by Irving Munro
“The Glasgow Kiss…what on earth is that?” laughed Marie.
“It’s a head-butt. Very effective and often used when there are up close and personal confrontations in the pubs of Scotland. Effectively delivered, the assailant drives his forehead into the bridge of the nose, shattering it. The pain is excruciating! My nose scar is the result of being on the receiving end of that particular combat technique on two occasions” replied Bill.
“Holy cow, that must have been painful!” said Marie.
“Well it did make my eyes water a bit!” joked Bill.
Bill got the conversation back on the Riverside case.
“I’m convinced that other pieces of vital information might lay hidden in the file. We have to work together and go through every page checking and double checking and looking for inconsistencies.”
Bill continued to explain this process to Tommy and Marie who both listened intently. He told them about clues he had found using this technique working cases back in the day in Glasgow and London.
“Before I joined the police force in Scotland, I read in the newspapers about the Mary Bell case. It was 1968 and Mary Bell was the daughter of a Glasgow prostitute. She was still a schoolgirl when she lured two young boys into the woods and slashed their throats. In those days, it was very unusual for children to be discovered to be manipulative, scheming killers. This caused the police to pursue several dead ends until a team of detectives put the puzzle together by critically examining every piece of evidence and cross checking for inconsistencies.”
Bill went on to explain the vital role that Glen Morangie played in all of this.
“You know, the Gaelic name for Scotch whisky is Usquebaugh, pronounced “oosh-kee-ba,” which means the water of life. In my opinion, Glen Morangie has secret powers that help unlock the mysteries of any case. This single malt influence helps me see what others cannot. It’s very similar to the North American Indians who go into sweat lodges to smoke peyote or the Australian Aborigines with their dreamtime rituals,” sniggered Bill.
“Is this true?” asked Marie.
“Of course it’s not true, Marie. He’s just messing with you,” laughed Tommy.
No, it wasn’t true but on a balmy night in Austin Texas, staring at the stars and listening to the sounds of the night, they were good stories.
Chapter 23 - Nora McConnell
2014 - The Cold Case Investigation
It was Sunday morning at the Hudson’s Bend office and all three were nursing minor hangovers from the night before.
They had sat out on Bill’s deck until after 2:00 a.m. when Shelly suggested to Marie that it was time they headed home. Tommy stayed the night and the next morning, while Claire was having breakfast with Mimi, he and Bill drove to the office to meet up with Marie. They all had their own well-tested remedies to clear their heads and focus on the work. Marie had her customary three-shot Grande latte from Starbucks, Tommy his thick black coffee in his “Raiders” mug and Bill brought a coffee from home that contained a small shot of a certain golden elixir.
Bill opened the Riverside file and began separating it into logical sections. For Tommy and Marie, who had both helped work the case as rookies back in 2005, it was “deja vous all over again,” as Yogi Berra would say.
Most of the content consisted of the medical examiner’s report plus statements that had been obtained by Marie and Tommy. There was also significant content from Stan Hardwick plus a large folder containing all of the phone records and interviews created by the Statesman article with the sketch of the likeness of the deceased.
“Why don’t you two concentrate on the content from the Statesman article and I’ll take everything else,” said Bill. “The Statesman follow up was done by Stan on his own and you two might be able to see something with a fresh pair of eyes. I will look at all of the interviews.”
“Sounds like a good plan, Dad,” said Tommy and with that, the team got to work.
~
Six hours later, not a single loose end had turned up. Thirty minutes later, they got their first break.
“Take a look at this!” said Bill. “It’s from a woman who called in after the Statesman article was published. She lives in South Padre Island.”
“Listen to what she said on the phone.” Bill then read the phone call transcript aloud to the team.
It’s about the woman found dead in Austin! She was found close to water! She had been cleansed! Her soul will find peace like the others! The instrument of her passing is still restless and looking for more! The pain will never cease, the longing will never end and the broken heart will never be whole until they are together again.
“What do you make of it?” asked Bill.
“Sounds like another nutcase,” said Marie.
“Why did she say, like all the others?” said Tommy.
“That was my thought! I think we’ve found a piece of the jigsaw that doesn’t fit,” said Bill.
~
On Monday morning, they met with Jack Johnson. He looked a mess with scratches all over his face and hands.
“Had a disagreement with a raccoon?” quipped Tommy.
“No, this is what you get when you own a ranch and you don’t pay attention to broken fences,” replied Jack. “So what were you guys up to on the weekend?”
“Let’s go to the war room,” suggested Tommy.
Tommy Ross took the lead to explain what they had found and to update the whiteboard.
“The three of us spent all day yesterday going over the file and we came up with a few things,” began Tommy.
“Everything we have suggests Jim McCord is the key to this. It could be that he killed the woman and hid her in plain sight as my dad suggested, thinking that we would be dumb enough to write him off as a suspect. If not, why was she left in his backyard? It’s not like we weren’t going to find her. Why didn’t the killer just dump her in a remote part of the Hill Country? Why was she laid out that way?”
Tommy took a sip from his coffee and continued.
“This took a lot of thought, planning and preparation. Nothing could be left to chance and the timing had to be perfect. Not only did the killer have to know the McCords weren’t home, they also had to know when they would be back. There’s no chance a murderer this careful would risk the McCords walking in on him.”
“So why did the killer choose Jim and Mary McCord’s place? We need to think at a core level on this and go back to basic instincts. Why do people kill? Three main reasons: hate, love, or money. We need to find the connection! We need to find out everything we can about Jim and Mary McCord, in particular Jim. As you would say, Dad, we need to construct a jigsaw puzzle of Jim McCord and ensure every single piece fits. If there is one that doesn’t, then it may lead us to the killer!”
Jack stood up, smiled and said, “Great summation, Tommy. You guys have been busy. Anything else turn up from the file?”
“Marie, why don’t you take that one,” said Tommy.
“Nora McConnell!” said Marie with a smile.
“Nora McConnell? Who the heck is Nora McConnell?” exclaimed Jack.
“Nora McConnell called the help line number given out as part of the Statesman editorial piece. She had called at the end of September 2005, left her phone number and simply said that she lived in San Padre Island. Stan Hardwick had spoken with her and no further action was taken. “
“I checked White Pages last night for a Nora McConnell in San Padre and found nothing; however, there is a Nora Anne McConnell listed who lives on East Jefferson Street, Port Isabel, which is on the mainland side of the Queen Isabella Causeway that links Texas to South Padre Island,” explained Marie.
When they read the transcript of the McConnell call to Jack, he picked up on the same anomaly. She had said “they,” obviously referring to more than one dead woman.
Jack nodded his head and said, “It may be nothing but then again, it may be something, so we need to check it out. Give this Nora McConnell a call and if sh
e’s the right Nora, then drive down there, interview her and see what else she knows. Bill and I will continue to trawl through the file again and see if anything else jumps out at us.”
~
Marie and Tommy went off to make the call to Nora McConnell and they returned a few minutes later to update Jack.
“The Nora McConnell in Port Isabel is the Nora McConnell who had made the call! She sounded a bit frail and it was difficult to understand her on the phone as she kept drifting off into random topics. She claims to have seen the murderer of the dead teenage girl who had been found raped and strangled on the beach in Corpus Christi last year. She might be a real flake but we need to go down there and check her story out,” said Tommy.
“Agreed,” replied Jack.
~
The following morning, the team was back in the office bright and early.
“Hi, boss, you got a sec?” said Tommy, sticking his head around the door to Jack Johnson’s office.
“Sure, Tommy. Please tell me you have some more good news.”
“No, not really, boss. I have an idea and a request,” said Tommy.
“So, carry on then, Tommy,” said Jack, impatient to hear what Tommy had on his mind.
“To get to Port Isabel to visit with Nora McConnell, we have to take the I-35 through San Antonio to pick up the I-37 to Harlingen and then on to South Padre,” said Tommy.
“So what? Am I now your travel planner?” said Jack irritated and impatient for Tommy to get to the point.
“While we’re on the road, why don’t Marie and I track down who Jim McCord met with for the security audit at Lockheed Martin in San Antonio before he took the detour back up to Austin to get his rocks off with Dawn Cohen? They might be able to give some further background on Jim McCord. We might be able to get a feel for his general personality, what he was like to do business with, did they socialize with him, etc.”
“Great idea and good thinking, Tommy. Go do it,” said Jack. “Just no fancy meals and no hotel. Up and down on the same day.”
Chapter 24 - I see things
2014 - The Cold Case Investigation
Lockheed Martin at Kelly Aviation Center was a joint venture between Lockheed Martin and Rolls Royce, the British aircraft engine manufacturer. Kelly was a repair and overhaul center for both military and commercial engines. The person they needed to talk with was Herman Lutz, the center security compliance officer. When Tommy called him, he picked up the phone after one ring.
“Lutz!” he said with no polite preamble.
Tommy explained the need for meeting him to which Lutz replied, “Absolutely. C’mon down!”
They arrived at the facility at 0900 hours, the time agreed with Herman Lutz. They checked in through the extensive security process at the front gate and were then escorted to his office.
“Please take a seat, he’s wrapping up a call with Washington. It shouldn’t be too long,” said his assistant, Margie Grant.
A few minutes later, the door to Herman Lutz office flew open and he was in their face, hand outstretched, full of apologies for his tardiness. Herman Lutz was a dead ringer for General Norman Schwarzkopf. “Stormin Norman”, as he was called, was the commander of the US forces in the first Gulf War and Herman Lutz not only was the spitting image of the General, he had exactly the same demeanor.
“Sorry about that. Have to keep the top brass happy! Coffee, water, shot of Jack?” Herman laughed at his own joke.
“Coffee would be great,” said Marie.
“I’ll have a coffee,” said Tommy.
“Margie!” yelled Herman. “Two Java Joe’s for my guests!”
Herman turned back to Tommy and Marie and said, “So what do you want to know about the great Jim McCord?”
The way Herman referred to the Jim McCord made Marie and Tommy inch forward in their seats. Maybe this would be worth the trip.
After Margie brought the coffees, Herman took a slurp from his Air Force mug and said, “Jim McCord. Don’t like the man. Never did, never will! Don’t mean to be so direct, but I tell it how it is!”
“How so?” said Tommy, using a two-word question so that he could sit back and let the faucet flow.
“He is a blow hard, full-of-his-own importance. Thinks he knows more than anyone else about cyber security risks and countermeasures. What he knows he picked up in textbooks. He has no real-world experience and has never been on the front line! Apart from that, love the man!” chuckled Herman, laughing at his own joke.
Based on the framed photographs on the wall showing Herman Lutz in his younger days in the Air Force, it was obvious that Herman Lutz did have the real world experience that was lacking in Jim McCord.
The conversation continued in the same vein for another thirty minutes with Herman questioning Jim McCord’s credentials. After a frank conversation about Jim’s work in the U.S. Department of Defense, Marie got to the meat of why they were there.
“What about his general personality, Herman? Anything there that you think we should know? Did you spend time with him socially?”
“I tried to spend as little time with him as possible. However, there were social gatherings involving folks from Lockheed, Rolls-Royce, the DoD and the Air Force that I attended,” continued Herman. “He was like a praying mantis, playing best pals with the three stars and hitting on any good-looking broad who would give him the time of day.”
“He was a womanizer?” pressed Marie.
“Hell yea! He tried to get into the pants of every broad he met. Real letch is the great Jim McCord. Sorry for the language, ma’am!”
The three spoke for a few more minutes before they thanked Herman Lutz for the information, left Kelly Aviation Center and continued on to Port Isabel.
“Wow,” said Marie as they drove south.
“Wow is right,” replied Tommy. “We need to recommend to Jack that we turn over every rock in Jim McCord’s sorry life! He could be the bastard who did this, Marie; the guy’s a right prick!”
“I was disappointed that I didn’t get another go at Dawn Cohen but sweating Jim McCord might be even more satisfying!” said Marie.
They both agreed as Tommy put the pedal to the metal on the way to Port Isabel.
~
It was 4:30 when they pulled into the driveway of Nora McConnell’s home on East Jefferson Street in Port Isabel. It was a quaint little house on a quaint little street. Nora was in her early seventies and had iced tea and lemon ready for her guests’ arrival.
“Please do come in, why don’t you?” said Nora with hints of an English upbringing in her accent.
“Thank you, Mrs. McConnell,” said Tommy.
“Oh, it’s miss, young man,” said Nora. “Never found Mr. Right, but you never know. He might still turn up one day. Are you married, Detective Ross?” she said with a cheeky grin.
They settled into the comfortable surroundings in the main room of her tiny home. Photographs took up every available space on the tabletops in the room. Nora McConnell was obviously an avid reader as part of the room looked like a mini library with books stacked from floor to ceiling. As she sat there in her favorite chair, Tommy could not help but think about the image of Miss Marple, Agatha Christie’s famous English sleuth.
“Have you always lived in Port Isabel, Miss McConnell?” asked Marie.
Nora McConnell offered them no informality for them to call her by her first name, further evidence of her strict English private school upbringing.
“I lived most of my life on the island,” said Nora, referring to South Padre. “I moved to this little gem in 2006 to live out the rest of my days.”
Getting down to the subject of their visit, Tommy asked, “So you saw the article in the Austin Statesman, Miss McConnell. May I ask how you came by a copy of the paper?”
“Oh, my sister lives in Onion Creek in Austin and she sends me the weekend edition every week. I return the favor and send her the Port Isabel-South Padre Press,” replied Nora. “I understand that both news
papers are now available online but we both much prefer the print version.”
“Ah I see,” said Tommy. “I read the transcript of your call to the police hotline and your subsequent interview with Detective Stan Hardwick. Do you recall what you said, Miss McConnell?” asked Tommy.
What happened next took their breaths away. Nora McConnell’s eyes took on a peculiar trance like state and she repeated word for word what the transcript in the file had said. It was if she had a photocopy of it in her brain.
It’s about the woman found dead in Austin! She was found close to water! She had been cleansed! Her soul will find peace like the others! The instrument of her passing is still restless and looking for more! The pain will never cease, the longing will never end, and the broken heart will never be whole until they are together again.
“That’s amazing, Miss McConnell,” said Marie. “How do you know this information?”
“Oh, that’s also an easy question, Detective Mason. I see it!” said Nora without a moment’s hesitation as if she were explaining how she found the winning lottery numbers in the newspaper on a Sunday morning.
Marie was astounded. “Have you always had this gift, Miss McConnell?”
“Oh yes,” responded Nora. “I have seen things, mostly tragic events, since I was a little girl living in Hampshire. It continued on when mummy and daddy brought us to the USA when we were in our early teens.” The term mummy and daddy is also very English and when she used the term, her voiced changed to the one of a little girl in Hampshire, England.
“Is there anything else you remember about what you saw, Miss McConnell?” pressed Marie.
“No, my dear. I just get flashes. Sometimes, I see them use the same technique on television shows I watch to suggest something that might have happened in the past.”
“What shows do you watch, Miss McConnell?” asked Tommy.
“I love Law & Order and I also like that other show Bones. She is a very pretty woman that one in Bones, said Nora.
They were both beginning to feel that this had been a wasted journey and they prepared to leave. Perhaps Nora was concocting a story based on what she had seen on TV. They thanked Nora for her time and for the iced tea. Nora stood at the door and watched them as they got into their car.
