busy.”
Jack saw Walker come in the door and say hello to Judy Mangold. Jack motioned for him to join the meeting and said to him, “I thought you were ordered not to come to the meeting?”
“She’s not the boss of me,” Walker said with a grin. He was, of course, referring to Tilly.
Walker was introduced to the mayor and when they were all settled around the table, Jack said, “Do you want the short or long version?”
“Jack, you might want to wait until I give you my report,” Sergeant Walker said.
He was given the floor.
Walker said, “I have the ballistic comparisons from the bullets and casings from Reina Day’s scene, Mrs. Day’s murder, and the one Sergeant Mattingly found at Harry Day’s murder scene. I was told there was a spent casing found by retired Detective Dan Olson at Max Day’s murder scene, but that is not available.”
Jack noticed Walker had skirted the issue of Olson’s mishandling of evidence.
Chief Pope interjected, “Mr. Mayor, Jack and Liddell are working Max and Harry Day’s murder cases. They are assisting the county sheriff in the murder of Mrs. Day. And we are keeping them in the loop on the assault on Reina Day.”
The mayor shook his head sadly. “How can one family be so unlucky?”
Jack said, “Not unlucky, Mr. Mayor. Targeted.” He let that sink in for a moment before saying, “These cases all appear to be connected, by victim if not by a suspect.”
The mayor seemed to be lost in his thoughts and said nothing.
Walker continued: “The shell casings are all .50 caliber. Hornady .50 caliber Action Express, three hundred grain brass jacketed hollow points. Sergeant Mattingly found one of the .50 caliber casings at Harry Day’s murder scene. Six of these were found at the cemetery where Reina Day’s car was shot up. County CSU found one of these at Amelia Day’s house and they found the projectile.
“Ballistics show they weren’t all fired by the same gun. There are two .50 caliber handguns involved. The six from Reina’s assault match the casing from her mother’s murder. The one from Harry Day’s murder doesn’t match any of the others.”
Mayor Hensley asked, “So the same person who killed Mrs. Day also tried to kill her daughter, Reina? And a different person killed Mr. Day? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Not necessarily, sir,” Walker answered. “The same gun was involved in Reina and Mrs. Day’s cases. Another gun of the same caliber was used in Harry Day’s case. Whether they were both owned or fired by the same person of different persons will be hard to prove. We were unable to get any latent fingerprints from the shell casings, sir.”
The mayor said, “So the same gun that shot
at the daughter, later killed the mother. Is that right?”
“Yes, sir,” Walker said. “The gun that killed Harry Day may be connected to the one that we suspect killed his son, but we don’t have a shell casing from the boy’s case. Either one wasn’t found, which is a possibility, or it has been disposed of because of the age of the case. That’s the oldest case, sir.”
“Disposed of?” the mayor asked.
Chief Pope jumped in. “In cases as old as Max Day’s, sometimes evidence is misfiled or was disposed of. We tightened up our handling of evidence a long time ago, but this was almost before even my time.”
“I would think you never disposed of anything involving a murder case,” Mayor Hensley said.
Walker changed the subject. “My news is that we found a slug—a projectile—in the dash of Reina Day’s car. It was sufficient to match to a weapon if we find one.”
If the mayor saw the condition of the property room he would understand why there needed to be more money in the police budget. There was too little room and too big of a job for one person to maintaining evidence properly. It would all come to a head one day when an attorney filed for dismissal of charges, citing the conditions in which evidence was stored and maintained. Sergeant Simms was working diligently to straighten out five decades of crap, but it was like emptying a lake with a spoon.
Jack said, “A witness at the cemetery said the gun being used was a Desert Eagle .50 caliber semiauto.”
Walker said, “That’s a strong possibility, but there are other semiautos that fire the .50 caliber. Not that many, but a few. Unless we find the gun it will be hard for me to make a definitive match.”