by Nat Williams
“Well, the Van Okins were a pretty prominent couple. This is a community. I may be sheriff, but I’m also a resident here. Grew up here, actually.”
“Really? Been here all your life?”
“Not all of it. Went to police academy in Springfield.”
“High in your class, I would imagine.”
“Fourth. I planned on coming back here but got an offer to join the force at Altoona, Pennsylvania, of all places. Spent three years there but my dad got sick. I was ready to come home anyway. George Cowen, who’d been sheriff here for more than a decade, offered me a job. He was a good man. Still is. Taught me a lot. When it came time for re-election he decided to retire. He convinced me to run and endorsed me. That pretty much sealed the deal.”
“You weren’t at the burial just as a citizen though. First and foremost, you’re a cop.”
“True. I was scanning the scene. Not sure exactly what I was looking for. Had my eye on the Purcells. How they were acting, things like that.”
“And my guess is, nothing stood out.”
“Correct. And you? I assume you were applying your psych skills.”
“Did my best,” Munro said. “Didn’t get a tell. It is difficult. You ever been involved in a murder case?”
“A few, most in Pennsylvania.”
“Then you might know that there is no such thing as ‘normal’ behavior of someone close to a murder victim. Some break down. They get hysterical. Some are stunned. Some act as if they had just learned their garden gnome was stolen. The point is, psychology is complicated. Human behavior is difficult to predict. I did pick up on one thing. There was some friction between the Purcells.”
“Yeah, I’m aware that they’ve had some marital problems.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Munro said. “I sensed something between Janet and Obie Lynch, the orchard supervisor. A spark, to use an unscientific term. I think there’s something going on there.”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting, yes. But that bit of information may be worth more than a piece of gossip at the country club. It could be a valuable piece of the puzzle. Seeing where it fits is key.”
“You spend a lot of time around the edges, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Munro said.
“It seems like you don’t always approach cases head-on.”
“You’re onto my M.O.,” Munro said. “Yeah, I like to take the scenic route, so to speak. Start on the exterior, working my way to the center. It’s like that lemon meringue pie over there. You eat around the crust and then you can dive right into the fruity center.”
“Wow, you have a strange way with analogy,” Bachelor said.
“That’s nothing. You should hear my circumlocution.”
“I’m not even going to try to follow that.”
CHAPTER 41
Mindy, the chewing-gum virtuoso, set down plates in front of Bachelor and Munro.
“Anything else I can get you?”
“I believe I’m fine,” Bachelor said. Munro nodded, putting a napkin on his lap.
“Enjoy,” she said as she headed back toward the kitchen.
Munro picked up his fork and knife and eagerly began cutting up his chicken-fried steak. Bachelor worked on his salad.
“So, about Obie Lynch,” Bachelor said between bites. “You were talking about how he could be important. You think he’s a suspect?”
“This is good stuff,” Munro said as he sampled the mashed potatoes and gravy. “No, I don’t see that. Not in my case. Maybe not in yours, though you know more about that than I do. I see him as a potential witness. Or more.”
“More?”
“If he’s dipping his wick into Purcell’s wife he may be willing to help nail him for murdering Janet’s folks. He could benefit from Purcell’s conviction. Where does he stack up with you?”
“He’s been interviewed. Routine stuff. We haven’t found any reason to make him a suspect. You can imagine that we’re having a hell of a time with motive.”
“It may be to your advantage to keep a little heat on him.”
“What do you mean?” Bachelor said.
“Let him think he’s a suspect. Maybe even a hot suspect. That could turn him into a valuable tool.”
“You think he could help finger Purcell? How? Wearing a wire or something?”
“Damn, you’re good,” Munro said. “Maybe. Could be a dead-end, but if you turn up some things on Purcell, a recorded confession could give you more than enough to solve this crime. A lot depends on how your interview with Purcell goes tomorrow.”
“Anyway, it might be a good idea to tail Purcell,” Bachelor said. “Maybe Obie, too.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Munro said. “My case has stalled just a bit because of the major wrinkle of the double murder. If you need help, let me know. I could keep an eye on them if you like. That is, if you want. I know you don’t have a big department. But it could help my case, too, depending on what I discover. Anyway, we could compare notes.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Bachelor said, as he finished off his plate. “Hey, I have an idea. You want to sit in on my interrogation with Bachelor tomorrow? I’d be open to any insights you could offer.”
“You got CCTV?”
“Yep.”
“Sure. Just give me a heads-up and I can be there whenever you’re ready.”
“First, I need to check in with the state’s attorney.”
“Smart,” Munro said.
“Tell me more about yourself, Frank. About your family. All I’ve ever heard about is your uncle from Altoona. Jeez, that sounds like a Groucho Marx line.”
Bachelor set his glass down on the table and shifted in his seat a bit.
“What, you planning on writing a biography?”
“Maybe. Or maybe I just like to get to know the people I’m working with.”
“I was born and raised around here,” Bachelor said. “Number two out of four kids, three boys and my sister, Colleen. My folks are still here and doing fine. I’ve been married eighteen years to my wife, Sharon. Got two kids, Molly and Margaret.”
Bachelor glanced at Munro’s ring finger.
“What about you? I take it you’re not married.”
“Not anymore. Unpopular conflict followed by a negotiated truce. We had one victory – our son, Jason. He’s in high school. Doing well. Likes music.”
He motioned for the waitress. “Wonder what kind of pie they have today.”
CHAPTER 42
Bachelor didn’t get a chance to ask Vernon Hilliard for a meeting. The Gilbert County state’s attorney popped into the sheriff’s office on his way to work.
“How’s it going?” he said. “Any news?”
“Actually, I was going to talk to you,” Bachelor said. “I’m losing interest in Manny Tucker. He’s a small-timer. A petty thief who wouldn’t have the balls to commit a double murder. No motive, either.”
“Please tell me you have a Plan B.”
“A lot of shit is sticking to David Purcell.”
“What kind of shit would that be?”
“I believe he had MMO.”
“Means, motive and opportunity,” Hilliard said. “You have my attention.”
Bachelor filled Hilliard in on the weak alibi, the financial difficulties Purcell was having and the marital problems.
“Don’t tell me you think he was getting back at his wife by killing her parents.”
“I wouldn’t insult your intelligence, although stranger things have happened,” Bachelor said.
Hilliard nodded. “True. I’m always surprised by motives. I saw something on the news the other day where a guy shot his wife after she came back from the hair dresser. He didn’t like the coloring. Can you imagine? Shot her because of her hair color.”
“Well, I imagine they’d had some problems before,” Bachelor said. “Maybe he didn’t like her taste in shoes.”
Hilliard forced a grin.
“In this ca
se,” Bachelor said, “Purcell could have had financial reasons. And maybe other motives.”
Bachelor pondered whether to disclose his unofficial partnership with Munro or the Medicaid fraud investigation. He was concerned Hilliard might take issue with that. He was cautious. Too cautious, Bachelor sometimes thought. He decided to leave Munro out of it. For now, anyway.
“Did Dr. Van Okin have life insurance?”
“No,” Bachelor said. “He didn’t believe in it. But David Purcell may not have known that. Anyway, there’s an estate involved. You don’t need insurance money if your wife inherits a decent stake. And she’s an only child.”
“I’m not telling you how to do your job, but it may not be a bad idea to check into Van Okin’s finances,” Hilliard said. “I’m going to need some solid evidence to go for an indictment. This is a small town and a big crime. To paraphrase Sonny Corleone in The Godfather, I don’t want to walk into the courtroom holding nothing but my dick.”
“But you’re OK walking into a courtroom holding your dick, as long as you have something in your other hand?”
“Don’t fuck with me, Frank. I haven’t had enough coffee. Look, I know you’re good. I know you’re on this. But you have to understand. You can interview a suspect, check out alibis and chase leads. Nothing much happens. You don’t even have to apologize to someone you treated as a suspect but later dropped. But once I make a go for fourth-and-one I’m all in. I’m saying checkmate. But it really better be checkmate or I lose, and lose quite publicly.”
“Understood. I may come up with a very good reason. By the way, your metaphors are mixed.”
“I told you, I’m behind on my coffee consumption this morning. Now, about that good reason?” He glanced at his watch. “I have court at ten.”
“I’m working on audio evidence.”
Hilliard was intrigued.
“Surreptitious surveillance?”
“Maybe. Depends on what I get in the next day or two.”
“That would certainly be helpful. Very helpful. I don’t have to tell you how to go about it legally, do I?”
“Nope. If I get the opportunity it will be voluntary. No wire tapping.”
“A potential plea deal?”
“Nope. Not a suspect. A willing person of interest who could become a golden witness.”
Hilliard tapped his fingers on the briefcase he was carrying.
“Sounds good. Give me a piece of gold I can put in here. I want this case solved. The sooner we get a defendant the sooner I can start working on the indictment. And the trial. This is the biggest thing to hit C-Camp in decades. We’re on the hot seat. Once I get the case it’s on me. I mean really on. I’m under a lot of pressure, you know.”
“I know. Really, I do. We both are. But that pressure is going to shift to resolve. I’m going to give you a case on a silver platter.”
“Keep the platter. Just give me a case. I’ll take it from there.”
Hilliard turned and walked out of Bachelor’s office, thinking ahead to the fourteen misdemeanor and felony cases he and his assistant were going to deal with at ten o’clock in Courtroom B.
CHAPTER 43
“You have visitors,” Liz Johnson said to Bachelor, who was in his office chatting with Carroll and Munro. “Heady and Pearce from FSC.”
“Show them in,” Bachelor said.
Soon the office was crowded with five law enforcement officers from three different agencies. Bachelor gestured for the FSC agents to have a seat.
“I have some detailed information on those tire tracks,” said Pearce. His eyes panned to Munro.
“Doug Munro,” the FBI agent offered sans handshake. Pearce nodded.
“Claude Pearce. This is my partner, Allison Heady.”
“My pleasure,” Munro said.
“I’m all ears,” Bachelor told Pearce. “Lay it on me.”
“Those are 205/75/15. Pirelli.”
“Wow. You sure know your tires,” Bachelor said.
“If it rolls on wheels he knows everything about it,” Heady said. “He can spot a make, model and year from a mile away.”
“Well, maybe not a mile,” Pearce said. “But I can smell a crime scene a mile away.”
“Yeah, and I can smell bullshit right now,” Heady said.
“She’s exaggerating just a little,” Pearce said. “I could tell right away that the tires on the pickup at the Alvis place weren’t the ones that made the impression in the Van Okin yard. But I was able to identify the tread pattern using some pretty nifty software.”
“Could you do me a solid?” Bachelor said. He wrote something down on the legal pad on his desk, tore out a page and handed it to Pearce. “Here’s the address of the Purcell farm. Would you have time to run out there and check the tires on a burnt-orange Chevy Avalanche? See if they are the Pirellis? It’s just a few miles.”
Pearce looked at Heady. “Up for a mini road trip?”
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s get out there.”
“Let me know as soon as you find something out, will you?” Bachelor said. “You have my cell number?”
“Got it,” Heady said. “Shouldn’t take long.”
Right after they left, Liz Johnson buzzed Bachelor on the phone.
“David Purcell is here. Said you wanted to talk to him.”
“Would you show him to Room One, Liz?”
“Sure thing.”
Bachelor dialed Pearce’s cell number.
“Yeah, Frank,” Pearce said as he and Heady were walking out the courthouse doors.
“Your mini road trip just got a lot more mini.”
He told them about Purcell’s arrival at the courthouse and asked them to see if his pickup was in the parking lot outside. And if so, give him a knock on the interrogation room door.
“It’s showtime,” Bachelor said to Carroll and Munro. He clicked on the monitor that transmitted the live feed. “See you in a few.”
Bachelor walked out of the office, down a hallway and into Interrogation Room One.
Munro sat in the chair behind Bachelor’s desk and fixed his eyes on the monitor displaying the live feed. Carroll stood, looking over Munro’s shoulder.
“Thanks for coming in,” Bachelor said to Purcell. David was disheveled. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. Or taken a shower. Or changed his clothes.
“It’s been a rough stretch,” he said.
Bachelor intuitively held back a response, letting Purcell confront the silence.
“It’s all too much, you know. It’s just been a rough stretch.”
The fact that Purcell used the same phrase in rapid succession wasn’t lost on Bachelor. Such a conversational device can serve as a subconscious attempt at deflecting suspicion. It’s like body language, only with words.
“I’m sure it’s very traumatic,” Bachelor said, all the while fishing for some facial tic or other physical act that that might provide some insight.
Purcell seemed to get his bearings.
“How can I help, Sheriff?”
Bachelor opened a folder he had brought with him. He peered at the papers inside.
“Glad you asked. How close were you to your in-laws?”
“Like I said before, we were good,” Purcell said. “I loved them. They had to be my parents after mine were killed.”
“You can’t think of any reason someone would want them dead?”
“No. Can you? Don’t you have any suspects?”
He doth protest too much, Bachelor thought.
“Believe me, we’re working on it. As hard as we can,” Bachelor responded, all the while keeping his eyes fixed on Purcell. “We’re hoping you can tie up some loose ends.”
Purcell audibly exhaled, becoming visibly calmer.
“Sure. What do you need?”
Bachelor looked down again at the papers in his folder.
“Do you know anything about their financial situation? Were they doing all right? I know he was a doctor, and doctors make a lot
of money. I know he had a nice place and ran a clinic. But sometimes success is a façade.”
Purcell reverted to his nervous mannerisms, rubbing the tips of his fingers together and moving his head around like it was a swivel stool.
“As far as I know, he was OK,” he said. “But I don’t have any inside information. His business was none of my business.”
“Oh, I disagree. I think his business did have something to do with your business. And before you say anything else, you should know that I have done my homework. I know some things you may not realize I know.”
He let that Ping-Pong ball bounce around in Purcell’s brain.
“When was the last time you were at the Van Okin place?”
Purcell tilted his head, as if he were trying to remember.
“About four or five days before they got shot, I think. I delivered some firewood.”
There was a knock at the door. A knock Bachelor was anticipating.
“Give me a quick minute,” he said to Purcell as he left the room, closing the door behind him.
Pearce and Heady were standing outside.
“What do you have?” Bachelor said.
“Perfect match,” Pearce said. “Pirelli 205/75/15.”
Bachelor clenched his fists in triumph. He rarely allowed himself such self-aggrandizement.
“I owe you guys big time.”
“I’ll take my payment in beer,” Pearce said.
Bachelor returned to the interrogation room where Purcell was becoming antsy.
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything, Sheriff. I got stuff to do. Am I free to go?”
“Actually, I have a couple more questions.”
“Then I guess I’ll need to have a lawyer present.”
Touché.
“Have a nice day. I’ll be in touch,” Bachelor said.
He stood, strategically ignoring his Number One suspect. Purcell began to exit the room. He hesitated and turned as if to get in a parting shot, then thought better of it.
“Nothing personal. It just seems like someone’s trying to pin this on me. I got nothing to hide, but I can’t risk someone twisting my words or something.”
