Detective

by Arthur Hailey

  Sanchez glowered at Knowles, who smiled. “Sorry, Doctor. Only a practice run, but better here than on the witness stand.”

  “For a moment,” she said ruefully, “I thought that’s where I was.”

  The attorney turned to Julio Verona. “None of that means we won’t make the most of the knife evidence if the opportunity arises. There could be a limit, though, as to how far I’d take it.”

  “We don’t have the knife, of course,” the ID lead technician said, “and whether or not we get it will depend on you guys.” He motioned to the Homicide detectives, including Newbold. “And now that Sylvia and I know that two of the cases are connected, we’ll go over every bit of evidence for similarities.”

  Dr. Sanchez said, “And I’ll do the same with the medical records; maybe I can find an unsolved murder with similar wound patterns or some kind of religious connotation.” She added thoughtfully, “There’s always a possibility that what we’re looking at now is a repeat of something in the past that’s been overlooked. I heard once of a serial killer who waited fifteen years before resuming his killing spree.”

  “All of that’s good,” Newbold said. “Now …” He glanced toward his superior, Manolo Yanes, commander of the Crimes Against Persons Unit. “Major, would you like to add anything?”

  “Yes.” Typically, Yanes wasted no time with preamble. Steely-eyed and speaking with his usual sharp-edged voice, he declared, “Everyone here needs to make a much bigger effort—an all-out effort. We’ve simply got to stop these killings before any more occur.”

  Yanes’s eyes swung to Newbold. “For the record, Lieutenant, you and your people now have carte blanche to take whatever measures are necessary, including creating a special task force. When you decide exactly what you need and what kind of task force, I’ll get you extra detectives from Robbery. As to costs, you have my approval to charge whatever’s needed, including overtime.”

  Yanes glanced around the room, then added, “So now, with those logistics in place, the objective of all of you is clear—find this guy! I want results. And keep me informed.”

  “All of that noted, sir. As everyone heard, we will form a task force right now to work solely on these cases. Task force members will be relieved of other duties. I’ve already asked Sergeant Ainslie to head the team.”

  Heads turned toward Ainslie as Newbold told him, “Sergeant, you’ll work with two teams of six detectives. I leave it to you to name another sergeant to head the second team.”

  “Sergeant Greene,” Ainslie said. “Assuming he’s agreeable.”

  Pablo Greene waved a hand airily. “You betcha!”

  Newbold told Greene, “You’ll report through Sergeant Ainslie. That’s understood?”

  “QSL, sir.”

  Ainslie added, “For my team I’ll definitely want Detectives Quinn, Bowe, Kralik, and Garcia. Pablo and I will decide on the rest later today.” Ainslie faced Major Yanes. “We have a lot of ground to cover, sir, and a great deal of detail work. So we’ll need at least two extra detectives from Robbery, probably four.”

  Yanes nodded. “Tell Lieutenant Newbold when you know exactly, and you’ll have them.”

  Curzon Knowles intervened. “If that isn’t enough, I can arrange for a couple of state attorney investigators. Either way, we’d like to stay in the picture.”

  “We want that too, Counselor,” Ainslie said.

  Newbold reminded everyone, “The task force, of course, will work closely with Fort Lauderdale and Clearwater; I want those detectives kept informed.”

  The talk continued for a few minutes more, after which Newbold turned to Assistant Chief Serrano. “Chief, anything you wish to add?”

  Serrano, formerly a detective himself, and with a distinguished record on the Miami force, spoke clearly but quietly. “Only to say that all of you have the support of the entire Police Department in this matter. Obviously, as these serial killings become widely known, there will be tremendous publicity, which will generate a lot of public and political pressures. We’ll try to protect you from that so you can continue doing whatever is needed to bring this maniac in. At the same time, work fast. And never stop thinking. Good luck to us all!”

  5

  As the Homicide conference broke up, the newly formed task force gathered around Ainslie, along with the assistant state attorney, Curzon Knowles. Twenty years earlier Knowles had been a police officer himself—the youngest sergeant on the New York City force. Later he had become a lieutenant, then resigned to study law in Florida. Knowles felt comfortable with detectives and they with him.

  Now he asked Ainslie, “Since we’ll be working together, Sergeant, do you mind telling me your first move?”

  “A short one, Counselor—to the computer. You’re welcome to join me.” Ainslie looked around him. “Where’s Ruby?”

  “Wherever you need her.” Detective Bowe’s bright voice emerged from a group.

  “I need your dancing fingers.” Ainslie motioned to the computer she had just used. “Let’s search some records.”

  Seating herself, Ruby switched on and typed LOGON.

  A query appeared: GIVE IDENTIFICATION.

  Ruby asked Ainslie, “Yours or mine?”

  He told her, “Eight-four-three-nine.”

  The screen responded: ENTER YOUR CODE.

  Ainslie reached over and tapped in CUPCAKE, an affectionate name he sometimes used for Karen. The code name did not appear on the screen, but CIC—abbreviation for Criminal Investigation Center—did.

  As the other detectives and Knowles watched silently, Ruby said, “We’re in the magic kingdom. Quo vadis?”

  Someone murmured, “What in hell’s that?”

  “‘Whither goest thou?’” Bernard Quinn answered.

  “Took Latin in kindergarten,” Ruby quipped. “Us ghetto kids are smarter than you think.”

  “Prove it,” Ainslie said. “Find ‘Criminal Records.’ After that, a category called ‘Oddities.’”

  A series of typed commands, then the heading ODDITIES appeared. “There’s a whole raft of subfiles,” Ruby announced. “Any ideas?”

  “Look for ‘Religion’ or ‘Religious.’”

  Fingers moved swiftly. Then, “Hey, here’s one: ‘Religious Freaks.’”

  Ainslie raised his eyebrows. “That should do the trick.”

  If they had been expecting a harvest of names, the result was disappointing. Only seven appeared, each accompanied by an abridged personal history, along with charges and convictions. Ainslie and Ruby read through names and information; the others peered over their shoulders.

  “You can eliminate Virgil,” Quinn said. “He’s in prison. I put him there.” The computer listing showed a Francis Virgil as imprisoned for the past two years with another six to serve. A similar status applied to two more of the seven names, leaving four.

  “Strike Orneus,” Ainslie said. “It says here he’s dead.” As the detectives knew, a deceased offender’s criminal record was not removed until two years after death.

  “I guess we can eliminate Hector Longo,” Ruby suggested. The entry showed Longo as age eighty-two, almost blind, and with a withered right hand.

  “Amazing what the handicapped can do these days,” Ainslie said. Then, “Okay, delete.”

  The remaining two names were “possibles,” but the search had produced neither the numbers nor choices they had hoped for.

  Knowles asked, “How about trying ‘Modus Operandi’?”

  “We already did that with the individual cases,” Ainslie said. “Came up with nothing.” He added thoughtfully, “The further we get into this, the more I believe we’re after someone who has no record.”

  It was Ruby who suggested, “Why don’t we try FIVOs?”

  Ainslie was doubtful, but told her, “Why not? We’ve nothing to lose.”

  FIVOs—Field Intelligence and Vehicle Occurrence reports—contained information gathered by police officers who witnessed behavior in a public place that was peculiar, raunchy,
or eccentric, though not illegal. A similar report was made if someone was seen in a suspicious circumstance, especially late at night, but was not breaking the law.

  A FIVO report was supposedly written at the scene, on an official printed card. Officers were instructed to include as much information as possible, including a person’s full name, home address, occupation, detailed physical description, facts about a vehicle if any, and the circumstances of the encounter. Most of those stopped and questioned were surprisingly cooperative, especially after learning they would not be arrested or ticketed. Anyone with a criminal record, however, usually didn’t mention it.

  The FIVO cards were turned in at Police Headquarters and eventually loaded into a computer bank. During the process an automatic cross-check added any criminal convictions to the FIVO report.

  For a while FIVO records were in bad repute within the Miami force. It happened after several police officers clogged the system with bogus reports—in hopes of gaining attention and perhaps promotion. Some FIVO cards even bore names copied from graveyard tombstones. Eventually, after a few officers were caught and disciplined, the practice ceased. But many in the force distrusted FIVOs long afterward, including Ainslie.

  Computer procedure to access FIVOs was similar to Criminal Records, and Ruby quickly found ODDITIES within the new category, followed by RELIGIOUS FREAKS. Suddenly the screen came alive with names, dates, and paragraphs of information. Ainslie leaned forward, his attention sharpened. Behind him a voice said, “Hey, look at that!” Someone else emitted a long, low whistle.

  As before, they reviewed the names and details, eliminating some, then added those that remained to a new computer file already containing the two possibles from criminal records. At the end, Ruby printed out a half-dozen copies of the combined list and passed them around.

  The printout contained six names:

  JAMES CALHOUN, w/m AKA “Little Jesus.” DOB 10 Oct 67. 5’11” 200lbs. LKA 271 NW 10 St, Miami. Has tattoo of a cross on upper chest. Talks about the coming end of world and claims to be Christ making second coming. Has a past for manslaughter, assault, armed burglary.

  CARLOS QUINONES, l/m AKA “Diablo Kid.” DOB 17 Nov 69. 5’6” 180lbs. Heavyset. LKA 2640 SW 22 St, Miami. Claims to be only Messiah and preaches the word of God. Has extensive violent past for assault, rape, armed robbery with violence.

  EARL ROBINSON, b/m AKA “Avenger.” DOB 2 Aug 64. 6’0” 180lbs. LKA 1310 NW 65 St, Miami. Lean build, former heavyweight boxer, very aggressive. Preaches on street corners, quotes from Bible, always Revelation, says he is God’s judgment angel. Has extensive past for armed robbery, second degree murder, numerous assaults with a knife.

  ALEC POLITE, h/m AKA “Messiah.” DOB 12 Dec 69. 5’11” 180lbs. LKA 265 NE 65 St, Miami. Talks about the scriptures to anyone who will listen, says he talks with God. Gets aggressive if doubted, questioned. Could be violent but no record. Been in U.S. since 1993.

  ELROY DOIL, w/m AKA “Crusader.” DOB 12 Sep 64. 6’4” 290lbs. LKA 189 NE 35 St, Miami. Claims to be a disciple of God, knows God’s wishes. Preaches in public. Not believed dangerous. Works as part-time truck driver.

  EDELBERTO MONTOYA, l/m, DOB 1 Nov 62. 5’9” 150lbs. LKA 861 NW 1 St, Apt #3, Miami. Has thick dark mustache and beard. Claims to be a born-again Christian, quotes from Bible, prays for end of the world. Has past for rape, felonious assault and sexual assault.

  As Ainslie, Knowles, and the others studied the names and descriptions, the sense of excitement grew.

  Sergeant Greene expressed it. “Malcolm, I think we’re on to something.”

  Detective Garcia looked up eagerly. “Robinson’s our man! He has to be. Look at that stuff about Revelation! And he’s known as Avenger; that fits. A boxer too, which means he’s strong!”

  Ruby Bowe added, “Not to mention the ‘assaults with a knife.’”

  “Okay, okay,” Ainslie said. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. We’ll take a look at them all.”

  Sheriff-Detective Montes asked, “Will you pull anyone in?”

  Ainslie shook his head. “Not enough to go on. We’ll use surveillance.”

  Curzon Knowles cautioned, “Sergeant, you’ve got to be very, very careful that those people don’t catch on.” Knowles scanned the room, taking in all the detectives. “Please, everyone remember how very little evidence we have so far. And if one of those six is our man, and he suspects we’re on to him, he could go totally inactive, leaving us nothing to use against him.”

  “A little inactivity would do no harm, though,” Pablo Greene commented. “We sure as hell don’t want him killing someone else.”

  “If your surveillance is tight, that won’t happen.” Knowles paused, considering. “The ideal thing would be to catch him in the act.”

  “Ideal for a prosecutor,” Ruby Bowe said. “Risky for a victim.”

  Ainslie joined in the laughter, then quieted the group with a wave of his hand.

  “Ruby’s right, though,” Quinn insisted. “Surveillance will pose a risk. We know this guy is smart, and he knows we’re looking for him.”

  Ainslie turned to Leo Newbold, who had rejoined the group a few minutes earlier. “What do you think, Lieutenant?”

  Newbold shrugged. “It’s your call, Malcolm. You’re the task force leader.”

  “Then we’ll take the risk,” Ainslie said. “And I assure you, Counselor, he’ll never see us watching.” He turned to Greene. “Pablo, let’s plan a surveillance schedule now.”

  It was agreed that, to begin, Sergeant Ainslie’s team would put surveillance on Earl Robinson, James Calhoun, and Carlos Quiñones. Sergeant Greene’s team would watch Alec Polite, Elroy Doil, and Edelberto Montoya. In every case the surveillance would be total, twenty-four hours a day.

  Ainslie informed Newbold, “We need those extra bodies from Robbery right away, sir—two to start with, and I’ll work them into the schedule.”

  The lieutenant nodded. “I’ll talk to Major Yanes.”

  Then, as the group prepared to leave, the conference room door was suddenly flung open. Sergeant Hank Brewmaster, who had left when the department conference officially broke up, stood breathlessly in the doorway, his face contorted with shock and disbelief. Brewmaster was heading that day’s Homicide Hot Team, so they all knew what was coming.

  Newbold stepped forward. “A bad one, Hank?”

  “The worst, sir.” Brewmaster drew in a breath. “It’s City Commissioner Gustav Ernst. And his wife. Both dead, murdered. Call just came in. From the description, it’s another just like—”

  Ainslie cut in. “Oh God! The kind we—”

  There was no need to finish as Brewmaster nodded. “Apparently it’s exactly the same.”

  He turned back to Newbold. “My team is moving on it now, sir. I thought you should know.” His gaze took in the others. “Thought all of you should know because the media’s on the scene, and the way I hear it, all hell is breaking loose.”

  In the days to follow, media and public outrage blazed through the city like a three-alarm fire; the Ernst murders had become a cause célèbre.

  As for the Police Department, the savage killing of a city commissioner and his wife was bad enough—Commissioner Ernst was one of three commissioners who, along with the mayor, deputy mayor, and city manager, governed Miami. But for Ainslie, Newbold, and everyone else in the force, the crime hit even closer to home because the daughter of the dead couple was Major Cynthia Ernst, a senior Miami police officer.

  When the murders occurred, Cynthia Ernst was in Los Angeles on a police business trip combined with a personal visit. She was contacted through the L.A. Police Department, then, “stunned and grieving,” as the six o’clock news described her, was flown back to Miami, becoming the focus of attention in a tightly strung, tumultuous city.

  6

  The hasty first report that the slayings of Miami City Commissioner Ernst and his wife were apparently identical with the savage murders of three other elderly couples—the Fr
osts in Coconut Grove, the Hennenfelds of Fort Lauderdale, and the Urbinas in Miami—proved discomfitingly true. Meanwhile the matching killings of Hal and Mabel Larsen in Clearwater—the subject of the five-month-old BOLO uncovered by Ruby Bowe—were publicly added to the list.

  The now-burgeoning investigation centered on the Ernsts’ Mediterranean-style mansion in the exclusive Bay Point subdivision—enclosed and security protected—located on the western shore of Biscayne Bay.

  It was there that the battered and bloody bodies of Gustav and Eleanor Ernst had been found by their maid. The maid had arrived before anyone in the house was stirring, and as usual she prepared morning tea, which she carried on a tray to the Ernsts’ bedroom. On seeing the couple bound and facing each other in a pool of their own blood, she screamed, dropped the tray, and collapsed from shock.

  The screams were heard by the Ernsts’ elderly majordomo, Theo Palacio, who, with his wife Maria, managed the house and cooked. Both Theo and Maria had slept unusually late, having been out—with their employers’ approval—until after 1:00 A.M. the night before.

  On reaching the bedroom death scene, Palacio reacted quickly, going to the nearest phone.

  When Sergeant Brewmaster arrived, uniform police were stationed outside the house and, inside, paramedics from Fire Rescue were treating the maid for shock.

  Detectives Dion Jacobo and Seth Wightman from Brewmaster’s Homicide team had preceded him. Brewmaster had named Jacobo his co–lead investigator, thereby giving Jacobo some extra authority, which, in view of the importance of the case, he was likely to need.

  Jacobo, sturdy, heavily built, and with a dozen years of Homicide experience, had already instructed the uniform officers to cordon off the entire house and garden with yellow tape.

  Moments later Julio Verona and Dr. Sandra Sanchez arrived. Verona had traveled in a crime-scene van, accompanied by three colleagues. The chief of police was reportedly on the way.