by Jason Trevor
Chapter 7
Joe pulled nonchalantly into his driveway and drove the Charger halfway into the open garage, which he had deliberately left that way. He got out, opened the hood, and pulled off the air intake pan, disconnected the battery, and pulled off a few vacuum hoses from near the firewall. He rubbed a little grease and grime from the block and firewall onto his arms and hands, then leaned on the fender and looked at it with the best look of curiosity he could muster. He had just broken his dash controls on purpose. Then he heard the sharp slapping of a basketball bouncing on concrete. He looked up. The next-door neighbor’s gawky teenager was shooting hoops in his driveway.
“Hey, Billy!”
“Hi, Mr. D. Whatcha doing?”
“I’m perfecting cold fusion. What does it look like? I’m fixing my Charger! It’s got a vacuum problem with the heater controls. How long have I been here?” Billy walked over and peered under the hood at the souped-up 426 Hemi.
“You just got here,”
“No, I just got back from a test drive. How long have I been here in the driveway today?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t looking, but I didn’t see you working on it earlier,” Joe pulled a folded stack of bills from his pocket and peeled $100 out of it, then pushed it into a very surprised Billy’s hand.
“I’ve been here working on it in my garage since late this morning, got it?” Billy nodded knowingly.
“Oh, yeah! I saw you come out and start working on it right before lunch!”
“Attaboy. Go work on your free throws. I’d hate for you to end up in the NBA and draw more fouls than Barkley did,” Billy laughed the snorty, adolescent laugh of a still-changing voice.
“Sure thing, Mr. D!” He jogged back to his driveway.
◆◆◆
“It’s the next turn. Over there! Jeez, don’t these suburban wastelands have a single straight road?” Le peered at the navigation app on the cell phone in his left hand as he hung on to the headrest with his right. Cody ran a stop sign and veered around the corner. “Over there. The ranch-style with the detached garage next to it,”
“Yeah, that’s gotta be it. I recognize the Caddy parked between the garage and the house,” Cody nodded. He yanked the Crown Vic into the driveway and pulled up behind a shiny old Mopar that was hanging out of the garage with its hood up. There was a Dodge pickup on the other side of the driveway. “You’re gonna let me talk, right?”
“Your case,”
“Alright,” He heaved himself out of the car and looked around. It was a quiet, idyllic neighborhood. A dog in a distant yard was barking. A kid in the driveway next door was playing with a basketball. The yards were beautifully green and manicured. The houses were large, and the families were probably small. This was a neighborhood reserved for executives, doctors, and business leaders. He and Johnny simultaneously saw Joe rummaging in a rolling toolbox pushed against the wall in the garage. He looked up and saw Cody first.
“Detective! What brings you all the way out here?” Then he saw Le. “Oh! You brought a friend! Hi, I’m Joe,” he started to reach out a dirty hand and then hesitated, looking at the engine grime covering it. “Wait. I don’t think you want to shake this hand!” he laughed.
“This is Detective Johnny Le,”
“OK, stop there,” Joe interrupted. “Let me guess. You’re not wearing colors but dressed for the street. You have a vest on under there, and you are accompanying Detective Sims. You’re in the gang unit, and y’all are here about Foster’s shooting. It must be gang-related. I’m happy to see you are making progress!” Johnny let slip an impressed nod and a slight smile. “I’m not done,” continued Joe. “You’ve got military in your walk. Probably saw combat, if you aren’t afraid to work the streets in the gang unit. Marine infantry?”
“Army, cav scout. Operation Enduring Freedom. Three tours,” nodded Johnny.
“Awesome. That earns a cup of coffee from me. Come on in, guys,” Joe turned to the door that led to his dog-run, and the detectives followed. He tugged a rag out of his back pocket to open the side door of the house with and they strolled in. “Just let me wash this crud off of my hands and I’ll get you some Community brewing,” Johnny and Cody looked at each other suddenly.
“I’d rather you didn’t!” blurted Sims.
“Huh?” Joe managed to sound genuinely surprised. “Fine. I’ve got some homemade lemonade if you don’t want me to make coffee. It’s kind of late in the day for coffee anyway-”
“No, I’d rather you didn’t wash your hands,” interrupted Cody as Joe used the rag to straighten a picture on the living room wall that they were passing on the way to the kitchen. Joe’s eyes narrowed.
“Why?” he acted as if he couldn’t hide the suspicion in his voice, even though he knew exactly why they were there. Johnny peered through the sidelight by the front door, watching helplessly, like he was expecting something. They had hoped to stall Joe until the forensics van arrived with the warrant. They hadn’t anticipated his hands being covered with grease and grime, which meant that he would want to wash them. Not that it would completely remove any traces of gunshot residue, but the swab would be better if he didn’t and they had no legal way to stop him. Sims and Le weren’t about to let on that they couldn’t tell him not to wash his hands, but Joe was obviously smarter than that. All they could do was play to his desire to seem innocent.
“You’re right,” sighed Cody. “We’re here about Foster’s shooting. One of the suspects was shot today, and I’m not convinced that it wasn’t you. We have a warrant compelling you to submit to a swab of your person for gunshot residue,” He remained poker-faced as he prepared his nerves for an argument.
“You can’t be serious,” Joe gaped as best as his acting skills would permit. “I haven’t talked to you in a week or more. I don’t even know who your suspects are!”
“All the same, one of them was shot this afternoon. I’d like to rule you out. Can you account for your whereabouts from noon until about three today?”
“Sure! I was in that garage working on my Charger. The blower fan stopped working and I want the heat to blow when it gets cold outside. I’ve been under that hood since this morning,” He held up the backs of his hands to both detectives. “Swab away if you don’t believe me,”
“CSU should be here any minute. Please just don’t wash your hands yet,”
“Well, you haven’t presented me with a warrant yet, so that tells me that it is on the way, and since I haven’t been served, your tone and careful choice of words tells me that you can’t legally prevent me from washing up,”
Detective Sims bristled but didn’t answer.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got nothing to hide. I won’t wash my hands, and I’ll submit to the search voluntarily. You don’t even need the warrant. How about I make the coffee anyway, and we discuss how you are using police resources to pursue a dead lead? What do you say? We’re all friends here. We’re all on the same side. Coffee? Lemonade?” He looked back and forth at the two men.
Le and Sims hesitated, made brief eye contact, and then sighed. They had both been secretly worried that Joe would be combative. Congeniality, artificial as it may be, was definitely preferred.
“Lemonade,” Smiled Johnny.
“Coffee for me,”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Black, please,”
“So, did they shoot the guy dead?” Joe used the garage rag to open his fridge and take out a half-full glass lemonade pitcher. Then he used it again to get a glass out of the cabinet and push a cartridge into his Keurig.
“No, it looks like they were trying to scare him,”
“How good did he look for shooting Foster?” Joe started the Keurig brewing into a stoneware mug.
“Not likely. He probably knows the shooter, but I don’t think he did the shooting.”
“Not cool. If I was going to shoot someone, not that I would, I’d make sure it was the right guy,” He handed the lemonade and coffee to t
he detectives with the rag, one at a time. They both took a drink, just as the doorbell rang. “That must be your forensics guy,” Joe stuffed the rag into his back pocket, held out his hands, and batted his eyelashes innocently.
Chapter 8
Le and Sims cruised down the freeway back toward downtown in frustrated silence.
”It’s like he wanted us to know he shot the dude but couldn’t catch him!” Johnny finally said.
“The kid next door said he’s been out there all day, and CSU says the initial swab doesn’t look likely,” Cody sighed. They would know for sure after the lab spent a few days processing the swabs of Joe’s hands and arms. Even still, the warrant had stipulated a “case-by-case” sample elimination, meaning that they had to have a bullet, shell casing, or sample from Biggie or the crime scene to compare with anything they found before any evidence would be admissible.
“We’ve got nothing on him,”
◆◆◆
Margie slogged up the stairs and down the hall of their ranch-style in the suburbs. Tired from a day in the trenches as a medical assistant, she still had her scrubs-shirt on but had changed to more comfortable yoga pants for the evening. William was working late on a Saturday again, and the boy was downstairs playing a video game. Dinner would keep in the crock-pot, and this was a good chance to catch up on some laundry. She gathered a few things from Billy’s bathroom floor, added them to his nearly-full hamper, then dragged it down the hall, down the steps, past her pajama-clad teen, and to the mud room to sort. At least he had showered. Billy was very tidy, clean, and fastidious about his hygiene, unlike his sloppy older brother that had left for college the previous fall. It’s too bad he wasn’t as fastidious about keeping his bathroom and bedroom clean. “I just picked up the clothes you wore outside today from the bathroom floor. Is your bedroom the same way?”
“I’ll go clean it,” he sighed, pausing his game.
She pulled some smelly sweat socks off of the top of the hamper and tossed them onto a pile of her husband’s whites. His shorts were under them and twisted, with one leg inside-out. She straightened the shorts and checked the pockets. Her eyes widened as she pulled out a crumpled wad of cash. Smoothing out the bills, she counted four twenties and two tens. His allowance was transferred into a junior bank account each week so that she and William could track his spending via his debit card. There was no reason for him to have cash.
“Billy!”
No answer.
“William Henry Athens, Junior!” she shouted. This time he came scrambling down the steps in his socked feet and whipped around the corner into the mud room.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Where did you get this?” she held up the six bills. He stared at it and fidgeted, but didn’t answer. She grew even more suspicious.
“Out with it! Why are you carrying cash, and how did you get it?”
“I pulled it out of my bank account,”
“When?”
“Today. I rode my bike to Albertson’s right before you got home,”
“Don’t lie to me. I checked your bank account this morning and it only had $75 in it. What have you gotten into? Where did this come from?” He shifted foot to foot some more and then sighed resignedly.
“Mr. Danton next door gave it to me,”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. When I was in the driveway playing basketball, he was working on his car. He asked me how long he had been there. I had only seen him for a few minutes, so he gave me that and told me he had been there all day,”
“He paid you to cover for him?”
“Yeah, I figured he had a girlfriend looking for him or something,”
Margie was torn. She and William didn’t know the man next door very well, but he had always been a good neighbor. He didn’t make a lot of noise, although she was fully aware that he kept very odd hours. He helped William out with projects in the garage on occasion. He was absolutely great with the boys. He had even come over for backyard barbecues a few times. Nothing about the man seemed sinister. “Come on, you’re giving it back,”
“Aww, Mom! He just gave it to me! I didn’t ask him for it or extort it from him or anything,”
“Good, but you’re giving it back anyway. Let’s go,” She slid on a pair of flip-flops by the mud room door and kicked another pair over to Billy.
◆◆◆
Joe jerked his head up from his supper at the unexpected knock on his front door. Were the police back? Who else would be here at nine PM on a weekend? He jumped up and strode to the door. It was the neighbor kid and his mom.
“Hi, Billy. Hi, Marge. What can I do for you?” Billy was staring at his socks, stuffed into a pair of flip-flops. Marge looked pointed.
“Can we come in?”
“Of course. Be my guest! Please forgive me, I was having a late supper,” He scooped up his plate and deposited it on the bar separating his kitchen and nook. “Would you like some coffee? Lemonade? Water?”
“No, thank you. This isn’t a social call. Did you give Billy a hundred dollars to say that you were here today?”
“Yes, I did,”
“Were you?”
“Well, he can’t say for sure that I wasn’t, if that’s what you mean,”
“That’s not what I mean. Do you have a girlfriend that you are hiding from or something?” Joe acted sheepish. Billy’s eyes darted nervously between the two adults.
“Or something, yeah,” Joe smiled.
“Well, I know that a single man’s social life can put him in some difficult positions sometimes, but I can’t have Billy helping you hide from a girl or her boyfriend or whatever. I don’t want him dragged into whatever it is. I’m sure you understand. Here’s your money back,”
“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Athens. I didn’t mean to worry you. He doesn’t have to cover for me if you don’t want him to. You can even keep the money,”
“That’s very kind, but no,” She laid the money on the bar. “I don’t want Billy to feel like he owes you. We’ll be going. It’s late,”
“OK. I really am sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get upset,”
“Well, thank you for being honest. That’s more than I can say for Billy. He tried to continue to cover for you until I caught him in a lie,” she glared at the boy as they walked out the door.
“Thank you for embarrassing us like that. Mr. Danton is a nice guy, but we don’t need to be involved in his business,” she continued to scold as they shuffled across the lawn back home. They noticed the garage door open as they walked up, and William’s car was in it alongside Margie’s. “I’m sure this is not the kind of news your father wanted to come home to,”
“You handled it. Do we have to tell him?”
“Yes! We don’t keep things from each other in this house,” she paused for a minute and considered. “Although I may let him have a night of peace and tell him in the morning.” She didn’t get the chance to wait.
“What’s this?” asked William brusquely of his son as they walked in. “It was in the garage next to your basketball. Do you have some business with the Houston Police Department that I should know about?” He was holding up Cody Sims’ business card. Margie turned sharply toward the boy and buried her fists into her hips.
“You lied to the police for him? Alright, that’s enough. Now you are going to sit down and tell us the whole story!”
◆◆◆
Monday morning, Cody sat at his desk with a cup of coffee and blearily flipped through the notebook he had made for Foster Shayne’s homicide case. All of the leads had dried up and he had nothing more to go on. Joe Danton was certainly an interesting guy and looked good for vigilantism, but there was no hard evidence of anything except for Foster’s truck turning up in a chop shop. Everything else was circumstance or theory. Maybe something in his notes would give him a fresh idea. His desk phone rang and he grabbed it.
“Homicide, Sims,”
“Cody Sims?”
“Yes, how can I help y
ou?”
“My name is William Athens, Senior. You had a conversation with my son Saturday afternoon. I was wondering if he and I could come downtown to clarify a few things on his statement.
“Well, I didn’t take an official statement from him, but if you think he has useful information I’ll be happy to talk for a few minutes,”
“Yes, he would like to make a statement on the record,”
“You understand that I will have to Mirandize him, have him write it down, and then sign off? That can be intimidating for a boy.”
“I think you’ll want this. I’m not sure what you are investigating, but it may change the direction of your investigation,”
Chapter 9
The knock at Joe’s door Monday afternoon was unexpected. He had not had so many visitors to his house in such a short time in years. He was less surprised to see William Athens standing on his porch.
“Can we talk?” William sounded far less angry to Joe than he would have thought he would be.
“Sure, Bill. Come on in. Coffee?” William hesitated, then surrendered.
“Yeah. That would be great. Cream and sugar if you have it,”
“On it. Have a seat,” Joe ushered him to a barstool at the counter between his kitchen and nook. “Are you here about Billy? Like I told Margie, I can’t apologize enough for putting you in a compromising position,”
“Well, I appreciate the gesture, but it’s become more complicated than that. I’m a criminal defense attorney, Joe. As a member of the Texas state bar and a sworn officer of the court, I have certain legal obligations and I can’t be put in a position to violate my responsibilities.”
“I know that Bill and I wouldn’t expect you to,” he handed over a cup of Community Dark Roast, fresh from the brewer. Then he fetched a can of powdered creamer and a sugar bowl.
“We know that you didn’t ask Billy to lie for you to hide from a girlfriend or her jilted boyfriend or anything like that. Billy lied to a police detective for you. I don’t know what you’ve gotten into, but I drove him to the police station today and made him give an official statement about when he actually saw you, and that you paid him to lie for you. He could have gotten into a lot of trouble if they caught him lying,” William looked decidedly nervous about how Joe would react. Joe was a picture of calm.