by C. M. Sutter
“No, it was before that. I went outside and heard somebody running down the sidewalk but didn’t see anything. I think it set my nerves in motion.”
Frank chuckled. “Big, tough Jesse McCord is nervous? That isn’t like you, dude. John Vance must be occupying your mind.”
“I guess. Lutz gave me that talk this morning, and now I’m thinking about it even more.”
“And that’s why you have a houseful of guns, so use them if you need to.”
I nodded toward the snacks. “Dig in.”
Chapter 9
Curt picked up the ringing phone and handed it to John. “I’m sure it’s the update you’re expecting.”
“Hello?”
“It’s Cruz, sir. Reporting in like you asked.”
“And what is Detective McCord up to this fine evening?” John laughed with the pleasure of knowing his men would do an excellent job of getting under Jesse’s skin.
“It looks like he has company now. Maybe the initial visit unnerved him and he needed a friend to keep him company.”
John chuckled.
“First I lurked around until I heard the dog growling from the other side of the door. That was enough to cause the detective to come outside to investigate.”
“Don’t get overconfident. Remember, he’s a cop and always carries a gun.”
“I know. Anyway, I ran down the sidewalk, and I’m sure he heard me, even though he couldn’t see me.”
One end of John’s mouth curled up. “Then what?”
“Then I returned with a potted oleander and set it on his porch without a card. That ought to get him thinking since those don’t grow naturally in the North. It had to send a message.”
“Yeah, a potentially lethal one. They’re extremely toxic plants, so that was a good choice. Nice work, Cruz. Call me again tomorrow with more updates.”
“I will, sir. Good night.”
John placed the phone back in the cup holder. “I’ll have to get my own phone soon. Anyway, the seed of concern has been planted in the detective’s mind, and now he better watch his back. We’ll unnerve him for a week or so and then strike when he’s least expecting it.”
“Good plan. That prick deserves the worst kind of ending we can think of. Jesse McCord will be fish food by the time we’re done with him. It’ll be the justice Jake deserves.”
John munched the cold french fries from the drive-through restaurant they’d stopped at after passing into Arkansas. “How much farther is Texarkana?”
“Another hour and we can call it a night.” Curt looked at the gas gauge. “By then, we’ll need another vehicle, anyway, and once we shut off this puppy, we won’t have a signal to start it again. We’ll snatch up a different car in the morning.”
Chapter 10
While I was driving to work, I thought about that plant and its lack of a card. Mills said it was an oleander—beautiful but very toxic. I had no intentions of nibbling the leaves, but I had to admit, I wasn’t the greatest at identifying anything other than green grass and maple and oak trees. A horticulturist, I wasn’t. Mills also said those plants couldn’t survive our brutal winters, and it made me wonder why somebody chose it when it wasn’t a plant that could be transplanted into our northern soil. I was baffled and couldn’t even call a store or nursery where it was purchased to ask who’d bought it. The plant had no identification whatsoever about where it came from. I would brush off that thought as soon as I got to work. A murder investigation was in full swing, and we needed to put all our energy into that.
Lutz stood at the podium as he did every morning. Conducting roll call came first and then the updates and tasks that were assigned to the detectives and officers that day.
“I have an update from Don. The DNA found under Mrs. Morton’s nails does not match her husband’s DNA, and it isn’t in our system. Forensics ran all the prints and found a set that didn’t belong to any family members and they aren’t in the database. So as of now, our perp is officially unidentified.” He pointed at Mills and me. “I want you to talk to everyone that knew Tina Morton again. I know Patrol conducted knock and talks in the area, but a second interview from detectives is in order. Murray and Adams, talk to the husband’s acquaintances and family members again. We need to establish a twenty-four-hour timeline of family and friends for the husband and wife prior to the 911 call made by Devon Morton. Henry and Shawn, I want warrants for the entire family’s bank records, and go through everything with a fine-toothed comb. We need to know about life insurance policies on her, and her will too. Pull warrants for everything.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said.
Lutz slapped his hands together. “Okay, let’s make this a productive day.”
“Boss?”
Lutz turned to me. “Jesse, what’s on your mind?”
“Any word from the FBI about Vance?”
“Nope, but that information wouldn’t filter down to me, anyway. The FBI may or may not keep MCC in the loop, but then it would be up to MCC if they wanted to pass on information to us. Is there a new concern?”
“No.” I lied. “Just curious.”
Lutz closed the folder in front of him and headed for the door. “Then it’s time to hit the streets.”
All of the detectives followed the commander out of the roll call room. Lutz turned left at the end of the hallway, and we turned right—the direction of the bull pen. We had plenty to fill our day, and my own concerns would have to wait until I was off the clock and back home.
Frank pulled up my guest chair, and we reviewed the transcript of the interview with Hal Morton that the night shift detectives had left for us. Hal admitted that the woman seen with him in the hotel video was a coworker who often went on business trips, sometimes with him and sometimes with other employees. He maintained his innocence and said he had loved Tina deeply and had no idea who would commit such a heinous crime.
“You buying his BS?” Frank asked.
“Not for a second. Intruders don’t stab people more than forty times unless they’ve been instructed to do so, and we don’t even know if it was a burglary until Hal goes through the house to see if anything is missing.”
“But he can say whatever he wants to make it look like a robbery gone bad.” Frank stood and put my guest chair back alongside my desk. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”
I gave him a nod then retreated to my thoughts as I stared blankly at the sheet of paper in front of me. Moments later, I heard his voice.
“Ready to head out, partner?” Frank cocked his head.
I looked up at him. “What?”
He scratched his right eyebrow. “Didn’t you get any sleep last night? You’re completely out to lunch, and it’s barely eight thirty.”
I huffed and rose from my desk. “I’m fine. So?”
“So, I’m ready to leave whenever you decide to get the cobwebs out of your head.”
“Oh.” I grabbed my notepad from the top desk drawer, jammed it in my pocket, and nodded toward the door. “Then let’s roll.”
I volunteered to ride shotgun. My mind wasn’t on driving or where we were headed. Mills was much better suited to take the lead that day. He glanced my way as he turned the key in the ignition.
“What’s your deal, anyway? Is that plant from last night still bugging you?”
“I’m curious about it, that’s all.”
Frank was good at calling me out when he sensed something was wrong. He had an uncanny ability to read my expressions, so I turned my head and looked out the passenger window.
We arrived at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Hal Morton at nine fifteen. Wrapped in police tape, the house stood empty and was currently off limits to the family. Hal was staying with his kids and sister at her house and was told not to leave town. We had a murder investigation to conduct, and if Hal was found to be the likely suspect, his new address for the foreseeable future would be the county lockup.
Mills parked in the driveway, and we stepped out of the cruiser. I looked up an
d down the well-groomed residential street and found it hard to believe a murder had been committed in such a safe-looking neighborhood.
“Where do you want to start?” I asked.
Frank shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. How about right there?” He pointed at the house directly to our right, where a red car sat in the driveway. “At least somebody is home. We’ll hit each house on this side for the rest of the block and then cross the street, talk to those people, and end up back here.”
“Good enough.” We walked up the neighbor’s sidewalk, then I rang the bell. I heard barking from what sounded like an ankle-biter. “Damn small dogs are worse than the big ones.”
Frank grinned. “They have to compensate for their lack of body mass somehow.”
A woman who appeared to be in her early forties answered the door with a squirming white mop of a dog in her arms. “May I help you?”
I took the lead as we showed our badges. “Homicide Detectives Mills and McCord here, ma’am. We have a few questions to ask you about Mr. and Mrs. Morton.”
She looked flustered. “I gave my statement to the police yesterday, so why do I have to do it again?”
“We understand, and having officers speak to the neighbors is standard procedure following a crime, but we as detectives have our own questions to ask. It should only take about fifteen minutes of your time.”
“I suppose.” She ushered us in. “I’ll put Cotton in the backyard.”
“Appreciate it, ma’am,” Frank said.
We sat at the kitchen table with the neighbor, who introduced herself as Lauren Biller, and began by asking about her relationship with her neighbors.
“Tina and I were close, but Hal was standoffish, like family life wasn’t all that important to him. Tina said he never attended any after-school activities the kids had. She called him her absentee husband.”
I glanced at Frank. “That’s unfortunate. How about their personal relationship? Did Tina confide in you about that?”
Lauren hung her head and was silent for a moment. “Do you think Hal was behind this?”
“We don’t know, Mrs. Biller. Do you?”
“I’d hate to think it, but Tina did file for divorce several weeks ago. She thought Hal was messing around with a woman from work.”
“Really?” Frank wrote that down. “Did she share that woman’s name with you?”
Lauren shook her head. “I don’t think she was sure who it was. Hal works in marketing for a well-known fashion house, and there are a lot of women at that company. Tina talked about following Hal to see if she could catch them together.”
“What reason did she have to believe he was cheating?”
“I don’t know, the typical reasons, I guess. Buying new suits, being more concerned about his appearance, working late hours, business trips. That sort of thing. She said his shirts even smelled like perfume once in a while.”
“Right. But she never caught him red-handed, so to speak?”
“No, but she did say he’d likely fight the divorce. Tina only worked part-time, so Hal would have to cough up seventy-five percent of his earnings in child support and maintenance, not to mention splitting personal assets and the house when the divorce went through.”
Frank tapped his pen against the notepad. “Sounds like you know how the system works.”
“I do. I divorced my husband two years ago. Guess he got that unavoidable disease.”
I frowned. “Ma’am?”
“You know, the dreaded seven-year itch.”
“Oh, sorry. One more question, Mrs. Biller.”
“Please, just call me Lauren. Nobody calls me Mrs. anymore.”
I nodded. “Lauren, do you remember seeing a car in Tina’s driveway or anyone walking up to the house on Sunday?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t say. I was out grocery shopping and visiting my mom all afternoon.”
“Understood.” We pushed back our chairs, and Frank handed her his card. “Thanks for your time. Please call if you think of anything else that can help the investigation.”
We showed ourselves out and headed in the direction of the next house.
“Hang tight a minute, buddy. I have to get my nicotine gum out of the car.”
I turned back with Mills. “No sweat. I’ll walk with you.”
We passed by Lauren’s house and returned to the Morton driveway.
“What the—” I spun in every direction and didn’t see a soul. Both passenger-side tires had been slashed and sat flat on the rims. I looked at the homes directly across the street. Curtains were drawn and the driveways were empty, meaning the homeowners were likely at work.
“Either we were followed here or somebody in the neighborhood is sending us a message.” Frank rubbed his forehead and stared at the tires. “We aren’t going anywhere on them. Do you think Hal Morton or someone working on his behalf is trying to impede the investigation?”
“Don’t know, Frank, but I do know one thing. Somebody is definitely watching us. I’ve got to call Lutz and tell him what happened.”
Chapter 11
“What the hell!”
That and a few other choice words came through the phone lines as I explained to our commander what had happened during the fifteen minutes we were inside Lauren’s house.
“Did you see anybody following the cruiser or notice someone in the neighborhood showing too much interest in what you were doing?”
I shook my head out of habit. “Nope. We parked, got out, and went straight to the neighbor’s house. We weren’t poking around outside. We were out of the car for a minute at most before going next door.”
Lutz groaned into the phone. “Okay, I’ll call Patrol and have Adams request the flatbed be sent to the Morton address. It could take a half hour, so go ahead and talk to a few more neighbors, especially ones with a view of the Morton house. Somebody saw you arrive there and noticed where you went, so watch your backs.”
“Will do, and I’ll let you know when the cruiser gets loaded. I guess we’ll ride back with the flatbed driver.”
I hung up and told Frank—who stood at the curb, smoking a cigarette—what Lutz had said. “Put that nasty thing out and pop a mint into your mouth. Bob said to keep knocking on doors, especially ones that face the Morton house. Maybe somebody saw something out their window.”
Frank jerked his head toward the houses across the street. “The curtains are closed over there.”
“True, at those two homes directly across from us, but not at their neighbors’ houses.” I stepped off the curb then looked back. “You coming?”
Frank took two more drags off his cigarette, squashed the butt under the toe of his shoe, kicked it into the storm drain, then popped a mint into his mouth. “Now I’m ready.”
I rapped on the door of a house across the street, which still had a perfect view of the cruiser. A young man—probably eighteen to twenty years old—pulled open the door.
“Yep?”
I made the introductions and asked if he’d noticed anybody by the black car that sat in the Mortons’ driveway.
“Nope. Been playing video games for the last hour. My eyes were on the TV screen, not on the window. Sorry, man.”
There was no sense in explaining to him that my title wasn’t man, and no sense continuing the conversation. We thanked him and left for the next house, where a man who looked sixty or better appeared at the door.
“Hello, sir. We’re Detectives McCord and Mills from the Chicago Police Department and would like a word with you.”
“Sure, I’m Lou. What can I help the PD with?”
Frank took over while I pulled out my notepad. “We’re wondering if you saw anybody in the driveway of the Morton house around twenty minutes ago.”
“I sure did. Two men as a matter of fact. Looked like they were checking the tire pressure of that black cop car.” He scratched the top of his nearly bald head. “It wasn’t you two?”
“No, sir. So you’re saying they were dresse
d similar to us, in sport jackets?”
“Uh-huh, that’s what I’m saying.”
“And they were kneeling at the tires on the passenger side?”
“They were, and then they walked down the street and out of my view. Thought you were them—cops making the rounds.”
“Sure, and that’s exactly what we’re doing,” Frank said.
I changed the subject. The neighbor didn’t need to know that our tires were slashed, and it was doubtful that he could tell us anything more than the way the men were dressed. “Did you know the Mortons’ well?”
“Nah.” He waved his hand above his head. “We waved to each other now and then, just to be neighborly, and that’s about it. Not in the same age group, if you know what I mean.”
“We do, and thanks.”
I gave Lou my card, and we left. Just as we were about to move to the next house, we saw the flatbed heading our way. I tipped my chin toward the truck. “Guess our interviews are over for now.”
The cruiser was loaded in the back, and we climbed in next to the driver and were dropped off at our district’s police station twenty-five minutes later. The car would go to the garage and have a new set of tires put on it.
“We should tell Lutz we’re here,” Frank said as we walked in.
“I’m baffled. The whole tire-slashing thing seems too far-fetched to be a message from Hal Morton since that’s a surefire way to get our sights put right on him. Let’s see what Bob thinks. Maybe it’s time to haul Mr. Morton in again and put extra pressure on him.”
Frank rapped on Lutz’s door, and he yelled out from the other side, “Come in at your own risk.”
We entered the commander’s office and took seats in the two guest chairs that faced the file-covered desk. Lutz closed the top folder and gave us his full attention. “What the hell happened out there?”
“Just like I said. We got out of the car, went next door, and interviewed the neighbor. The next time we saw the car, the tires were slashed. A man across the street said he saw two men, dressed similarly to us, kneeling at the tires.”
“You think Hal is behind it?”