“So you'll swear, under oath, that you were with the accused during the time frame we described, is that correct? You know lying on the witness stand is a felony?” Chuck hastened to warn the witness.
“It's the truth, so yes, I will swear under oath that Michael was with me, the entire weekend. Do you have any further questions? I have to get ready to go to work.”
“So at no time that weekend did he leave the apartment, even for a little while. Maybe a couple of hours, come back with blood on his clothes. I think you're lying Sherry. I don't think he was here at all. Maybe you were in it with him. Was it the insurance money, is that why he killed that man?” Carson growled, in an attempt to unsettle the witness.
“No, that's not true. He was here, just as I said. Now get out. I've said all I'm going to say to you two, now good day, show yourselves out.”
Carson and Chuck sat dumbstruck for a moment, but realizing the interview was over, soon made their way out the front door of Sherry Miller's apartment and back to their unit.
Chapter Fifty Three
The assistant district attorney or ADA, was a no nonsense, but quite attractive and young, Afro-American lady by the name of Tiffany Adams. She had been assigned the case for the prosecution. She was new to the DA's office but was ambitious enough to think she might just be the DA herself someday.
This was her first murder trial and she was very excited and also somewhat apprehensive about the case that the prosecution had against the accused. She would have liked to have an eye witness, some fingerprint, DNA or forensic evidence, to back up the State of California's claim, but she had to make do with what she had.
She had to prove to a jury of twelve, that Michael Parson had indeed killed his son-in-law Charles Smithson, beyond a reasonable doubt. Needless to say, she even had doubts about the validity of this case. The cops were unable to find the murder weapon or any other physical evidence linking the accused to the crime. There was no smoking gun, no blood evidence, and no witnesses that placed the accused at the scene of the crime. And that was another thing, the scene of the crime. According to the detectives who investigated the crime, there were in fact two crime scenes. The scene where the victim had been brutally bludgeoned was never found.
The body of the victim was found in a high rise building under construction in downtown San Diego, however there was no known connection between the victim and the building where he was found. Again, another dead end, offering no clue as to the identity of the murderer.
The family members were all suspected to be in on the crime, but again, there was no proof that they were indeed involved. The victim's brother, Pete, had been a possible suspect as well, however he was on the run from the LAPD and was not available for questioning.
Carson and Chuck were due to meet with the ADA around two in the afternoon. Tiffany hoped they had some good news about the alibi witness. She felt if she could break the accused's alibi then she could break the case wide open. At least that's what she hoped would happen.
As usual the detectives arrived at the ADA's office a little early, around a quarter til. She offered them some coffee, they accepted, black.
“Okay, tell me some good news, gentleman,”Tiffany beamed hopefully.
Chuck and Carson looked at each other, Chuck opted to speak first. “Well we just came from interviewing the alibi witness, a Sherry Miller. Although her story sounded somewhat rehearsed, as you might guess from a defense witness, it was overall very believable and credible as well. She said she had known the accused for over a year, and they had met at the gym on the 32nd Street Naval Station. According to Ms. Miller the accused was with her the whole weekend in question, they never left her apartment, and no one saw them together.”
“Rehearsed, I would say. She covered all the bases, put them in a box and tied the whole thing up with a little bow. Carson, what do you think, you've got a good gut for these things, is she lying?”
Carson cleared his throat and thought for a beat. “I think she is lying, however, there's no way to prove it unless you trip her up on cross. If the defense puts the accused on the stand, maybe you can discover some inconsistencies between their stories. Otherwise, she's a solid witness, in my opinion, Tiffany.”
“Okay, well that's something I guess. We'll just have to see how that plays out.” Tiffany fumbled through some other documents, finally arriving at one in particular. “In the coroner's report, there are some issues I find intriguing. According to Sam Tomas, the medical examiner, he feels the victim was unconscious or drugged at the time of the beating. And also the victim was in a prone position. Tomas sites no wounds on the arms or defensive wounds and none on the posterior part of the victim's body. However, these blows, caused by a baseball bat were not the cause of death. The victim he feels was transported to another location where he was shot between the eyes, twice, with a .22 caliber pistol.”
“Yeah, yeah, that's what we got, which is a sum total of nothing Tiff,” Carson growled.
“The cause of death is not where the case lies is what he's saying. The only chance we got is to break the alibi witness. She's the key, I'm telling you,” Chuck interjected.
“We said that already, Chuck. Let's go back to the beginning, the crime scene where the body was found. The victim was killed with two accurately placed shots between the eyes. Had to be someone pretty familiar with firearms to do some shooting like that. Our guy has a military background, trained in weapons. We also ascertained, painfully as you recall, that there was no elevator to the fifth floor where the body was found. Therefore it was carried up there. Had to be somebody who was pretty strong to do that. Have you seen that guy? Now the big questions are where did he get the vehicle he transported the body in, the drugs, and the pistol? My money is on his step son, Danny. He has a history of all three of those things and he was in town during the time the murder occurred. If we can break his story, I think we'll have this guy.”
Tiffany laughed and shook her head. “That's the problem with this case, guys. All we got is conjecture and what ifs. We don't have one shred of hard evidence against the accused. If I can't break the witnesses on the stand, we got nada. You've got to get me something. The trial starts in a week.”
The detectives left the meeting somewhat dejected, but determined to try and find some hard evidence to bolster the State's case. They were still looking into stolen vehicles that could have been used in the crime, but hadn't come up with anything. They would just have to go back to the drawing board and see what they could come up with.
Chapter Fifty Four
Mary lie with her back turned to Michael, not even wanting to look at him, upset from the whole affair. A tear streamed down her face and dropped on the bed they had shared for so many years.
“Mary, look at me,” Michael said. “I wanted to tell you the whole story but I didn't want to get you involved. I just didn't know how to tell you.”
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“We've got to talk.
“Is it true? Did you have an affair with this Sherry, as they say? And did you murder Charles?” Mary said, finally turning to face Michael, still crying.
Michael looked at his wife of thirty years and was at a loss for words momentarily, then composed himself. “Yes... I killed Charles. I did it for Valerie and Muffin. He had ruined their lives for all those years and to reappear after seven years, I felt I had to do it, so they could move on with their lives. And no, I am not having an affair.”
“Then why did you say you were?”
“Dear, Sherry Miller is a lady whose child's life I saved one day when I was jogging in the park. She owed me a big favor, so I asked her to say I was with her.”
Looking at Michael intensely, she could see the truth in his eyes. She could always tell if he was lying. “I believe you dear. I'm scared. What if they convict you and you go to prison, I couldn't take that.”
“They've got nothing. And if Sherry and Danny hold up in court, there's no way t
hey could convict me.”
“Danny? You got my son involved? What did he do? Tell me.”
“Calm down, calm down,” Michael said touching Mary's face lightly. “He stole a truck, got me some drugs and a gun. But he assures me, we're in the clear. I just hope he holds up o the witness stand.”
“Tell me the whole story.”
Michael began at the beginning. He described how he picked Charles up after the meeting with Valerie and Muffin in the park. How he drugged Charles, beat him and eventually took him to the highrise and shot him.
Mary listened in disbelief, not believing her husband of thirty years was capable of such violence.
The whole story continued as Michael went on to tell his wife how he had field stripped the gun and threw it in the Coronado Bay as he drove over the bridge, then burned the bat he had used to bludgeon Charles and the bloody clothes and shoes. He later thoroughly cleaned the truck, parked it in a garage downtown, and took the trolley and bus to the airport and caught his flight.
Knowing the whole truth was a burden Mary didn't want to bear but she now had no choice. Eventually they went to sleep that night, but it was a restless sleep.
Chapter Fifty Five
Meanwhile back at the ranch, Chuck and Carson were busy re-interviewing, re-canvassing the crime scene area, and trying to get a lead from the hundreds of stolen vehicles that had gone missing during the time frame of the murder. The ADA wanted some hard evidence and that's what they were trying to get her.
Unfortunately their efforts had been in vain up to that point. No one had heard or seen anything suspicious the night or morning of the murder. The coroner had not found anything on the body that might lead the detectives to the killer. No hair or fibers or fingerprints had been found and forensics and CSI had nothing that would shed a light on the dismal situation.
But finally a break came when a red pick up truck registered to a Rodney Cunningham came to their attention. The truck had been stolen a day before the murder and was found abandoned in a parking garage downtown a week later. Could just be the vehicle Chuck and Carson had been searching for, at least they hoped that it was.
They contacted Mr. Cunningham and he agreed to bring the truck in so forensics could go over it thoroughly for blood and DNA evidence.
Chuck and Carson were at their desks engaged in their usual occupations when the call came. “Detective Carson, may I help you? You don't say? Thank you,we're on our way.” Carson hung up the phone with a big smile on his face.
Looking at Carson strangely Chuck said, “Good news?”
“My birthday, the 4th of July, and Christmas all rolled up into one. Good news, I'd say.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“That was forensics, they got a match to the victims blood in the bed of the pickup truck. We may have the link to the killer we've been looking for.”
They had a link, yes, but how to connect it to the suspect was still a conundrum. It was indeed the blood of Charles Smithson, which proved he was transported in the truck, but they still had to prove the accused was in the truck and drove said truck to the highrise where the victim met his final demise.
Someone had stolen the truck, but who? The accused could have stolen the truck but Chuck and Carson doubted it. The smart money was on the accused stepson, Danny Randle. He was in town during that time frame and had a history of grand theft auto.
“Okay, here's what we got,” Carson said, looking intensely at a report he held in his hand. “We know that the victim was in the back of the red pickup from the blood evidence. Heck, I suspect the truck bed is the other crime scene we've been looking for. So we have to some how prove our suspect was in the truck. Unfortunately they didn't find any fingerprints other than the owner and his wife's. The truck was stolen, and abandoned at a parking garage downtown. Maybe, just maybe, one of the parking lot attendants remembers seeing the accused. It's a long shot but worth checking out.”
“I think it's worth a shot as well to check the businesses up and down Third Ave. in Chula Vista, maybe someone might remember seeing a huge man driving a red pickup truck. Possibly he was circling the block stalking the deceased and one of the shop owners noticed him,” Chuck added.
Good, good. This is good. Let's put together a six pack with the accused's picture and show it to the attendants at the parking garage and also to any and all employees working in the stores up and down Third Ave. We might just get lucky.”
Chapter Fifty Six
Michael Parson, who was out on bail thanks to his step daughter Valerie, was busy himself going over his testimony with family attorney, Raymond Tremble. The lawyer was a diminutive man, with a head full of wiry red hair, and bushy eyebrows that made him look somewhat like a fox terrier. He was small in stature, but he spoke with a mighty voice when he got into the courtroom defending his clients.
Tremble wanted to put Michael on the stand as the defense's star witness, the accused, however, wasn't so crazy about the idea. “You've got to get on the witness stand and tell your story. All you have to do is tell the truth.”
“The truth? I wouldn't want to do that,” Michael said cracking a small smile. “I will however tell my story. As long as Sherry holds up we shouldn't have any problems.”
“That's another thing, this Sherry. How long have you known her?”
“Oh, about a year or so. Don't worry she'll be find.”
“I hope you're right, 'cause if they break her, you're toast my friend.
“Danny, my step son, now he's a little shaky. We might need to work with him a little. But he should be find.”
“Okay, right now the prosecution doesn't have anything, only conjecture. Is there anything out there that going pop up and bite us in the rear? If there is, let me know now. I don't surprises.”
No, no, we're good. Should be smooth sailing.”
“In my experience, these things never go the way they're planned. Murphy's law always applies. If something can go wrong, it will. Witnesses get nervous, get confused by the prosecutor, and before you know it they're testifying for the State. I'm just telling you this so you won't get overconfident. Right now, we're fine, but who knows what the ADA is going dig up before the trial.”
“There's nothing to dig up, don't worry.”
“I'm not worried. I'm not the one who is going to do the time, if you're convicted.”
Chapter Fifty Seven
Cassie McPherson, was a nosy old lady, who'd been working at the downtown parking garage for ten years. She had beady brown eyes, a build like a line backer, and a memory like an elephant. Luckily for Chuck and Carson she had been on duty the day the mysterious man had drove the red pickup into the lot and abandoned it.
“Good afternoon, I'm Detective Brown, and this is Detective Carson, SDPD,” Chuck said cheerfully by way of introduction.
Cassie looked at the two detectives curiously over a pair of horn rimmed glasses. “I'm Cassie McPherson, how can I help you gentleman of the law this afternoon?”
Carson stepped in to answer Cassie's question. “We're investigating a homicide and we desperately need your help.”
“My help?” Cassie sort of chortled as she adjusted her horn rims.
“Yes, ma'am,” Carson said, pulling the photo array and a picture of the red pickup out of his pocket. “The man we're looking for, a huge man, came driving through here a couple of months ago in a red Chevy pickup. Do you remember seeing any of these men?”
Squinting and wrinkling her nose, the parking lot lady perused the pictures. She studied them carefully for a minute. Then her head began to shake up and down in recognition. She pointed at the man in the right hand corner. “That's the one, I remember him. He was a big man, kinda handsome. I tried to chat him up, you know, but he seemed very preoccupied, like he was on a mission. But I'm positive, that was the guy.”
Carson and Chuck looked at each other approvingly. It was the photo of their suspect, Michael Parson. “Would you be willing to testify in court
that you saw this man come through here driving a red pickup?” Chuck said.
“Sure, be happy to. Anything to help San Diego's finest. Just let me know when you need me. I'll be there with bells on,” Cassie beamed, like the whole episode had made her day.
So the trip down to the parking garage had been a fruitful one. Now they headed down to Third Ave. in Chula Vista to see if anyone up and down the row of shops had seen our suspect driving up and down the street the day of the murder. The detectives just might get lucky again.
Canvassing is always dull and tedious, that day was no different. At least it was a beautiful day and they talked to a lot of very nice people, however for the first two hours, none of the nice people had seen anything.
They were just about to quit for the day and go get a bite to eat when they entered a small comic book store to inquire about the mystery man from the employee therein. A young lady with blond hair with blue ends and a ring in her nose, was standing behind the counter engrossed in a comic book of some sort. If not for the little bell that tinkled annoyingly, she would have been oblivious to the detectives' arrival. She was dressed all in black with boots laced up to her knees and a skirt so short it left little to the imagination.
Chastity Lazure was her name, although I doubt she had adhered to that value in quite some time. She peered over her comic book like she was annoyed a customer would come into the store to disturb her.
“Young lady, I wonder if you could help us,” Chuck said, hoping she didn't know anything and they could quickly finish and go to eat.
At first she pretended not to hear Chuck but eventually acknowledged the detectives presence in the store. She threw the comic book she was reading on the counter in disgust. “What comic book were you looking for? What's the name?”
Carson cleared his throat and hasten to clear up the reason why Chuck and him were in a comic book store. He flashed his badge quickly and returned it to his coat pocket. “Official police business,” he growled. He pulled the photo array and the picture of the truck out of his pocket and turned it so the young lady could see. “We're asking everyone up and down the block if they remember seeing any of these gentleman driving a red pickup truck up and down Third Ave. one afternoon a couple of months ago.”
Seven Years After Page 12
