by Kathi Daley
The judge had lived in a lakeside home in the gated community of Lakeshore Estates. I had visited him there on many occasions, so I knew the code to the gate. All I needed to do once I had access to the neighborhood was find my way into his house without anyone calling Roy to report a break-in.
The houses in the community really were estates, with large lots providing a degree of privacy between them. I pulled into Judge Harper’s circular drive and parked near the front door. Then I sat in the truck for a moment, remembering the last time I’d been here. Hunter and I had come together to speak to the judge about cold cases we thought might be relevant when we were investigating the murder of another dear friend. I cringed when I recalled that the result of that investigation had been almost as tragic as the murder itself.
Allowing myself to re-experience the feelings of horror I’d felt when I’d realized who the killer was in that instance would do nothing to change that situation or help me with the current one, so I slipped my phone into my pocket, grabbed the backpack with supplies I’d brought with me, and headed to the front door. Although I was certain Judge Harper would have locked his front door, I tried it anyway to confirm that he had. I went around to try the back door, then circled the house looking for open windows. It was summer and must have been warm lately, so the judge might have left a window open to help circulate the air inside.
I soon realized there wasn’t an easy way in, so I set about trying to pick the lock on the front door. I was able to unlock the door, but Judge Harper had installed a deadbolt I wasn’t able to deal with. I hadn’t wanted to call Roy, mostly because I hadn’t wanted to put him in a compromising position, but I couldn’t find an access point and I didn’t want to break a window, so it seemed to be the only option. Chances were Judge Harper had his house key on the same ring as the one for his car, and Roy would have retrieved that after the accident.
“Hey, Tj. I was hoping you’d call.”
“Can you talk? Are you alone?”
“Yeah, I can talk.”
“I’m at Judge Harper’s. I wanted to take a look around inside. Do you have the key?”
“I do, but we’ve already searched the house and didn’t find anything that stood out as being particularly helpful.”
I imagined by the use of the term we, he was referring to himself and his new partner.
“I happen to know Judge Harper has a wall safe in his office where he kept his most important files. Did you look there?”
“No. I didn’t see a wall safe.”
“It’s behind the bookshelf. Come over and bring the keys. We’ll look together.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
I returned to the truck to wait. There wasn’t a lot I could do until Roy got there, and I hadn’t called Kyle back, so I took out my phone again and dialed his number. After I’d informed him that Grandpa Ben and the girls had arrived and were occupied for the time being, I asked about his plans for coming home with the animals.
“I found a jet that’s willing to transport the three dogs and four cats along with Doc and me. Garrett’s sister is due to arrive tomorrow. We’ve already shipped most of our personal belongings home and I found a dealer to sell the cars, so we should be able to come home on Sunday.”
“Good. I’ll feel better when everyone I love is home where they should be. How’s Echo holding up in my absence?”
“He isn’t thrilled with the situation, especially since Ben and the girls left, but he’s hanging in okay. I know he misses you and I’m sure he’ll be happy to get home.”
“And I’ll be happy to have him here.” I paused and glanced out of the truck window. “I’ll be happy to have you all home.”
Kyle let out a long breath before answering. “I hate that you’re going through all this without me there to help.”
“You are helping,” I assured Kyle. There was a lull in the conversation that, for some reason, made me feel nervous. I hated that things with Kyle seemed to have become so awkward. It would be better after he got home and we could talk about that kiss and what it might mean. “I suppose I should hang up. Roy should be here any minute.”
“I spoke to Roy this morning. He told me you planned to help investigate. Be careful.”
“Aren’t I always?”
“Actually, no.”
It was true I’d ended up in tricky situations on more than one occasion. “Roy will be working with me, and right now all we’re planning to do is look for files in the judge’s wall safe. If we find anything I might call you back to have you do the computer thing.” Kyle was a wiz on the computer; I’d relied on him on many occasions to hack into whatever database we needed information from.
“Call me either way. I’d like to be kept in the loop.”
“I will. Oh, Roy just pulled up. I’ll call you after we take a look at Judge Harper’s files.”
Judge Harper’s office was in the center of his home, so it didn’t have any exterior walls. His big desk was situated in the middle of the room, which was lined with bookshelves and file cabinets on three of the walls. A large fireplace occupied the fourth wall. I’d never have known about the wall safe where he kept some of his files if it hadn’t been for the fact that I’d been sent by my father to retrieve some paperwork a couple of years earlier. Judge Harper had accessed the safe while I was there.
The bookshelf that hid the safe looked as if it was built into the wall, like all the others, but it was actually on runners. Once I slid the structure to the side, I was able to access the safe and the keypad in the wall beside it. The main problem in getting to the files and whatever clues they might contain was figuring out the combination. As with most safes, it could be opened by entering the correct sequence of numbers. Most people used familiar and meaningful numbers when creating their passwords, so all we needed to do was to determine what numbers would be meaningful to Judge Harper.
I stood looking at the pad, trying to remember if I had noticed any of the numbers the judge had entered the night I was there.
“Maybe he used his birthday,” Roy suggested. “Or his wedding anniversary?”
“Do you know either of them?”
“No, I can’t say I do.”
I got out my phone to call Kyle, who accessed internet records that gave us Harper’s birthday, his wedding day, the date he became a judge, and the date he retired. We also tried his wife’s date of birth and the day she died.
“There are too many possibilities,” Roy concluded after we’d tried twenty different number combinations.
“Assuming Judge Harper accessed the safe on a regular basis, maybe you can identify the numbers used by studying the keypad itself,” Kyle suggested. “Are any of the keys worn or more soiled than the others?”
I grabbed a flashlight and a magnifying glass from my backpack and studied each number. The keypad was white with black numbers. To the naked eye, none of the keys appeared more worn than any of the others, but when eyed through the magnifying glass, a clear pattern emerged.
“The three, four, five, and six are noticeably more worn than the others,” I said. “But that’s still a lot of possible combinations.”
“Try three, four, five, six, in that order,” Kyle told me. “The second most commonly used passcode to one with special meaning is an easy one to remember.”
Three, four, five, six worked. The heavy metal door nudged open to reveal a stack of file folders. I removed them and set them on the desk. “Should we look at them here?”
Roy shook his head. “Let’s take them to my place. That way we can look at them without worrying about someone figuring out what we’re doing.”
“We aren’t doing anything illegal,” I reminded Roy. “You’re one of the deputies assigned to investigate Judge Harper’s murder, you entered the house with keys you had in your possession, and you located files revealed to you by a s
ource you trust and have worked with on other occasions.”
“I realize that, but now I have a partner to consider. I’d like to keep the fact that we’re working together just between us for the time being. As I said before, Kate’s a good cop and a nice woman, but based on my observations so far, she has very strong opinions that don’t seem to leave room for exceptions to any rules. Until we have a chance to really discuss things, I’d prefer we keep our partnership to ourselves.”
“Whatever makes you feel most comfortable is fine with me. Since I have you, however, do you think we could make a stop on the way to your house?”
“Stop? Where?”
“The impound lot. I’d like to take a look at Harper’s car.”
“The crime lab already went through it. There wasn’t anything to find.”
“The crime scene guys already went through the house and didn’t find the files,” I pointed out.
Roy let out a breath. “Okay. We can stop by, but we’ll need to be quick. Like I said, at this point I prefer that Kate not know we’re working together.”
“I won’t need long. I’ll let Kyle know what we’re doing and then follow you to the impound lot.”
The impound lot was on the outskirts of town. Any vehicle involved in a crime of any nature was brought to the lot for processing and storage. Cars which were parked illegally or had an excess of unpaid parking tickets were brought to the lot as well.
A wave of nausea gripped me when I saw Judge Harper’s car. Based on the twisted remains it was a miracle my dad had even survived. Roy must have noticed that I’d gone suddenly pale because he paused after entering the lot, giving me a few minutes to gain control over my emotions, before proceeding to the car.
“We don’t have to do this,” Roy said softly.
“I know. I want to. I just wasn’t expecting so much damage.”
Roy took my hand in his and led me around the exterior of the car.
“It looks like the car has been partially dismantled,” I said, noticing that the front of the car was sitting on blocks and the wheels and fenders had been removed.
“Like I told you before, the crime scene guys have already been over the car. I doubt there’s anything to find.”
I glanced at the interior though a broken window. There was so much blood. I hadn’t expected that, although I realized I should have. I closed my eyes and took several quick breaths before taking a closer look. The rear seat had been removed and the dash had been partially dismantled. Roy was right. If there had ever been anything to find, the crime scene guys would have found it. I suppose I knew that, but I was still glad I had seen the car for myself.
“Let’s go,” I finally said. “Maybe we will pick up a lead in the files. I’ll follow you to your house.”
Once we arrived at Roy’s house, he cleared the piles of newspapers and unopened mail from his dining table and spread the files in their place, then poured us both a soda. The folders were from cases that had come through Judge Harper’s court. He’d been a judge for a long time and had overseen hundreds of cases. What seemed to connect these particular ones were the subjects of the notes he’d made about them.
Roy and I spent a good hour going over those notes before either of us spoke.
“These all seem to be cases in which Judge Harper thought the jury had gotten it wrong.”
“Yeah,” Roy agreed. I could tell by the frown on his face that he was still trying to work out the significance of what he was looking at. “In almost all these trials the jury’s verdict was that the defendant was not guilty, but, based on his notes, Judge Harper seemed to believe that was the wrong conclusion.”
“Can a judge overturn a jury’s decision?”
“Not if the jury concluded that the defendant was innocent. If the reverse were true and a jury found the defendant guilty while the presiding judge disagreed, there are steps that can be taken, although it’s complicated and doesn’t happen very often. While most of the files in the safe are trials in which Harper believed the defendant was guilty but the jury disagreed, there are a few exceptions. In these four instances,” Roy handed me those folders, “it appears Judge Harper felt the person was innocent, but there wasn’t enough evidence to overturn a jury ruling.”
I sat back in my chair and took a minute to consider the situation. While the files we located in Judge Harper’s safe may or may not be in any way related to his death, in my mind, there was a better than average chance we’d find our motive from within the files. “Say it is true. Say these files represent trials in which Judge Harper believed a person to be guilty but the jury let them off. Why even investigate? It’s not as if Judge Harper could have the person retried for the same crime.”
“Not the same crime. A different crime.”
I frowned as I tried to work this out in my head. “Harper believed the individuals tried in these files escaped the punishment they deserved. He knew he couldn’t have them retried for the same crime, so he was working with law enforcement to have those people arrested for different crimes?”
Roy hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s definitely the case, but based on a cursory examination of these files I’d say it is. His notes indicate that Judge Harper believed these men and women were guilty of the crimes they were accused of, although they weren’t convicted. I don’t see anything that specifically indicates that he was working with law enforcement to try to rectify those situations, but there are notes tying those individuals to more recent crimes. Maybe Judge Harper planned to turn the information he’d gathered over to local law enforcement later.”
“Why? He wasn’t even a practicing judge anymore. Why would he bother?”
Roy shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe he had some legal reason for doing it, or maybe he was simply looking into the matters to satisfy his own curiosity.”
“Do you think any of these people should be suspects in Judge Harper’s death?” I asked.
Roy shuffled the files, separating them into piles. “Most of these trials happened a long time ago. There are a few corresponding cases that are more recent, though. I suppose we could research those to see if anything pops.”
I took my cell phone out of my pocket. I’d told Kyle I’d call him back, so he was probably waiting. If there were cases to be researched I knew that Kyle was the best man for the job. At least from an internet search perspective.
I dialed Kyle’s number and he answered on the first ring. The poor guy probably had been sitting by his phone for the past hour. I briefly filled him in on the theory Roy and I had come up with. I then asked if he would have time to perform an internet search of all the cases and individuals mentioned in the files we’d selected as potentially being the most relevant.
“I’d be happy to,” Kyle answered. “Do you have a scanner?”
“Yeah, I have one,” Roy answered.
“Scan the important pages and email them to me. I’ll see what I can find out. While I’m doing that, maybe the two of you should look into potential suspects based on Harper’s tenure as mayor. There were several hot-topic issues causing controversy at the last town council meeting I attended.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“There were several controversial items on the agenda,” Kyle answered, “but one of the more organized protests came from the merchants association. They were up in arms about a sales tax Harper was trying to push through to fund an arts program at the schools.”
“No one wants to see increased taxes, but I doubt someone would kill him over an extra half cent on the dollar. Was there anyone who seemed to be leading the protest?” I asked.
“I’m not sure what may have occurred while we were away, but at the last meeting I attended, several individuals from the merchants association spoke about the subject, each from a slightly different angle. As I said, they were organized, and they’d gathered quite a lot
of signatures to back up their opinion, which at least suggested that if the idea was placed on a ballot, it would most likely be defeated.”
“I suppose the conflict could have escalated, but I’m not seeing a strong enough reason to put anyone on the suspect list. Who else do you have?” I asked.
“There’s a developer, Striker Bristow, who’s been trying to get a permit for a strip mall,” Kyle informed us. “The council was divided, but Harper was very verbal about his lack of support for the project. I’m not sure Bristow would kill the mayor to get his way, but I got the impression he isn’t used to taking no for an answer.”
“Okay, I’ll add him to the list. Anything else?”
“The only other thing that comes to mind is the conflict around the proposal to tear down the old post office,” Kyle added after a slight pause. “I’m not saying anyone was necessarily upset enough over the issue to kill Harper, but when money or conservation of the environment or community is involved, it sometimes doesn’t take much to send someone over the deep end.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” I told Kyle. “Let us know if you find anything significant in the files Roy is scanning.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I’ve had a chance to look at things.”
“I should get back to work,” Roy said as soon as we hung up the phone. “If you’re going to investigate, keep a low profile and keep me in the loop. And Tj…”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. I don’t want you to end up in the hospital alongside your father.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promised before heading out to Grandpa’s truck. Kyle had a good point about council business being a possible motive. He’d missed the last several meetings while we were away, but Grandpa’s friend Bookman was on the town council too, so maybe I’d pay him a visit.
Chapter 4
Bookman, a.k.a. R. L. Hellerman, was a bestselling author, a town council member, and the fiancé of Jenna’s mother, Helen Henderson. He’d been friends with my grandfather, as well as the entire Jensen family, for many years, and I knew I could count on him to help me in any way he could. Bookman lived in a lakeside mansion with Helen, who had moved in with him while I was visiting Gull Island.
