by C. M. Sutter
Chapter 35
The commander and I escorted Mrs. Tibbs into the interrogation room. Lutz pointed at the extra chair Jennings had brought in for her.
“Go ahead and sit next to your son, ma’am,” Lutz said.
Once she was seated, we pulled out the two chairs opposite them and sat down. I placed the folder I had been carrying on the table. Lutz began by introducing us, revealing only that he was the police commander at that precinct and I was the lead detective in his department.
Bob cut to the chase and started the questioning. Because everything that was said in the room was recorded, I could bypass the note taking and focus on the kid’s answers.
“Kevin, we know you’re only seventeen, not a legal adult in the state of Illinois, and that’s the reason your mom has to sit in on this interview. Do you understand that?”
He shrugged.
Lutz continued. “I need a verbal answer.”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Your mom has given us permission to speak with you, and I’d advise you to answer our questions honestly because they’re time sensitive. Do you understand that as well?”
He rearranged himself in the chair. “Yeah, but I’m not answering anything you ask me.”
I gave Bob a quick frown and took over. “It would be in your best interest to cooperate, Kevin.” I opened the folder and began reading. “You have been charged with possession of marijuana several times, and your personal vehicle had weed in it when the officers searched it tonight. You’ve defaced city property, and you’ve been truant for six months. Because of your age, those crimes aren’t public record, and they won’t transfer to adult records when you turn eighteen. That’s your saving grace, but if you continue down the path you’re taking, especially with the crowd you associate with, I can see jail time or worse in your future.”
“Whatever.”
“How did you afford to buy that truck? Where does the money come from to buy your weed, gas, fast food?”
“I work.”
His mother cut in. “No you don’t. Stop lying to the detective.”
Lutz pushed a little harder. “You like your freedom, right? It makes you feel like a man? You hang with a rough crowd, don’t you?”
“I need to talk to my friend.”
I chuckled as I took my turn. “It doesn’t work that way, kid. Here’s our proposition for you. You tell us where Manny lives and his last name. We also want the first and last names of all the other older guys you associate with. You give us that information, and you walk out of here tonight without a fine and just some community service. You don’t talk, and you go to juvy until you’re eighteen. That’s the only deal you get.”
“I’m not talking unless I can make that call.”
“Why do you need to make a call so badly?” Lutz asked.
“Because something happened to him, I know it. That’s why I was running to my truck when your officers grabbed me.” He slapped his hand on the table. “Something is wrong. I was on the phone with him, then I heard a scuffle, and now I can’t reach him anymore.”
“Who is it? We’ll send a unit out to check on him.”
Kevin kept silent.
“So you aren’t that worried about your friend after all. You just want a deal, is that it?”
“I don’t want to get him in trouble.”
“Well, if you heard a scuffle, then your friend might already be in trouble. You have a chance to help him and help yourself but not if you don’t talk.” I made sure I sounded stern. I wasn’t going to tiptoe around that kid any longer. He was already heading down the wrong path. “Now! Or you’re going to juvy tonight!”
His eyes welled up. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you! It’s Manny. The friend that’s in trouble is Manny!”
I leapt from my chair. “What’s his address?”
“I don’t know the house number, but it’s the last house on the side of Sangamon that dead-ends. It’s just off West Hubbard.”
“I know where it’s at.” I yelled out the door for Jennings to bring in Kevin’s phone. It took only a second, and I had it in front of the boy. Which one is his?” I asked after seeing the numbers weren’t listed by name.
He pointed at the last number he’d called.
Lutz gave me a nod. “Grab Gaines and take him with you. I’ll have Dispatch send the closest patrol unit to that location.”
“What about me?” Kevin asked.
Lutz answered before I reached the door. “Depends on if Manny really lives there or not, and if we actually find him. If not, you’re in serious trouble, kid.”
Chapter 36
“Shit.”
That was the only word I thought of when Gaines turned right off West Hubbard and onto North Sangamon Street. Two squad cars sat in front of the last house on the short block with their blue lights flashing. Our radio squawked just before Chuck parked the cruiser—a request for the forensic team and the medical examiner. I was sure we were in for something bad.
I bolted from the car and ran up the sidewalk with Chuck two feet behind me.
“What have we got?” I yelled to the group of four patrol officers who stood near the porch. They parted to let us through, and just ahead, a dead man lay at the bottom of the steps.
“Son of a bitch. Is that Manny?”
“Don’t know, Detective McCord. We haven’t touched anything.”
I realized I still didn’t know Manny’s last name. “Did you bang on the door?”
“Yep, no answer at either unit.”
“What’s the ETA on the medical examiner and Forensics?”
“Twenty minutes at best.”
I raked my hair as I paced. I had to let Lutz know what was going on. I tapped his name on my phone, and he answered on the first ring.
“What have you got, Jesse?”
“A dead man on the sidewalk in front of that house on Sangamon. From what I can tell, it’s probably Manny. Black-haired guy with a ponytail, and he’s wearing a dark-colored T-shirt. Could be one of those RailGears shirts, but he’s lying on his stomach, so I’ll have to wait until Don arrives and flips him over.”
“Hang on. I’m looking at Kevin’s phone to see what time he made that call.”
I waited as Lutz checked.
“Okay, Kevin called Manny’s phone at ten minutes after twelve. We know Manny has gotten off the subway around midnight before. It’s likely he has a second shift job at RailGears since the timeline matches. I’d say it has to be him.”
“Sounds logical to me.”
“Anyone in the house?”
“Patrol says they knocked on both doors, and nobody answered at either.”
Lutz groaned in my ear. “I’m headed your way.”
It was a quarter past three by the time I saw headlights turn down Sangamon. The medical examiner’s van was heading our way, and right behind it was another vehicle. It had to be Mike Nordgren, our lead forensic specialist, and Danny Bradshaw, second in charge. I let out a deep sigh and knew Kevin Tibbs had a lot more talking to do. The other guy—and in all likelihood, Leslie’s killer—was still at large, and according to Kevin’s mom, the kid was well-acquainted with that man too.
As our forensic team took the on-site pictures of the deceased, I made a call to the bullpen, and Mark Phelps answered. I needed somebody to rattle Kevin’s cage again. We had to know if Manny lived in that house with somebody else, and if he did, who that person was. I also wanted first and last names, which he hadn’t given us earlier.
“Don’t let him stall,” I said. “Be assertive and demand answers right away since we don’t have time to waste. In all likelihood, we’ll have to make forced entry into the house, but we don’t know if Manny lived upstairs or downstairs.” I hung up after Mark said he’d get back to me as soon as possible.
Lutz arrived about the same time our forensic team finished taking pictures of the victim and turned the scene over to Don. Lutz approached me and craned his neck toward the dead man.
“Have an ID yet?”
“Nope. Don is just beginning.”
Lutz jerked his head at Don. “Go ahead and flip him over. We need to see if there’s a company logo on that T-shirt.”
With help from Mark Nells, Don’s assistant, they carefully turned the body over. Lutz shined his flashlight at the man.
“Holy shit. His throat is slashed just like Callie’s was, and he’s wearing a RailGears shirt. As soon as that place opens, you’re going in with the warrant. I want to know why that human resources manager was stalling.”
“Will do, Boss.” Seeing Manny’s injuries only solidified my fear that we were dealing with different killers. The vic had been stabbed in the torso then had his throat slit as if to make sure he’d die, exactly the same way Callie was killed.
“Jesse.”
“What?”
“I asked if you knew who the listed tenants are for this duplex.”
“Sorry, I was deep in thought.”
“Well, think later. Right now, we need action.”
I knew I needed to return to the moment and would have to speculate about the killers and motives later. “I spoke with Mark Phelps a few minutes ago and told him to shake up Kevin. We need to know who lives in this duplex and in which unit. Nobody answers at either, and it’s looking more and more like we’re going to have to break in.”
“Get inside one of those squad cars and pull up this address to see who the owner or renter on file is.”
“You bet.” I grabbed the nearest officer and escorted him to his squad car. “Pull up this address in the public records file and see whose name is attached to it. I doubt if the renters’ names will show, but the owner can tell us who lives in each unit and if Manny is listed as a tenant in either one.”
It took only a few taps on the keyboard to get the information we needed. The owner of the building lived in Northbrook, too far for him to show up with a set of apartment keys. I called the number on file, and a sleepy-sounding man answered on the fifth ring.
He cleared his throat before speaking. “Hello?”
“Hello. Is this John Tremlot?”
“Speaking. Who’s this?”
“This is Detective McCord with the Chicago Police Department’s homicide division. We have a dead man in front of your duplex on North Sangamon Street.”
“Jesus!”
“Sir. We need to know who the tenants are for both units. Nobody answers at either apartment, meaning we’ll have to make a forced entry. Sorry, but we don’t have time to wait for you to bring keys.”
“Um, shit. I can’t think. I own nine properties. Give me a second to check in my file cabinet.”
“Go ahead, sir. I’ll wait.” I listened to silence for five minutes, then Mr. Tremlot returned to the phone.
“Okay, I have it, Detective McCord.”
“And I’m ready to write it down.”
“Aaron Lucas lives in the upper unit with his fiancé, and the lower unit is rented to Bradley Risack.”
“Good, and does anybody live with Bradley?”
“Not on record, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Anyone named Manny come to mind?”
“No, can’t say that it does. Is it Bradley who’s dead?”
“We don’t have an ID on the victim yet, sir.”
“Do I need to show up for anything?”
“Not immediately, but you ought to come to our Wentworth station to get a copy of the police report so you can submit the door damage to your insurance company. Thank you for your help.” I hung up and told the officer to pull up the DMV database. If Bradley Risack had an ID with his image on it, we’d know if he was the other man Tim Grimes saw attack Leslie the night she was murdered. Seconds later, I was staring at the face of a very good likeness of the composite sketch of the man Tim had described to us. I exited the car and walked to Lutz. “Upstairs is rented to a guy and his fiancé, so it has to be the lower unit. Owner doesn’t recognize the name Manny but says the tenant is a Bradley Risack. His ID on record looks a lot like the sketch Tory drew.”
Lutz called out to the nearest officer. “Bring the ram to the door of the lower unit. We’re making entry now.”
My phone rang as we waited. It was Mark Phelps calling back.
“Jesse, Kevin said a Bradley Risack lives downstairs with Manny.”
“Yep. We just got that information from the building owner. Did he say what Manny’s last name was?”
“He said it’s Aragon.”
“Son of a bitch. That damn human resources manager at RailGears has a lot of explaining to do.”
Chapter 37
With a hard swing, the officer rammed the door and broke it off the hinges. I walked in with my gun drawn. Lutz and another officer followed at my back.
I yelled out as we crossed the threshold and entered the living room. “Chicago PD. Is anyone in here?”
We heard nothing but silence.
Lutz flipped on the living room light, and we cleared that area. The kitchen directly to the right was immediately cleared too. Using hand signals, the commander pointed down the hall and held up three fingers to indicate there were three doors. Two were likely bedrooms, and the third would be the bathroom. The apartment was small.
We hugged the walls as we inched into the hallway. The first bedroom on the right stood empty, but we checked under the bed and in the closet before moving on. Five feet farther and across the hall was the second bedroom, which was also empty. Lutz pointed at the last room—the bathroom. He pushed open the door with the barrel of his gun then shook his head.
“Jesus Christ. I have a crime scene here and another dead body. Looks like we found Bradley Risack.”
To preserve the scene, we had to stay out of the bathroom, but from the looks of the carnage that had taken place inside the small space, and the amount of blood staining the walls and floor, there was no doubt that the man in the bathtub was dead.
We had the officers go through each room again thoroughly and check outside the back door. Fifteen minutes later, they told us that everything had been cleared and the scene was secure. Forensics could take over the apartment.
Lutz and I returned to the front yard and knelt at Don’s side.
“How long has he been dead?” I asked.
“According to what you’ve told me, the kid was talking to him on the phone shortly after midnight. I’d say he was killed as soon as he got home, meaning somebody was lying in wait for him to arrive.” Don checked his watch. “So as of now, I’d say he’s been dead for a few hours.”
“Seems like the stab wounds to the torso would have been plenty to kill him,” I said.
Don nodded. “They definitely would have. I’d say he slashed the vic’s throat as insurance.”
Lutz agreed. “It looks that way to me too.”
Don’s knees popped when he stood. He bent over and rubbed them. “Okay, you say there’s another DB inside?”
I grunted. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Don tipped his head at Mark. “Bring the gurney. We’ll load this guy up and then start on the second victim.”
Minutes later, we reentered the house with Don. Lutz pointed at the last door on the right at the end of the hallway.
“The vic is in the bathtub.”
Don gave Lutz a nod and continued on. We walked the rooms, making sure we were gloved. I opened the closet in Manny’s room, confirming it as his from the love notes attached to the dresser mirror. Inside sat a box filled with women’s purses. I called out to Lutz.
“Boss, you need to see this.”
Lutz came in and joined me. “What have you got?”
I pointed at what looked to be a dozen or more purses.
Bob knelt and looked at the contents of the box. “What the hell? I guess RailGears didn’t pay Manny an income he was satisfied with.”
It was all beginning to make sense. Chances were, we didn’t know anything about Manny and Brad’s side hustle since robbery reports didn’t come t
o our department. The only reason we were involved at all was because they got caught in the act and killed Leslie.
“Those two must have been robbing hookers of their money, which explains why they hit Leslie so late at night. It’s usually when hookers have the most cash in their purses.” I tipped my head at the box. “And there’s the proof.”
Lutz went to the door and called Mike in to join us. “We need him to photograph the box as it is before we start going through it.”
After taking several pictures of the box inside the closet, Mike lifted it to the bed, snapped a few more shots, then took out the purses and lined them up side by side. There were fourteen in all. He took more pictures then gave us the go-ahead. “Make sure to keep the contents with the purse it came out of. Holler when you’re done so I can take more pictures.”
Lutz thanked him, and Mike walked out.
“How do you want to do this?” I asked.
“Wallets and phones are the most important. We’ll take them out, lay them next to the purse, have Mike take more shots, and then we’ll check for IDs or driver’s licenses. I’m sure Robbery has theft reports for most of these purses.”
I was perplexed. “But no descriptions of the thieves?”
“Maybe they wore masks. Who knows?”
I scratched my cheek. “Maybe, but then why not on the night Leslie was killed?”
Lutz raised his brows. “Could be what we originally thought—the guys may have been people she knew.”
A half hour later, we called Mike back in. Six purses were without wallets, IDs, cash, and phones. The guys had covered their tracks well, I imagined in case the house was ever raided. Now it didn’t seem to matter. They were both dead. We continued to search, and I found a lone purse in the dresser drawer.
My forehead wrinkled involuntarily. “I wonder why this one is separated from the others.”
“Open it,” Lutz said.
I did, but there wasn’t anything significant inside. “Same as the others, no wallet and no phone.” I carried it to the bed, held it upside down, and gave it a shake. A tube of lip balm and a ring fell out.
“What’s this?” Lutz picked up the ring.
