Mary Jane's Grave

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Mary Jane's Grave Page 20

by Stacy Dittrich


  The lieutenant was very kind, and I knew immediately he wasn’t going to make an issue of the shooting. He told me about the statement Frank Micelli had given the other detectives. Interestingly, Frank never mentioned the threatened warrant regarding a sexual assault. He just told them we were interviewing her about a homicide investigation he hadn’t been aware of. Whew.

  It seems after Simone and I had left Meghan’s office, Meghan went over the edge. She was screaming that she wasn’t going to jail and all kinds of crazy things. Frank said she walked out of her office. He thought maybe she was going to the restroom to take a breather until he saw her walk past the doorway carrying something in her hand. He ran down to his own office, opened his top drawer and saw that she had taken his gun. That’s when he went chasing after her.

  Frank also confessed that Meghan had been having mental problems for the past two years. She had been in and out of psychiatric hospitals, made several suicide attempts and was so medicated on antidepressants he was amazed she could even function.

  “After Mr. Micelli calmed down, he actually seemed a little relieved,” the lieutenant informed me, and then he told me something else. “Sergeant, I’m just putting you on notice that the news stations have obtained a copy of the tape, so expect to be all over the five o’clock news. Considering this involves you, don’t be surprised if it goes national by morning.”

  I nodded and turned around to join Naomi and the others. Instead, I ran smack into Michael. He led me by the arm off to the side, his face panic-stricken.

  “You’re okay.” He was looking at me up and down as if he expected to see a bullet hole somewhere.

  “Honey, I’m fine. You didn’t need to come down here.” I felt myself on the verge of tears at the sight of him.

  He pulled me close and held me tight. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t ecstatic that he was there. He always made me feel safe.

  I took the next several minutes and explained what happened, including my fears of Cincinnati. Michael was trying to tell me I had nothing to worry about when Simone came over. I introduced them.

  “So, this is the reason you were promoted?” she said, mocking Meghan’s words. Michael looked confused.

  “Yes,” I said to Simone, and then to Michael, “I’ll explain later.”

  “We’re supposed to be at the department first thing in the morning to give formal statements,” she said. “It’s probably best that you stay here for the night. The hotel room will be on the Cincy PD.”

  At that point, I was thoroughly exhausted. I wanted to leave, but first I had to clear it with the detectives in charge. Since I would be staying the night here, they said that would be fine.

  Michael and I walked into our hotel room just as the ten o’clock news began. As the lieutenant had promised, the video of the shooting was the first piece aired. The announcer gave a brief history of my past before the video:

  “For the third time in less than three years, decorated veteran Sergeant Detective CeeCee Gallagher of the Richland Metropolitan Police Department had to take a life to protect her own and the life of a fellow officer. This time, however, the incident occurred here in Cincinnati…”

  I watched it in a daze. On video, the shooting happened quickly—not like I remembered it. It was only a few seconds from the time Meghan raised the gun to the time we were ordering Frank to show his hands.

  Michael turned pale when he watched the video. Sitting on the bed, he put his hand over his mouth. When it was over, he looked ill.

  “If you hadn’t looked over, she would have gotten you both.”

  “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Michael, she didn’t. Please, I don’t want to dwell on it. It’s over. I just want to give my statement in the morning and go home.”

  I spent the next forty- five minutes talking to my parents, assuring them I was okay, before falling asleep on the bed, fully clothed.

  I woke up an hour before I was supposed to be at the police department. I had nothing with me, clothes or otherwise, so I did my best to look presentable. Michael waited in the lobby while I gave my statement, which took the better part of an hour. As I was leaving, I heard Simone call my name from behind me. I turned around, and she gave me a quick squeeze.

  “I’ll call you and let you know when it’s been officially cleared. No worries, girlfriend.” Her usually glowing look turned serious. “Listen…I’m really grateful to you. I watched that video and I about pissed my pants. If you hadn’t said anything, she’d have killed me. Thank you, CeeCee.”

  With a promise to Simone to keep in touch more frequently, I left Cincinnati and headed home. Michael drove, and as soon as we crossed the Richland County line, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Per our union contract, I was automatically granted ten days off, with pay, as stress leave since I was involved in a shooting.

  Five days after the incident, Simone called to inform me that we had been officially cleared and the case had been closed. There were no complaints or outcries from any of the watchdog groups either. The mayor had seen to that. My own department had cleared me from any wrongdoing within twenty- four hours.

  The days I was off I more than once found myself almost relishing the fact that I’d shot and killed Meghan Dearth. As much as I hated to admit it, she did nothing but prove she was guilty and save the taxpayers the expense of a trial. I don’t care how deranged she was at the time of the shooting, she was perfectly sane when she killed Melissa Drake. As far as I was concerned, she got the punishment she deserved.

  On my first day back to work, I was more than anxious to dive into the cases at Mary Jane’s Grave. I had been fielding phone calls in my office for an hour when the Communications Center called me.

  “Sergeant Gallagher? We heard what happened in Cincy and we’re glad you’re okay,” the male voice said.

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.” Most of the calls I’d gotten since I arrived had been like this.

  “There’s another reason I called. I’ve been waiting for you to get back because I found that information you were looking for.”

  “What information is that?”

  “Daniel Griffin. We’ve located him.” I held my breath. “He was using a different name, but we tracked him through his Social Security number. He was living at the Koogle Road apartments here until recently.”

  “When did he move?”

  “The day after your shooting. He left a forwarding address with the apartment manager so the guy could mail his deposit to him, though.”

  “Where did he move to?” I asked, feeling my pulse quicken.

  “Savannah, Georgia.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I closed my eyes and let out a not-so-quiet groan. I had been crossing my fingers that Daniel Griffin would make things easy for me and still be in the area. At least he was dumb enough to leave his new address.

  “Sergeant? Do you want the forwarding address?”

  “Go ahead with it, and give me the number for the local police down there.”

  I called the Savannah Police Department and requested they check the address discreetly for anything matching Daniel Griffin’s name or Social Security number. I was waiting for them to call me back when Naomi walked into my office, holding a bouquet of roses.

  “These are for you.” She set them on my desk.

  “Who are they from?” I looked for a card.

  “I have no idea, there’s no card. Maybe they’re from Michael since it’s your first day back.”

  “No, he would have sent a card, but I guess I can check.”

  I set them aside just as my phone rang. After obtaining the information I was waiting for, I hung up and looked at Naomi.

  “What?” she inquired.

  “I think I’m taking another road trip.”

  I quickly explained the phone call before Naomi flew off the handle. I also gave the strong circumstantial evidence that pointed to Daniel Griffin.

  “Naomi, look at the facts. The skinned dog was al
most identical to the one Daniel was convicted of killing. He was in Mansfield during the murder and the attack, and he left the day after the news broadcast of the Meghan Dearth shooting. That leads me to believe that he thought I was onto to him and getting close, so he took off.”

  “But what’s the point? I mean, why would he kill again after all these years?”

  “How do you know he ever stopped? According to his NCIC check, he’d only been back in Mansfield for six weeks. He’d been in Virginia Beach before that. You don’t think that’s a coincidence, do you? Maybe he’s been killing this entire time and just hasn’t been caught yet.”

  “Still, what are you going to do down there if you find him?”

  “There’s no if. He’s been found. Savannah PD just confirmed he’s living at the forwarding address. I feel strongly enough that once I get the opportunity to interrogate him, I’ll get him to confess. If all else fails, maybe there’s enough for a search warrant to search his new residence.”

  Naomi looked hesitant. She was contemplating my request, but also weighing my last experience against another one. Eventually, she let out a loud sigh.

  “All right, you can go, but I’m going with you this time.”

  “Fine by me.” I could use the company.

  “I’ll go ahead and make the flight and hotel reservations, you get a hold of Savannah again and make arrangements.”

  “That sounds great but I’m not flying anywhere,” I boldly announced.

  Naomi looked irritated. “Oh, c’mon CeeCee! You need to get over that, for crying out loud. That’s like a thirteen- to fourteen- hour drive!”

  “Just look at it this way, it’ll give us plenty of time to catch up, and the scenery is beautiful on I-77.”

  I wasn’t going to budge and Naomi knew it. I hated to fly and only did it if it was absolutely necessary. The last time I had been on a plane was after the Carl James Malone case when Michael took me to Jamaica. I was so drunk by the time the plane landed, Michael almost had to carry me. Finally, Naomi shook her head and grumbled that she would drive.

  “Just meet me here about five in the morning. That’ll put us in Georgia around dinner time so we can eat, get our hotel rooms and relax before we get with Savannah PD the next day,” I said.

  “Five it is.”

  After Naomi left, I began to mull over the best way to tell Michael about my impending trip to Georgia. Then I looked again at the flowers Naomi had brought in. They had to be from Michael. I couldn’t imagine who else would have sent them. I called his cell phone, miraculously reached him and asked him.

  “Sorry, Cee, I didn’t send them. Are you sure it wasn’t Eric trying to cause a problem again?”

  “I don’t think so. We’re done. There’s no going back, so he wouldn’t even try.” I thought for a minute. “Michael, I know you’re probably gonna flip but I have to go to Savannah, Georgia, tomorrow. I think I’ve found a solid suspect.”

  He groaned. “Why is it every time you find a suspect you have to go out of town? My nerves can’t take this.”

  “I know, I’m sorry, but I have to. Naomi said she’d go with me.” I sighed. “How about if we talk about this when I get home? Are you going to be on time?”

  “Should be.”

  After I hung up with Michael I again stared at the roses.

  I decided to make my day a brief one so I could go home and pack my things for the trip. I was completely packed and had take-out dinner ready for Michael when he came home. He still wasn’t thrilled that I was leaving.

  “Every time my phone rings when you’re gone, I cringe. This time I’ll expect a phone call that you had been taken hostage before eventually killing the suspect and saving Naomi.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I want you to check in with me at the very minimum twice a day.”

  I went to bed early. Since most of the day would be spent driving, I didn’t take too much care in my appearance when I got ready to leave. I merely whipped my hair up into a ponytail and threw on casual, comfortable clothes. When I met her at the department, Naomi was dressed the same. According to her, Coop had his own concerns about our trip.

  “He said every time we’re together on something like this it worries him.”

  “That sounds familiar. He and Michael must’ve had a powwow. I’ll keep my eye out for a car following us the entire way down. It’ll probably be those two.”

  After stopping for a light breakfast, Naomi and I were on our way to Georgia. As promised, she drove. Once we were on the interstate, she wanted me to refresh her memory regarding all the facts of the case.

  “Essentially, we have our current murder, which produced diddlysquat of evidence. We find out later there was a murder twenty years ago that also involved a young girl, Melissa Drake. One of the suspects, a psychopathic devil- worshipper, likes to skin animals. Lo and behold, we find a skinned dog that has distinct similarities to one of the psycho’s earlier projects. The other suspect, a sociopath and narcissistic bitch, is no longer in the picture as she was killed by yours truly. The psycho, Daniel Griffin, was in the area until the day after the news broadcast of the Meghan Dearth shooting and had only been here for several weeks before the current murder. I am now on my way, with my glorious captain, to interview this psycho and beat him into a confession. Any questions?”

  Naomi laughed. “Yes. Where does the witch fit in?”

  “Ah, the witch. I forgot to add the part about the numerous tales of the supernatural from various witnesses during the murders. We have in no particular order: a crying baby, smell of smoke, loss of cell phone service, rocks hurling through the air by themselves, a bleeding tree, curses and last but not least, an old woman in white.” I proceeded to bellow out my best witch cackle.

  Naomi laughed again. “Copy that. What’s with all the history, though? I think at one point you thought it might have something to do with this current murder.”

  “I did up until Daniel Griffin fell into my lap. There are a lot of unanswered questions to Mary Jane Hendrickson’s death, no doubt about it.” The tone in my voice turned more serious. “She allegedly had a baby that there is no death record of, and her age at death was changed for unknown reasons. I followed her ancestors down to Maryanne Hendrickson, who eyewitness accounts say had a child. That’s where I hit a dead end. There’s no record of a child born to her anywhere. There’s also no mention of fathers anywhere. And supposedly this is all connected to Ceely Rose, a murderess who wiped out her family with arsenic and was survived by a brother that no one talked about.”

  “Whew.”

  “No kidding. When this is all said and done, I’d like to try to look into that more, on my own time of course.”

  “Of course.”

  After driving for six straight hours, Naomi gave up the driver’s seat. She slept off and on for a little while. Then we stopped just outside of High Point, North Carolina, to grab lunch. I checked in with Michael, mainly to assure him we hadn’t been kidnapped by terrorists or shot by a highway sniper. We pulled into our hotel parking lot in Savannah a little over three hours later.

  “Thank God,” Naomi muttered after I nudged her to let her know we had reached our destination. “To think this could’ve been a lovely three-hour flight, with a drink in my hand no less. I can’t believe I let you talk me into driving, CeeCee.”

  “Actually, it took us about an hour or so less than I thought. C’mon, let’s get settled into our rooms, chill out for a while, and go grab a drink. There’s a pub over there by the lobby.”

  We did just that, having two drinks at the pub before calling it a night. We were meeting the detective lieutenant at the Savannah Police Department first thing in the morning, so we went to bed early.

  We had somewhat of an audience waiting for us when we walked through the doors of the police department. Detective Lieutenant John Cahill introduced himself first, surrounded by twenty to thirty other officers, some in uniform, some in plainclothes.

  “
We don’t normally have a welcoming party, Sergeant, but some of the guys here wanted to meet you and your captain. They’ve seen y’all both on TV about those high- profile murder cases. Most of ‘em have read your book, Sergeant. Consider yourselves a little like celebrities around here.” He extended his hand with a wide grin. “We’re more than happy to help y’all.”

  Naomi and I spent the next half an hour meeting and greeting. Some of them had even brought my book in for me to sign. A couple took pictures. Naomi and I kept giving each other secret glances that said can you believe this? We’ve had other law enforcement show enthusiasm in meeting us, but nothing like here in Savannah. They were some of the kindest people we had ever met. Even the chief of police came out to meet us.

  Finally, Lt. Cahill clapped his hands loudly and said in his slow, Southern drawl, “All right, fellas. We gotta get goin’ now. I’m sure Captain Cooper and Sergeant Gallagher appreciate y’all fawnin’ all over ‘em but we got work to do.”

  We followed Lt. Cahill down several brightly lit corridors and through two large double doors. Walking into the first office to our right, Lt. Cahill asked us to have aseat.

  “Can I git y’all some coffee or tea?”

  Naomi and I declined, taking our seats in front of an old steel desk completely cluttered with papers, notes, trinkets and several ashtrays.

  “Well, now…I know y’all are anxious to get going. I’ve had an unmarked car sittin’ on this fella’s trailer since ya called yesterday, and there hasn’t been any movement. His car’s still there, so he hasn’t left. I figure I’ll have some uniformed officers park down the road in case things get outta hand. For the most part, we can jist keep it quiet and go up and knock on the door. Sound okay?”

  “That’s fine, Lieutenant,” I replied. “How far is it to Daniel Griffin’s trailer from here?”

 

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