Scent of Murder

by James O. Born

  “My office.”

  “What you do here?” Darren looked around the barren office that had a few empty desks and unused phones.

  “I sell time-shares, but it’s slow right now.”

  Now Darren’s interest was piqued. “Can I take a look around?”

  “Why?”

  “Can I?”

  The man looked down at the floor and shook his head. “No.”

  Darren leaned in close to him and said, “That shithead out in the parking lot is your supplier, isn’t he?” He loved playing the bad cop even if there wasn’t a good cop around. It was rare he got to be involved in this sort of discussion. But it did feel odd interviewing someone without Brutus at his side—even if the dog wouldn’t be any help in a fight and wasn’t particularly intimidating.

  The man shook his head at Darren’s assertion, saying, “No, we’re just friends.”

  Darren gave him his best tough-guy glare and said, “Stay right here. We’ll see what’s going on.”

  * * *

  Tim Hallett stood alone in the parking lot with Arnold Ludner Jr. Ludner’s hands were cuffed behind his back, and he was leaning against the SUV. Rocky was inside his compartment right behind the shithead. Hallett liked the idea of letting the suspect worry about startling the agitated dog. He also liked the idea that if the situation went wrong, Rocky was just a quick push of a button away from helping him.

  Hallett needed something to scare this guy. He was going to check his ankle and ribs for injuries similar to the ones Michelle Swirsky described, but he was hoping the guy would talk first.

  Darren Mori came out the office and marched over to them saying, “The victim says he threatened him with a knife.”

  Hallett caught his partner’s wink and knew it was just a ploy to make the suspect confess. The problem was the suspect’s experience. He also knew his distributors well.

  Arnold Ludner Jr. looked Hallett square in the face and said, “Bullshit. He didn’t say that.”

  “He didn’t say it or you didn’t do it?”

  The suspect just smiled. He really had the victim figured out. Finally, Hallett said, “Let’s forget this whole ugly incident and talk about your dad.”

  “I already did. You didn’t want to listen.”

  “Now I have a new perspective.”

  * * *

  After ten minutes of talking and negotiating, Tim Hallett felt like he had developed a real rapport with Arnold Ludner Jr. That’s why, at the suspect’s request, Hallett had led him over to the side of the building and moved his handcuffs to a more comfortable position with his hands in front. Claire and Darren were tending to their dogs by their vehicles, which were now parked in the shopping center. No one had called this in yet, and Hallett thought he might be able to parlay it into a much bigger payoff than a simple assault with a knife. So far, he had violated several major policies for handling prisoners. The two men stood in a miniature breezeway underneath an overhang to the shopping plaza. Hallett had allowed the silence between them to last two minutes, hoping it might eat at Ludner’s guilt. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to phrase the questions, but he knew he wanted Arnold Ludner Jr. to say he had attacked Michelle Swirsky and that’s why he was so certain his father was innocent. But that was a lot to ask.

  Ludner leaned in and said, “Okay, I’m ready to talk.” He lifted his handcuffed wrists and motioned Hallett closer.

  Hallett felt the excitement run through his body, believing he was about to solve the biggest case in the sheriff’s office right now. He stepped in closer and said, “I’m listening.”

  The suspect mumbled something and Hallett leaned closer.

  Arnold Ludner Jr. bent down, then sprang up, driving the crown of his head into Hallett’s face. At the last moment, Hallett turned and took the head butt on his forehead, but it still knocked him against the wall and onto the ground. As his vision cleared, he looked up to see Ludner running hard across the rear parking lot toward a residential neighborhood. Hallett didn’t hesitate to spring to his feet and give chase.

  He closed so much of the distance so quickly that he didn’t bother to call for help or send Rocky after the pudgy doper. He wanted to deliver the payback himself. Hallett kicked it into high gear and hit the hefty drug dealer just as he reached the street. He delivered a high body block like a linebacker. Both men hit the ground, but Hallett had the luxury of using Arnold Ludner Jr. as a cushion. His handcuffed hands couldn’t splay out and break his fall, so he skidded along the asphalt like a raccoon hit by a Lincoln Continental.

  Hallett landed directly on top of him, facing the sweaty drug dealer. He glanced around quickly to see if anyone had noticed they weren’t standing at the plaza. They were alone.

  Hallett said, “Why’d you run, asshole?”

  “Did you forget who I was? It’s my job to run. It’s your job to catch me.”

  Hallett thought about that for a moment. This guy was some kind of philosopher. Hallett pushed off him and helped the tubby man to his feet. He brushed off a couple of the pebbles stuck to his cheek and shoulders.

  “I thought you wanted to help your dad.”

  The drug dealer said, “Why replace one innocent man with another? I know what you’re trying to get at. I’ve never harmed a woman in my whole life and don’t know why you think I had anything to do with the crime.”

  Hallett said, “I saw you leave the house the night Michelle Swirsky was attacked.”

  “I leave the house every night. I’m a fucking drug dealer. My brother’s the one on probation. He’s the one that has to be at home most times. That leaves me to go out and make collections and check on our distributors. What made you think I was connected with the attack?”

  “You rent a lot of cars. That fits with the kidnapper.”

  The surly drug dealer said, “You never worked narcotics, did you? If you did, then you know anyone in my business transports the bigger loads of dope in rental cars. That way if we’re caught and the cops seize the car, we don’t lose nothing.” He shook his head in disgust.

  Hallett understood the reasoning but didn’t want to give away any information that Fusco or homicide was holding back. Instead, he jerked up Arnold Ludner Jr.’s pants legs and said, “Let me see your ankles.”

  The drug dealer lifted each leg, one at a time, so Hallett could examine his bare ankles. There were no marks at all.

  Then he yanked on Arnold Ludner Jr.’s shirt to examine his ribs. Nothing.

  Hallett pulled the drug dealer to his feet and slowly started walking back toward the plaza. “You know what we suspect your dad of doing.”

  “I already told you I did. My brother and I aren’t happy about it. We’d like to keep it from ever happening again.” His tone was steady and serious.

  “If I give you some dates, you think you could provide me with some alibis just so I could eliminate you as a suspect? It might mean we can focus on someone else and clear this up faster.”

  “If you’re talking about the two girls that were kidnapped a couple of years ago, I can tell you right now I’ll have the perfect alibi.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I was in jail.” Then, after a few seconds he added, “Sherlock Holmes.”

  Hallett had moved so fast he hadn’t checked simple things like that. It was still just a theory, but if the alibi was true, and right now he believed the drug dealer, he was back to square one.

  38

  Tim Hallett had already explained the bruise on his forehead as “just a minor mishap” to Lori Tate. They enjoyed the rest of their casual dinner at a Mexican restaurant on Forest Hill Boulevard with light banter about everything except the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office and work.

  Hallett had left Rocky at his mother’s house, where he enjoyed running around her fenced backyard and chasing imaginary rabbits. The more time he spent with Lori, the more he was beginning to believe she was really something special. She didn’t say much about her family except that she’d been
born in Alabama and raised in North Florida, which explained her light southern accent.

  When they had first come into the place, waiting for a table at the bar, they’d watched a local news show that featured a story on Michelle Swirsky, newly famous for her escape from an attacker.

  Hallett noticed the reporter tried to sound like a teenager during the interview. She spoke like someone who watched too much MTV. It had to be awkward dealing with people like that.

  Michelle said she hadn’t realized how lucky she was at first when she escaped from the man. She hadn’t even told her mother until she saw a news story about the murder of a teenager and the description of the man who killed her sounded a lot like Michelle’s attacker. She had to do what was right.

  Hallett smiled, knowing what the girl had escaped. She was lucky.

  After dinner, when he ran out of conversation about movies he liked and answered her questions about his own childhood, Hallett hinted that he was still interested in what was going to happen with Arnold Ludner. He didn’t mention any of his earlier conversation with Arnold Ludner Jr. As far as anyone was concerned—since there wasn’t a complaint and the victim wasn’t willing to talk, and Hallett was embarrassed that the guy had managed to get away from him, even if it was only for a few seconds—the incident had never occurred. He had released a slightly pissed-off Arnold Ludner Jr. from custody and gone about his regular patrol work.

  Lori said, “I think homicide is going to charge Ludner very soon. I don’t know for sure, because the detective, Danny Weil, doesn’t mix with anyone in the office. No one trusts him.”

  “How’d he get the case?”

  “He politicked hard to get something other than the drug shootings cases he usually gets. The sergeant gave it to him before it was linked to the others and became so high profile.”

  Hallett shook his head and thought how much of a role chance played in police work. Chance had screwed this case up in a big way.

  * * *

  Junior wrote out his plan like an engineer, calculating the odds of grabbing Michelle at the community college, at home, or at work. He realized he needed to take a breath, step back, and plan this thing out carefully, but he couldn’t ignore the pounding drive that was forcing him to take action when his common sense said it that was ridiculous. What options were left?

  The school had cameras and its own security force, as well as the occasional patrolling Palm Beach County sheriff’s deputy. Everyone kept their eyes open where young people congregated.

  Michelle’s mother was so crazy right now that it was conceivable her house was an armed camp. He could find himself outgunned and outmatched by the high-kicking girl and her suspicious mother. Besides, there were too many neighbors who could see something and report it to the police.

  That left the Publix supermarket where she worked. He hadn’t seen any cameras in the parking lot. Michelle had to walk outside into the parking lot frequently to deliver the groceries purchased by the elderly people in the neighborhood. That could work.

  It might take a couple of nights of surveillance and planning to get it right. Maybe he’d do it one night after he visited his father. He could use the idea of grabbing Michelle as a way to get through the ordeal of visiting his father in that nasty place. It smelled and gave him the creeps.

  Junior wondered if he could wait. This urge to complete his mission with Michelle and teach her she wasn’t better than him threatened to drive him crazy.

  * * *

  Tim Hallett noticed John Fusco cringe when he and Rocky walked into the detective bureau. He could hear the detective saying quietly to himself, “Don’t come over here. Don’t come over here.” Then, when Hallett turned and marched directly toward him, Fusco muttered a quiet “Shit.”

  Hallett stopped right in front of the desk, and his dog sat immediately, staring at Fusco like a hound out of an old horror movie. Hallett said, “Can we talk rationally?”

  “I don’t know, can we?”

  “I recognize that this is your case and I might’ve been overstepping the boundaries, but I’m concerned that we’ve arrested the wrong man.”

  “As concerned as you were that we hadn’t done anything to arrest him in the first place? Concerned enough to hound me to take action? I can remember you pounding the drum pretty hard for us to focus on Arnold Ludner. Now tell me who else we can focus on.”

  “I know, I know. But haven’t you ever made a mistake?”

  Fusco took a moment, sighed, and said, “Look, Tim, most of this is out of my hands anyway. That jerk-off Danny Weil in homicide is the one driving the ship now. But if you came up with something, I might be able to show it to the sergeant in homicide.”

  Hallett didn’t want to imply that Fusco didn’t know what he was doing. He did. The obnoxious New Yorker was one of the most successful detectives in the whole county. But Hallett was desperate to stay involved in the case and was grasping at straws.

  Hallett said, “I’ve been looking at photos of the girls, and they all have a similar look. Not necessarily hair and eye color but sort of an athletic, innocent look.”

  Fusco just nodded silently.

  “And the fact that he has hot-wired vehicles so effectively means he might have a criminal background related to auto theft. Or he closely associates with someone who knows their shit.”

  Fusco said, “Or he’s an auto mechanic.”

  “There is that, too.” He reached down to rub Rocky on the neck, a nervous habit he had whenever he was at a loss for words. Then he blurted out, “The other thing I’ve puzzled over is the locations where he grabbed the girls. It seemed like he knew the best places to avoid detection and confuse investigations.”

  “Look, Tim, do you have a point?”

  “I just want you to know I’m available if anything comes up you need help with.”

  “I understand what you’re going through. It’s tough to be kicked out of the detective bureau. Twice. But you still got your job, and you seem to like hanging out with your dog.”

  That earned a growl from Rocky as if he could follow the conversation clearly.

  Fusco continued, “Let the detectives work this case. That’s what we’ve been trained for.”

  “Will you at least keep an open mind? I know I pushed you toward Ludner, but I think you’re making a terrible mistake.”

  Fusco was no longer angry at the dog handler; he just felt sorry for him. He said, “Sure, pal, I’ll keep an open mind.”

  * * *

  In the three days since he had talked to John Fusco in the detective bureau, Hallett had been on a roller coaster of emotions, from hope that the detective might listen to him to despair when he realized his career at the sheriff’s office could be over. But, as usual, a combination of Josh and Rocky had lifted him out of his funk.

  It was exactly the kind of Sunday morning Tim Hallett lived for. He had Josh with him for the weekend; they had spent the morning feeding the animals in the pens and watching Rocky chase wild rabbits on the edge of the school property. Usually he’d feel like a million bucks. Josh was dressed in a tiny button-down shirt with a short clip-on tie, ready for church. Rocky paced, knowing the church was one of the few places he couldn’t go.

  As usual, the TV was on in the background, and Hallett only paid passing attention to certain stories running across the local NBC station’s newscast. This weekend show focused on human-interest stories more than breaking news, but it caught him up on life in the rest of Palm Beach County. No one ever did human-interest stories in Belle Glade.

  Hallett glanced at the TV and froze. The entire screen was covered by a young woman’s smiling face. It was Michelle Swirsky. He eased himself onto the bed, unable to take his eyes off the TV screen, and listened as Michelle recounted her attack in that cute, halting, teenage cadence. Then a voice-over asked the question, “Was this girl attacked as revenge for a Bernie Madoff–type scheme?” The story went on to say that Michelle’s father was currently serving a five-year sentence in
the Florida Department of Corrections for fraud and other crimes related to his Ponzi scheme.

  Hallett recalled Katie Ziegler saying her father was in jail and that’s why he wasn’t available in case of an emergency. Could it be? He reached across the bed and snatched his phone, dialing the sheriff’s office dispatcher. As soon as someone answered, Hallett identified himself and said, “Can you run a name for me, please?” After a moment he said, “All I have is a last name and location.” He spelled out Tictin and the location in Lake Worth.

  After a few moments the dispatcher came back on and said she had one name that came up through the Florida Crime and Information Center, better known as FCIC. She said, “I have a Robert Tictin, white, male, forty-eight years old.”

  Hallett said, “That’s him.”

  The dispatcher said, “He’s currently in the custody of Department of Corrections. Looks like the charge was possession with intent to distribute cocaine.”

  Hallett felt anxiety rise in him as he realized he’d found the connection between the victims.

  39

  Tim Hallett was on his own now. He didn’t want John Fusco’s pity, or to risk getting Claire or Darren in any more trouble. He had to run down this one lead. He even knew where to go. The girls who’d been kidnapped all had fathers in prison. It had killed him to sit on the information all day Sunday, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Now, he and Rocky were walking into the main probation office in West Palm Beach. Bill Slaton had to feel some sort of involvement in the case. He had supervised Arnold Ludner during his brief probation. The guy was an asshole, there was no doubt of that, but Hallett was sure he would jump at the chance to break a case like this. Who wouldn’t?

  If Slaton didn’t want to help, Hallett could always limp into Fusco’s office, explain what he had discovered, and see what happened. It was an odd feeling to be so isolated. The detective bureau wanted nothing to do with him. It used to be his home.

  Hallett stepped into the seedy Probation and Parole building, and one look at his uniform and Rocky standing next to him sent two of the probationers scurrying to other exits. Even the secretary looked nervous. She reminded him of Crystal with less disposable income to spend on hair care products, fake nails, and wardrobe.