None So Deadly

by David A. Poulsen

Cobb shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it really was just shoddy work by either or both pairs of investigators. Which keeps bringing us back to the question I’d really like an answer to. Why were Hansel and Gretel pulled off the investigation and then put back on it?”

  “That would be interesting to know. Who makes a decision like that?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t remember it ever happening during my time there. I guess the captain or maybe somebody higher up, maybe even the chief. Hard to say. I’ll do some sniffing around.”

  “I’ll get to work on making the list and doing some checking. See if I turn up anything.”

  “While I’m at police headquarters, I’m going to see about getting the tapes. I know it will be dreary, but it might be a good idea to take a look. See if Kennedy missed something.”

  “How far back do we go?”

  “About the time of the first shadow thing he saw.”

  “Yeah, I think that was about a year or more. Even with the most recent one missing, that’s a lot of tape watching.”

  “I guess we have to decide if we’re all in on this thing.”

  It didn’t take long for me to make that decision. “I’m all in.”

  He got up. “Maybe I’ll have that coffee after all.”

  I started a coffee for him. It always felt better when we had a plan, however nebulous. The action of investigating, of actually doing something and being fully committed to the investigation, gave me a feeling of purpose and even hope.

  “What time are we meeting Danny?” I asked.

  “About four thirty.”

  I handed him his coffee and looked at my watch. It was just after three. “I’ve got my gym stuff in the car and I haven’t done much running lately. How about I go for a jog and I’ll be back here in time to sit in?”

  “Are you going to smell up the office?”

  “More than likely,” I said.

  “Perfect.”

  Danny Luft’s hair was a little longer and he seemed to have lost some weight, but he offered a smile as I greeted him at the door to Cobb’s office. I steered him toward the same chair he had sat in the first time we’d met.

  Cobb leaned across the desk and shook his hand. “Good to meet you at last, Danny.”

  “You too, sir, and thanks for all you and Mr. Cullen have done for me.”

  Cobb waved that off.

  “Soft drink?” I asked him. “All we’ve got is Coke. Same as last time. Guess we need to expand our soft drink selection.”

  “A Coke would be great. Thanks.”

  I looked at Cobb and he nodded yes to another cup, so I made my way to the coffee machine and little fridge that stood in one corner of the office.

  Behind me I heard Cobb say, “School going okay, Danny?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I did pretty good on a math test yesterday, so that’s all right.”

  “And how about at home? You and your dad getting along since all the … excitement?”

  “Actually, things are quite a bit better. We even sat down and talked about drugs, and he never yelled once. I told him I wasn’t interested in drugs beyond weed and he wasn’t happy about the weed part but he was trying really hard not to get mad, I could see that.”

  I distributed the drinks.

  “Thanks.” Danny smiled at me.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Cobb waited until Danny had taken a long pull of the Coke and set the can on the edge of the desk. “So, what is it you wanted to see us about, Danny?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about Mrs. Claiborne.”

  “Sure, what’s on your mind?”

  “She didn’t shoot Mr. Claiborne.”

  Cobb glanced at me but kept his face expressionless as he looked back at Danny. “How do you know that, son?”

  “She just said that — confessed, I mean — because she was worried that I’d go to jail for a long time. But Mrs. Claiborne couldn’t kill anybody. She’s a tough lady in some ways, but that’s just not something she’d do.”

  Cobb took his time responding. “Okay, Danny, let’s say you’re right and it wasn’t Mrs. Claiborne. You have any idea who did shoot Wendell Claiborne?”

  Danny shook his head. “No, I don’t, but I know it wasn’t her.”

  He reached for the Coke but pulled his hand back. Was it shaking?

  “Why did you lie to us earlier, Danny?” Cobb’s voice wasn’t mean or even argumentative, but it was firm. “Actually, a few times.”

  Danny moved around in the chair for a few seconds before answering. “I promised Adam — Mr. Cullen — that I wouldn’t see Mr. Claiborne. And I figured you’d be mad when I broke that promise.” He looked at me.

  “Tell us what happened, Danny. How did your fingerprints get on the gun?”

  Danny squirmed a little, but then settled and looked straight at Cobb. “I don’t see why we have to talk about that now.”

  “We need the whole story if you want us to try to help Mrs. Claiborne.”

  Danny hesitated.

  “How’d your prints get on the gun, Danny?” Cobb said again.

  “I rode over to the house that night to see if I could see Glenna.”

  “What night was that?”

  “The night Mr. Claiborne was killed.” He looked over at me. “I know you told me not to, but I wanted to see her. Or at least try. I figured I could do it without seeing or talking to her dad, so I wasn’t really going back on what I told you. But then as I was riding home I took sort of a shortcut and this car pulled up beside me and it was him. I didn’t think I could just ride off. So I stopped … and he stopped.”

  Danny took a drink of the pop. I noticed his hand wasn’t shaking anymore. Confession is good for the soul. “He got out of his car and he said something like ‘We’re still on for Saturday, right, Danny?’ And then he pulled out this gun. I thought for a minute he was going to shoot me so I said, ‘Oh yeah, we’re still on,’ and he said, ‘Good, here, see what this feels like, make sure it feels okay.’ And he held it out to me and I guess I was stupid, but I was also kind of scared, so I took it and held it for a couple of seconds.”

  “The shortcut you took, was that before or after you stopped at the 7-Eleven?”

  “How did you know about that?”

  “How about I ask the questions and you answer them. It works better that way.”

  I was a little surprised at Cobb’s tone, but Danny just shrugged.

  “After.” He smiled then. “It’s sort of funny. I was eating a bag of Cheezies when Mr. Claiborne stopped me, and when he handed me the revolver, I was worried I’d get Cheezie bits on it.”

  “Then what?”

  “I gave it back to him and said it felt okay to me and he said that was good and that he’d be in touch on Saturday morning so we could plan things out. I might not have all of his words exactly right, but I think I’m pretty close.”

  Cobb leaned back and I saw his body relax a little. “You’re doing fine, Danny. What happened then?”

  “He drove off and I rode the rest of the way home.”

  “And that was it until the cops came to your house?”

  Hesitation, then a slow shake of the head. “Not … exactly.”

  “What does that mean, Danny?”

  “He phoned me.”

  I said, “Yeah, you told me about that. He phoned you and then texted. Then you tried to get back to him but weren’t able to connect. That’s what you told me. But is that exactly how it happened?”

  “Yeah, but that was the first time.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “You told me he phoned you and texted you around nine. Then you tried to call him back, but you didn’t get him. That’s how you told me it happened. Have I got that right, Danny?”

  “Yeah, but that was before I went to the house. Then after I saw him when I was coming back home on my bike, he phoned me again.”

  Now I was angry. There was so much Danny had either lied about or left out, and I was getting really tired of it. I
was about to say something, I’m not sure exactly what, but Cobb jumped in.

  “What time was that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a half-hour after I got home.”

  “Okay, what time was that?”

  “I think I got home around ten thirty, maybe a little later.”

  Cobb studied the kid for what felt like a long time. Danny had begun to move around in the chair, taking a drink of the Coke, then another.

  “All right, Danny. Give it to me again,” Cobb said.

  “Give what to you again?”

  “That night.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, Danny. Real seriously. From when you got the first call. You see, Danny, you’ve changed your story a few times and you’ve left things out. One of the biggest problems lawyers and private detectives have is being able to do a good job when the client isn’t truthful. So we need to hear it again, all of it, from the first phone call.”

  Danny looked contrite. I didn’t think he was a flat-out liar. I thought he’d made some bad decisions about what to tell us and what not to tell us, and it was frustrating, but I still liked the kid. And I was pretty sure Cobb did, too, but both of us knew if we didn’t start getting the truth, and all of it, pretty soon, we were going to have a hell of a time if the cops renewed their interest in him. And despite Mrs. Claiborne’s confession, I thought that might still be a possibility.

  “Okay, so Mr. Claiborne called me and texted me around nine o’clock.”

  “When he called, did he leave a message?”

  “Yeah, just to call him back.”

  “What about the text, what did it say?”

  “Same thing. He needed to talk to me, and I should get back to him right away. That he’d hate to have to talk to my dad about my little problem.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  Danny looked from Cobb to me, then back to Cobb.

  “I knew I wasn’t supposed to contact him, so I didn’t. Not right away.”

  “But after a while …”

  “I was afraid that he’d call my dad and tell him about the weed, so that’s when I called him back, maybe around ten o’clock.”

  “Right, then what happened?”

  “I didn’t get him. That’s when I decided to ride over there and maybe see Glenna if she was around. But I didn’t see her, so I texted her and waited a few minutes, but she didn’t answer, so I started for home. That’s when he came along in the car and handed me the gun. All of that is exactly like I told you the first time.”

  Cobb said, “How long’s the bike ride from your house to Glenna’s?”

  Danny raised his eyebrows like the question was foolish.

  “Come on, I’ll bet you’ve ridden over there a few times at least.”

  Slow nod. “Yeah.”

  “So, how long does it take?”

  “You’re starting to sound like those cops that came to the house to arrest me.”

  “How long?”

  “Fifteen, twenty minutes. Not longer than that.”

  “Does it take longer at night? You go slower?”

  “Not really, no. It’s about the same.”

  “Did you leave your house right after you tried calling him back?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. I just wanted to see Glenna. I guess I wanted to feel better, because I was feeling pretty crappy with all the stuff that was happening.”

  “Okay, so you left your house at about ten o’clock, maybe a little later. That puts you at Glenna’s house a little before ten thirty.”

  “Yeah, I think so. That sounds about right.”

  “I don’t want to sound right, Danny; I want it to be right.”

  “Yeah, well, that would be right.” He spent a long time on the word be. I could tell he was getting pissed off.

  “And then what, Danny?” I said gently. Good cop — a reversal of roles.

  “I sat on my bike watching the house in case Glenna looked out a window or came outside for anything. But she didn’t.”

  Cobb jumped back in. “And you didn’t go up to the house.”

  “I didn’t even go in the yard … I just stayed on my bike outside the fence.”

  “How long did you sit there?”

  “I don’t know, not that long. I thought it was kind of stupid, me sitting there looking at her house. Then, after a few minutes when she didn’t text me back, I didn’t want her to see me. I was afraid she’d think I was a total loser.”

  “So you left.”

  “Yeah, like I said, I stopped at the store to get the Cheezies, then a couple of blocks later Claiborne came along and showed me the gun and handed it to me and I took it. I gave it back to him, and he left, and I went straight home. That’s the truth.”

  “I know it is, Danny,” Cobb said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “And then Claiborne phoned you a little while after you got home.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Yes, not yeah. I wasn’t sure if that meant anything. Maybe the kid was just glad to be getting near the end of the story.

  “Now, Danny, I want you to give me what he said, as close as you can remember it. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Danny drank some Coke. “Okay, well, he started out all friendly. Hey, Danny, really great to run into you, you get home all right? Didn’t spill your Cheezies, did you? Like he was trying to joke around.”

  “Right. Go on.”

  “Then he went totally serious. Like freaky serious. And he went through it all again. How he’d tell my old man about my drug habit — that’s what he said, drug habit. Which is bullshit; it was just a little weed.”

  “Did you tell him it was bullshit?”

  “No, I just listened. Then he said, ‘Don’t forget our deal, the bitch goes away and you get ten thousand dollars. You shoot one bitch and you wake up Sunday morning ten grand richer.’ I think that’s pretty close. I know he said bitch twice. I thought that was kind of … I don’t know … harsh.”

  “Are you sure he said the word shoot?”

  “Yeah, I remember that part really clearly. You shoot one bitch.”

  Cobb thought for a minute, then said, “Okay, what else?”

  “That was it. He said we’d talk about this on Saturday, plan the details, same thing as he’d said to me on the street. Then he hung up. Except for hello, I never said one goddamn … uh … one word.”

  Cobb leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “I need to ask you again. Why do you think Mrs. Claiborne didn’t kill her husband?”

  Danny thought before answering. “I don’t know why. I just know she didn’t. She couldn’t.”

  “Not even to protect someone else?”

  “You mean me?” He shook his head. “Not even for something like that. She’d say she did it — she’d do that for somebody else, but she did not shoot Mr. Claiborne.”

  “Okay, Danny, I’ll tell you what, we’ll talk to some people, ask a few questions, okay?”

  “Okay, yeah, that’d be great. That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

  “You want a ride home, Danny?” I asked him.

  “No, I’m good with the LRT and the bus. I do it all the time.”

  “Okay.” I fist-bumped him and he grinned. Ordeal over. “We’ll be in touch,” I told him.

  Cobb shook his hand and Danny left the office, I think a little happier than when he’d arrived.

  Cobb jotted some things on a notepad. When he looked up, I said, “Well?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That change your thinking at all?”

  “Yeah, I’d say it does. Until now I wasn’t sure that Danny wasn’t the shooter. Even with Mrs. C’s confession. Now I’m a little more confident that the kid didn’t shoot him.”

  “Great, and part B of this two-part question — who did shoot Wendell Claiborne?”

  “Yeah, part B is a little tougher. I’m going to have to think about that.”

  “Anything you want me doing while you think?”

  “I
think we stick to our game plan. We get back to the Kennedy case. Get me a list of everybody you can think of, no matter how big or small, who’s a part of this thing, and I’ll do some checking with some cops I know on the points Kennedy raised about the investigation.”

  “Okay.” I stood up and started for the door, then turned back. “One thing that puzzles me about Danny’s story. It seems a bit of a long shot that Claiborne just happened along as Danny was riding back from the house.”

  “I doubt if it ‘just happened.’ I’m guessing Claiborne saw Danny out there on his bike and decided to apply a little more pressure, let him see the gun, handle it. Then he followed up with the phone call to reinforce the message.”

  “Claiborne was a piece of work.”

  “Amen to that.”

  “Hey, something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Actually, I’m asking for Kyla.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Any chance that someone with Crohn’s disease would be ruled out as a candidate for the police service?”

  He thought for a minute. “I would say it depends on the severity of the illness. You’ve told me hers is fairly manageable. I’m guessing that if that was still the case when she applied, it wouldn’t be a deciding factor, especially if she’s fit. Fitness is something they really look for.”

  “Thanks.”

  “She thinking about a career as a cop?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Cool. You tell her she might have to deal with you and me?”

  “Hell, no. I thought it best to look at the positives.”

  “Probably a good idea. Tell her anytime she wants to talk about it, I’d be happy to chat.”

  “Thanks, Mike. I will.”

  The list wasn’t long. The four cops who actually investigated Faith Unruh’s murder made the list: Detectives Hansel, Gaspari, Kinley, and Maughan. I included the two people who were involved in the autopsy, Dr. Abraham Trudell and assistant Cory Payne.

  The people who now lived in the house where Faith’s body had been found were Dennis and Charley Bevans and their daughter, Maizie, six years old; Charley was expecting another child sometime next year. Dennis owned a small business — sports apparel and accessories — while Charley worked in retail, managing a purse and handbag store in Market Mall.

  And the people who lived in the former Unruh house were a little older — Dr. Jagdeep Sindhu, his wife, Maya, who was a pharmacist, and their son and only child, Ardesh, who was fourteen and a grade nine student at Central Memorial High School.