Scent of Murder

by James O. Born

  15

  Tim Hallett nursed his beer as he sat at an outdoor patio table of a restaurant not far from the sheriff’s office’s headquarters. It was known as a deputies’ hangout, and he’d never spent any time here until Darren Mori suggested it as a convenient place to meet after work. Hallett had found he liked the relaxed atmosphere, and by sitting on the patio, he could look directly into his Tahoe to make sure Rocky was comfortable. Darren didn’t say anything, but based on his glances to his own vehicle he felt the same way. Claire had to do something at the detective bureau. Hallett understood that shouldn’t bother him, but he knew Fusco and worried about Claire. He didn’t know why he worried about a woman capable of crushing most men and also had a dog more ferocious than a lion at her disposal. But he still worried. It was in his nature.

  The sergeant and another detective had joined them. The first thing Sergeant Greene said was, “Nothing about the case for fifteen minutes.” It was a standard request when things got tense in the office.

  Sharing a beer after one of the dogs had bitten someone was a ritual observed by many canine units. A K-9 bite was a big deal. It was something dogs trained for every week but rarely had to put into action. They weren’t celebrating the fact that the dog committed violence; they were celebrating the fact that under pressure, and when it counted, the dog performed the way he was trained. They had the same ritual when a dog successfully tracked someone. That made Claire’s absence that much more glaring.

  Every dog handler was proud of his dog that chased someone down. No one wanted to admit it, but they enjoyed the thrill.

  Everyone had cleaned up at the headquarters and wore casual clothes. Ruben Vasquez had come from his house and was wearing shorts. It was the most relaxed Hallett had ever seen the dog trainer. He noticed a spiderweb of white scars running down the dog trainer’s muscular leg. Just another mystery he’d never have the courage to ask Ruben about.

  The bar had changed its image over the years from a dark, smoky pickup place to its current incarnation of a restaurant/lounge that wasn’t family oriented. Management had encouraged it to become a hangout specifically for employees of the sheriff’s office. With almost three thousand of them just down the street, it was a decent base of customers to start with. Add to that the women who wanted to hook up with a cop, and all the friends and family of the employees, and the business ran almost totally on law enforcement.

  Darren had been bragging about his wild single life, most of which Hallett knew to be a sham. Then Darren looked across the table and raised his beer to Hallett and said, “What are you doing tonight, Tim? You and Rocky watching Marley and Me again?” Everyone laughed.

  Hallett said, “I think we’re changing it up tonight. We might try something else.”

  Darren said, “Let me guess, Old Yeller. Or is that too sad for Rocky?”

  Once again, Hallett laughed, then looked across the table to Ruben Vasquez, who didn’t see the humor in Darren’s comment.

  Tim said, “What’s wrong, Ruben?”

  Ruben ran his hand across his right eye. Finally, he said, “Nothing’s wrong. But that’s a movie that has affected me since I was a kid. Think how you’d react if you had to shoot your own dog. It’s like Disney made a movie to terrify kids.” He picked up the napkin and blew his nose.

  Sergeant Greene reached across and patted Ruben on the back. That’s when Hallett realized it wasn’t a joke or an act. The guy was broken up by the movie Old Yeller.

  Darren turned to the sergeant and said, “Anything new on the girl reported missing to Tim?”

  “That’s why I was in the office so late. We’ve got someone working on it, but it turns out the girl has run away a couple of times, plus, legally, she’s an adult. Her mom thinks she skipped beauty school yesterday. The only troubling thing is that a convenience store worker thought he saw her get in a brown pickup truck, he thinks it was a Ford, after she tried to buy beer. He said it looked like she got in the truck voluntarily, but he wasn’t paying that close attention. We should know more tomorrow.”

  Hallett thought back to the pretty woman who had approached him earlier in the afternoon. He could feel her pain but also an undercurrent of doubt. Clearly the woman wasn’t sure whether her daughter had run away or something more sinister had happened.

  The next hour was relaxing as they ate an assortment of appetizers and had a few more beers. Hallett checked on Rocky one time and let the dog stretch his legs, then use the grass on the swale along the edge of the parking lot as a restroom. He could tell his dog was tired, and he knew he’d be headed back to the trailer in Belle Glade before too long.

  Not long after he got back to the table, Sergeant Greene stood up and said, “I’m gonna get a good night’s rest before what promises to be a shitty day.” She stood quickly and gave everyone a wave before she walked from the outdoor patio a few steps to her black Crown Victoria. That started the flood, and everyone but Hallett made their exit.

  As he reached down to take one more bite of a chicken wing, he heard someone call his name. He turned and saw Lori Tate with a group of her friends standing near the outside bar.

  She didn’t hesitate to walk over to him, saying, “I can’t believe they all left you alone so quickly.”

  He smiled and shrugged.

  Lori touched his arm and said, “You don’t have to rush off, too, do you?”

  Hallett couldn’t keep the broad smile from spreading across his face.

  * * *

  Claire Perkins didn’t mind missing the get-together that was somewhat in her honor. Well, technically it would be in Smarty’s honor. She enjoyed hanging out with the other members of the Canine Assist Team and could’ve used a bite to eat and a few minutes to relax. But she got to see those guys all the time, and this was one of the few times she had been asked to get involved in an actual investigation. John Fusco, the lead detective on the case, needed help going through some old police reports to see if there were any links to the current investigation. It wasn’t something the unit was supposed to do specifically, but since the sergeant wasn’t paying overtime out of her budget she had no problem with it. Claire knew better than to say anything to Ruben Vasquez. He was specific about how the money from the federal grant should be spent. He wanted the dogs working for the money, not the dog handlers.

  Worrying about politics and being covert was not something she was familiar with. Claire’s mom had not been thrilled about her decision to go into police work. Her mom thought Claire’s interest in biology would eventually lead her into the sciences or possibly medical school. But Claire had gotten bored while attending Florida Atlantic University and was intrigued at a job fair where a female detective from the Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office told her about the career she had. It was so different from the way she was raised. Aside from disappointing her mom, Claire had no regrets about joining the sheriff’s office. She’d learned a lot about people, and if she hadn’t become a deputy she never would’ve met Smarty.

  Now, dressed in casual clothes, with Smarty sleeping comfortably in the corner, Claire pored through reports, occasionally chatting with Fusco. She felt like a guilty mother dragging Smarty into the D-bureau and making him wait for her rather than sleep on his favorite rug or on the bed. He never let on that he minded, and she appreciated his attentive glances in between short naps.

  Fusco said, “I like the idea of making a lawyer meet us at the sheriff’s office after eight o’clock. It makes us a little OT but also seems to annoy the attorney.”

  Claire said, “He won’t come up here, will he?”

  “Oh, hell no. We’ll go down and talk to him in the lobby.”

  “You want me to go with you?” This was not what she had been assigned to do. She wasn’t complaining, it was just surprising.

  “Absolutely. You can never meet with an attorney by yourself. They’ll twist your words and say all kinds of shit in court if it helps their client. The typical defense attorney cares more about winning the case
than anything else. It’s their livelihood. That’s why there are so many jokes about them.” Fusco stretched in his chair and said, “You know how you can tell when the defense attorney is lying?”

  Claire shook her head.

  “Their lips are moving.”

  Claire gave him a smile at that one. Then the phone rang and the secretary said there was someone in the lobby for Fusco.

  * * *

  Claire didn’t like waking Smarty, but she didn’t want to leave him unattended in the detective bureau either. Fusco liked the idea of the fearsome-looking Shepherd coming with them, and it made her feel like at least she was utilizing Smarty in accordance with the federal grant.

  As they walked down the stairwell, Fusco said, “This time of night there’s no one around, and I don’t like bringing lawyers into the detective bureau. It’s also a way to show slight regard for the attorney and his family.”

  As soon as they stepped through the downstairs stairwell door, Claire saw an average-looking man about thirty, dressed in a suit with a loosened tie. The man appeared tired and more than a little frustrated. She did like that his eyes flicked down to Smarty at her side, but he didn’t make a comment. She knew this was Arnold Ludner’s son Joe. She had been trying to figure out the family dynamic that sent two brothers into the drug business and one to an extra three years of college.

  The first thing Fusco said was, “I thought your father was coming with you.”

  The lawyer hesitated slightly, perhaps giving Fusco an insight into what was happening. “I thought it was best if I talk to you before I brought my dad in.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because of some of the tactics your detectives have used in the past. It traumatized him.”

  “As badly as he traumatized the little girl he left in the woods?”

  “I don’t know if it’s appropriate to get into that right now.”

  “You’re the one who brought it up, counselor. I didn’t call you to exchange pleasantries. I said I needed to talk to your father, and I was giving you the courtesy of calling you about it first.”

  “I would hardly call the right to counsel a courtesy, or are you not familiar with the Constitution?”

  “Are you familiar with the concept of a registered sexual offender?”

  “Apparently more familiar than you. My father is no longer on probation. All he has to do is advise you of his residence, and you are allowed to check to make sure he lives at the residence. You don’t have a right to search his house, and you certainly don’t have a right to order him to talk to you like he was some kind of lifelong indentured servant.”

  Claire felt Smarty ease forward as he sensed the growing tension in the conversation. Fusco’s voice had raised enough to catch the attention of two young women waiting in the lobby near the front door.

  Then Fusco gave the attorney his own smirk and said, “I guess I’ll just be going past your dad’s house until I can verify that he’s there.”

  The attorney started to say something. Fusco interrupted him.

  “I believe this meeting is over, counselor.” He turned and shoved the door that went into the stairwell. Claire paused a moment, looking at the speechless attorney, who was now completely focused on Smarty. She let out one of her low-pitched musical notes, and Smarty knew to give him a good snarl with a complete showing of his front teeth.

  As Claire and Smarty turned to follow Fusco upstairs, she felt like she had contributed something to the encounter.

  16

  Hallett liked how Lori had casually taken the seat next to him and let him order her a beer. She was in a pretty print sundress and looked like she was at a resort in the Caribbean the way she leaned back in the chair and sipped her Corona. He still kept thinking about poor Claire having to spend time with John Fusco.

  Lori said, “You guys meet like this often?”

  “Sometimes, but we always meet after a…”

  A smile spread over her pretty face as she said, “After a what?”

  Hallett hesitated.

  Just her inquiring look pushed him to answer. He sighed and said, “After one of the dogs bites someone.” A moment later he added, “Sorry, that’s a little morbid, isn’t it?”

  “I’ve worked here for years in a couple of different units, and they all have their little wacky rituals. The SWAT guys celebrate after they’re able to use flash-bangs. Some of the patrol units have a drink after a new guy has his first fight. Even the computer guys celebrate when they crack the password on a seized computer. And the narcotics guys, forget about it. They celebrate every arrest and drug seizure. They’re out almost every night.”

  Every police agency Hallett was familiar with had at least a few legendary narcotics agents. They modeled themselves after an earlier generation of hard-working/hard-drinking zealots. There were even some hotels that refused to host the annual convention for the Narcotics Officers Association. The story of them dumping a grand piano into a fountain at a Hilton in Orlando was enough to scare any hotel manager.

  Hallett said, “When do crime scene techs celebrate?”

  “When one of us gets a better job.”

  They both laughed at that.

  Lori said, “Seriously, we all try to better ourselves. I have an application in with the FBI and the new Department of Homeland Security evidence unit.”

  “Why do they need evidence? I thought they did mostly immigration and customs stuff.”

  “Still need forensics. And they pay well.” Then Lori sat up in her chair, leaning in close to Hallett, and said, “You want to go somewhere else for a drink? Maybe get away from every single person we work with?”

  Hallett wanted to, but he looked over his shoulder at his Tahoe holding Rocky and thought about the day he had planned with Josh. Then he said, “I wish I could, but I have an early day tomorrow.”

  “How long is your shift?”

  “I’m not working tomorrow; I’m picking up my son first thing in the morning.”

  He couldn’t tell from her expression if she was surprised, disappointed, or intrigued. But she certainly had caught his interest.

  * * *

  Although Kim Cooper occupied his mind more often than he would admit, Darren Mori didn’t want her to think he was a stalker. Since he had met her two days ago, he had tried to find reasons to go by the airport. He had not seen her at the counter again and was beginning to think he’d have to ask someone at the Hertz desk about her.

  But tonight, wearing the casual clothes he had worn to the bar and leaving Brutus comfortably in the back of his issued Tahoe, Darren saw Kim behind the counter talking to a man in a suit who looked quite agitated.

  Now he worried that she would be too occupied to speak to him, and he didn’t want to seem needy by waiting. He even worried for a moment that she wouldn’t recognize him out of uniform. But as he approached, Kim looked over and smiled at him, then said to the business traveler, “If I give you a Lincoln Town Car instead of a midsize, will that make you happy?”

  The man looked shocked and said, “Yeah, sure. What do I have to do?”

  Kim slapped a set of keys on the counter, told the man the location of the car, and said, “You have to pick up the car in the next three minutes.”

  “What do I have to sign?”

  Kim showed her frustration and said, “Nothing, you’re all set. Just bring it back in three days.”

  The man virtually sprinted from the counter, leaving Kim with a broad smile as she said, “This is a very nice surprise, Deputy Mori. I was hoping I might run into you again.”

  Darren tried to contain his glee at her pleasant greeting. He jumped right to it and said, “When do you get off?”

  Kim casually said, “Usually about ten minutes after I start.”

  Darren was shocked and knew that he was blushing.

  Kim gave him a playful smile and said, “You’re cute. I finish work in about fifteen minutes. And I would love to go anywhere for a quick bite to eat.”
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  Suddenly Darren didn’t care that he had missed Smarty’s bite. He’d rather have a bite with Kim. This was turning into a pretty good day.

  * * *

  Junior gained more confidence with every newscast that went by without mentioning Tina Tictin. He checked the Palm Beach Post Web site, too. Nothing yet. Now he was getting annoyed at her mother. Had the woman not even reported her daughter missing yet? Maybe he had done Tina a favor.

  He also checked the detailed Palm Beach Post crime blotter and found no mention of a truck burglary at the Home Depot lot. It was starting to look like he was a genius. Even if they did find a way to track down Tina’s body, there was absolutely no evidence to connect it to him. And he knew the cops had suspects in the other kidnappings already.

  Junior couldn’t believe how much time his obsession now took up. He had never acted on his urges to teach young women the pleasure of oral sex until a few years ago. At least with this new fetish. It was almost like his previous life, the one before now, hadn’t existed except to point him in this direction. Even his earlier memories were hazy. This had focused him.

  The prostitutes he had paid for never wanted him to do it or seemed to think they were too good to show appreciation. He had a hard time finding ones with the right look for it to be exciting. Then he got the idea to do it forcibly. It was just a joke at first. Then he started to fantasize about it. The satisfaction he’d felt from these fantasies was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. That lasted more than a year, until he started to envision specific girls. At first it was just girls he’d see at the mall or on the street. Then he found himself frequenting the places young women tended to congregate.

  Then he noticed a neighbor’s daughter. Her name was Melanie, and he was under the impression she was only nineteen. That taught him a lot about his own interests. It was then he knew he was stuck on the idea of a young woman he could dominate. Not just when they were alone but without her knowing it. He didn’t care about the age of consent. He loved that elegant phrase that no longer applied in most states. To him it was someone unsuspecting. It represented innocence. It represented the drug he needed to make himself feel important.