by Rick Polad
“Hello, Ben,” said Rosie. She looked tired.
“Evening, Detective. You’re keeping us busy.”
“Wish I wasn’t. Always thought I’d like to work in Mayberry.”
Ben sighed. “Pretty idyllic. Just one day of Mayberry would be nice. Thanks.” He found an empty interview room, sat down, and opened the file.
Charles Lamb. Forty-two years old. Married to Sarah for eight years. No kids. Six-foot three, two hundred thirty pounds. Been arrested three times, once for battery, two for domestic abuse.
Ben read through the arrest history and the events of the day, including the discovery of the money and the missing knife.
Several items seemed strange. Why would Brock hire someone she met in a gas station and then give him a key to her house? Why would he hide the money in the bushes? Ben rubbed the back of his neck as he read, trying to ease a slight headache.
The money discrepancy and the missing knife were certainly worrisome, even though there might be explanations for both. And why did the maid accuse Mr. Lamb? Also worrisome were the facts that there was no forced entry, Mr. Lamb had a key, and he had no alibi.
Ben let out a deep sigh. He would rather have been at home with a glass of wine. One of the things he liked about this job was fairly normal hours. That hadn’t been true lately. The office was greatly over-worked. Wondering how this case would go, Ben leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He could easily have fallen asleep.
The sound of the door opening brought Ben back to reality. Rosie poked her head in and said, “Been looking for you. You can see your client. He’s in visitation with his wife.”
Chapter 70
Spencer’s phone rang at a little before eight.
“Spencer?”
“Yes.”
“Laura. Do you have a few minutes?”
He had as much time as she wanted.
“I do,” he answered.
“I would like to meet with you to discuss your idea.”
Trying to contain his excitement, Spencer agreed and asked when and where.
“Can you come to my apartment tomorrow at one?”
“I can.”
“And this time try ringing the bell.”
“Will do. Can I ask a question?” He thought he already knew the answer.
“Sure.”
“This is a dangerous proposition. Why are you willing to do this?”
“I haven’t said I would. And I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. If I do decide to, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
“Fair enough. See you then.”
He hung up.
As he stared at the phone, Spencer realized he had lost his excitement. Even though Laura was amazingly well-protected, he was asking her to risk her life. He wasn’t sure that he would agree to do it. But then it wasn’t his sister.
Chapter 71
While Ben was reading the file, Sarah arrived at the station. She was told to wait a few minutes, then was led to the visitation room where Charles was waiting behind glass.
Charles lowered his head and sheepishly said, “Hello, Sarah.”
She looked disgusted and just shook her head. After staring at him for a minute, she said, “I’ve supported you for years. I let you go off drinking and who knows what the hell else, and this is the thanks I get. Well, I’ve been taking care of you long enough. Now the taxpayers can.”
As Charles started to reply, the door opened and Ben walked in. He stood behind and a little to the side of Sarah. Charles glanced at him warily and then looked back to Sarah.
“But I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t hurt Miss Brock. You need to hire a good lawyer,” he pleaded.
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed,” she spat at him, “but one of us hasn’t been working. Money is not something we have a lot of.”
“Well, maybe money for bail,” he said hopefully.
“What the hell is the matter with you? Didn’t I just...”
“But Sarah,” he pleaded. “I didn’t kill Miss Brock.”
Ben was shocked by what he saw from Mrs. Lamb. There was nothing but hatred in her reaction.
The small woman took a fighting stance, and with slow, measured words, said, “I don’t care what you did or didn’t do to Miss Brock.” She set her jaw and squinted. In a staccato sentence, like a machine gun in slow motion, she asked, “Where - in - the - hell - are - my - daggers?”
Her controlled anger was equaled by his fear. She was two thirds his size but loomed over him as he cowered in his chair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ben felt like he was watching a tiger preparing to pounce. He interrupted. “If I may.”
“And who the hell are you?” barked Sarah.
“Benjamin Tucker. Public Defender’s Office. I’ve been assigned to your husband’s case.”
“I suppose he needs a lawyer. But so much for the good part.”
Ben had been through this before and kept his cool. “Public Defender doesn’t mean not good.”
“Then what does it mean?” Sarah asked belligerently.
“It means free, but my skills are just as good as a high-priced lawyer.”
“And you expect me to believe that? If you had the skills, you’d be a high-priced lawyer.”
On the outside, Ben didn’t react. On the inside he needed something for the ulcer he was developing. This theme was getting old.
“Okay, Mr. Just-As-Good Lawyer, what about bail?”
“Well, there’s a bond hearing in the morning.”
She just laughed. “I can go as high as fifty bucks. Do you think it will be fifty bucks, Mr. Good Lawyer?” She glared at him.
After a deep breath, he politely said, “We’ll have to wait and see.”
“Right. You wait and see. I’ll start making plans to visit him in prison.” She glared at Ben. “Since I’m getting nothing from my genius husband, I’ll ask you. Where are my daggers?”
She obviously cared more about her daggers than her husband. This was not going well.
With carefully chosen words, Ben replied, “The police have the case. They took it as evidence.”
“Evidence? How could my daggers be evidence?”
Moving closer to the glass, Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to stay calm. “Miss Brock was stabbed.”
“And that has what to do with my daggers?”
“One of them is missing.”
She stared at Ben as that sunk in and then slowly moved her stare to Charles. He immediately looked down.
Charles had seen that look before and knew it didn’t mean anything good for him.
Her powerful stare continued. Charles continued to look down.
The tiger pounced. “You killed someone with my grandfather’s dagger? You rotten bastard! I hope you rot in hell!”
Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Mrs. Lamb, your husband is being held under suspicion of murder. He needs your support here. Can you tell me when he got home Saturday morning?”
She turned her angry stare back to Ben and left without saying another word.
Still standing, Ben said, “I’m sorry for this, this…” Ben waved his hand. “Usually we get a bit more support from family. She’s just upset at the moment.”
Charles shook his head. “No, she’s upset all the time. What’s going to happen?”
“There will be a bond hearing in the morning. We’ll have to wait and see what the judge says. We’ll talk more after I get a chance to look into this.”
“Judges don’t like me,” Charles muttered. He looked up at Ben. His look was hopeless.
Ben requested that he be moved to an interview room. They talked for twenty minutes. Charles just kept saying he didn’t kill Miss Brock.
Chapter 72
After a late night, Rosie went for a run and got to the station at ten Tuesday morning. The autopsy report was waiting on her desk, along with a lab report. They both got a quick response because of the pro
stitute angle. She let them lie and went for a cup of coffee. Steele’s desk was across from hers. He wasn’t there. They had a meeting at eleven with Andrews, Spanell, and the Lieutenant.
There was nothing in either report that surprised Rosie. All of it pointed to Charles Lamb. The only good prints on the baggie were his. There were also partial smudges. His prints and Miss Brock’s were on the envelope. His, hers, and various others were on the money. The autopsy report stated that death was caused by the wound in Brock’s chest from a weapon approximately three quarter inch wide and four inches long, matching the silver dagger with the missing twin. He had a key to her house and was there alone according to Margaret, and he had no alibi. Seemed open-and-shut. Rosie knew things weren’t always as they seemed, but it was hard to see this any other way. The time of death was narrowed to between four and six.
Charles was also a person of interest in the Friday killings because of the knife and his arrest record for attacking a woman he accused of being a prostitute.
* * *
Benjamin met Charles in court at 10:30. Bond was set at $500,000. Charles was despondent. He spoke very few words and barely responded to Ben’s comments except to say they didn’t have any money, he couldn’t live in prison, Sarah would be glad to get rid of him, and if he was going to die, the sooner the better.
Ben had learned not to get involved with emotions, but there was something about this big man that made Ben wonder. He seemed gentle and not very smart. He was the kind of man that things happened to while he stood still, not knowing enough to get out of the way. Ben told him he would talk to him on Wednesday. He watched the big man shuffle away with slumped shoulders and small steps, but didn’t have time to think about him. Two more court appearances in the afternoon and tons of paperwork would keep him busy into the evening.
* * *
Everyone but Steele was in Stosh’s office at eleven. Steele showed up at five after as Lieutenant Powolski was reviewing the facts and got a stern look from Stosh.
“Okay. We have a good suspect for the latest murder. What do you think about the others?”
“Well,” said Andrews. “The m.o. is wrong. But Lamb’s arrest record makes him look good for it.”
Steele agreed and popped a piece of gum into his mouth. He rolled up the wrapper and shot it at the basket. He missed. It rolled under the desk.
“Nice shot,” said Andrews.
With a lot of effort, Steele got down on his knees to get the wrapper. “You gotta admit, this looks pretty clean. Everything points to Lamb.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” said Stosh. “Give this a bit more thought before you fry the guy.”
Steele re-rolled the wrapper. “I think better on a full stomach.”
Andrews glanced at his stomach, but held his comment.
Steele shot the wrapper into the basket and glared at Andrews. “Two points, asshole.”
“Are you two done?” asked Stosh. “Unless we get some more data that proves otherwise, let’s treat this as two separate cases.” Stosh turned to Lonnigan and Steele. “You two have some digging to do. There are other suspects. See if you can identify Brock’s clients. We have phone numbers. One of you cross-check and get some names, and we’ll chat about how to handle it from there. We don’t want to ruin any loving marriages. One of you check the bar. Without forced entry, I think we can rule out home invasion. Had to be someone with a key. Look into the maid and find out who benefits from the will. I’ll get somebody to check backgrounds on the maid and the victim.”
“Margaret?” asked Rosie with a surprised look.
“Yup. She had a key. Not a likely suspect, but turn over all the rocks.” He turned back to Andrews and Spanell. “We’re checking records for someone with prostitutes in their past. You guys have anything new on our man Friday?”
“Not a thing,” said Spanell. “We’ve been trying to tie the victims, but so far there’s nothing there. I like Lamb. I hate to say it, but so far Spencer’s name-suggestion theory is the only thing that ties them all together.”
Stosh rolled his eyes. “Well, don’t tell him that. Get outta my office.”
Chapter 73
Spencer arrived at Laura’s apartment right on time. He rang the bell and headed upstairs. He knocked on the door and she asked who it was.
She opened the door and let him in.
“The place look different with someone in it?” she asked with a slight smile.
Spencer grimaced. “I do apologize. Can’t tell you how badly I feel.”
Her smile broadened. “It’s okay. Mostly kidding. But beware of the part that isn’t.”
“Noted.”
“Don’t mean to be inhospitable, but we’re leaving.”
There was no room for discussion. It was an order. Spencer was more than happy to follow and not ask questions. He certainly remembered what she was capable of.
Figuring that they were driving back to the empty building where he was held captive, Spencer was surprised when she walked across the street and entered the apartment building opposite hers. She held the door for him.
They climbed the stairs to the second floor where Laura knocked on 205.
One of the men Spencer had seen Saturday opened the door.
“You two remember each other. Spencer, meet Stretch. Stretch, meet Spencer.”
They both nodded.
Spencer looked around the bare room. Four wood chairs, a small table, and a refrigerator were the only things in the room.
Laura invited them to sit.
Spencer walked to the window and looked out. “Nice view of your apartment.”
“Yes, people pay big money for views like that.”
Spencer turned and walked to a chair. “Well, not exactly like that.”
She didn’t laugh. “I guarantee you, I pay a hefty sum for this view.”
“You have people watching your apartment?”
“Yes. Around the clock.”
“Why?”
She took a deep breath. “We may get to that.”
Stretch was watching and listening with interest. He hoped they would get to that.
“So, Spencer, your theory is that this fellow is copying Jack the Ripper and choosing his victim by their names?”
“Right.”
She nodded and sat. “Tell me again how you think he finds their names.”
“Not sure. But could be any of several ways, including following them home or just asking.”
“So you think he is just walking up to girls and asking their names?”
“Well, probably a bit more conversation than just that. But yes.”
Laura rubbed her temples. “And if the name isn’t right?”
“Then he moves on and tries another.”
“No sex?”
“My guess is, he’s not after sex. He just wants to find the right girls and kill them.”
With raised eyebrows, Laura asked, “And why is he doing this?”
Spencer shook his head. “I have no clue.”
Laura nodded. “No, I didn’t think you did.”
Stretch just listened.
“Can I ask a question?” asked Spencer.
She nodded.
“Why are you interested in my theory?”
Lie detector tests start out with baseline questions that the technician already knows the answers to so he can set up a response guideline for other questions. Spencer already knew the answer to his question. He was interested to see how Laura answered. She got up, walked to the fridge, and offered soda or juice. Both men declined.
Laura sat and took a drink of ginger ale. A far away, sad look washed over her face. “I have a sister who disappeared a few years ago from our home down in Florida.” She looked at Stretch and spoke directly to him. “I guess I could have told you before, but I am a control freak and didn’t want anyone else in trouble if this didn’t work.”
Stretch just nodded.
“Stretch, I appreciate everything you have don
e. I obviously trust you with my life.”
She turned to Spencer. “The police looked into it but got nowhere. After a few months, I started asking questions. One of her friends told me about the parties they would have. Sex and drugs and alcohol. It started with just friends from school, but other people started to show up. This friend told me one of the men, who was older than most in the group, was especially interested in my sister and she was pretty sure they met outside the parties. Then my sister didn’t show up for school. And at the next party, neither one of them showed up.”
Laura stood and walked to the window.
“I did some more digging and found enough to be pretty sure he had taken her away. Whether it was voluntary or against her will I had no way of knowing. But from the man’s description, I found enough to think he had added her to some sort of sex ring and was moving her around. As Stretch knows, there have been several cities, Detroit just before here.”
“You don’t have a name?” Spencer asked.
She shook her head.
“So, you set yourself up as a prostitute to try and find this guy?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s what you’re talking about with the girls on the street?”
“Yes.”
Stretch chimed in. “And you’re showing them your sister’s picture?”
“Yes.”
“Have you gotten anything?” asked Spencer.
She looked sad and empty. “No.”
“I’m sorry,” said Spencer.
“Me too,” added Stretch.
She just looked at them with tired eyes.
Spencer broke the silence. “You haven’t said why you’re interested in my theory.”
Looking straight at him, her eyes filled with tears, and she said, “Because my sister’s name is Katherine.”
* * *
Laura wiped her eyes on her sleeve and got back to being in control.
“And how do you propose catching him, Spencer?”
