Three-Ways: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery

by Mike Markel

  I felt my forehead begin to throb. I get that when I don’t sleep enough. When I’m upset, which I was about Tiffany, it gets worse. I staggered to the ladies’ room and splashed some water on my face. There wasn’t much I could do about my red-rimmed eyes. Then I realized that nobody gives a shit what I look like, a realization that comforted me for well over a half-second.

  Margaret waved me into the chief’s office. He was in his mesh chair behind his desk. Ryan stood, then sat back down on the small couch as I sank into one of the soft chairs.

  “Ryan’s been catching me up on the Tiffany Rhodes case and his work with Pelton and Malone last night.”

  “Good,” I said. “Sorry I missed that.”

  The chief waved his hand to tell me it was fine that I was able to get some sleep.

  “At least we’ve got her DNA now.” I didn’t intend it to come out cruel. And I didn’t mean it to sound critical. Not critical of Ryan or the chief, anyway. I was looking at the carpet, my eyes stinging and my head pounding. The two guys didn’t say anything for a few long seconds.

  Finally, the chief spoke. “Give us your read on what happened to her.”

  I looked up at him. “Since Brian Hawser skipped, it’s pretty clear he did it. Only question is why.”

  “No possibility it’s unrelated to the Austin Sulenka case?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess it’s possible. Technically. There’s a handful of domestics every year in town. Half the time the woman doesn’t know what set him off. But it would be a hell of a coincidence.”

  “What do we know about her whereabouts before Brian attacked her?”

  I turned to Ryan. His face was a blank. He was still mad at me. “You get a chance to tell the chief about interviewing her at the coffee—”

  The chief interrupted. “I want to hear your version.”

  “We hadn’t followed up on where she was Sunday night, after she screwed Austin. Brian thought she was home in Billings—or at least that’s what she told us he thought. So we interviewed her again, at a Starbucks.”

  “Why’d you go there?”

  “It was her suggestion. She didn’t want us to come to her apartment because Brian was there. She figured he’d get suspicious if he saw we were still looking at her for Austin.”

  “You arranged this interview on the phone, right?”

  “Yeah, she was in the bedroom. Brian was in the living room.”

  “So it’s possible Brian heard Tiffany arranging to meet with you.”

  I nodded.

  “Then she comes out of the bedroom,” the chief said, “and tells him some story about how she has to go out.”

  “And he could’ve followed her,” I said.

  “I was just speculating,” the chief said. “So what did you get from her at the coffee shop?”

  “She told us she went to her girlfriend’s place. Couple guys came over, with weed. She thinks she had sex. She wasn’t sharp on the details—whether it was one guy or two, blowjobs or official fucking. Only thing she was certain about was how she didn’t get in her car and drive over later to kill Austin.”

  “And why was she certain about that?”

  “She wouldn’t drive because she knew she was wrecked and she already had a DUI.”

  He shook his head. I don’t know if the chief has any kids, but his expression told me maybe he did. “Any chance either of the two guys with the weed are involved with the domestic?”

  I frowned and shook my head. “A guy gets fucked by some girl he doesn’t know her name, that’s better than Christmas. The two guys wouldn’t even know where she lived. If they found out, it would be to get her to screw them again.”

  The chief looked over at Ryan. “You see it that way?”

  “Yes,” Ryan said.

  “Any other theories on how Brian killed Tiffany?”

  “It’s possible she just wanted to break it off with him,” I said.

  “Go on,” the chief said.

  I hadn’t thought this through, but I started talking. “Think about what she’d been through in the last few days. Austin dies, she has to tell us she was still doing him, she has to tell us she did those two guys in her girlfriend’s apartment. She realizes she’s out of control. If she’s still attracted to Austin because he’s a cut above Brian, and she’s not even able to be faithful to the idiot when a couple of guys wave a hash pipe in front of her face—it’s possible she decides she’s taking advantage of Brian, which he doesn’t deserve because even though he’s basically a shithead, he’s a loyal shithead. He stuck with her after he found out about her doing Austin. He trashed Austin’s car. He didn’t beat her up for it.”

  “Yes, but that last part doesn’t square with him beating her up last night.”

  I put my palms up. “I have no idea what happened,” I said. “Depends how she handled it right before he smacked her around. A few months ago, when he found out about Austin, she was his girl. She made a mistake. He forgave her. End of story—until we butt in. But last night, if she wants to break it off, she might decide to tell him she was still doing Austin—and then did the two dopers for no good reason at all. To show Brian that she’s not worthy of him.”

  “So now she’s not his girl,” the chief said. “Now she’s officially a slut.”

  “That’s right. A slut who’s been taking advantage of him. Which pisses him off. Just like Austin was taking advantage of him. But this time he can’t just vandalize a car. This time, it’s personal. And since he loves her, in his shithead way, he loses control.”

  The chief and Ryan were silent.

  “That’s if she and Brian didn’t have anything to do with killing Austin,” I said. “If they killed Austin, this is her chance to take out Brian.”

  “And take the kind of beating she took?”

  “She thought she might take a few punches but she’d be okay.”

  “How’s that?” the chief said.

  “Maybe she had a gun. Thought he’d beat her up, then she’d shoot him.”

  The chief looked at Ryan. “Brian have a permit?”

  “He has a .45,” Ryan said.

  “The plan didn’t work.” I glanced over at Ryan, who at least was looking at me. “But the plan was she’d have silenced the only other person who could finger her for killing Austin. And her bruises would back up her self-defense story.”

  The chief rested his chin on his fist. “Here’s what I’d like you two to do. Run down the remaining leads on the Sulenka murder.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “Rule out the two guys with the weed. Get with Robin to see whether Tiffany’s DNA matches the DNA on Austin’s body. Remember you wanted to see if there was another woman who had sex with him? One is the grad student, May Something. The other, presumably, is Tiffany. If it’s not, you need to identify the third woman.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to put me and Ryan on Brian Hawser?”

  “No, we don’t know if Brian is part of your case. I’m going to open up a new case file on the Tiffany Rhodes murder.”

  “Who’s gonna work that?”

  “For the moment, it’s Pelton and Malone.”

  “They’re on night shift.”

  “I’m aware of that, Karen.” His tone was hard-edged. “They don’t have any open cases right now. If they need someone to help them during the day, they’ll tell me, and if you and Ryan are free, you’re up.”

  “And when we figure out Tiffany was killed because of the Sulenka case?”

  “If that’s how it turns out, we’ll fold the two cases together and I’ll decide on assignments at that point.” He paused. “You and Ryan make sure the file on the system is complete and current so Pelton and Malone can access everything they need.” He paused. “Will there be anything else?”

  “Do you want me to notify Tiffany’s parents?”

  “No,” the chief said. “I’ll do it. It’ll sound better coming from the chief.”

  “I can say it right.”


  “I know that, Karen.” He paused, his tone a little softer. “I know you can. By the way, when you told the hospital to put a lid on her death, that was smart. That was excellent. But I’m going to notify her parents. I want to check with Larry Klein first to see what we can do with the hospital, then I’ll be in a better position to reach out to the parents. For all we know, they might be close to Brian. Might tip him off, and we would lose any leverage we have on him with the Sulenka case.”

  “Plus we could have a bad PR problem.”

  He stared at me. “Go home and get some rest.” It wasn’t a question. “Ryan can work this alone today. You’re dismissed.”

  I shook my head and turned to leave. Since the carpet in the chief’s office is pretty thick, I couldn’t hear Ryan following me until we were out on the tile in the hall.

  Back at our desks in the detective’s bullpen, Ryan sat down.

  I said, “You got the name of Tiffany’s girlfriend, where she screwed the two guys?”

  “You not going to head home?” Short for, You’re not going to go home, like the chief just told you to do because it’s obvious you’re not in any condition to work, if work includes talking to people?

  “Give me her name.”

  Ryan pulled his notebook from his pocket and turned the pages. “Emily Johnston.”

  “Phone number.”

  “Karen, I have to agree with the chief.”

  “You do. Why is that? I’m too fucked-up to run the case?”

  “If he can put two teams on the case, why not?”

  I shook my head. Now he wasn’t even leveling with me.

  “It doesn’t matter who goes after Brian,” he said. “As long as someone’s doing the liaison with the MSP and with Billings, what difference does it make?”

  If he wanted to pretend it wasn’t about me, I’d play along. “The difference is we earned the right to take the lead on this case. Obviously, it’s Brian killed Austin.”

  “Or Tiffany.”

  “Yeah, whatever. It wasn’t the two dipshits with the weed, that’s for sure. They’d want to wash her car, not beat her up.”

  “You’re probably right, but just let it go. We’ll mop up the stuff here in Rawlings. When Pelton and Malone bring in Hawser, I’m sure the chief will let us lead the interviews.”

  “Dream on,” I said. “Just get me Emily’s phone number.”

  He hit the keys for a little bit. “There’s three in town, but this one is a CMSU student.” He started writing on a slip of paper. “Emily Johnston, 450 Crest Wood, Apartment 3C. 526-7634.” He handed me the paper.

  I sat down at my desk and punched in the number. My head was still thumping, my eyes still stinging pretty good. I rubbed at them, which made it worse. Someone picked up the phone. “Is this Emily Johnston?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Detective Karen Seagate, Rawlings Police Department. Do you know a woman named Tiffany Rhodes?”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a case related to Tiffany. There was a break-in at her apartment, someone took some stuff.”

  “Oh, my God, she didn’t tell me about that.” Emily Johnston paused. “What does that have to do with me?”

  “She came over to your place Sunday night. Couple of guys came over. Can you give me their names?”

  “Fred and Larry.”

  “You have last names?”

  “I don’t know their last names.”

  “You got addresses on them?”

  “They’re here in my building. They’re in 3F.”

  “All right, thanks.”

  “Wait, you don’t think they broke into Tiff’s place, do you?”

  “No, of course not. We just want to talk to them a couple minutes. It’s routine. Thanks a lot, Emily.” I hung up the phone.

  I turned to Ryan. “You coming?”

  He stood up and followed me out to the lot behind the building.

  “Take Wilmington west,” Ryan said after we’d gotten into the Charger. He was going to let me be miserable for a while. It’s one of his better qualities.

  He directed me to the apartment building. I parked in one of the visitors’ spaces. We walked over to the mailboxes, stacked in rows and columns under a stucco overhand.

  “Write down these names, would ya?” I said to Ryan. “3F is Boegland and Edwards.”

  We walked the three stories up the outside steps. Ryan was slowing down a little as we got up toward three. I knocked on the door.

  A pimply guy—small build, slouchy posture, dirty brown hair and a shitty excuse for a moustache—opened the door. I put my shield around my neck. “Are you Boegland or Edwards?”

  His eyes were open wide. “I’m Larry Boegland. What’s this about?”

  “Seagate and Miner. Rawlings Police Department. Can we come in?” I started to walk in before he could respond. He stood back. “Is Edwards here?”

  “He’s sleeping.” His voice was getting high, a little squeaky. “What’s this about?”

  “Wake him up.”

  He hurried toward one of the bedrooms, and thirty seconds later a tall, stocky guy with matted hair wandered out behind him.

  “You’re Fred Edwards.”

  He nodded.

  “We’re investigating a break-in at Tiffany Williams’ apartment Sunday night.” I wanted to see if they knew her last name. “Can you tell us where you were Sunday night, around ten?”

  Fred looked at Larry, who looked back at him. Neither of them seemed to know what to say.

  “While you guys think this over, let me explain something. I already know the answer to my question. So if you lie to me, I’ve got a search warrant right here.” I tapped my big leather bag. “I’ll have a narcotics team over here in ten minutes—with a dog that’s got a fuckin’ nose on it you won’t believe. If there’s one pot seed in this apartment, we’ll arrest you on possession, maybe possession with intent. Penalty for that starts at one year and goes up from there, depending on the quantity. Do you understand me, Larry?”

  I looked at him. He nodded, obediently.

  “And you, Fred, you understand me?” He was now fully awake.

  “Which one of you brought the pot to Emily’s place?”

  “That was me,” Larry said, his eyes down on the floor.

  “The two girls, Emily and Tiffany, which one did you screw, Larry?”

  “Both of them, I think.”

  “And you, Fred, you do them both, too.”

  “Yeah.”

  “All right, guys. Good. You’ve told me the truth so far. We’ve got an eyewitness puts you two in the lot behind Tiffany’s apartment. Around midnight. Admit it and we can work something out on the burglary.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Fred said. “We practically had to crawl down the hall. We both crashed here. I was dead till after eleven the next morning.”

  Larry said, “It wasn’t us. I don’t even know where Tiffany lives. I don’t even know that’s her name. What’d you say it was, Tiffany Williams?”

  I glanced at Ryan, who nodded slightly.

  “Okay, guys. We’re gonna do a little more investigating. You two stay in town. We might wanna bring you in for a lineup later this afternoon. You understand?”

  Larry nodded. Fred said, “Yes, Officer. We can come in any time. It wasn’t us. I swear.”

  Ryan and I turned and left the apartment.

  “Ready to scratch the pot boys off our list?”

  “Yes, Officer,” he said, giving me a small smile, which I was very glad to see.

  Chapter 25

  The Way Things Worked Out. It was nothing more than that. Not sexism, not the good-old-boy network. Not that I was a drunk or had fallen apart. Just the way things turned out.

  That’s why the two night-shift detectives were chasing down Brian Hawser, who packed his gym bag with some haste after he shook the shit out of his live-in girlfriend, Tiffany Rhodes, then punched her in the face hard enough to break her cheekbone, propelling her into a
hard, pointy surface, fracturing her skull, ripping the tissue membrane underneath it, and causing the brain bleed that killed her right about the time he was merging onto the interstate toward Billings or parts unknown.

  So what we knew so far is that four months ago Brian busted all the glassy parts of Austin Sulenka’s automobile because Austin nailed his girlfriend, Tiffany, who wanted a higher grade in Austin’s English course. Then, the night Austin was strangled, Tiffany fucked Austin. One last time before she killed him? Before she and Brian killed him? It gets a little fuzzy at this point.

  But last night we’re pretty sure Tiffany told her lover boy she was still nailing the handsome English teacher with the big dick. Plus, perhaps, the two dweebs with the marijuana. Yes, she did them, too. For the marijuana. Or, one way or another, Brian found out about her extracurriculars. Then Tiffany got dead, and Brian got gone.

  I’m not the only one with anger issues.

  But it’s just The Way Things Worked Out: Ryan and I were interviewing the two marijuana morons instead of sniffing Brian’s trail. But the chief was right. We should scratch off all the local ladies who liked to straddle Austin Sulenka. We were getting to know them, checking their stories, figuring out which ones were telling us normal little white lies to make themselves feel better about their normal little shortcomings, which ones were spinning tales black enough to make us think, yeah, I could see them maybe wrapping that cloth around Austin’s neck, tying a cinch in it, then pulling it tighter and tighter, not stopping when his eyes started bugging and his face turned ghostly blue, his arms grasping at the cinch with some strength at the start but then relaxing and falling to his sides as if he’d just experienced this beautiful, intense orgasm.

  The night detectives could do just as good a job coordinating the search for Brian Hawser as we could. And two plus two still does equal four detectives. I was wrong to get pissed at the chief. Murtaugh isn’t a sexist asshole. He’s just a manager, running his crew.

  “You in there, Karen?” Ryan said. I was apparently sitting behind the wheel of the Charger but not, you know, doing anything, such as driving.

  “I want to make sure Robin’s going to get Tiffany’s DNA from the hospital.” I reached behind me to the back seat, where I’d just tossed my big leather bag, and fished around to get my phone. I speed-dialed her. She confirmed that she had indeed been told about Tiffany, would be going over there within the hour, and would start to type her DNA. In response to my next question, she said it would take thirty-six hours at least. Then when I suggested that after she typed it she run it through one of her DNA databases to see if there were any surprises, she told me that was a great suggestion and asked me to hold a second so she could find a pen or pencil somewhere to be sure to write it down.