Scent of Murder

by James O. Born

  Fusco looked the man in the eye, then fumbled with his words. “We, er, I’m working on a serial kidnapper. We’ve developed a list of suspects from the FDLE roster of sexual predators. I was told you supervise more than half the predators on probation.”

  Slaton nodded his head. “Same old story. Instead of trying something innovative, just go to the list of regulars.”

  “They do cause most of the problems.”

  That comment made Claire recall that 2 percent of all convicted felons accounted for 90 percent of serious crimes, but she wasn’t going to throw that stat out now.

  Slaton said, “Is it so hard to investigate?”

  “That’s what I’m doing.” His voice edged up to match the pudgy probation officer’s tone.

  Slaton said, “By making me do your job?”

  At this point Claire wanted to introduce the probation officer to Smarty.

  Fusco didn’t take the bait. Instead, he said, “I was hoping to work with you to get current addresses and any insights you might have on some of the men on our list.”

  Slaton sighed and said, “You don’t think the state gives me enough to do? I have a caseload of over 150 probationers and parolees. All I can do is identify the worst five percent and try and focus on them. It’ll take me hours to go through a list with you.”

  “It could be a huge help and maybe lead to this guy’s arrest.”

  “Or it could be a huge waste of time and lead to me getting further behind on my daily casework.”

  Now Claire was getting frustrated. This guy was supposed to be part of the team. Is this what detectives had to put up with? Who could argue with an effort to capture someone who kidnaps teenage girls?

  Finally, Fusco said, “Here’s the list. Let’s take a few minutes and go through it right now.” He left no room for the probation officer to weasel out of his responsibilities.

  Claire held one end of the fifty inch printout containing a list of the sexual predators they were interested in. She and Fusco spread it across the warm hood of Fusco’s Crown Vic. After looking through the list, Fusco and the probation officer narrowed it to about three dozen suspects. Arnold Ludner was one of them. She knew to look for the name. He was tied to Tim Hallett too closely to ignore it.

  The probation officer said, “Ludner definitely could be a suspect in something like this. He’s off probation but has the sexual predator tag for life. He never gave me any trouble, but he’s hard to get a fix on. He lives west of Military Trail and south of Tenth Avenue west of Lake Worth. Eight or nine guys on this list live in the same neighborhood.”

  Fusco said, “Can you tell me anything else about Ludner?”

  “Two of his sons did time on a drug rap and aggravated assault charge. The youngest son is a lawyer and accompanied his dad to every meeting at our office. He’s big into the intimidation bullshit and is constantly threatening to sue someone. He claims his father was railroaded and abused.”

  Fusco nodded and said, “It was one of our guys who made him tell us where the girl was.”

  Claire was surprised how proud he sounded talking about Hallett’s action a few years ago.

  “I heard all about it. I can’t believe the sheriff didn’t fire a guy like that.”

  Claire watched the probation officer scan the list again, and all she could think was, Thank God I don’t have a job like his.

  * * *

  Junior felt a wave of relief as he watched the noon news on the tiny TV he kept in his office and heard no mention of a missing teenage girl. He wasn’t even certain Tina Tictin’s mom would have reported her missing by now. He understood how families like that worked. First, it was minor neglect. Then, once they were annoying teenagers, it was easy to totally ignore them. That’s why he wasn’t surprised to hear the airwaves quiet about her disappearance.

  After his busy morning with meetings and reports, he was glad to take his mind off his job for a few moments during lunch. His bosses thought they knew him, and it was all he could do to keep from smiling about everything he kept concealed. They were idiots, just like everyone else.

  The other thing he focused on was how well he’d hidden Tina’s body. With a shovel from the truck, it hadn’t been hard to dig along the bank of the canal, then dump the cooling body into the hole. Even as she thumped into the muddy grave, water rushed in, pushing dirt and sediment over her. By the time he was finished shoveling the watery dirt he had dug out back into the grave, Tina’s body was completely covered with water.

  A couple of lucky moves by water management officials could raise the water level in all the canals. Something like that would put her body out of reach for anyone who might be looking for her until the dry season. It wouldn’t surprise him if she was never found. And if she was, the water and mud would have scraped her body clean of any incriminating DNA or microscopic evidence.

  He chuckled out loud at his brilliance as he opened the page on his Internet Explorer and looked at the information he had gathered on his next potential date. His encounter with Tina Tictin had taken it up a notch, and he realized he could probably never go back to the boring old blindfold again. Maybe he had time to act once more before the police scrutiny became too strong.

  It was fun being the smartest person in the state.

  13

  Tim Hallett and Rocky searched for the address in an older neighborhood known as Westgate. He had one uniformed patrol deputy following him in a cruiser. John Fusco and Sergeant Greene had come up with a list of convicted sexual predators that they wanted found and talked to. Based on Hallett’s background in the detective bureau, they didn’t feel it was necessary to waste a detective with him. Hallett felt like it was a make-work detail, but if it was a lead they could clear up that steered them toward a quick capture of the kidnapper, he didn’t mind one bit. This could be the lead that broke open the case. It was at least plausible. Any of these suspects could be potential child predators. He knew it wasn’t the time to cop an attitude about assignments.

  Darren Mori and Brutus had been sent to a neighborhood west of Military Trail in Lake Worth. One of the names on his list was Arnold Ludner. Hallett wished he was the one looking for Ludner, but he understood the sergeant’s decision. Rocky showed no particular interest in Arnold Ludner.

  Claire Perkins and Smarty were near the same neighborhood as Darren. In some cases, where the offender was still on supervision from the Department of Corrections, a probation officer would assist. Theoretically, the investigators would be able to eliminate each of these suspects quickly because they had to account for their whereabouts at all times.

  Hallett was concerned Claire was being sucked in by Fusco’s super-cool act. The thought of a smart young woman like Claire wasting her time with a jerk like Fusco turned his stomach. He viewed Claire like a little sister and would act like a protective brother if Fusco stepped out of line.

  Hallett slowed the big Chevy Tahoe as Rocky sat in his rear compartment, checking out the sights. One advantage to leaving Rocky in the back was the “bail-out button” attached to Hallett’s tactical vest. If Hallett was out of the car talking to someone and got into an unexpected scuffle, all he had to do was press the button on the transmitter and the door to Rocky’s rear compartment in the Tahoe automatically opened, allowing Rocky to enter the brawl. He’d never had to use it because he brought Rocky with him almost every time he left the car.

  The houses in the neighborhood were a little run-down. The area used to be called the “redneck ghetto,” but in the last decade and a half, the demographics had switched to largely Caribbean islanders. The old, unincorporated neighborhood held enough of a mix to be known as one of the more dangerous areas in the county. No one seemed to get along with anyone else, and there was constant conflict between the various ethnic groups and the rednecks who clung to the belief that they still controlled the streets.

  There was a strong correlation between social economic standing and registered sexual offenders. The Florida Department of
Law Enforcement kept a detailed list of offenders that could be viewed as a map on a computer. Hallett had noticed the congregation of red dots on the map of Palm Beach County. Each concentration corresponded to trailer parks, low-rent apartments, and housing developments. That wasn’t to say there weren’t plenty of sexual offenders spread out in the rest of the county. Even the town of Palm Beach had several. But they tended to be higher profile. A neighborhood like this had a disproportionate population of sexual offenders.

  One of the statistics classes that Hallett had taken at Palm Beach Atlantic University had taught him to look at all the factors in any analysis and consider the reasons behind statistical statement. He understood that one of the reasons for this grouping of sexual offenders was that they couldn’t afford attorneys that might get the charges dropped, or at least reduced.

  Hallett had read in the newspaper about a guy in Palm Beach who’d been caught with two underage girls. His argument was that it was a consensual act. Sometimes it was difficult for the public to grasp that there was no such thing as consensual sex with a minor. Since the jerk was wildly wealthy, he had a team of lawyers drag out the proceedings and attack the police chief needlessly. The chief of Palm Beach was widely respected and handled the situation with class, but some of the cops in the county wanted to lynch the pervert who had started it all. In the end, he was convicted of some lesser charge and ultimately designated a sexual offender. Hallett doubted anyone in this lower-income neighborhood would get the same treatment. For them it was arrest, arraignment, public defender, plea, sentencing, jail, and then spend the rest of your life tagged as a sexual offender. He thought the system to designate sex offenders was sound, but he hated the inequality between the rich and the poor. The system needed tweaking. Unfortunately, removing attorneys from the system wouldn’t be one of the tweaks.

  Hallett had fought back against any injustice since he was a kid. He hated the idea that some kids didn’t have enough to eat before school; he hated it that some parents showed no interest in their kids. At least on law enforcement matters he and Rocky could stand up to injustice. No one seemed to realize that it was an injustice when residents were too scared to walk down the street or store owners went bankrupt after too many robberies.

  Hallett found the address listed on the sheet John Fusco had given him. It was a single-family, one-story house with duct tape over one of the windows in the front and six dead bolts on the front door. As he and Rocky stepped out of the Tahoe, the skittish deputy walked over from his cruiser.

  The guy was wiry, in his early twenties, probably about the same age as Hallett when he started with the sheriff’s office. He wore leather gloves. Hallett didn’t like the practice, even if it was safer. He felt it gave the wrong impression to the general public.

  The deputy stayed several paces away from Rocky. Smart move. Before they could start heading toward the front door, two young boys peeked from around a scraggly hedge. Hallett smiled at them and squatted down next to Rocky, encouraging the boys to step closer.

  They were both about six years old and slowly stepped away from the bushes and edged closer to Rocky. Their eyes were wide with excitement.

  One boy said, “Can we touch it?”

  “Rocky is a ‘he,’ not an ‘it.’ Would you like to be called ‘it’?”

  The boys both shook their heads vigorously.

  Hallett smiled and said, “Go ahead, boys, you can pet him. He won’t hurt you.”

  The other deputy said, “You sure we have time for this?”

  Hallett didn’t take his eyes off the boys and spoke without turning his head. “We always have time for good boys.”

  Both the boys smiled when they heard Hallett talk about them. And it put him in an instant good mood.

  Finally, Hallett sent the boys on their way and led Rocky up the uneven front path to the door with six locks on it. Rocky seemed to have a bounce in his step after the encounter with the boys. No one could calculate how valuable a little investment of time like that could be.

  The other deputy stepped to the side of the front door in a good tactical move, but he seemed far too eager to get into a scrap. Hallett knew it was actually a lack of confidence and a need to prove himself.

  Rocky was the biggest reason for Hallett’s confidence in most situations. Everything they’d been through together made their bond strong. There were few situations Hallett worried about when he had Rocky ready to jump in.

  They waited after he knocked on the door twice and heard a long succession of locks turning. As the door opened a crack Hallett noticed Rocky cower down slightly and take a step back. He couldn’t imagine what would cause this reaction in his fearless dog until the door opened all the way.

  As he looked up, all Hallett could say was, “Holy shit.”

  * * *

  Rocky didn’t know this area at all. It was an interesting mix of odd scents and crumbling sidewalks. There were scraggly trees and no animals in sight except one scrawny cat darting across the road. That was the only thing that grabbed Rocky’s attention. The absence of life spooked him. The bright sun was directly overhead and cast very short shadows.

  As soon as he was out of the vehicle and on a lead, Rocky discovered a whole new set of smells. Other dogs had been here. A lot of dogs. He strained to sniff the base of the tree as Tim shifted to meet another man. This man was dressed the same way a lot of people Tim talked to were. He had the loud thing on his hip, and Rocky could tell immediately Tim was a little annoyed at him. Rocky decided he would make Tim happy and have a little fun at the same time. He turned toward the man, stepped next to Tim, and emitted a low growl. That made the man jump back. Rocky had to resist the urge to wag his tail. Tim and the man communicated while Rocky explored as far as his lead allowed. Then he noticed two young people creep forward. Their eyes were wide, and after a moment, when Tim spoke to them, their fear changed to wonder. Tim had him sit and let the young people come up close and pat his head. Rocky liked the attention. After a few moments of this, Rocky followed Tim toward a house.

  As he approached the door, Rocky sensed something was not right. When Tim called into the house, Rocky heard steps. Something heavy. He saw a shadow and sensed the fear in both Tim and the other man. Then he felt the fear wash over him as he saw the man inside the house.

  Rocky heard Tim say something, but he didn’t know what the words meant.

  He had to be strong for Tim.

  * * *

  Claire Perkins had enjoyed working with John Fusco earlier in the day. It was one of her first efforts in investigations. The fat probation officer had been abrasive, but she liked how Fusco had handled him. He had been calm but didn’t let the probation officer try to bully him. They really did need his help.

  But that was this morning, and at this moment, shortly after lunch, Claire didn’t want the tall, muscular road patrol deputy to ride in the Tahoe with her and Smarty. Secretly, she had been hoping John Fusco might decide to accompany her on the assignment, even though this made more sense. Fusco was busy with the overall case. The deputy who had been assigned caught the hint that he wouldn’t be riding in her Tahoe. They had six names on their list to locate. Given her lack of experience in sex crimes and looking for fugitives, she assumed these were six of the less likely suspects in the kidnappings.

  The first thing the other deputy had said when he met her was, “You’re a cute little thing.” In reply, Claire hummed a note that caused Smarty to bark and snap at the startled deputy. The moron still didn’t catch on.

  After they’d gone through the list of suspects and talked to John Fusco about them, the road patrolman asked her if she had a boyfriend.

  Claire said, “Maybe, why?”

  He looked surprised at her answer. “I’m not used to answers like that from women.”

  “What kind of answers are you used to?”

  The tall deputy, who was a member of the SWAT team, and known as a serious player at all the local singles clubs, said, “It, I d
on’t know, seems like a weird response to my question.”

  Claire looked the deputy up and down and said, “I have a question for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  Claire took a moment to assess his sense of humor and said, “A train leaves Chicago traveling west at fifty miles an hour…”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” The deputy looked kind of like Smarty when he cocked his head to one side.

  Claire patted him on the shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, at least you’re pretty.” She was afraid her sarcasm had been lost on the dim-witted muscle-head. At least she felt good about herself.

  Now they were driving to the second address on their list, after having questioned one suspect who could prove he was at his job as a law clerk at a local firm. Tim Hallett had told her and Darren to stay alert because the interviews were important and sent a message the CAT could tackle any assignment.

  Claire checked her rearview mirror to make sure the uniformed deputy was still behind her, then called back to Smarty in his rear seat compartment and said, “If you get a chance to nip this idiot who’s following us, I won’t be upset.” Smarty just looked at her through the cage, and she knew he understood. She parked in front of a duplex with a wide field behind it. Old, dried-out plastic lawn furniture was strewn across the front yard, mixed in with the weeds and exposed dirt. A quick scan of the neighborhood confirmed no one else moving around.

  Smarty followed her out of the Tahoe as she attached a six-foot lead. The other deputy paused to make sure his fitted uniform shirt had no wrinkles and reached down to feel the handle of his pistol in his tactical holster. Then he strutted toward her until he remembered Smarty and froze in his tracks at the edge of the Tahoe.

  Claire said, “You want to go around the back wall and I’ll knock on the front door?”

  “It’s not like this guy’s a fugitive. We’re just gonna talk to him.”

  “You never know what a convicted felon is gonna do.”