by Mark Hall
TWO
“What was the night watchman from the Candlewood doing in the old Squadron Inn building?” I asked Chris in the truck on the way. “And what killed him?”
“Did Jeff say a body or a dead body?” Chris asked.
“He said ‘a body’, so I guess that doesn’t mean a dead one”.
“Didn’t they put a fence around that place after it burned?” Chris asked.
“Sure did. It burned right at Thanksgiving last year and they just recently boarded it up. I think it burned the top floors almost entirely but left the bottom floor. Since then it has just sat there waiting for someone to do something with it. I think the city has been trying to get it condemned so they can knock it the rest of the way down”.
“Something drew that night man from the Candlewood over and into it though.” Chris added, “He might have seen someone or a light, but the question then becomes why he didn’t call it in and why he did feel the need to walk into the building. That is pretty strong motivation to get someone to leave their job then walk through, over, or around a fence and into a burned out building”.
Chris was right, as usual. It is one thing to be an officer on patrol or a deputy sheriff and investigating something unusual at a fenced-in burned-out hull of a hotel but another situation entirely if a night manager working at an entirely different hotel. Chris was usually right and even more when it came to understanding criminals
When we pulled up on the curb on Willie Lee Parkway in front of the drive to the Candlewood Suites, it was already 11:30. Across the street was what was left of the Squadron Inn. Three stories of hotel was reduced to two top stories of walls and a bottom floor partially burned, water damaged, and completely neglected. Chris and I walked under the yellow crime scene tape and in through where the front door once was. Jeff Allen from the Warner Robins Police Department was there and walked over to see us and I introduced him to Chris. Jeff is a tall, muscular type who did a fine job as one of the investigators. He buries himself in a crime scene and a case and gets his man – or woman – most of the time.
“Good to see you, Mark”, shaking hands with me and then Chris. “I called you over because I thought you might be interested in all of this”, he turned to Chris, “and I know you shed a lot of light on that business down in Perry”.
“You said ‘body’?” Chris asked.
“Yes. Unconscious from what we think was a hit to the top of his head. He’s been taken to the hospital”.
The doorway led to the lobby area with the registration desk on the left and the breakfast area on the right. The walls were deteriorating and the sheetrock was coming off in clumps or just hanging on. Further past the registration desk was a long hallway lit with portable lights. Even though it was daylight outside, there was enough ceiling and walls left to make it dark. At the far end was a window or at least where a window once was. About halfway down the hall was a great deal of activity.
Jeff spoke as we walked. “A pre-demolition crew came in this morning and found him lying over here in this hallway outside of the elevators. He was at work last night but did not clock out which tells me he just walked over here for some reason from the Candlewood. His name is James Dean and was once the night manager here but has recently worked the same job across the street”.
“James Dean? Really?” Chris asked.
“Funny isn’t it?” Jeff answered, “How many people are there named James Dean other than the famous one and the sausage guy”.
“Any ideas on who might have had trouble with Mr. Dean?” I asked.
“In terms of who might have wanted to knock him in the head, there aren’t any good ideas. I know there was a vendor having a tough time getting his machines off the property and I believe some of the old Squadron employees feel left out in the cold. When the placed burned, they were out of a job. I know that this guy Dean went to work almost right away with Candlewood. Maybe someone felt he should have helped them more? I don’t know”.
We made it down the hallway and now stood at the crime scene. A long hallway with rooms on either side opened up to the right and the door to the single elevator was there on the left.
A marker for the position of the body was several feet into the hallway away from the elevator. In the corner next to the elevator door was a chair from the lobby with the back turned out toward the hall. Chris walked over to look at it. He looked up the wall to the ceiling tile above the chair then looked down again. He walked back to us.
“What about the body position?” Chris asked.
“He was face down in the hallway here. Big guy but there must have been a bigger guy with a bigger stick” Jeff answered.
“How big?” I asked.
Jeff checked his notes. “His license said he was six-three, two hundred forty pounds so he was fairly solid. I don’t know how he got to the top of Dean’s head, though. That smack to the top of his head was the only bump or bruise on him. I could see it if they had worked on each other and the other guy got an advantage and got him down somehow then hit him, but there was no sign of a real fight”.
“His date of birth makes him almost fifty years old”.
Chris stared hard at Jeff a moment as if in deep thought but not aware he was staring a hole in Jeff’s chest.
“Mr. Allen, this was found outside”. A crime scene tech we all knew named Frito walked up and showed Jeff the contents of a clear evidence bag. Jeff took a look and shrugged his shoulders and passed the bag to me. In the bag were pieces of plastic about the size of a book and a couple AA batteries.
I took the bag and tried to fit them together like they might have been and flipped it over.
“This thing is a trail camera” I said. “I have a couple of these in the woods right now as a matter of fact but this one is missing an SD card”.
Chris looked over his shoulder toward the chair at the elevator then back at me and took off running down the hallway.
