by C. M. Sutter
Amber turned to Jack. “The question is, since he’s our only person of interest so far, should we focus on Morton or the students named Mike?”
“We don’t have evidence against him yet,” Jack said. “And until we do, we can’t let on that we suspect him. There’s a fine line we have to walk until we get proof that he’s the killer. Forget the creepy-boy theory and focus all of your attention on Morton. Why Becca and Daphne? Did he have a thing for both of them that wasn’t reciprocated?”
“Wait! I just thought of something else. Becca was on the pill, yet she didn’t have a boyfriend. Do you think Morton was forcing her to have sex with him? She did tell Jodi that she couldn’t stand him, yet she didn’t give her best friend any details. If that’s what was happening, I’m sure Becca was humiliated and embarrassed but wanted to confide in her friend.”
Jack nodded. “That makes sense, but how could he compel her to have sex unless he was blackmailing her about something? Dig in, people. Find out more about Becca and Daphne and look into their grades, see if they were failing any classes. Maybe he held their final grade over their heads. Check Morton’s background, look for criminal activity, see if he has ever been arrested, hit every bullet point.”
“Boss?”
“Yep.” Jack lowered his cup and looked at me.
“I couldn’t find any personal information on him last night. The only thing I could track was his driver’s license and the UWWC site.”
“Was there a professor biography on him?”
“I haven’t looked into it yet, but that should give us something.”
Jack jerked his chin toward Chad. “Clayton, get on that. Billings, start looking for bank records, previous addresses, etcetera. Enlist the help of Tech if you need to. Amber and Kate, head to Kewaskum and find a camera near Becca’s apartment. We need irrefutable proof that Mike Morton followed her from her apartment that morning. He’s going to be surveilled from this point forward as we gather every shred of evidence we need to make an arrest.”
Chapter 49
Amber and I headed out. I drove as she used her phone’s map to search the retail spaces near Becca’s apartment. Even though Kewaskum was a small town, we wanted to see which stores or gas stations Mike Morton would have had to pass to get to Becca’s apartment.
“Okay, there’s that Quick-Mart on the left at the intersection of Highway 45 and H, a used-car dealership on the right at the edge of town, Pizza Pie a block south of the apartment, and everything else is farther north.”
“Of those three places, somebody should have a camera, and I’m thinking the gas station is our best bet. If I remember correctly, it isn’t very old, and everyone who drives north on Highway 45 would have to pass it to get to Kewaskum. Let’s stop there first.”
I turned in ten minutes later and parked alongside the gas station. I noticed a few corner-mounted cameras as we walked toward the building—a good sign. We entered, introduced ourselves to the very young-looking clerk, and asked about their surveillance system. We got a deer-in-the-headlights stare from him, meaning he didn’t have a clue what we were talking about. He glanced at the clock. “The manager doesn’t come in until ten. He’d know what you want, and the office is locked, anyway.”
“How about giving the manager a call?” Amber said. “We can really use some help here, and we don’t have a lot of time to waste.”
“I guess I can do that.”
“Great, thanks.”
We walked outside to take a better look at the cameras. They both appeared to be facing the pumps, a position commonly used to catch the plate number and description of anyone who attempted a pump-and-run tactic.
I shielded my eyes as I looked up and then out. “I wonder if those cameras actually catch the highway at all since the gas station is set back off the road.”
“I guess we won’t know until we check the footage.” Amber turned toward the building. “Let’s see if the kid got ahold of the manager.”
Back inside, we approached the counter, where the young man had just hung up the phone.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked.
“The manager is heading out soon, but he lives in Fond du Lac. It’s going to take an hour or so since he was just getting up.”
I frowned. “Okay, thanks.” I handed him my card. “Call the bottom number on this card when he gets here. Meanwhile, we’re going to check out a few other places in town.”
Amber climbed into the passenger seat and buckled her belt. “Let’s try Pizza Pie. The chances of catching Becca on tape from Monday night are pretty good if they actually have cameras. I’m sure that living only a block away, she would have walked there to pick up her calzone.”
We bypassed the used-car dealership for the time being, but we’d stop there later if necessary.
I pointed to the left as I slowed down to the posted speed limit. “There it is. Tiny place and an even tinier parking lot.” I pulled in and parked in one of the four spots. Everything else in that area was street parking only. I glanced farther down the road as we exited the cruiser. “I can see the apartment building from here.”
“That’s all fine and good but check out the storefront. I don’t see any cameras.”
“Crap.” I walked to each side of the building and looked down the entire length of the wall—no cameras. I groaned my disappointment. “Let’s have a quick talk with them, anyway.”
Inside, we asked to see the manager. While we waited, I scanned the room and caught sight of a camera mounted above each side of the counter. I elbowed Amber. “There and there.” I pointed at them. “They must catch the cash registers and the customers standing at the counter.”
Seconds later, a thirtysomething gentleman walked out from a back room and approached us. “I’m the manager, John McKay. Is there something I can help you with?”
We introduced ourselves and asked to speak privately with him. He escorted us to his office behind the kitchen and offered us two folding chairs. “Sorry about the cramped quarters, but we want to keep as much floorspace as possible for the dining area.”
“Not a problem, Mr. McKay.”
“Please, call me John.”
Amber nodded and pulled out her notepad. She flipped the pages until she found what she needed. “We’d like to see your counter camera footage from Monday evening.”
“Sure thing. Do you have a time in mind?”
Amber checked her notes. “Yes, according to a receipt we have, a take-out calzone was purchased at six fifty-two.”
“Take-out?”
“That’s correct,” I said.
“I’m sorry, but the carryout counter is across the hall. The people pick up their food at an outside window similar to a drive-through. We just don’t have the space at the counter for people to wait around for their food.”
“So, you’re saying what?”
“We don’t have cameras at the take-out window.”
“Shoot. Sounds like that’s a dead end.”
We thanked him for his time and left. Outside, we walked to the apartment complex and checked every building along the route. Most were small houses that had been turned into commercial properties. A laundromat, a law office, and a real estate office were squeezed between Pizza Pie and Becca’s apartment building. We glanced at the corners of each structure but didn’t see cameras mounted anywhere.
Amber turned around. “Damn it, let’s head to the cruiser and check the used-car dealership.”
We had turned to go back when an idea popped into my head. “Let’s make a stop at the real estate agency. Maybe they know Mike Morton or the person who owns Becca’s apartment building. It’s a small town, and many people use local agents to buy properties.”
“Sounds logical.”
A bell rang out when I pushed open the door. Since the office had only two desks less than ten feet away and facing the front windows, I thought the presence of a bell was odd unless the agent happened to be in a back room when a potential client wal
ked in. One desk was occupied by a middle-aged woman, and the other was empty. A name plate with Marla Cannon written across it in gold text sat at the front of her desk.
“Good morning, ladies. How can Midwest Properties help you find the home of your dreams?”
I chuckled to myself as I pulled out my badge and noticed how quickly her cheerful expression faded.
“Oh my word, are we in trouble for something?”
“Not at all,” Amber said, “unless there’s something you need to disclose.”
“No, of course not, so please, have a seat. I take it you aren’t here to ask about properties for sale.”
“That’s correct, but thanks, anyway,” I said. “We need to know if you’re familiar with a local real estate investor named Michael Morton.”
She rubbed her chin. “No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Should it?”
“Not necessarily. Would you happen to know who owns that eight-unit apartment building to your north?”
“Oh, sure. We worked with a Martin Glover on that purchase. He signed off on everything and mentioned possible future purchases on behalf of a C Corp. He was an odd one, though.”
I furrowed my brows. “Odd how?”
“He just preferred to do everything via email and phone calls. He contracted with our agency on that building without ever meeting us in person. I’ve never had a client do that before. He purchased the property sixteen months ago.”
Amber pulled out her notepad. “Is Martin the owner of the property or just the person who handled the sale?”
“Sorry, we aren’t privy to the actual mortgage documents, so I couldn’t say either way.”
Amber wrote that down. “And you said it was sixteen months ago?”
“Yes, that’s correct. A year ago February.”
We stood and shook her hand. “Okay, thanks. You’ve been very helpful.”
When we left, the bell rang at our backs.
“I don’t know if that information does anything for us or not,” Amber said.
“True, but it doesn’t hurt to have as many names as possible. The owner will know soon enough that Becca’s unit will be available for rent again. Maybe we should contact this Martin Glover, anyway, and he can pass the message on unless he actually is the owner.” I glanced at my watch. “Let’s go back to the gas station. The manager must be there by now.”
Amber checked in with Jack as I drove. The call was short, and she hung up just before I turned in to Quick-Mart’s driveway.
“What did he say?”
“Silver has eyes on Morton’s Explorer. Guess he’s at the college doing whatever he does there.”
“Probably mixing up poisons.”
Amber groaned. “That’s a scary thought. Billings is trying to access his accounts and phone records, but he’s hitting a brick wall.”
“And Clayton?”
“According to his biography, Mike Morton has been at UWWC for a year and a half, is originally from Madison, and taught chemistry at UWM for nine years prior to moving here.”
“He’d go from there to a two-year university in North Bend? That doesn’t make sense to me. Married, unmarried, kids?”
“The bio said unmarried.”
“Everything should be easy enough to confirm with a phone call.”
We entered the gas station and approached the same clerk as before. “Has your manager arrived yet?”
“Yep, he just walked in. I’ll get him.” The young man returned seconds later. “He wants you to come to his office. That’s where the security system is, anyway.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”
We followed the attendant down the hallway to a closed door bearing a plaque with Office written across it. He knocked twice, and a voice from the other side said to enter. The young man opened the door, allowed us through, then walked away. Inside sat an attractive man looking very casual in shorts and a T-shirt. The space, about the size of a normal bedroom, was filled with football memorabilia, particularly that of our favorite green and gold team. I liked him already. He stood, introduced himself as Anthony Calderone, and offered us the comfortable-looking guest chairs that faced his desk. “Tommy said you’re detectives from the sheriff’s office?”
Amber spoke up. “We are, and we can really use your help. We’re looking for a white late-model Explorer that may have passed by here anytime between Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning.”
“So not getting gas, just passing by on the highway?”
I felt a letdown coming. “That’s what we’re looking for, yes.”
He scratched his head. “To be honest, I don’t think you’ll catch anything because of the overhead awnings. Our cameras are meant as deterrents for pump-and-runs. Being right off the highway made it too easy for passersby to fill their gas tank and make a run for it. Our problems have gone down significantly since we installed those cameras.”
“Can we take a quick look, anyway?”
“Sure, be my guest.”
He tapped a few computer keys and asked us to come around to his side of the desk. “This is what the cameras catch from both angles.” He pointed. “See how the rooftop blocks the entire highway? You only see the six bays and the vehicles at each pumping station. You can’t even see the driveway.”
“Yeah, so unless he stopped here and filled up, we’ve got nothing.”
“That’s right. You’re welcome to sit here and watch the in-and-out footage if you like, but from Monday afternoon to Tuesday morning at normal speed will take a long time.”
“How about from six thirty until seven thirty Tuesday morning?” I asked.
“Probably about twenty minutes if I speed it up a bit.”
Amber nodded. “Let’s give it a try. You never know when something helpful might fall in your lap.”
“Okay. I’ll set those parameters and leave you to it. I’ll be out front if you need anything. Just toggle these buttons to go back and forth.”
“Thanks, Mr. Calderone.”
He walked out and closed the door.
I looked at Amber as she began playing the footage. “Do you think Mike would have actually stopped here for gas on his way to watch Becca’s apartment Tuesday morning?”
“No clue, but what’s twenty minutes of our time?”
“I guess you’re right.”
Chapter 50
We scored a big fat zero at Quick-Mart—Mike Morton never pulled into the station.
“I guess the car dealership is our last hope to see him drive by. He had to unless he sat on a side road off the highway and just watched for Becca to pass him.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. He strikes me more as the type who would like to savor every minute of that morning, from the second Becca walked out of her apartment until she died in the crash.” I pulled into the lot and parked then rolled the kinks out of my neck. “I hope this isn’t going to be strike three.”
Inside, we made our introductions and were led back to the room with the surveillance system. The general manager told us that they’d had a rash of vandalism and just recently installed wide-angle cameras to catch the entire lot. I hoped it would show us what we were desperate to see. We gave him the same parameters as we did at the gas station—late Monday afternoon to Tuesday morning around seven thirty. He called in the technician to assist us then excused himself.
With my fist under my chin and my elbow on the desk, I stared at the screen, afraid to blink. Amber sat like a matching bookend on the other side of the technician. Every so often, I glanced at the time stamp at the lower right of the screen. We had only twenty minutes left. My chair squeaked under my weight as I squirmed anxiously while trying to think of how Morton followed Becca without being seen on any surveillance system.
He’s an intelligent man and planned her death. He had to know that cameras faced the main road coming into Kewaskum.
“Keep your eyes on the monitor, Amber. I have to check something on my phone.”
�
�Sure thing.”
I pulled up a map of Highway 45, knowing Morton wouldn’t come across any camera until he reached the Quick-Mart station. I backtracked to see where intersecting roads turned off the highway and ran parallel all the way to Kewaskum. There were a few. I glanced back at the screen. “Anything?”
“Nope,” Amber said.
I powered down my phone and watched the monitor until we had reached seven thirty-five—the reported time of the crash. Again, we had nothing. We thanked the technician and left. It was after eleven o’clock, and we hadn’t made any headway.
“Here’s what I think,” I said as we climbed in the cruiser. “He had to have taken a parallel road into town. The guy isn’t stupid.”
Amber huffed. “He’s on our radar, so he can’t be that smart. He just thinks he is.”
“I agree, but we need to go to the apartment, follow the street that exits out the side driveway, and see if it connects with a road farther back that runs parallel to the highway. There’s a chance a business north of the apartment could have captured the Explorer on video beyond or behind the apartment. He had to be lying in wait, just not in a place where Becca could see him.”
Amber nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good, but I want to give Jack the name Martin Glover first. Maybe he or one of the guys can track him down and pick his brain. Who knows, if the guy is local, it’s possible he’s seen the Explorer in Becca’s neighborhood.”
“Right, and Jack should follow up with the onsite manager too and see if he’s back in town. He ought to know Becca’s habits and what kind of company she kept.”
I inspected my neglected manicure and listened to Amber’s side of the conversation as she spoke with Jack.
“That’s interesting. This case definitely has its twists and turns. Sure, we’ll go back and bang on the door, and then we’re going to see if there’s a parallel road to the highway, one that Morton might have taken to avoid passing cameras. Yep, see you later.” Amber clicked off the call.
“What’s interesting?”
“The fact that Martin Glover is the on-site manager.”
“What the hell? So he’s the operations man and the property manager?”
