Murder At The Podium

by Alec Peche

  “Angela, thanks for the feedback and I’ll keep that in mind,” Nathan said as their server approached with their plates of food.

  A second server followed her with their drinks and as she placed them in front of Jill and Nathan, she said, “It is so sad about the Johnsons. Cindy mentioned you were in town to pay your condolences.”

  Ha!, thought Angela, you never knew when a random information drop would bear fruit!

  “Yes, we just spoke with Adam,” Angela said. “Have you stopped by to chat?” She wasn’t one to tell lies and it was true that they had paid condolences to Adam; it’s just that it wasn’t the reason they had stopped and spoke with Adam.

  “I didn’t know the Johnsons that well. I was their server for several years and they stopped in perhaps once a month. On occasion, they would have their children with them. Poor little tykes with no mother now.”

  “We never met Stacy, we just know Adam, but we assume they had a great relationship,” Angela wanted to kick herself for fishing for information by using such an awkward and stupid question.

  The server looked at her strangely then said, “You mustn’t have seen them recently, they seemed unhappy with each other the last time they were here. Oh excuse me, it’s rude to speak ill of the dead,” and she turned away to leave.

  Angela put a hand on her arm and said, “You sound like someone who cared about them as a family and you’re disappointed that your last memory is of them unhappy with each other.”

  The server just nodded and left.

  Angela and Nathan seemed to mutually agree to change their conversation as they weren’t sure who was listening and so they moved on to the planned long weekend with Henrik. Aware of the long drive ahead of them, they finished lunch, paid their bill, used the bathroom and were soon back on the Interstate heading back to Dallas.

  “I guess we should’ve attempted to interview some friends of Stacy while we were here, but I’m not sure what my angle of interview would have been given her secret identity. I can’t imagine she told anyone other than Adam about her connection to the cartel.”

  “I don’t get involved with your cases in great detail, but on the surface I have to agree with you that I’m not sure what the goal of interviewing her friends would be. If the cartel was on Stacy’s trail, then the last thing you would want to do is jeopardize her friends.”

  “That’s a good excuse for not staying here longer,” Angela agreed.

  Chapter Eight

  Marie, Jo, and Jill decided to camp out on Jill and Nathan’s sofa with room service for food to power their brains. They would work all morning then have lunch on the way to the President Kennedy Memorial and spend the afternoon walking and sightseeing. The next day they were going to tour the mint and have dinner at Jill’s niece, Michelle and her husband’s house in Fort Worth as both were in the same area. Her niece was a full time student and was working, her husband was working the night shift, and in order to devote all of Sunday to tailgating and the game, they hadn’t been able to hang out with Jill and friends other than this dinner and the Sunday festivities. Jo handled large sums of money in her role as a Chief Financial Officer and was looking forward to seeing what the money looked like newly minted. She could look at an MRI machine and understand that it represented four million dollars, but there was something far more exciting about looking at bundles of hundred dollar bills.

  “I started researching the Sinaloa Cartel, figuring that it wouldn’t have much of a social media presence, but it actually does and there are a lot of brutal pictures, so I’m going to put that aside and concentrate on the Johnsons instead,” Marie announced. “Then I’m going to move on to Golden State - wasn’t that the name of the company that Stacy worked for?”

  “Golden Star, not State,” Jill replied. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s chat in an hour or so with our respective search results. ”

  The three women quietly worked taking notes as they went. No one was paying attention to the time and they were startled when Jill’s phone alarmed, announcing their hour was over.

  “Let me go first as I suspect I’ve the least to report on,” Jo said. “I can’t find any private information on the Johnsons other than they haven’t filed for bankruptcy or divorce. I viewed their marriage license and the birth certificates of their children which leads me to exactly no-where. Golden Star seems to be well managed and large with no concerns as to their success. The Cartel is interesting. I have no official financial statements from them; instead I used various sources like the FBI, Mexican Government and thank you Google for translating the documents into English from Spanish for me. They appear on the surface to be a prosperous company with the various product lines of drugs, human trafficking, transportation, etc. There seems to be no effort by the Mexican Government to break up the cartel. They have too many well placed bribes and corrupt officials to really govern the group. On our side of the border, we have several federal agencies trying to curtail the cartel. The U.S. government put a reward on El Chapo’s head with each jail break, but no one is snitching on him. Basically that is all I can find on my targets. Is there something more to research?”

  “That is essentially the same conclusion I came to when I briefly researched the cartel,” Jill agreed. “Good to know the little information we do about the Johnsons and I can’t think of anything else to have you help with - Marie, do you need Jo’s help?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Ok, then I’ll take a walk and hang out at a café to watch the world. Send me a text when you’re ready to leave for the memorial,” and with that Jo exited the room.

  “So what did you find in your search, Marie?”

  “On the Johnsons, nothing unusual - family pics, sports comments, tributes to various causes. The cartel has many pictures so it is hard to sort through it and much of it was violent. Half the time I stared at the pictures because they’re so appalling and other times I couldn’t look. People riddled with bullets mostly. Yuck. There are separate pages devoted to El Chapo. I need to think about how to approach sorting through their information. It’s a combination family and corporation. On the surface I don’t see any connection to Stacy in appearance but then we know she had some plastic surgery. There was also the problem that El Chapo has gone through four wives, although I just concentrated on the first two given Stacy’s age. Still I didn’t end up with any leads to follow. I’ll continue to chase some leads, but I’m not hopeful yet. What have you found?”

  “Kudos to the detective for being so open and sharing with me. I have all the scene notes, their search for something on camera, her autopsy reports, tests run on her vomit, etc. There are still tests pending as they haven’t identified the killing poison yet which isn’t surprising. Once you move beyond say the top five poisons, unless you have luck, it seems like it takes weeks to months to get back results. There are fingerprints on the glass, but they aren’t in the database and they are not Stacy’s. Only about one-third of U.S. residents have their fingerprints on file and if this is a foreign resident the odds lower more as to whether fingerprints are available. They did a grid search of the conference room and didn’t find anything. The only odd item in the police report is the crime scene entry log.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Every crime scene is supposed to keep a log of who enters the crime scene and why. If law enforcement doesn’t tightly control the crime scene, then during a criminal case they can be charged with failure to control evidence and interject into juror’s minds that some mythical character entered the crime scene and tampered with the evidence.”

  “That makes sense,” Marie agreed. “So what is the problem with this crime scene and have you seen that before?”

  “I have not reviewed that many crime scene documents and every law enforcement agency does it different so perhaps I just don’t understand what I am looking at. They have a sign in log of everyone that enters the scene. One of the crime scene staff in one of the pictures is not on the sign in log. I k
now that because they are wearing numbers on their protective clothing and this one person has no identification visible in the picture. I’m sure it is just an oversight.”

  Jill continued, “I reviewed the report by the forensic pathologist and I can’t think of anything I would have done differently.”

  “Does the pathologist suspect any particular poison; is there mention of what it could be?”

  Jill paused a moment looking through the report to verify that she had seen no reference to a particular poison then said, “No.”

  “So really we haven’t found any leads worth pursuing so far. I wonder how Angela and Nathan are doing. I don't think they will have arrived in Odessa yet,” Jill noted looking at her watch. “Perhaps we should start exploring the city now since we have run through most of the leads. Given that the police have no suspects, I am guessing that the murderer hid their identity well and we’ll not solve the case before this weekend is over. With that in mind, I think I might schedule one follow-up meeting with the detective on Monday before we leave and just blow off the rest of the investigation until we get to our respective homes.”

  “Jill, you’re not really blowing off the investigation,” Marie pointed out. “We’ve run out of leads unless Angela and Nathan find some new threads to follow in the investigation. We’re also waiting on more findings from the medical examiner and you’ll pick up the case from there, correct?”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Jill said with a sigh. “Let's go out and sightsee in this great city of Dallas!”

  Thirty minutes later, Marie, Jo, and Jill were walking toward the John F. Kennedy Memorial. In 1963, it was a moment that changed the world with the assassination of an American president. Not just any American president, but the couple - President Kennedy and his wife Jacqueline were viewed as Camelot. Like many icons of their time, the world was left wondering about his potential. The three friends had visited President Kennedy’s grave at Arlington National Cemetery where the eternal flame marked both the President’s grave and some of his most memorable words. By contrast, the site of his assassination was in many ways much more depressing.

  “This is a strangely sad memorial,” Jo said. “It represents the death of a single human being, but it's been projected to reflect the death of an era in America in the 1960s. Unlike many historic sites, I don't feel the need to ever come back here again. Maybe I'm not suited to sites of assassination.”

  “I have to agree with you,” Marie said. “I don't know that I've been to any other famous assassination sites, but this one is definitely not my cup of tea. I must have been to the site of President Lincoln’s assassination but I don't remember it. Instead I remember all of his famous speeches that are carved in the marble at the Lincoln Memorial. So in a way I guess this is like President Lincoln's assassination in that the Memorial site is so much more inspiring than the assassination site.”

  "I'm not depressed but let's move on to some other interesting areas of Dallas,” Jill said. “If you walk toward the Dallas Art Museum, we'll come across some food trucks that Nathan and I ordered food from a few days ago. I think it's a great place to break for lunch.”

  Half an hour later the three friends were sitting with extremely different dishes from wildly different food trucks watching the people traffic in the park next to the Dallas Art Museum. They had seen at least five Green Bay Packer jerseys in the park which meant that the fans had arrived early to enjoy the city prior to the game on Sunday.

  Feeling guilty with their easy day, they arrived back at their hotel around six. Angela and Nathan were expected to arrive at any moment. Once they had the opportunity to refresh and relax the group planned to drive over to the Fort Worth stockyards for Friday night entertainment. There was a rodeo to watch and then they planned to hang out in the restaurants and bars of the area. Later they would take in a mechanical bull and some line dancing somewhere in the stockyards. Normally it wasn't something that any of the group sought out in their home states, but when in Texas, one felt compelled to try Texas culture.

  Saturday was a day to explore the Dallas area some more. Jill marveled at the instruments used by physicians in the Civil War for patient care and amputations at the Civil War Museum. Jo was satisfied when she looked at twelve million dollars in brand-new twenty dollar bill bundles at the United States mint in Fort Worth. Angela and Marie were content with visits to the other museums of the Dallas area and the many sculpture gardens. They’d been unable to make their schedules work so they could have dinner with Barb. At dinner later that night at Jill’s niece, Michelle’s house, they enjoyed an excellent meal. Michelle had inherited her parents DNA for cooking and her husband manned the Mojito bar to keep the drinks flowing. Michelle shared with them the green and gold jello shots she had made for the game the next day. They would share the jello shots as an icebreaker with fellow Packers tailgaters. They made plans on how to meet in the enormous parking lot at the Cowboys stadium and left to return to their hotel.

  The next day they woke up to a brilliant Sunday and game day. Angela attended Mass at a historic downtown Catholic Church. As Lombardi once said “Think of only three things: God, your family, and the Green Bay Packers in that order.” Once she returned, they headed in the rental car to tailgate in the parking lot at Texas Stadium. They met Michelle and John on a feeder road for an outer parking lot and were able to park the two cars side by side. There were several other Packer fans in their lot and so they had a great time talking about their favorite team. Michelle had a cooler filled with beer and wine coolers, a small barbeque, and six foot folding tables and lawn chairs. Soon burgers and brats were grilling, beers bottles tapped in celebration, and everyone was pleasantly buzzed by the friendship, food, drink, and atmosphere in the parking lot.

  All too soon they were cleaning up their supplies, and preparing to enter the stadium. They walked through the usual pat-down of security and entered the mammoth stadium. It looked like a spaceship from the outside and had been nick-named Jerry’s World after Cowboys owner Jerry Jones. Angela had read somewhere that the arches holding up the roof were one-quarter mile long. Because the Cowboys sold standing only tickets to their games, the huge stadium averaged about eleven thousand more spectators than Lambeau Field, home to the Green Bay Packers. Nathan hadn’t been to Lambeau for a game, but the four women as well as Michelle and John had attended a home game and were underwhelmed by the soullessness of this stadium. Yeah the big screen was cool, but over time they found themselves watching the screen rather than the action on the field.

  Three and a half hours later, the final score was 38 to 25 in favor of the Packers. The defense had holes in it at times, but in the red zone, they were able to stop the run and thus had forced the Cowboys into lots of field goals. After returning to their cars, they enjoyed a few cold beverages while waiting for the parking lot to clear enough to drive away.

  Finally, they could see their way clear. The occupants of the two cars parted ways with Michelle needing to return home to study and Jill and crew looking for a place to snack, people watch, and just spend a lazy evening chatting. Mid-day the next day they would be boarding their respective planes for the return flight to home. They would next be together when they had their long weekend at Henrik’s or when they vacationed in the United Kingdom.

  The next day the friends lingered over breakfast and then the Wisconsin trio left for the airport. Jill had asked Detective Castillo if she could have a test tube sample of the water that Stacey drank as well as a second test tube of the vomit that the crime scene techs had bagged in the conference center. He had managed to fulfill both of her requests and so she and Nathan would be stopping by police headquarters on the way to the airport. Jill knew her boarding pass was a TSA pre-check and therefore she would not have to pull out the test tubes separately for security screening. She would hate to be stuck explaining and need the DPD officers stationed at the airport to ease her transit.

  It was early evening when they arrived back in the
Palisades Valley to a joyous reunion with their pets. After a lingering goodbye kiss with Nathan, Jill was soon heading home in her car with Trixie, the dog’s head out the window catching the air. The air had cooled off and she could safely leave the dog in the car while she ran in to the grocery store to get some food as she had emptied her refrigerator of most food prior to their trip. They arrived home, Jill to unpack luggage and groceries, Trixie to reacquaint herself with the squirrels of her backyard. After a salad for dinner, she sat on her couch with a glass of wine and thought about poison.

  With her laptop, Jill began reviewing her favorite toxicology textbooks. She was searching for a fast-acting, colorless, and tasteless poison. Those three attributes really helped narrow the possibilities. She reviewed the police report and noted approximately twenty minutes from Stacy’s first sip of water to her collapse at the podium. From Barb’s description of Stacy’s death, it seemed like she drank a bit of water and then collapsed and died within moments. Jill had puzzled over what kind of poison reacted like that and had been unable to think of anything that worked that fast; that Stacy wouldn’t have spit out at the podium with the first sip. When she noted the multiple water sips in the narrative of the police report, the number of poisons used for the murder multiplied in her head. It was one of the reasons she had asked for samples of the water and the vomit.