by C. M. Sutter
My phone rang as I drove. It was Frank. “What’s up, buddy?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing. Did Lutz call you this morning wanting to know about the guys at the pharmacy last night?”
“Nope, he asked me in person.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
As I waited at a red light, I explained to Frank what had taken place during the last few hours.
“Holy shit. Now what?”
“Now I’m heading to the precinct. There’s enough work to keep everyone busy all day and then some.”
“Okay, I can’t sleep anymore. I’m coming in too.”
Chapter 37
Wes groused as he scrubbed blood spray from the walls, floors, and furniture. “It was easier to kill Eileen. At least it was in her house and we didn’t have to clean up the mess.” He glared at Rory, who sat on the couch doing nothing. “Why is it that I’m cleaning and you’re reading a rag magazine?”
Rory shrugged. “I don’t have a stake in this. I didn’t agree to house-sit for Mark.”
“Prick.” Wes dunked the sponge in the mop bucket, where the water was now a deep shade of red. He gave it a squeeze and went back to work.
Disgust covered Rory’s face. “Maybe you should dump that shit down the toilet and fill up the bucket with clean water.”
“Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself since you aren’t helping, anyway.”
Rory flipped the page and continued reading. “Whatever.” He crossed the room to the kitchen and grabbed the laptop off the table then returned to the couch, logged on to the internet, and began searching police districts. “We’ve got to track down that cop if you really want his car.”
“I do. I wasn’t bullshitting.”
Rory waved him over. “Then stop cleaning for now and help me find out who he is.”
The sponge dropped into the bucket, and Wes washed his hands and took a seat on the couch next to Rory.
“What do I need to do?”
“Write down everything I tell you.”
“Hang on. I have to find paper and a pen.” Wes began pulling out drawers in the kitchen and found what most people typically had—a junk drawer. “I found a pen but no paper.”
“Then use a paper towel.”
Wes returned to the couch, leaned forward, placed the paper towel on the coffee table, and was ready to write. “Go ahead.”
“Jeff’s pharmacy is in the central district, and there are a lot of divisions.” Rory jerked his head toward the paper. “Write that down!”
“Okay, okay. Jeez.”
“Now I have to check the roster for each division because it was me who saw the guy in the Camaro only five feet away. Which do you think he was—a patrol officer, detective, undercover cop, commander, or what?”
Wes frowned. “Hell if I know. He was kind of leading the conversation next to his car. I doubt if he’s a patrol officer since he wasn’t standing with them. He was facing them. Maybe a detective or one of the head honchos.”
“That would be the commander.” Rory clicked on the roster and saw the commander’s photo for the central district. “No, not him. I’ll have to check every unit’s roster.” He looked at each tab. “Some of these would be a waste of time. He wouldn’t be in Arson, Financial Crimes, or Fugitive Apprehension.”
Wes leaned toward the screen. “Check Property Crimes, Violent Crimes, and Narcotics.” He grinned. “We probably fit in all those categories.”
“Damn, you’re a laugh a minute.”
Wes picked up his phone and asked it how many police officers worked in Chicago. The answer was over ten thousand. “Shit, did you hear that? This’ll take all night if we don’t narrow it down.”
Rory glared. “That’s what I’m trying to do, asshole.”
They began the tedious task of going through the photographs of each unit. They had already eliminated Narcotics and Property Crime, which surprised Rory. They moved on.
“What’s next?” Wes asked.
“Let’s try Violent Crimes, which includes the homicide task force.” Rory pulled up the roster and began searching faces. The very first page showed the man he was looking for. “There he is. That’s the guy who owns the Camaro. Jesse McCord, huh? Looks like he’s a homicide detective and second in charge of that division. His precinct is on Fifty-First and Wentworth.”
Wes rubbed his hands together briskly. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“I don’t see your pen moving across the paper.”
“Sorry, I was just excited.” Wes wrote down Jesse’s name, his role at the police department, and which one he worked at.
Rory opened a new tab and typed the name Jesse McCord into the search bar. A slew of information came up. “Looks like he worked Narcotics for nine years, and now he’s in his third year in Homicide. So we have to figure out where he lives.”
Wes pulled two beers out of the refrigerator and took his place back on the couch. He twisted the caps off both and handed one to Rory.
“It’s six in the morning,” Rory said.
“Who cares? Stop looking at the clock. We can use one of those people-search websites to find out where he lives.”
Rory snickered. “You paying for it?”
“Yeah, sure. That’s nothing compared to the value of the Camaro.”
“Okay, then find the one on your phone with the best reviews.”
Wes lifted his phone from his back pocket and began the search. “This one should work. Whoa, look at the five-star reviews, four hundred and thirty of them.”
Rory typed the company’s URL into the search bar and chose the tab for name, age, and address searches. He typed in Jesse’s name and Chicago, Illinois, and several addresses popped up, but only one would fit his age group.
“That one has to be him—late thirties. Looks like he lives in Jackson Park Highlands on Cregier Avenue. Find out where that is on your phone’s maps, and then we’ll follow him when he leaves the precinct. We’ll do a drive-by of the house and the precinct today to make sure we’re barking up the right tree.”
“Shit. We still have Jennifer’s car, and she’ll be leaving for work soon.”
“Who cares? The Impala runs, so she can drive that.”
“If those cops were looking for us, then they probably know what we drive too. They’ll see the car on the street.”
Rory gave that some thought. “True, and if they have a BOLO out on the Impala or see it at her workplace, she’ll throw us under the bus. Stupid bitches can’t be trusted, and that’s why I don’t get involved with anyone. Call Jennifer. Tell her to keep her ass at home today and to call in sick. We need time to get a different car.”
Chapter 38
No sooner had I taken a seat at my desk than the bull pen door opened. Roberts and King walked through. I turned my chair to face them. “Get the envelopes?”
“Done and done,” King said. “They’re with Forensics as we speak, and they’ll get the prints uploaded into the database. Then it’s up to you day shifters to go to the pharmacy and gather something Jennifer Tyler has touched. I’m done and going home to bed.”
“Yeah, and we’ll be on that as soon as the pharmacy opens.” I glanced at the clock. “Guess I should see if Lutz is back and who he wants to send out.”
I filled my coffee cup and headed down the hall to Bob’s office. The door was locked, and the room was dark. I imagined he was still at Jeff Barry’s house and waiting there until the porch had been cleaned and returned to its original condition. I called his cell phone.
“Hey, Boss, you still at the Barry house?”
“Yeah, the cleaning crew is just finishing up. I couldn’t let Jeff see the mess that was left behind. I should be heading out soon, but I want to talk to him again before I leave.”
“Got it. Who should go to Paul’s pharmacy?”
“You and Frank go ahead. It was your idea, and you’ve already met the personnel there, anyway.”
“Okay.
Then we’ll leave here around seven thirty.” I returned to the bull pen to wait for Frank’s arrival. I was pretty sure we’d have to explain why we needed something Jennifer had touched, but going through the store manager instead of the pharmacist working there in Paul’s place might prove easier. We didn’t necessarily want Jennifer to see us and tip off her boyfriend that we’d returned a second time.
Frank arrived a half hour after me. I went over my idea with him, and he agreed it was the smartest move. All we needed the store manager to do was grab something out of Jennifer’s locker and bring it to us while we waited in his office. We would do our best to convince him to help us again without a warrant since he had provided Jennifer’s application without one.
Ready to roll?” I pocketed my phone, my notepad, and a pen. My sidearm was already secured in my shoulder holster under my jacket.
Frank and I left our precinct during the peak traffic crunch, but we had to get to the pharmacy, grab what we could, and leave. That leverage was a necessary tool to get Jennifer to cough up the identity of the killers.
We arrived without forewarning. We didn’t want to give the store manager an opportunity to grow a conscience. After taking the stairs to the second-floor offices, we knocked on the closed door, and he called out for us to come in. We’d never met face-to-face, but Henry had talked to him over the phone, and that gave us a foot in the door. With our badges exposed, we introduced ourselves.
Jim Finch rose from his desk and extended his hand across it. He pointed at the guest chairs. “Have a seat, Detectives. What can I do for you today?”
I smiled to keep the mood light. “Glad you asked, and we really need your help on this one.”
He raised his brows. “Sure, name it.”
Frank continued with the request. “You helped us out greatly when you emailed Jennifer Tyler’s work application to our colleague Henry Johnson.”
“Yes, and he was very nice over the phone.”
I added my two cents with a chuckle. “Henry can’t help himself. He’s nice all the time. We’re trying to clear Jennifer of having a hand in activities that don’t seem like something she would be involved in. The only way we can do that is with her fingerprints. We’re trying to keep this on the down low to avoid embarrassment for CMS and for her. All we need is something that belongs to her specifically, like a coffee cup or something from her locker.”
Jim frowned. “You want me to break into her locker?”
“No. The lockers belong to CMS, not the employees, and we noticed when we were in the lunchroom several days ago that none of the lockers are actually locked. So by the legal definition, you wouldn’t be breaking into anything, and because the lockers belong to the company, you can check them for contraband anytime you like.”
Jim squirmed in his chair. “What if she sees me?”
“Do you ever enter that lunchroom?” Frank asked.
“Of course, all the time.”
“And employees should only be back there during breaks, correct?”
“Yes, I see where you’re going with this. Okay, I’ll do it to help clear her name. I’ll be right back.”
“Please use a tissue to avoid adding prints to whatever you find,” I said.
Jim rounded his desk, nodded, and left.
Frank and I breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out.
“So far so good,” I said. “Now he needs to bring back something without being seen.”
The five-minute wait seemed like thirty. Footsteps approached Jim’s office, and we both stared at the door. It swung open, and Jim walked in holding a coffee cup by its tissue-wrapped handle.
“How’s this? There’s no mistaking it’s hers since Jennifer is written across the front.”
“Thank God, and she didn’t see you?”
“Apparently, she called in sick today according to Ron Vincent.”
“Strange. Well, we can’t begin to tell you how much we appreciate your help once again, Jim. We’ll be in touch.”
Frank and I rushed out. We needed to get back to the precinct so we could hand off the coffee cup to Forensics. With the prints from the envelopes already entered into the database, we would run the prints off the cup and hope for a match. The entire process would take under a half hour.
We were back at our station by nine fifteen, and Mike Nordgren assured us he’d have the results by ten. I updated Lutz with a phone call and told him we could expect the results soon.
“How was Jeff when you left?” I asked.
“Inconsolable.”
“Maybe he and Paul should talk. They’ve been through the same thing. The only difference is that Jeff was saved from witnessing the video of his wife’s murder. Those criminals are the very definition of evil. I think we should touch base with Jeff in a few days.” I continued with the update and told Lutz that Jennifer hadn’t reported to work that morning.
“I wonder if they’re about to run. Chicago might be getting too hot for their taste.”
“I don’t know, Boss, but I think it’s time we put a BOLO out for her car since we don’t know where she lives.”
“Yeah, go ahead with that.”
I clicked off the call and logged on to the DMV’s website. I typed in her name and Illinois, and six entries came up.
“Henry, does Jennifer’s application show a middle name or middle initial?”
“Give me a second.”
I waited as he opened her work application in the email he had received.
“Yeah, it’s Marie.”
“Okay, thanks. That might help narrow down the files in the DMV database.” I added Marie as a middle name and hit Enter again. Nothing came up. “Damn it.” I thought about that application again. “It said she last lived in Detroit, right?”
Henry opened the attachment again. “Yep, Detroit.”
“Anything before that?”
“It doesn’t show anything else, Jesse.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I typed her full name into the search bar and entered Michigan as the state of residence. A Jennifer Marie Tyler popped up, and the record showed she owned a red 2013 Ford Fiesta. My mind took me back to the previous night, when I had stopped at the red light. I couldn’t see the driver in that red Fiesta, but the man in the passenger seat had stared at my car with admiration. I even gave him a nod of appreciation. I slammed my fist on the desk, causing everyone to jerk their heads in my direction. I wondered if that really was one of the killers who’d been sitting in a vehicle only five feet away from my hand being able to reach around his throat.
“Frank, come here.”
Frank pushed back his chair and in two strides was at my desk. “What’s up?”
“Have a seat and put your thinking cap on.”
He gave me a puzzled expression but pulled my guest chair closer.
I tapped my pen against the blank page of my notepad. “How well can you recall what the guy in the condom aisle looked like?”
“Jesus, that again? What’s up with you and Lutz about the kid deciding what condoms to buy? It was probably his first go-round.”
I swatted away his comment. “Because he could have been one of the killers.”
“What?”
“Just think back and give me the best description you can remember.”
“You’re serious?”
I was ready to write. “Yeah, dead serious.”
Frank leaned back in the chair with his head pointing toward the ceiling. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed. I imagined that was how most people recalled things, so I waited.
“He wore a black jacket and jeans. Couldn’t see his shirt. His hair was kind of moppy and blond.”
“And glasses you said, right?”
“Right.”
“What was his build like?”
“Between average and thin. Probably a buck sixty to seventy and five foot nine or so.”
“Anything else you remember?”
Frank raised his brows. “I looked
at him through a mirror for all of ten seconds. That’s it.”
I wrote down everything he said. “Okay, I’m not trying to bust your chops, partner.”
“So why do you think he’s one of the killers?”
I explained that Lutz had okayed the BOLO for Jennifer’s car, and it turned out to be a red Ford Fiesta.
“Frank, when we were all going to meet in the post office parking lot last night, I was next to a red Ford Fiesta at the stoplight. From what I could see, the guy in the driver’s seat had moppy blond hair and if he’s Jennifer’s boyfriend, it would make sense that they borrowed her car. That’s why nobody saw the Impala anywhere.”
“Shit! They could have been watching every move we made without our knowledge.”
I nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking too. They were surveilling us while we were looking for them. I wonder if Jennifer stayed home from work today because they still have her car and she was afraid to use theirs.”
Frank tipped his head toward the door. “Good chance, and if we find that car, we might find them. Let’s go talk to Lutz.”
“Hang on. First I’m issuing the BOLO.”
Chapter 39
We went over our theory with Lutz as we faced him across his desk.
“And the BOLO on the Fiesta is in place?”
“It is, Boss, and it’s leaning more toward Jennifer being an accomplice. All we need is the fingerprint confirmation from Mike and we can put out an APB on her and paste her face across every news station. Having her in custody is probably the only way to get our hands on her boyfriend and the other guy. We’ll throw her a bone but only if she tells us where they’re at.”
Lutz rapped his knuckles on the desk and gave me a nod. “Let’s do it. Pull the personal stats off her driver’s license along with the car’s description, and I’ll get it on every news broadcast.”
The desk phone rang as we stood to leave.
“Hold up. This could be Mike.” Lutz answered and listened then gave us a thumbs-up. “Thanks for putting a rush on that, Mike. Appreciate it.” Lutz hung up and waved us toward the door. “Maybe we’ll get somewhere now with the DA. We can haul Jennifer in as soon as we find her. The prints were a match.”
