He stopped, raised his hands, and let the police pull his arms down to cuff him.
Chapter 62
Sunday, January 31, 1140 Hours
"What is it with you and jail?" demanded Pierson as MacFarland sat down across from her. "Don't you like the room I gave you?"
MacFarland blinked, then smiled grimly. He had originally been arrested by the Lakewood Police, but when someone in the Denver Police Department—presumably Commander Chamberlain--heard he was arrested, he had been transferred to the Van-Cise Simonet Detention Center. Lakewood had grudgingly agreed to the transfer, though it was still clear that they wanted to charge him with the double homicide.
"I think I’m beginning to like this place,” said MacFarland. “While it’s hardly the Waldorf Astoria, at least here, I have plenty of room. You still have half the room filled with boxes of junk."
Pierson frowned. "I don't have any place to store them. I don't want to put them in the basement or the garage."
“You have that other guest room.”
“The one with the frilly lace comforter? You’d want that room?”
“You could always change the comforter.”
“No, that room is for special people.”
MacFarland didn’t like thinking he wasn’t special. "What about that big room at the end of the hall?"
Pierson became silent, then looked down at the table. "That was my parent's room," she said. "Yeah, I suppose I could store the boxes in there. I just didn't want to disturb it."
"They're not coming back, Cyn," said MacFarland gently.
"I'm not here to discuss my fucking parents," she snapped. "Mac, you're in trouble. Why did you go to Newsome's house? Did you kill them?"
MacFarland looked at her in surprise. "How could you even suggest such a thing, Cynthia?"
"Hey, I have to ask. I know you wouldn't do any such thing, but I also thought you were not stupid enough to go to Newsome's house. But you did."
"I think I know who killed Otto Freeman," he said quietly.
Pierson looked up, then looked around. She was sure the conversation was being recorded, since she had no lawyer-client privileges. MacFarland had been interrogated late into the night. The officer in charge let her talk to him, probably to see if he contradicted his statement to the police. "Who?"
MacFarland shrugged. "I don't know exactly who, but it was the same person who killed Newsome and his wife."
Pierson rolled her eyes in frustration. "That doesn't help much, Mac. Do you have a name, a description, anything other than a bullshit theory?"
"No, not really. That's why I went over to see Newsome. He knows—he knew--who the killer is."
"How do you know that?"
"Because Gibbs saw them arguing over money."
Pierson's eyes opened wide in surprise. "My Gibbs?"
"Affirmative," nodded MacFarland. "Problem is, he's dead too. Give you one guess who killed Gibbs."
Pierson pushed her chair back and took a deep breath. "Wait a minute. You're saying that this guy has killed four people? These crimes are all related?"
MacFarland raised his eyebrows. "That's the way it looks to me," he said.
Pierson shook her head in dismay. "Unfortunately, that's not the way it looks to the police."
MacFarland leaned back in his chair, momentarily amused by Pierson's concern. "How does it look to the police?"
"God damn it, Mac, it looks like you killed the Newsomes! And from the way you're talking, I wouldn't be surprised if they try to pin the murder of Gibbs on you."
MacFarland was puzzled. "How can they charge me with any of those murders? Sure, I was there, but I discovered the bodies. I phoned in the crime to 911."
Pierson looked very grim. "There were two calls into 911. The first call came in at about five thirty-five. Yours came in ten minutes later.”
"That explains how the police got there so quickly. There was someone in the house when I went there. I didn't see them, but they escaped out the front door when I was in the kitchen. Didn't the police see anyone running away from the house?"
Pierson shook her head. "No, they didn't. And what is worse for you is that they found the murder weapon."
MacFarland looked questioningly at her.
"It was a carving knife from a rather expensive carving set. It had your prints all over it, Mac. They are absolutely certain it was one of your knives."
Chapter 63
Wednesday, February 3, 1105 Hours
Jerry Baker stared disconsolately across the table at his new client. "I hardly expected to be defending you when I asked you to help me," he said.
"It wasn't in my set of expectations either," said MacFarland. "Nothing about this case has been going the way I expected."
"The evidence against you is pretty solid," said Baker. "But here's the good news. They didn't find any blood splatter or traces on your clothes. Some on your shoes, but you picked that up walking past the bodies. They did find blood on your hands, though, which isn't good."
"I was feeling for a pulse, God damn it," said MacFarland angrily.
"Don't snap at me," said Baker. "I believe you. But the fingerprints on the knife are pretty telling. They will be able to prove that it was your prints and only your prints on the knife handle."
"If I’m not mistaken," said MacFarland, finally calming down, "they should be able to determine that my prints on the knife are the reverse of a downward stabbing hold. If I remember correctly, I’ve only ever held that knife in a carving position. Besides,” he added with a look of disgust on his face, “I would never kill someone with a kitchen carving knife.”
Baker stared at him, perplexed. “Uh, what does that mean? What’s wrong with a carving knife? Seems like it would do a pretty good job of killing to me.”
“It means that the knife is too large, too likely to get stuck in a wound. I would use a smaller, sturdier knife.”
Baker squinted as he processed that information, then he started nervously checking his notes. "Hmmm, there is nothing in the forensics file about how the prints appear on the knife handle. I wonder if it might be worthwhile to get an independent assessment."
MacFarland stared at him with an open-eyed expression. "It would be worthwhile in my assessment," he said in an exasperated tone.
Baker looked at MacFarland in surprise. "I am taking your case pro bono," he said. "Your partner can be very persuasive. But I agree with you, it seems odd that the Crime Lab overlooked that point. I can check with them. Maybe it was just an oversight."
"The Crime Lab doesn't make oversights," said MacFarland. "But somebody in the crime lab is doctoring the reports."
Baker frowned. "That's a pretty serious accusation," said Baker. "Is this related to the Freeman case?"
"Absolutely," said MacFarland. "I think the same person who killed Otto Freeman killed the Newsomes.” He paused a few seconds, then continued. "When I got evicted from my apartment, all of my possessions were dumped on the lawn in the back of the building. Everything except the items in my kitchen. Those items included all my cooking pans, storage containers, product, and my utensils, including a set of carving knives. I haven’t had that knife in my possession since the day I got evicted. But someone had it and gave it to the person that killed that couple. They’re trying to frame me for it."
Baker was scratching notes on his tablet as it transcribed what MacFarland was saying. "Are you saying that someone conspired to murder Brian and Sarah Newsome?"
Sarah Newsome? Was that her name? Somehow putting a name to the victim made the murder more real to MacFarland. Then he remembered seeing her name on the witness list for the Freeman case. He nodded. "Yeah, I guess that is what I’m saying. At first I believed that Newsome was responsible for the murder of Otto Freeman. Not that he fired the actual shots. I thought that he hired the killer--a man with the initials WA, a fisherman from Chicago--to do the killing. I was going to confront Newsome with
this, but finding him dead means the killer is tying up loose ends. I had the case all figured out, until this wrinkle about my knife being the murder weapon entered the picture. Now I realize there is another party involved in this crime. That person is the real conspirator."
"Do you have any idea who?" asked Baker.
"I'd rather not say, Jerry. I need to get out of here, then I can get the evidence I need to prove my case."
Baker shook his head. "Getting you out of here won't be easy. The judge has denied bail. I might be able to use the evidence of the lack of blood splatter and the position of the prints on the knife to get the District Attorney to drop the charges, but first, I need that fingerprint evidence. Give me a few days, and I will see what I can do. But you really should tell me who you suspect."
MacFarland shook his head. "This guy is too well positioned to allow himself to get caught. I need to find a way to bring him down. I depended once on other people to do that, and they failed. I won't fail."
Baker slumped in resignation, then his eyes brightened as he realized who it was that MacFarland suspected. He nodded slowly. "You're right. It's going to take a lot to bring that man down."
Chapter 64
Wednesday, February 3, 1425 Hours
"I’m only here because Pierson is such a pain in the ass," said Bob Chamberlain.
MacFarland stared intently at his former boss. Chamberlain had aged since MacFarland had last worked with him. His beard had turned grey, though his hair was still many shades darker. His eyes drooped, whether from too many late nights or general weariness with the depravity of human beings, MacFarland could not tell. Even so, the man still exuded feelings of trust. This was a man you wanted to follow. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he said. He had been surprised when he was told he had a second visitor today. He was even more surprised when he discovered that it was the Commander of Major Crimes. While they had once been friends, their friendship had become strained when Chamberlain had been forced to dismiss MacFarland from the department. "It's not something I want to do," he had insisted. "I would much rather just put you on leave and let you get the treatment you need.” MacFarland had not made it easy for his Commander. Chamberlain had tried to maintain contact with MacFarland, but MacFarland had rebuffed all his attempts at reconciliation.
"She's convinced you're innocent, though she can't give me any real details. I don't know. I trust her judgment, Mac. I trust her judgment as much as I used to trust yours.” Chamberlain folded his hands on the table. "Tell me, what's going on?"
How much could MacFarland tell the Commander? It was one thing for an insider to claim there was corruption in the department. Police trusted each other. It was another thing for a civilian to make those claims. They didn’t trust outsiders. He knew how he would feel if he were still in the department and someone outside started accusing the department of improper procedures. He would close ranks. He was also uncertain of just how much Pierson had told her boss about the problems with the evidence. He decided to take a chance.
"I think something rotten is going on in the Crime Lab, Commander," he said.
Chamberlain stared stonily ahead, then slowly nodded. MacFarland was not sure if this was old news or news that Chamberlain didn’t want to hear. "Go on, tell me what you suspect."
"Remember a few years ago when Chief White proposed outsourcing some of the department's services? There was some concern about ensuring the integrity of the Crime Lab."
"Affirmative. But we've instituted a lot of procedures to ensure chain of custody integrity, oversight of laboratory procedures, validation of results. We've also tried to insulate the lab from some of the cost cuts that constantly threaten it.”
"Despite all those efforts, I think there is a problem."
"What makes you think that, Mac?"
"I've seen an altered evidence log from the Lab."
Chamberlain didn't say anything for a moment. "Does this involve that evidence from the shoes of Otto Freeman?"
MacFarland nodded.
"Pierson pointed that out to me. I checked with the Senior Lab tech, and he claimed that the evidence bag got dropped off at the wrong desk. Human error, supposedly."
"It's not human error," said MacFarland. "It's human misdirection."
Chamberlain nodded. "I can check to see who had access to the evidence. But I think you are barking up the wrong tree, Mac. At least, I sincerely hope so."
Chamberlain's reaction was much as MacFarland expected it to be. No one wants to believe that the organization they belong to might be corrupt. MacFarland still wanted to believe that the explanation was a simple one--just a mistake, nothing sinister intended. But too many pieces of evidence had been tampered with for this to be just a mistake.
Being an outsider had contributed to MacFarland's cynicism. He couldn't expect Chamberlain to share that cynicism. When your life often depended on the people you worked with, you had to believe that they shared the same values and goals that you had.
Sometimes, however, even those you thought you could trust valued different things.
"Maybe I am," said MacFarland finally. "I’m sure there is a simple explanation for everything."
"I'm sure there is," said Chamberlain. "Look Mark, I know you didn't commit these murders. I've known you for more than a decade, and I just can't believe that you would get involved in something like this. But it doesn't look good. You have to give me something to work with."
MacFarland wanted to believe that he could trust his former boss, but once again, he became cautious. He hadn't told his lawyer everything he knew, simply because he wasn't sure how much he could trust Baker. Chamberlain, as good a friend as he had once been, was working for the group of people whose job it was to get the evidence that would prove MacFarland guilty.
MacFarland decided he couldn't trust anyone. It was a lesson learned on the streets, one that every homeless person learned through painful experience. And although MacFarland was no longer homeless, he found that he was closer to that segment of society than he was to the Denver Police Department. They had abandoned him once; they were threatening him now. Was Chamberlain sincere in his assurances of help?
"I wish there was something I could give you, Commander. All I can say is that I didn't kill those people. Someone is trying to frame me."
Chamberlain looked at MacFarland. The Commander's expression was unreadable, then he stood up. "I'll do what I can, Mac. You hang in there and trust the system."
Yeah, sure, thought MacFarland as he was being led back to his cell. Trust the system to screw me. Damn, I’m thinking like a homeless person again.
Chapter 65
Thursday, February 4, 1002 Hours
MacFarland did not like being in the Denver Detention Center. It was not a pleasant place to be. Oh, sure, it was one of the most modern and luxurious jails MacFarland had ever seen, but still, it was jail. None of the guards mistreated him. Because of the nature of his crime, he was kept in one of the cells reserved for more violent prisoners, so he had no one to talk to. Except for the few hours a day he was let out to eat or exercise, he had nothing to do. He was not able to listen to his language tapes, nor was there much to read, other than a newspaper. Most of the time, he just lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the case. He went over all of the evidence he had collected, reviewing each item in his mind, piecing it together so that he had a picture of what had happened. He contrasted his interpretation of the facts with the police and prosecutor's interpretation.
The first problem he saw was that the police saw three separate crimes, whereas MacFarland saw them as all related to each other. How could he get the police to see connections between the three crimes?
The police version was that Maureen Freeman had been having heated arguments with her husband in the days and weeks prior to the incident. She then shot her husband, at some undisclosed location, moved his body to
the garage, wrapped it up in a blanket that had been in the contact with the ground on numerous occasions. She had used a .22 caliber gun that was registered to her and had only her prints on it. She had waited two days, then "discovered" the body in her garage before notifying the authorities. The waiting period was intended to make it harder to determine time of death. Not surprisingly, the decision to wait also confirmed a presumption of premeditation. The whole murder was carefully planned.
The police were aware that the victim had been having problems at work, but attributed those problems to conflicts with his partner over the Maureen’s employment in the store.
There were several facts that the police did not seem to be aware of. First, it was Newsome who was embezzling the money (though why was not clear) and who was trying to blame Maureen for the missing funds. Second, there was an unidentified man who had been in the store several times, who had struck up a friendship with the victim, and who had gone fishing with him several times. Third, there was a journal book that listed Freeman's fishing trips, placing him on the day that he was killed up in the mountains.
The trace evidence that placed the victim up in the mountains, particularly the pine needles with the TetraKO residue, had been excluded from the evidence. MacFarland wished he had had an opportunity to talk with the lab tech who had examined that evidence. Who was that technician? All he could remember were the initials CAB. He would have to ask Pierson to check out this individual.
The second murder, which in all probability was given a very low priority, had been that of Aaron Gibbs. The police probably regarded this as a robbery murder, and while it was unusual for a gun to be involved, he suspected that the police would regard it as a gang killing. They wouldn't link this crime to the Freeman crime, since they had no knowledge that Aaron Gibbs had been following a person of interest in the Freeman murder. Also, Aaron Gibbs was a homeless person. What possible relationship could he have to the men who owned and ran a jewelry store?
And now the third and fourth murders. The deaths of Newsome and his wife might be linked to the Freeman crime, but only in the most tenuous way. The police had evidence that MacFarland had been seen on many occasions near the Newsome house. Pierson had said that they interviewed several neighbors who reported seeing MacFarland's truck parked in the vicinity of Newsome's home. As far as the police were concerned, the only connection between Newsome and Freeman was that MacFarland was trying to pin the murder of Freeman on Newsome.
The Avid Angler - The Hot Dog Detective (A Denver Detective Cozy Mystery) Page 19
