by Laura Snider
George gave Katie a warning look and she stepped back, letting him take the reins. She was getting overly excited, too zealous. If she kept it up, Erica might lawyer up, and that always complicated things. Backing off was best.
“So it wasn’t you who called at one o’clock a.m. on December twelfth and reported that you saw Ashley Montgomery coming out of Victor Petrovsky’s home?”
“No.”
“Then it also wasn’t you who reported that you witnessed Ashley Montgomery near the Von Reich murder scene covered in blood?”
“No. Why would I say that?”
Katie snorted. “To frame Ashley.”
Erica narrowed her eyes. “Listen, I hate Ashley more than most people do. I’m not going to lie; I enjoy the irony in her incarceration. I’ve even threatened her a time or two. But I’m not dumb enough to place myself at two murder scenes. Not even to frame her.”
“So you never said those things?” Katie asked. If Erica was telling the truth, then who was it that had called? Or had anyone called?
“What are you, deaf?” Erica said, jumping to her feet. “I have said at least three times that I didn’t make that call. Do you need me to say it in Spanish? Write it out on a piece of paper? Climb a mountain and scream it from the peak?”
George forced a laugh. “No, no, Erica,” he said, rising to his feet. “We hear you loud and clear. Thank you for speaking with us. If we have any follow-up questions, how should I contact you?”
Erica wrote her number on a piece of paper and handed it to George. “You can contact me here.” Her gaze shifted to Katie. “But she can’t.”
Katie forced back a bitter laugh and followed George out the door.
“That was…” Katie paused, trying to think of the right word. “Unexpected.”
George nodded. “Do you believe her?”
They walked toward George’s police cruiser. They were only a few blocks from the station, but they took the car just in case a call to service came in while in the middle of Erica’s interview.
“It depends,” Katie said. “I definitely don’t believe her about visiting Petrovsky in jail. We’ve got the picture evidence to prove it. If she’s willing to lie about one thing…” Katie shrugged.
They hopped into George’s cruiser and drove back to the station.
“But what about the call to John Jackie?”
Katie sighed. She didn’t know. That was the problem with people. They told partial truths sprinkled amongst outright lies. It could be next to impossible to separate fact from fallacy.
“I don’t know. I don’t trust Erica, but Officer Jackie hasn’t exactly been a Boy Scout himself.” She paused for a moment, chewing on her lip. “I wish we had the recording from the call.”
They were already parked outside the police station. At the mention of the recording, George sat up straight. “There’s an idea.”
“What?”
“There should be a record of the call.”
All calls into the police station were recorded, just like 9-1-1 calls. There was not unlimited storage space, so the recordings were set to a loop, the tape recording over itself every few days. When officers needed to keep a recording for a case, they had to save the call to a disk before it was recorded over. For whatever reason, Officer Jackie had not put the December 12th call onto a disk, but that did not mean George and Katie couldn’t do it themselves. All they had to do was find the call.
“Do you think it still exists?” Katie asked.
George shrugged. “We might as well look. It’s worth a try.”
Officer Jackie was finding his way into the middle of Katie’s investigations. First, the incident at The Apartments; now, potential lies in criminal complaints. Katie needed to talk to Keisha about Officer Jackie’s behavior. She needed to know what he was doing out there. Katie had her suspicions, but she wanted Keisha to confirm them. Katie glanced at the clock before exiting the cruiser. It was only noon. Keisha would be at school for several more hours. The end of the school day could not come soon enough.
28
Katie
December 14th – 3:30 p.m.
The clock on the wall of George’s office slowly ticked forward. Katie watched the secondhand making its way around its face. Click. Click. Click. It had to be wrong. One of the hands was sticking or something.
“You know,” George said, setting a cup of coffee next to Katie, “a watched pot never boils.”
“Thanks.” Katie nodded to the coffee.
It was 3:30 in the afternoon, close to the end of the school day. Keisha was a sophomore at Brine Senior High. She would not be at her job at the animal shelter until 4:00 at the earliest. Thirty minutes felt like a lifetime. Katie needed a distraction.
“Do we have any forensics on the knife yet?”
“Nope,” George said. “It could take a while. The lab is backed up.” He shrugged. “Christmas.”
“Damn,” Katie said.
Christmas was supposed to be the happiest time of year, but it was stressful. People were shut inside with their spouses, using mood-altering substances and struggling with financial stressors. It was a perfect storm that led to domestic assaults, burglaries, and other violent crimes—offenses that often required testing, which clogged the flow of evidence through the forensics laboratory.
Katie’s eyes drifted back to the clock. 3:37.
George was at his desk, sitting directly across from Katie. He had a genuine, solid-walled office. Not one of the pop-up cubicles like Katie and the other patrol officers had. She looked around. The walls were bare. There were no pictures of his wife or his family. His desk was clean and organized, but unremarkable. The only item in the room that carried any of George’s personality was his coffee mug. It was white with giant lettering that said World’s Okayest Cop.
“Have you talked to the chief yet?” Katie asked, taking a sip of coffee. Her gaze shifted back to the clock. 3:42. Not quite time yet.
“About Officer Jackie?” George leaned back in his chair and put his feet on his desk.
“Yes. What else?”
George rolled his eyes. “Come on, there are plenty of things I could discuss with the chief. Like our shoe sizes, for example. Or possibly scrunchies. I hear those are coming back in.”
“Stop it.” Katie tried to sound severe, but she could not quite manage it. Not when George was giving her that crooked, mischievous smile.
“No.” George grew serious. “I want to wait until we talk to Keisha. We need something more definitive than ‘Officer Jackie was counting money.’”
“I doubt we will get it from Keisha.” Katie’s gaze drifted back up to the clock.
George chuckled. “Then why are you watching the clock like four p.m. can’t come soon enough?”
Katie sank lower in her seat. “I know. I’m a mess.”
George stood and grabbed his coat.
“What are you doing?”
“We might as well head to the animal shelter now. You won’t be able to focus until after we talk to Keisha.”
Katie jumped up, nearly knocking her half-full cup of coffee off the desk. It teetered at the edge, rocking back and forth until finally settling back onto the table.
“Whoa,” George said. “That was close. I’m going to consider that a good sign.”
Katie did not necessarily agree. It really all depended on how you looked at it. It was certainly positive that the mug had not fallen off and shattered, sending coffee and glass everywhere. But then again, it was unlucky to knock it in the first place.
They left the station, and Katie silently thanked Chief Carmichael for keeping Officer Jackie on nights. It would have been awkward to see him right before questioning a witness about him. Katie did not have much of a poker face. Officer Jackie would have known something was wrong. She got into the passenger side of George’s car, and they drove straight to the Brine County Humane Society.
Keisha was behind the counter when George and Katie stepped inside. Finn and Princess came
rushing toward Katie.
“Hey, you guys,” Katie said as she dropped down to their level. “How are you? I see Keisha here is spoiling you.”
Finn wagged his tail. Princess yipped and spun in a circle.
“You’re back,” Keisha said warily. Her gaze traveled to George. “And with reinforcements. It must be my lucky day.”
George flashed Keisha his best smile. “Officer George Thomanson.” He stuck his hand out for Keisha to shake.
Keisha eyed his hand like it was a rabid raccoon. “Right. Well, this is a place of business. And my boss isn’t going to like it if you keep showing up like this.”
“I’m sorry,” Katie said.
Keisha raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“I just—you told me to come back.”
“Oh.” Keisha said the word slowly. Her full lips formed a perfect O as she did. “You have information for me.” It wasn’t a question. More of a demand.
“Not quite,” Katie said. “But sorta.”
Keisha crossed her arms, unimpressed.
Finn came and sat to Katie’s right. He was just tall enough that she could scratch his head without bending down.
“What I came to tell you is that we,” she motioned from George to herself, “did go down to The Apartments last night.”
“And…” Keisha motioned with her hands, indicating that Katie should get on with it.
“And we saw Officer Jackie follow a guy into the building.”
Keisha nodded.
“The guy seemed scared of him.”
Keisha nodded again.
“They were inside for a couple of minutes, and then Officer Jackie came out counting a handful of cash. Do you know what that’s all about?”
Keisha shrugged. “What do I get for telling you?”
A flash of anger blossomed in Katie’s chest. Who did this girl think she was? She was trying to bargain with Katie like they were at a flea market. “A crooked cop, if that is, in fact, what he is, out of your neighborhood.”
“Fine,” Keisha relented. “If I talk, you better do something about it. You make me an empty promise, and you better not come back around here asking for more help from me.”
“I promise.” Like all promises, this was one Katie intended to keep.
“What did the guy look like?”
“He was a middle-aged man. Looked like he could be Hispanic. Had a mustache and wore a blue outfit.”
“That would be Juan. He’s a plumber. He gets home from work most days around six thirty.” Keisha sighed heavily. “That Jackie prick is blackmailing him.”
Katie and George exchanged a look of surprise.
“What?” Katie said.
“Yeah. Officer Dickbag pulled him over a couple of Saturdays ago. He was coming home from his niece’s wedding. He’d probably had one or two too many, but he made it home all right. That wasn’t enough for Officer Jackie. He stopped him right there in the parking lot. Had him do field sobriety testing. Then he said he’d let him go for a thousand bucks. Said it was cheaper than an OWI and he wouldn’t lose his license.”
It made sense. OWI stood for “operating while intoxicated.” It was Iowa’s drunk driving law. The facts seemed correct. The minimum fine for OWI was $1,500 with a 35 percent surcharge. So, $1,000 was indeed less. The details lent credence to Keisha’s story.
“How do you know for sure?”
Keisha raised an eyebrow. “You don’t believe me.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” Katie raised her hands in surrender. “It’s a common follow-up question.”
“I know because Juan’s daughter is a couple of years younger than me. I tutor her on Monday evenings, on my day off from here.” She nodded at her surroundings. “Juan’s daughter came for her regular tutoring session one day, and she was upset. Her father was supposed to buy her a new dress for the school dance. Thanks to Jackie, he couldn’t afford it anymore. She asked to borrow a dress from me, but I don’t have one fancy enough. I don’t think she ended up going to that dance.”
“Oh,” was all Katie could manage. She felt bad for the girl, but blame was a little misplaced. Juan would not have been able to afford that dress either way. He was the one who chose to drink and drive. Officer Jackie had every right to arrest Juan that night. The fact that he did not was what caught Katie’s attention.
“Are there others?” Katie asked.
Keisha sighed. “Listen, I don’t want to get involved in all this. That cop scares me. He’s a loose cannon. If he finds out I’m talking, he’ll retaliate. It’s just me and my grandpa, and Grandpa is sick. We can’t take on someone like Jackie. I just want him to go away. That’s all.”
Katie nodded. “Yes, but I can’t do that unless I know the extent of it.”
Keisha chewed on her lip.
“Come on. You can trust me.”
Keisha narrowed her eyes, considering Katie for a moment. Then she nodded almost imperceptibly. “I’m not saying I trust you, but we need help. So, the answer is yes. There are more. A whole lot more.”
Wow, Katie thought. If they could prove that this was happening, Officer Jackie would lose more than his job. He would likely lose his freedom. Blackmail was not a crime taken lightly, especially when a police officer used his badge to do it.
“Do you know the names of the others?” Katie took out a notebook and a pen.
Keisha shook her head. “That’s enough for today. You can talk to Juan. He’ll help you out. If he doesn’t, then you can come back to me.”
“Fair enough.” Katie pocketed her pen and pad of paper.
Keisha’s neighborhood worked a little differently than those south of Sixth Street. Nobody wanted to give too much information to law enforcement. They did not want others to see them as snitches. Katie wondered why Officer Jackie would take such a risk. Police officers were not paid well, but they got by. Why risk everything, including his liberty, to make a little extra cash?
29
Katie
December 14th – 6:55 p.m.
The walkway up to The Apartments was dark. Several of the nearby streetlamps were out, and the city had not bothered to replace them. Katie counted, one, two, three, all completely dark. She wondered if it was due to a funding issue, although she doubted it. The city council always seemed to have plenty of money to fund law enforcement requests, and it did not seem to be a problem in her middle-class neighborhood on the other side of town.
Katie followed George along the sidewalk. It was not shoveled, so she was trying unsuccessfully to step in his snow tracks. Snow poured its way through her shoes, soaking her socks. When they reached the main entrance, George pressed the button to buzz apartment number six. It was a controlled entrance. They could not get in unless someone buzzed them in or they caught the door as someone came out.
They waited for a few moments, listening for the click of the lock, but there was nothing.
“Try again,” Katie said. She shifted her weight and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. It was freezing.
George pressed the button again.
“Do you think he’s backed out?” Katie asked after another couple beats of silence.
They had called and arranged an interview with Juan Garcia before leaving the animal shelter. During the call, Juan had seemed hesitant, but he agreed to the interview once Keisha got on the line and told him that Katie and George were “cool.”
“He said seven o’clock, didn’t he?” Katie said. Perhaps they had misunderstood the time. Maybe he had said half-past seven, but she’d missed the “half-past” part.
George looked at his watch. “Yeah. But it’s 6:55. So technically we’re early.”
“Technically,” Katie said, hopping from one foot to the next. She could not feel her toes anymore. She did not think she would last another five minutes in the whipping Iowa wind coupled with wet socks.
George went to press the buzzer again, but before he did, the front door slowly began to open. A short man with
dark eyes motioned for them to enter.
“Are you Juan?” Katie asked. She had been too far away to get a good look at him the night before.
“Yes.”
Juan was approximately forty years old, with small wrinkles spidering out around his eyes and mouth. Humor lines. His mustache was well maintained, and he had a thick head of hair that would make most men his age insanely jealous.
“This way,” Juan said, motioning for them to follow him down a hallway.
Juan led them to a door with a tarnished number displayed prominently above a peephole. It was supposed to be a six, but it had come loose at the bottom and flipped over, turning it into a crooked nine. He opened the door and ushered them inside a small apartment.
It was warm but cramped inside. The living, dining, and kitchen areas all ran together, and there was a small hallway to the right that Katie assumed led to a bedroom and bathroom. The living room had the typical couch, TV, and chair, but there was also a large dresser in the corner. Clothes were tossed beside it, crumpled to the ground like wilting flowers.
“Sorry about that,” Juan said, nodding to the dresser. “We can only afford one bedroom. So, my daughter sleeps out here.”
Katie nodded. There was an upturned bottle of perfume and several makeup containers left open on top of the dresser. The sloppiness reeked of teenage girls. At least the happy ones.
“Where is your daughter tonight?” Katie asked.
“She plays basketball. They had an away game tonight. She won’t be home until nine or ten. That’s why I wanted you to come now. I don’t want her to know.”
He was protecting his daughter. A good father, trying to shield her from the stresses in his life.
“Have a seat,” Juan said, motioning to the small kitchen table. It was solid oak with four wooden chairs. None of the chairs matched any of the others or the table, but somehow, they worked.
Katie chose a chair with a rose intricately carved into it. “Where did you find a chair like this?”
