The Cleanest Kill

by Rick Reed

  Jack thought he knew, but he didn’t want to rain on her parade. If she wanted to kill Needham herself, who was he to stop her? Her whole family had been killed. He thought she was using herself as bait. Maybe she thought she could get the drop on the killer before he got her. Maybe she just didn’t care anymore. On the other hand, what if she just went after Dick or Needham and gunned them down? He had a duty to enforce and uphold the law. Right?

  Franklin misunderstood Jack’s silence for concern. He said, “The ones watching her are good. They won’t lose her, Jack.”

  Murphy’s Law said: The degree of experience you have doing something is directly proportional to the chances of a screwup. In this case, a screwup could cost a life or two or three.

  “Captain, can you call the Posey County sheriff and arrange for James to go into isolation at their jail? They should put him on suicide watch. And make sure the sheriff knows he’s a target. We can house him as a John Doe. I don’t want anyone talking to him.”

  “We can’t keep him without charging him indefinitely, Jack. But I’ll do what I can. Do you need a uniform car to transport?”

  Jack said, “We’ll take him. If they need a charge, we can charge him with dealing narcotics. He gave us a bag of heroin when he turned himself in.”

  Jack ended the call and turned to Liddell. “Let’s get him in the car.”

  * * * *

  The trip to Posey County lockup took longer than the booking procedure. The sheriff was all too happy to help out, since Jack and Liddell had solved a murder for him and gave his department all the credit last year.

  They even agreed to skip the usual routine of entering anything in the computer before putting James in isolation. A note was stuck to his cell door that said quarantine. That would keep all but the medical officer away for a while, and the sheriff assured them there would be no visitors of any kind. Especially attorneys. He laughed and said, “We don’t even have a Dennis James in custody, so how can anyone visit him?”

  They thanked the sheriff and left. Liddell said, “We can’t put a BOLO on Needham without him getting wind we’re after him,” Liddell said. “We can’t talk to Double Dick because Needham has invoked his rights. But since Needham is now a suspect in a conspiracy, does he still have the right to represent someone?”

  “Yes. He can represent himself and Double Dick can represent himself—twice. Besides, they both told us to piss up a tree. The only way we’ll get them to talk is drive a wedge between them. Dennis might be the wedge,” Jack said.

  Liddell said, “Double Dick is in this up to his spiked Prussian helmet. We have him and Needham as prime suspects in Max Day’s murder. I don’t think we can build a case for the other murders. Do you think James was involved in Max’s murder?” Liddell asked.

  “He had a part in it even if he only conspired to hide the truth,” Jack said. “He’s got reason to be scared. Someone wants to kill him. Hell, they set him on fire. It had to be Carl or Dick. We might be able to see where they were when the house fire was called in. Maybe Angelina can trace their credit card use and give us some times. We might be able to get Needham for the other three arson deaths.”

  Liddell said, “I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer, but the fire could have been started by one of the druggies. It might not have anything to do with our guy.”

  “That’s possible, Bigfoot, but Dennis gave the same description of a black SUV that Reina and Angelina did. We know Dick owns such a vehicle. Needham was taunting us this morning. He’s a little too cocksure we won’t get anywhere. When Angelina gets what we need, let’s put a BOLO out on both of them. We’ll get the Captain to tighten security on Reina. If I’m right about Needham, he’ll enjoy the challenge.”

  A text came up on Liddell’s phone with the make and license plates of Needham’s Lexus SUV and Dick’s Cadillac SUV. Liddell called dispatch to put the BOLOs out and said, “He did what? Are you sure you got the right name?” Pause. “Okay, take it easy, I was just asking because I was surprised. I’m sure you’re good at your job.” He hung up.

  “You won’t believe this, pod’na.”

  “Needham wants to meet with us?” Jack said.

  “He told dispatch he’ll meet us at Milano’s on Main Street.”

  Jack pushed the Crown Vic harder.

  Chapter 48

  Milano’s was an old-world Italian family-owned restaurant, minus a bar. A wine list would get you some fermented grapes, but there was no hard liquor. Jack and Liddell were frequent fliers for lunch when they were working and as they entered, they were greeted at the door by the owner, Tough Tony. His real name was Tony Bella, a transplant from Queens. He’d been in Evansville so long that no one called him anything other than Tough Tony. It had a nice ring to it and the customers loved it.

  “Hey, Jack. Who’s the little guy with you, huh?” Tough Tony said. Standing on tiptoes, Tough Tony could just make eye contact with Liddell’s nipples. “You here to eat? I got something special from Mama in the back. It’s to die for. Whoops. I almost forgot what you guys do for a living.” He walked away laughing at his lame humor.

  Mama was almost one hundred years old and had cataracts and rheumatism so bad she was twisted like a bonsai tree. But the old woman still cooked.

  “That’s tough, Tony,” Jack threw back a pun of his own. “We don’t have time.”

  Tough Tony surprised them and said, “You here for that guy over by the window?”

  From what Angelina had said, Jack was expecting a guy dressed in black with a black hoodie. He recognized the face from the pictures Angelina had given them. Ohio State Senator Carl Needham had changed from the hoodie into a slick politician-go-to-meeting suit: charcoal gray with a thin gray stripe, starched white shirt with a bright red tie and red suspenders. His hair was dark gray with lighter gray streaks around the temples. Needham was sipping from a coffee mug, his eyes taking Jack and Liddell in.

  “I never seen him before, Jack,” Tough Tony said, not hiding his interest. “Oscar said he sounded uppity. But hey, business is business, right? If I threw every suspected asshole out, I’d go broke. Right? You want Oscar to see what he wants?”

  Oscar was the busboy, dishwasher, part-time cook, and nurse’s aide when Mama needed help. He was an ex-boxer who kept in shape, but his face was in bad need of plastic surgery to hide the cuts, bulges, and smashed nose. Oscar didn’t talk much. He didn’t have to. And he didn’t like uppity white guys. He didn’t have to.

  Jack spotted Oscar standing in the kitchen doorway, watching them watch Needham.

  “Not necessary,” Jack said.

  “I’ll get a to-go box ready, Jack,” Tough Tony said with a grin, and he and Oscar went into the kitchen.

  Jack and Liddell approached Needham’s table and Jack visually checked for telltale signs of weapons: a Desert Eagle, or a knife equipped with a CO2 cartridge.

  “There you are. Jack Murphy and Liddell Blanchard. I’m honored to meet you,” Needham said. “Please join me.” His smile was all bleached white teeth and as showy as a shark inspecting a meal.

  “Thanks for the offer, but we won’t be here that long. You won’t, either,” Jack said.

  Oscar brought a Styrofoam container.

  “Don’t waste a good container. He won’t be able to bring that with him,” Jack said. Oscar gave Needham a dark glare and left.

  Needham dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “The rigatoni carbonara is to die for. Tough Tony’s mama made it special. Did he tell you? And the garlic rolls are heavenly. You sure you don’t want to eat before you falsely arrest me?”

  “We’re not arresting you, Carl,” Jack said and smiled. “We’re just holding you for questioning. You’ve heard of investigative detention. Right? It doesn’t violate the Fourth Amendment.” Unless we hold you up by your feet and shake you until your white teeth fall out.

  Needha
m got to his feet. “I’ll come along quietly, gentlemen.” He giggled and said, “I’ve always wanted to say that. No need for drama.”

  “I prefer drama,” Jack said. In fact, he wanted to stuff the rest of the meal in Needham’s face.

  The smile again. “Richard said you would be entertaining, Jack. You don’t disappoint. Lead on, detectives.”

  Needham removed a crisp fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and left it on the table. One or two customers watched Jack and Liddell lead Needham out of the restaurant, but lost interest quickly. Not enough drama. Nothing to post on YouTube.

  On the sidewalk, Needham said, “I take it I’m a suspect in something, Detective Murphy?”

  “You are.”

  “Please enlighten me.”

  “If I tell you, I have to kill you. No, wait—I mean I have to Mirandize you and you have to tell me you understand your rights. So, before I go any further… I want to be clear,” Jack said. He read Needham the Miranda warnings and watched his expression closely. The man was made of ice.

  “You’re good. I understand my rights, Detective Murphy, and you did an excellent job of reciting them without a Miranda card to read from. Most law enforcement officers leave one or two things out that result in charges being dismissed.”

  “Why, thank you,” Jack said. “I’ve had a lot of practice.” Arresting scumbags.

  “Now, will you tell me what I’m being suspected of and taken into custody for?”

  “The murder of Maximillian Day in 1980, for starters,” Jack said. He didn’t want to bring Dennis James’s accusations into the conversation just yet. A little rope was always best.

  Needham stopped walking and turned toward Jack and Liddell. “You’re serious? I mean, of course you’re serious. But…” He let the word trail off before finishing. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Keep walking,” Jack said and took Needham by the arm.

  Chapter 49

  Jack and Liddell marched Needham through the front lobby doors at the police station and walked smack into a media orgy. A temporary podium bristling with microphones had been set up against a wall directly in front of the police department seal. Mayor Thatcher Hensley stood behind the podium. Chief of Police Marlin Pope stood on one side of the mayor and Deputy Chief of Police Richard Dick stood on the other side. Pope’s expression was unreadable, but Dick smiled like a teen discovering masturbation for the first time—delighted, surprised, and wondering if anyone was watching.

  Three of the local television stations and a gaggle of other TV and radio stations formed a semicircle in the front row. The newspaper and rag reporters were squeezing in between the television cameras, notebooks or recorders in hand. Filling the remainder of the lobby were uniformed officers, detectives, civilian personnel. There were one or two street people who were angry at having their safe zone invaded.

  The news conference was obviously starring Double Dick’s favorite person, himself. Thatcher Hensley was giving a good effort to appear excited and happy and optimistic. He wasn’t pulling it off.

  One reporter in the crowd noticed Jack and yelled, “Detective Murphy. Detective Murphy.” That caused clumps of two, three, and four reporters to turn in Jack’s direction and soon it was a domino effect. The dignitaries behind the podium were forgotten as the newspeople began peppering Jack with questions.

  “Detective Murphy, have you made an arrest?”

  “Is this the suspect?”

  “Who is he?”

  “Is this connected to the assault on Reina Day?”

  “Is he the murderer?”

  Jack’s speech professor in college said, “If you feel nervous speaking in front of people, imagine them in their underwear.” Or maybe it was “Imagine them naked.” He settled for imagining them gone.

  Mayor Hensley raised his voice. “Detectives Murphy and Blanchard are in the middle of an investigation and are unable to answer your questions at this time. You can refer your questions to the new Chief of Police.”

  New Chief? Jack felt his legs weaken. When he first saw this fiasco, he’d hoped the Chief was giving an update. Or that Double Dick had confessed and was going to be publicly hanged.

  “Richard Dick, our new Chief of Police, will take questions,” Mayor Hensley said.

  Needham gave them his shark’s smile again. “I did ask if you were sure you wanted to do this.”

  Jack realized they’d been set up: Dennis comes in and confesses. Gives them a story that leads them to Needham and Dick. Then Needham calls and wants to meet. It was a little too convenient. “You planned this.”

  Needham said, “You should’ve eaten with me and I would have told you all about this. I think Richard will make an excellent Chief of Police, don’t you? Oh, right. You two hate each other. Well, I’m sure Richard will find a part for you both to play in the revamped police department. I made a few suggestions of my own while Richard and I were having dinner last night with the mayor.”

  Double Dick stood tall and resplendent in his dress blues, to which he’d added extra medals and ribbons. He also was wearing the five-star epaulet and collar dogs of the Chief of Police.

  New Chief of Police Richard Dick raised his hands as if directing an orchestra. “Settle down. Settle down. One thing at a time, ladies and gentlemen. I can promise you we will keep you all updated on the progress of these cases, but as Mayor Hensley pointed out, we can’t comment on an active investigation yet. I’ll tell you what I can if you will.”

  Jack ignored Dick’s speech and continued leading Needham toward the door to the detectives’ corridor and interrogation rooms. Jack had put a hand on Needham’s back to hurry him along, just as Claudine Setera stepped in front of them with her cameraman in tow.

  “Claudine Setera, Channel Six news live,” she said.

  They were doing this live?

  “Are you Senator Needham?” she asked.

  Needham feigned surprise at being recognized and Claudine’s cameraman moved in for a close-up of Needham, then of Claudine. “Senator Needham, are you under arrest?” she asked. The cameraman panned from face to face, from Jack to Liddell, and stopped on Needham’s serious expression.

  “Miss Setera, I am not under arrest,” he said. “Just the opposite. I contacted these detectives to assist them in their investigation. They were kind enough to let me watch my good friend Richard Dick receive his richly deserved and long overdue promotion before our discussion.”

  Needham waggled his fingers at Double Dick.

  “I guess we’ve been triple-dicked now,” Liddell muttered in Jack’s ear.

  Claudine’s microphone jerked toward Liddell and she said, “Detective Blanchard, did you have something to add?”

  Liddell smiled and said, “I was just saying, I guess we’ll have to work three times as hard now. Dick is a hard man.”

  The pun wasn’t lost on Claudine and she had to swallow a smile. She kept the microphone in Liddell’s face until she realized he wasn’t going to say more. She then turned to Jack.

  “Detective Murphy, without compromising the investigation, can you just tell us how the Deputy Chief’s promotion will affect your ability to investigate him as a suspect in the murder of Maximillian Day or these other murders?”

  “No comment,” Jack said, but she wasn’t done.

  “Detective Murphy, you’ve heard the taped conversation between Chief Dick and the recent murder victim, Amelia Day, that was aired exclusively by Channel Six television. Isn’t it unusual for Richard Dick, a suspect in a thirty-seven-year-old murder, to be appointed as Chief of Police?”

  Jack couldn’t have said it better. “No comment, Miss Setera. Excuse us. I’m sure Mr. Needham has other things to do.” Until I book him, that is.

  Jack took Needham through a locked door, leaving the news crews behind. He put Needham in a chair in the interview room, w
hen there was a knock on the door.

  “I think my parole has just come through, Detective Murphy,” Needham said and made a frowny face at Jack.

  Jack opened the door to find Captain Franklin slightly pale. Franklin motioned Jack to step into the hall. Jack did and shut the door behind.

  “We have Carl Needham, Captain. Dennis James is safely housed and I think we’re a go for arresting Needham based on the new evidence and statements.”

  Jack knew his probable cause was weak as soon as he said this. James was as good of a suspect as any of the others. He admitted to blackmailing Needham for the last thirty years with what he knew about the fight at the cemetery. With Needham’s social station, he could be paying just to keep any tarnish from his profile. And James might have been the one who tried to kill Jack at Olson’s house. As far as using James as a witness against Needham, Dennis James had the credibility of a pissant. There were too many suspects and too little physical evidence. The items in Olson’s storage bin were basically stolen.

  “Jack. Liddell. Your jobs are on the line here. Neither I nor the Chief—I mean ex-Chief—can protect you. Your parading of a senator past a news conference won’t go well for you with the press. Blood is in the water, Jack.”

  “All I can do is what I do, Captain. Are we still good to go?”

  Captain Franklin gave a sigh. “I’d tell you to tread lightly, Jack, but you’d ignore me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Thanks for your concern, Captain. Promise me you’ll throw your weight behind Liddell. He’s got a new baby.”

  “What about you, Jack? I hear Katie’s pregnant.”

  “I’ve got a gun,” Jack said and patted his .45. “They’ll never take me alive. Sir.”

  Captain Franklin walked away, shaking his head, and Jack reentered the interview room.

  Carl said, “Am I free to go now?”