Hank took a deep breath and plunged in. “What about you? Why did you go into police work?”
“I grew up in a police family. My father got killed in action when I was eight,” she said and looked away.
“I'm sorry.”
She cleared her throat. “It's better now. Even though I was young, he and I were close. It took a while to come to grips with it. I still miss him every day, but time has made each day a little easier. My older brother is a cop, and he’s helped a lot. That's why I studied police science and psychology in college.”
“Where did you go to college?”
“University of San Francisco. My hometown is Santa Rosa. My brother is in South San Francisco. I wanted to be close to him but not live at home. After graduation, I worked with the Berkeley Police until I got a job with the Bureau. I’ve also been working on a Master’s degree in criminology.”
“With our backgrounds, it’s no surprise we have similar aspirations. How long have you been with the Bureau?”
“Eight years, total but only two in my current position.”
“That sounds like you have been making regular advancements. Congrats!”
“Thanks. I'm devoted to the job. Not much time for play or socializing.”
“I guess you’re single?” Hank hadn't seen an engagement ring or wedding band on her finger.
“That’s right, no time. What about your family? How long were you married?” she asked.
She shifted the conversation back to Hank. Learning about his history seemed to be a priority for her. Why?
“We were married for thirteen years. I loved her, but the long hours and stress led to a separation and then a divorce. Betty couldn't take the long separations. She found a guy who could be there for her. That was nine years ago. My daughter is now in college. I don’t see her often, and our relationship hadn't been close, but has improved.” Hank looked down at his drink. “I allowed her stepfather to adopt her a few years after he married her mother.” Uncomfortable and not wanting to stare into those heavenly eyes, Hank looked over to his right before continuing, “No need to go over the past. I have regrets given my career and her need for stability, but I can’t see how it could have gone any other way.”
Though she said nothing, Hank read concern on Alicia’s face. Not eager to divulge his life history, Hank changed the subject, hoping there would be time for that later, “Would you like another drink?”
“No, thanks. I have to get going. Another busy day tomorrow.” She picked up her purse. “Thanks for being so open about your past. I know it’s painful to talk about things we might have done better.”
As they walked to the parking lot, Alicia surprised him. “You asked for time to yourself tomorrow, but could you drop by the office in the late morning?”
“I'd be happy to,” Hank replied, pleased that she wanted his help.
Before leaving, he held her hand and squeezed. “Thanks for sharing time together.” She didn’t pull away, which Hank took as a good sign.
“Thanks for the drinks. Goodnight.”
Driving home, Hank felt encouraged. What is it about being attracted to a woman and wondering if she might be the one? Where’s the 'love manual' that defines the road to take? Is there ecstasy, contentment or disappointment ahead? If I get to know her as a complete person, will I still want to be in her life?
NINE Friday, November 22
Many thoughts flowed through Hank’s mind during an early breakfast. Since leaving police work, he had few friends with whom he had contact, none intimate. The writing assignments and traveling were enjoyable. Until this murder investigation, his life had moved along with unspectacular events. He was excited about being back in action since Alicia enthralled him.
For over an hour, Hank attempted to get his thoughts together for the Beaujolais wine article. Distracted by his fantasies of Alicia, he could not concentrate. He had to send the article before the end of the week, but it would not happen this morning.
He walked Molly for the second time, refilled her water bowl and promised to return so she could get out for more exercise and play Frisbee. Hank dressed more formal than usual, slacks, Oxford shirt and tie with his favorite sports coat. Locking the coach door, he drove to the Bureau office, arriving before eleven o'clock.
He and Austin reviewed the list of suspects not eliminated.
When Alicia arrived at eleven o’clock, she called the agents and Hank together for a meeting. After everyone sat, she began. “Good morning. I have information to share before you give me your updates. A postmortem conducted this morning took only two hours. The M.E. called the attack ‘one of the weirdest, sharp force injury homicides in his 20-year career.’ The eight-inch chef knife still embedded in the victim’s sternum when the body arrived at the M.E.’s. It appeared to be a symbolic gesture rather than a damaging blow from the killer. It took two men to remove the knife embedded in the victim's breastbone. The fatal stab was the first. It sliced into the right ventricle and ruptured the heart. That wound caused a lack of blood to the brain that shut down the blood flow, explaining the limited amount of blood found at the scene.”
She sipped her coffee. “There were blood drops found beneath the body, and the conclusion is the victim was standing when stabbed. Minimal blood cast-off was over, and around the body. It indicated this occurred after the victim sprawled on the floor. The bruise on the victim's throat appeared to be from a karate punch. There's no sign of strangulation and no petechial hemorrhaging. One piece of forensic evidence found was a napkin in the victim's mouth, which was from the kitchen because it held residue of wine, grease, and uncooked seasonings. There were two blood types found on the knife which meant the killer cut himself. Knowing the other blood type is a great advantage.”
While Alicia sipped her coffee, Bridge asked, "Did the CSU guys discover any DNA?"
“No identified DNA yet, but with two different blood types, I’m sure we will get more information. There were fibers found on the victim’s hands and coat sleeves. The knife wedged in the victim matched the brand used in the kitchen. A lipstick smear on the inside of Hatchett's right hand showed he came in contact with a woman’s mouth since he didn't have a tube of lipstick on him.” Alicia laughed to break the tension.
No one asked a question, so she continued with her report. “Two different hairs on the victim's jacket; one dyed dark blonde, and the other from a natural brunette. The blond hair came from a female, the brunette hair from a male. DNA results will not be available for three to four weeks, or longer. The button found at the scene appears to belong to a man's sports coat but doesn't match the vic's. All other material is the usual collection of dust, grime, and fibers. Other hairs found on Hatchett's pant legs need identification. We are still waiting for the fingerprint results from CSU. Hatchett's cell phone got checked for incoming and outgoing calls to match the names of those aboard the train. There was one match. Caswell had called him once. That’s about all for now. Several fingerprints need identifying. Stan Klein's will be in several areas, which is logical,” she concluded. “Your turn, Chris.”
“Carl George couldn’t find Caswell. His cell phone goes to voice mail. The address he gave was an apartment he moved from over a month ago with no forwarding. I called the train’s personnel office and expect a return call to see if they can help. The apartment manager will let us inspect the apartment since it's vacant. A warrant is on its way, and Carl will meet CSU there in an hour. The DMV doesn’t have a new residence for him. His car is a 1998 Dodge Caravan. I placed a Be On the Lookout on it. Smith is trying to locate the ex. The divorce will be final in three months. That could explain the old car and strange behavior. That’s gonna do it for now.”
“Good job, Chris. We have to find him. He sounds like a suspect, but divorces make people do strange things. Those hairs and the lipstick smear concern me that a woman could be a suspect. It would take a strong woman to stick a knife with such force,” Alicia added. She looked around the room, a
nd her attention landed on Austin. “How about the data you generated from the cards, Austin?”
The young technical member stood. “I think we have eliminated all suspects except Caswell, Loccisano, Drummond, Brisbane, Royals and Rossman. All but Caswell will come in today. After I check out the interview notes for Nancy Tepley, Morgan Brown, Ted Baxter, Julie Odell, and Gordon Ledger, we may have a couple more. These last few need confirmation of their alibis.”
“Okay, Thanks, Austin. Let’s finish the interviews, make follow-up calls and meet again for lunch. Hank, before we break, do you have any ideas?” Alicia asked.
“I’ve been looking through newspaper files for Hatchett’s reviews. May I read one out loud?” Hank asked. With a nod from Alicia, he read:
San Francisco Chronicle, September 15, David Hatchett wrote:
I had a dreadful [as expected] dinner at Chez Gerard in downtown San Ramon. This small French restaurant is nondescript from the outside (meaning I had to circle the area to find it), and the interior had the charm that reminds me of much smaller, family run, restaurants in the ghetto of Eastern Europe. The food descriptions appeared as upscale cuisine, but what got delivered was hardly edible. The sauces were weak; the fish was tasteless as were the limp salad greens and dressing.
The menu for a Saturday evening five-course meal was priced at $80. The first course was a starter of French Onion soup made of salty beef broth with browned onion slices and a cheesy crouton with a soggy texture. Then, the next course was a ‘from the chef' goat cheese salad that assaulted my taste buds. My choice of entree was duck en croute. This greasy offering had one notable flavor: an overabundance of salt. Clearly, the worst meal I've ever had. A very poor selection of cheeses followed by a dessert sampler consisted of poor quality white chocolate truffles and a pound cake that was so dense and tasteless that each bite could have been a one pound dry sponge. The waiter was better suited for fast food. All in all, the food was disastrous, poorly prepared, and the only similarity to a French restaurant was that the experience consisted of an extended meal period. It isn't worth the drive to eat here.
“This was the second of two reviews in six months for Caswell’s place. Two weeks after this review the restaurant closed. Caswell had good reason to blame Hatchett’s reviews for causing his downfall. Caswell could have confronted Hatchett in the wine cooler. With no one around, he hits him hard, then stabs the critic, leaving him crumpled on the floor. He could return to the kitchen. His total time out of the kitchen could be ten or twelve minutes. One more note of interest. Hatchett was notorious for stiffing the servers at these places, and I quote: ‘Many of the restaurants in which I have dined have such atrocious service that the staff would starve if they were paid based only on their performance.’”
“Nice guy!” Smith quipped before he answered the ringing telephone. He listened, said something and put the receiver down. “That was the desk. Carmen Loccisano is on her way up.”
“Good, will you talk to her,” Tomlinson asked.
“Sure boss.”
Alicia inquired, “When are the others arriving?”
“Rossman and Brisbane are due about two. Any minute for Taylor. DeVoe alibied out. That’s it unless Austin has someone else for us to see,” Agent Bridge said.
Austin stood up again, focused on his notes. “I suggest you talk to Giles Ardon. I don’t see a firm alibi. There's another man without a confirming alibi, Stephen Drummond. He got ruled out earlier, but now I find he wasn't with the group he claimed. And he may have a motive. He owns a lot of stock in his wine distributing company and even more in a Bay Area restaurant holding company. From what I’ve read, Drummond acted pissed at Hatchett after he went after his wine and a few of the restaurants.”
“Let's clarify the allegations. Call them. If calling doesn't work, bring them in,” Alicia ordered, looking to Bridge. He nodded.
“One minute, Boss,” Austin interjected. “There's another problem. According to the passenger list, Mr. Kurt Scott, there are no notes of interviews with him, not even at the gym.”
“We missed someone? How did that happen?” Tomlinson questioned, looking around the group.
The team members looked at one another with stunning looks. Austin continued, “I don't know. Mr. Carson discovered this discrepancy. Several of the interviewees mentioned talking with Scott during the first hour.”
“Do we know who he is?”
“All I have is his name,” Austin answered.
“Let’s find this guy and bring him in for questioning. Michaels, will you follow up with the others?” Tomlinson asked.
“Yes, boss.”
“Good, let’s get on with it,” Alicia said, “I wonder about this Scott guy. Is he the perp or someone so eager to leave that he sneaked out?”
“I wonder, too,” Hank agreed. “He was on the train so how did he disappear before we got everyone together?”
Alicia raised her eyebrows. “How could that happen? We now have two prime suspects?” As her team walked out of the meeting room, Alicia said to Hank, “Don’t leave, stay here.” She walked to her office.
From where Hank was sitting, he could see Alicia’s office and catch a lot of what occurred there. She looked out at the squad room, fury turned her cheeks fiery red. “Donovan,” she barked. “In my office, now!”
Donovan entered the office.
“Shut the door,” Tomlinson ordered. “Agent Donovan, you were to check the names of the passengers exiting the train using the boarding sheet. How did Scott escape questioning?”
“I checked the people as they left the train by checking their name against the boarding list. I think I checked off Kurt Scott's name instead of Kathy Scott. Later, when the groups were all seated, I noticed Kathy Scott's name didn't get checked. I called out to each group to see if she was present and she was. When Austin said Kurt wasn't in the interviews, I realized I must have checked the wrong name. I’m very sorry for the mix-up, boss.”
“I know you're planning to retire soon, but if you keep screwing up like this, you may not like my report. Get your act together, Donovan. I know you can. You are a good agent, so prove it!”
“Yes, boss. Sorry,” he said hanging his head.
“I cannot believe you did this, Donovan. At least we caught it. Stay on top of this with Cordero.”
“Yes, boss.”
“I'll have Chris check with the Sheriff’s Department and see if any deputy saw someone leaving the train or getting away before everyone was in the gym. I want to know how this man slipped through our fingers.”
Alicia left her office for the squad room with Donovan in tow. “I need to see the Chief,” she said to Bridge.
When Alicia returned within the hour, she called the team together. “The public will know of our man, Caswell. We’ll get newspaper coverage in five metro areas and coverage on TV. The PR department may also use social media.”
“Ah, boss?” Austin said.
“Yes, Austin.”
“I surfed and found photos of Kurt Scott, one from the DMV, and one from Yelp. He's a self-proclaimed food critic. As I continued to search, I found his blog with another picture.”
“Great job, Austin. Would you put together handouts with those photos for the agents?”
“Yes, boss. I'll get right on it.” He flew out the door.
Alicia motioned all to leave her office. Hank worked on the wine event article. He went out to grab lunch, wondering why she’d asked him to hang around.
Alicia stayed busy in her office while Hank stayed at the desk he used, and was glad he had his laptop to work on the article. He understood the need for speed in solving a murder. The more time passes, the more the evidence deteriorates, memories fade, and the perp has time to cover his tracks and disappear. Alicia’s door had been open for the past hour, as she took phone call after phone call.
TEN
Hank couldn’t help but overhear her on the phone. He looked up when he heard her answer her cell phone. “B
ernie. Hi,” Alicia said.
Hank wondered who Bernie was. Alicia wasn’t using the speaker, so Hank heard only parts of Alicia's side of the conversation.
“Alicia, I'm glad I caught you. I've just finished an interview at Sierra College in Rocklin. Are you free for lunch?”
“Sorry, not today. I have a big case and can't get away, hon. How about we meet later this evening for dinner? Come to my place. I'll order in from that great Thai place you like.”
“I have to decline the offer, since I've got to get back to Fairfield for dinner with my parents. My brother is in town until tomorrow, and I don't want to miss him.”
“Darn! But I'm Glad you get to see family. So tell me about this job. I didn't know you were looking.”
“I wasn't, but an acquaintance called to tell me about this opening. A friend of hers worked at the college and said the 79-year-old English and Creative Writing professor had died. The college wants to fill the position immediately. When I called, I got an interview.”
“That's great! Not about the old professor, but that you bagged an interview. My God, I sound so jaded sometimes. Do you think you'll get the job?”
“I hope so. And I'm sure the old professor had a long and happy life. Don't beat yourself up. You deal with death and crap every day. Did I tell you? Dad's retiring next month from the Budweiser plant. He and Mom want to move to Grass Valley or Auburn. It'd be nice to live close to them. Los Angeles is too far away.”
“I thought you liked it there?”
“I do, but I really want to get back up North. Besides, my high school position in LA may get cut with the next budget cuts. I'd rather leave on my terms.”
“When will you know about this job?”
“Hopefully, before Thanksgiving. What are you up to, and I don't mean work?” Bernie chuckled.
“I've met an impressive guy. He's a retired L.A. homicide detective who showed up at a murder scene we are working. It's too complicated to tell you right now. Anyway, the man’s name is Hank. He and I went out for drinks. I know he's interested.”
Killer On The Train Page 6
