by Rusty Ellis
“Not really. Staged the same. They just verified their identities and the fact that they were killed at least a day before.”
Ransom nodded and took in the information. Leesa checked her watch and saw it was about 8:05 a.m.
“Ready?” she asked and opened her door.
Ransom grabbed his cane and started to lean into his door when a little dark colored Honda Accord snapped to a stop in the parking spot next to him. The car’s door flew open and the driver reached across to the passenger seat to grab a black shirt. Jumping from the vehicle, he threw the shirt over this shoulder and slammed the door. He was dressed in black shorts and a white tucked-in tank top. He sprinted to the entrance of the gym, then slowed to allow a couple of gym-goers to walk through the door he had opened.
With the whir of motion gone, Ransom pushed open the heavy sedan door and worked his way out of the car. Looking over the top of the car at Leesa he shrugged and limped to meet her at the back of the car, Leesa with her satchel, Ransom with his cane. The two walked to the entrance of the gym, obviously out of place in their street attire.
Entering the lobby, they recognized the first employee they had met on their last visit. He gave a nervous wave at them and pointed to say he was getting Corey for them. Leesa nodded her head in agreement and she and Ransom stood to the side to avoid the tide of people flowing in and out the front doors.
A minute later, Corey appeared from the back area and ushered them into a small sales room, similar to the first room they met in.
“That was good timing,” he grinned. “Trevor just got here. He’s finishing getting ready.”
“Thanks. Could you do us a favor while we wait?” Leesa flipped open the notebook she was carrying, “Could you see if you have any members named Shane and Allison Comber?”
“Sure,” Corey complied and shook the mouse to wake up the computer screen on the desk.
While tapping on the keyboard, Corey hit a button on the desk phone and a person answered over the small speaker, “Yeah.”
“Damien, this is Corey, could you tell Trevor that I need to see him in interview room three?” Corey punched the button to end the call before Damien could reply.
Corey reached for the screen and turned it so Ransom and Leesa could see it, “Looks like they are both active members here.”
“Could you print that for us,” Ransom asked while Leesa surveyed the screen.
Corey clicked the mouse button and a printer next to the monitor began printing out the pages. Corey grabbed the pages and handed them to Ransom. The sound of the door behind them diverted their attention and they turned to see the employee that had zipped into the spot next to them in the parking lot.
“Hey Corey, what do you need?” Trevor ran his left hand over the side of his hair to make sure it was laying down.
Corey ushered Trevor in with a wave and pulled a chair up beside him, “Have a seat. These are detectives with Metro. They have a few questions they need to ask you.” Looking back at Ransom and Leesa, Corey introduced them, “This is Trevor. Trevor, this is Detectives Gardner and Walsh.”
Trevor’s face and shoulders dropped a little at the introduction. Ransom noticed Trevor’s darting looks around the room. In his street days, this meant you were about to go for a little run. Since becoming a detective, it was usually a good way to determine where things were hidden in a home during an interview. The people always looked to their area of guilt, be it drugs, guns, or other evidence they intended to keep hidden. The eyes always failed them. However, between Trevor and the door was Ransom and his cane. Ransom was pretty confident his cane could block the door before Trevor could bolt out.
“Thanks,” Leesa looked to Corey and then to Trevor, “Is it okay if we ask you a few questions?”
Noticing that Corey didn’t intend to excuse himself, Ransom turned to him, “Would you mind if we spoke to him alone?”
Corey looked taken back by the question, obviously intending to stay during the interview.
Turning to Trevor, he asked, “I’ll take off if that’s okay?”
Trevor gave a half-hearted shrug, more a sign of defeat than agreement.
Corey stood and excused himself, “Let me know if you need anything else. Trevor can just call me.”
The door made a clicking sound as it shut, startling Trevor who blurted out, “Am I under arrest?”
Leesa and Ransom looked at each other, a little taken aback by his quick utterance.
“Why would you be under arrest? Have you done something wrong?” Leesa floated the question.
Trevor looked like he was playing an inner game of chess. Fidgeting in his chair, he began to wring his hands together.
After a short pause, he sighed, “I might have a warrant.”
“For what?” Ransom encouraged him to continue.
Ransom always enjoyed this part of the job. The technique of the interview. Asking simple questions, pausing, letting the person talk. And talk. And sometimes, talk some more. Asking too many questions could slow the flow of information. Though most of the time the information was merely incidental, there were occasional gems of information, indicators of whether the story made sense or if it was just a wonderful fairytale.
“Battery domestic,” he muttered under his breath.
“From when?” Leesa began jotting down a couple of notes on a pad she retrieved from her satchel.
Trevor worked his story over in his mind, “It didn’t even happen the way she said it. I never laid a hand on her, I just pushed her out of the way and left.”
“Why do you think there’s a warrant?” Ransom let Leesa take notes.
“She called me and said she called the police and that if I try to see our son again, they would arrest me,” Trevor’s shoulders drooped even further. Beaten, his gaze fell to the floor in anticipation of his pending arrest.
Leesa looked up from her notepad to Ransom and shrugged.
Turning to Trevor, she got his attention, “Hey.” Trevor looked up and she continued, “We’re not here to arrest you, though we can check to see if you have an active warrant if you want so you can take care of it.”
“I would appreciate it,” his shoulders pulled back as he sat up a little straighter in the chair.
Ransom gleaned through the Combers’ application and noticed the military box was checked. On the last page, the employee signature was by Damien Gray. He also noticed there was a blue, handwritten check mark in the upper left corner of the application. He pointed out the employee name to Leesa. She gave him an understanding look that the employee was different than the first two applications.
“Do you have those other applications?”
Leesa pulled the other documents from her bag and handed them to Ransom. He set the three applications side-by-side on the desktop and looked them over. The first two were printed in black and white, the last one printed in color. Looking closer, he saw the same check marks on the other two applications, only the Jones’ was checked in the upper left and the Ford’s in the upper right. The last color printed application’s check mark standing out in a blaring blue.
Turning the pages toward Trevor, Ransom asked, “Can you take a look at these for me?”
Trevor scooted his chair toward the desk and looked where Ransom was pointing to the military check boxes.
“Okay, what about them?” Trevor looked back at Ransom.
“All three of the boxes for military are checked on the applications.” Ransom watched Trevor’s face as he continued, “But I know all three aren’t in the military.”
Trevor shifted in his seat a bit and his former fidgeting returned.
“Why are the boxes checked?” Ransom finished his question.
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” Trevor looked at the ground again.
Ransom and Leesa sat quietly, letting Trevor work over the details he was going to present to them. Trevor looked up and saw they were patiently waiting for him to continue.
Trevor ra
ised up his open hands in front of him, “Everyone does it that way.”
Leesa took a turn, “Everyone does it what way, Trevor?”
Still looking at the floor, Trevor continued, “It’s a good thing. It’s to show respect for military and law enforcement, only there’s no place to put a check mark for law enforcement on the form. We put a check mark on either the right or left side of the form, depending on if it’s the man or woman that’s a cop.”
“Why does that matter?” Ransom hedged. “Do they get some sort of special treatment?”
“Yeah, marking the military box gets them and their family a membership discount.”
“Got it. So what if they’re law enforcement, you just mark the box for military?” Ransom wanted to let Trevor explain without leading his answers.
“We check the military box and then,” Trevor pointed to the blue check mark on the corner of the application, “put a check mark on the corner to show that they’re cops and that’s why the contract is discounted.”
Ransom wanted to verify the light going off in his head by making eye contact with Leesa, but he continued to watch Trevor for any indicators and signs the check mark meant more to him than simply “following protocol” and doling out simple discounts. Nothing. Trevor didn’t budge. Quite the opposite, Trevor looked relieved at providing the information and having his possible warrant woes out on the table. Ransom was hesitant to completely let Trevor go as a possible suspect. The more twisted the crime, the more twisted the individual. A twisted, calculating individual could hide among the general masses better than a run-of-the-mill angry criminal.
“Did you know any of these members?” Leesa changed gears with Trevor.
Looking at their names and pictures, Trevor pointed to the Jones and Ford applications, “I signed these guys up.” Looking at the Comber application he shook his head, “I don’t recognize their names, but I’ve probably seen them in here before, if they come during the day.”
“Did you have much contact with the Jones or Fords after signing them up?” Leesa gathered the papers off the desktop.
“I call them every few weeks as part of my job. You know, trying to see if they have any friends that are looking to sign up, trying to get referrals from them,” Trevor smiled, hoping the interview was drawing to a close.
Leesa lifted her pad up and readied her pen, “Can I have your full name, date of birth, and social security number so I can call you back about that warrant issue?”
Trevor happily provided the information to Leesa. Ransom looked over his shoulder and saw Corey standing and talking with another employee at the front desk while looking in the general direction of the interview room.
“That should be about it then, we’ll be in touch,” Leesa dropped the applications and her notepad back into her satchel and stood.
Trevor sprang to his feet a little quicker than he intended. Ransom stood using his cane and the desktop for leverage. He could see movement through the glass wall of the interview room as Corey came to the door and opened it with a smile.
“Anything else we can do for you?” he leaned into the room as if trying to catch a few words still floating in the air from the interview.
Leesa shook her head, “Nope. That should do it for now. Trevor was very helpful.”
Corey gave Trevor a look of satisfaction for helping out.
Ransom and Leesa walked out of the room and toward the front door of the club, trying to avoid the sweaty exit of people walking out. Ransom looked back and saw Corey walking away and patting Trevor on the back as he spoke to him.
26
The heat from the morning sun in the gym parking lot baked the interior of the dark sedan. Ransom and Leesa climbed into the car, careful to avoid any direct contact with exposed metal. Leesa left her door open until starting the vehicle and flipping the air conditioning on high. A blast of hot air shot through the cab and was slowly replaced with a trickle of cool air.
“What do you think?” Leesa looked at Ransom.
“I think we need to run Trevor first and then go from there.”
Both sat quiet, waiting for the interior of the car to cool down before Leesa shut her door and put the car in gear.
Ransom continued, “I’m thinking we should have a sit-down with the general manager and see what type of protocols are in place for his sales staff. Those checkmarks are a big red flag.”
Leesa nodded her head in agreement as she pulled onto the road in front of the gym, “We should probably have him come to the station to interview him. That gym is like an echo-chamber…no secrets. And the sales manager gives me a hinky feeling. Maybe it’s just his personality, the salesman type, but my bat-senses light up around him.”
Ransom let out a laugh at Leesa’s comments. On more than one occasion her “bat-senses” got them out of a jam. He never questioned her intuition, especially when it was in regards to their safety.
“Let’s grab a quick bite and make a couple of calls,” Leesa suggested.
“Skipped breakfast this morning?”
“Nah, it’s just time for second-breakfast,” she smiled and raised an eyebrow.
* * *
Pulling into the parking lot of the station, Ransom followed Leesa into the dispatch area where she was able to retrieve a copy of Trevor’s rap sheet. Looking at the header of the printout, nothing concerning stood out. He had previously used a different social security number along the way, or it was entered incorrectly by staff and it stuck as an alternative number. He had an alias street name of “Lanky” and had been reported as a runaway on more than one occasion. He wasn’t registered as a felon. Adult criminal history consisted of a number of ticky-tack arrests for traffic violations and returning to court over and over for failure to take care of the tickets. No warrants and no indication of a pending battery domestic report.
“Looks like Trevor’s girlfriend was just bluffing,” Leesa handed the report to Ransom, “she never called or filed a report that I can see. He doesn’t have a history of DV.”
“Good for him.”
Leesa and Ransom walked back to the room where they had previously met with Gonzalez and Hatch. Leesa dropped her satchel on the desk and looked over at Ransom who had slowed his gait.
“The leg?”
“It’s just trying to make sure I know it’s there,” Ransom waved off the comment and lowered himself onto a chair.
Leesa disappeared momentarily and returned with two water bottles. She offered one to Ransom and he retrieved a stash of loose pills from his shirt pocket.
“Thanks.”
Leesa looked at her watch, “We have about an hour before the general manager shows up.”
Leesa reached into her satchel and retrieved her notepad and the gym membership documents. She moved over to a chair closer to Ransom, allowing both of them to peruse the documents. Ransom set Trevor’s police rap sheet down in front of him and scanned it a second time.
“Did you run his DMV info?” Ransom asked.
Leesa picked up her phone and tapped the screen, “Hey, it’s Gardner again, do you still have the info on Lancaster near you? Good. Can you run DMV for me and print it out? One sec…” Turning to Ransom to see if he needed anything else and he shook his head, “Okay, that’s all, thanks.”
“Just curious about the car Trevor was driving when he about ripped my door off this morning,” Ransom shrugged.
* * *
Leesa’s phone broke the silence and she answered it on the first ring, “Gardner…be right there.”
Hanging up she stood, “Lambert’s here. Let’s move to a smaller room.”
Leesa grabbed her notepad and the membership papers and walked with Ransom toward an interview room near the front entrance to the lobby. The room had a table and two chairs and a little vertical window in the door. Leesa dropped off Ransom in the room. He stood waiting for her to return with Lambert.
Pushing the door to the interview room open, Leesa began the introductions, “This
is Ransom Walsh, he’s working on the case with me.”
The visitor reached out his hand, “Evan Lambert, I’m the general manager at Planet Vegas.”
Ransom shook his hand and took a seat with his back to the door. Leesa gestured to the seat against the far wall of the small room and Lambert sat down with his hands folded on his lap. She sat down next to Ransom and opened her notepad.
“Thank you for coming in Mr. Lambert,” she started.
“Please, just call me Evan,” he tried to lighten the tension in the air.
“Okay, Evan. Thanks for coming in. We have a few questions about protocol in your gym as it pertains to membership.”
“Sure,” Evan leaned forward and put his forearms on the table, “whatever you need.”
“I’m assuming you’ve heard about the three deaths around the valley recently?” Leesa probed.
Ransom watched the man’s body language and facial expressions.
Evan scrunched his face and shook his head, “Tragic. It’s surreal. Is it true the person killed police officers and their families?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, that’s accurate.” Leesa set the membership applications in front of Evan, “Can you look at these for me?”
Evan spread out the papers in front of him and briefly scanned the familiar documents and looked up to Leesa, “These are gym memberships for our club. What do these have to do with it?”
Ransom finally spoke, “These are the three families that were killed in the past few days.”
Ransom let the fact sink in and continued his vigilant watch of Evan’s response. Evan’s jaw slacked and his mouth opened as he realized what Ransom had said.
“All of them were members of my gym?” he stuttered and touched the pages with his fingertip.
“Six adults, and five kids,” Leesa shared.
The comment about the children made Evan recoil his hands from the papers. He dropped his hands onto his lap and sat back into the curved back of the chair.
“Mr. Lambert, I need you to look at the applications again,” Leesa leaned in to get his attention.
