I nodded my head to agree, still reeling from the nightmare that the detective had endured. “How can you still work in this field?” I asked incredulously.
Singh looked at me intently. “I wasn’t cautious enough to stop Nathan, that’s the truth of the matter. I lost the only woman to have ever cared for me. The lesson I learned is that it’s impossible to stop all of the maniacs out there; but if I can protect even one person from my fate, all of this work is damn well worth it.”
I raised my glass to him in agreement, trying to place myself in his shoes. I could never come back from such a thing, and to see Singh apply himself so positively was a testament to his will.
We stepped out of the bar. The temperature had dipped significantly.
“Jimmy, we will pick up first thing in the morning. Part of working together as a cohesive team is developing trust. That’s also a part of finding balance,” Singh said. “It’s good to have a partner working with me on this one.”
“I agre...” I was abruptly interrupted as a man shoved me forward. I lost my footing on the curb and fell to my side. I quickly recognized the man from earlier in the night when we walked into the bar.
He was still drunk and very angry. “Hey, you’re the guy that bumped into me inside, right?” the burly man exclaimed to Singh.
“I apologized earlier. Please go on with your evening. I don’t want any trouble.” Singh again raised his hands, stepping back and indicating a peaceful retreat.
The man and two friends immediately engaged Singh, throwing wild swinging punches without any further explanation. I fumbled for my Taser but before I could move any further, Singh changed to a muay thai southpaw stance and engaged the inebriated man with a quick knee to the solar plexus. He followed with an uppercut which immediately flattened him. Shocked by the speed of the combination, I stopped to watch what would happen. Singh circled and closed the distance on the other two, using his reach to establish his range. He struck a lightning-fast jab to one man’s throat and countered the other with a left hook to his jaw. In less than thirty seconds two men were unconscious while the third was having a laryngeal spasm trying to gasp for air.
The bar had gone from bustling and lively to pin-drop silence. People stepped out to watch what was going on.
Singh quickly waved his badge. “Nothing to see here, folks. They had one too many to drink. Please go on with your night.” He looked over in my direction and asked, “Jimmy did I leave my jacket in the car?”
I stared at him dumbfounded; it was as though the fight had not phased him one bit. “Are we calling this in and bringing them to the precinct?” I asked.
Singh shrugged, reaching over to help me to my feet. “Let's get out of here, let them sleep it off,” he said while putting his jacket back on and walking towards the Mustang.
“Where did you learn box, Ravi?” I was curious if he still trained somewhere in the area.
“Growing up in India, there was a boxing coach that lived not too far from me. He was like a father to me and taught me the ropes,” he explained. “Now I train at Kings Boxing Gym. Mostly it’s for fun and keeping my cardio endurance as high as possible.”
I nodded, understanding some level of hand-to-hand combat would be needed for his military experience in India. Maintaining that level of skill would mean practicing technique would be a habit.
Singh asked, “What time are you free tomorrow? I’ll drop you home and will meet you in the morning to question the owners from the mansion, how does that sound?”
“Are the owners in town? Why weren’t they questioned earlier?” I asked.
“They are flying in tomorrow morning. The captain sent me the details,” said Singh while searching his phone.
“Okay, let's meet them first thing in the morning,” I agreed.
The following morning Singh arrived at my apartment to pick me up. I reached for my coffee and case file as I rushed out. “Good morning, Detective,” I said as Singh grunted a hello. I was eager to start discussing the case we had before us.
He shifted from neutral to first gear and proceeded down the street. “Tell me what you think about this case,” Singh said as he turned around the bend and took off into a thruway entrance.
“Well,” I said, “what we know is that one mother and her daughter were killed with no obvious sign of wounds except for the burned fingertips and changed dental composition. The killer is a professional, as seen by the lack of forensic evidence. The bodies were planted in a mansion within a private community.”
“Okay, good,” Singh responded. “That’s a start, but dig a little deeper. Did anything stand out to you as unusual?”
I paused to review the crime scene in my mind, and considered the pool of blood at the entrance of the mansion. “Why had there been blood by the entrance and nowhere else? The bodies exhibited no sign of blunt force trauma; they seemed to have been suffocated.”
“That’s a good point,” Singh replied. “Forensics are having the samples sent to the lab as we speak. We know the bodies were planted, the wrists being bound, possibly murdered at another location and brought to the mansion. As a message to the tenants? Perhaps,” Singh thought out loud as he stopped at a red light. Placing his hands near the leather steering, he rotated his wedding band as he continued to think. I wondered if this was Singh’s way of pursuing justice for what had happened to his own family—perhaps a question for another time. I sipped my coffee, reflecting further. The first floor was trashed but the second, the family area, was immaculate.
I asked the detective, “Did you see any pictures of the husband on the second floor?”
Singh shook his head as though puzzled.
”Was the husband deceased, maybe at an early age, or did he just split when they were young?”
“Let's start by speaking with the owners from the mansion and then transition to the maid. We will follow up on any leads or points of interest,” Singh replied. “If we have time after, let’s head back to the precinct”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, gazing out the vehicle as we weaved in and out of traffic driving quickly towards the crime scene.
As we arrived at the mansion, a few officers met us by the gate. They explained the owners of the mansion had been on vacation in New Orleans, Louisiana, and after hearing the news immediately flew back home. The owners, Joe and Maggie Chan, also maintained a well-known profit in New Hampshire called MultiLayered (ML). The company helped minority and other discriminated-against blue-collar workers land jobs in the surrounding towns and cities, using a network of connections built over the years. Singh found out from the case file that Joe worked as an entrepreneur for many years and saw success with his profitable small business, which led to Maggie’s vision of starting the nonprofit.
Singh and I walked towards the entrance, “They should be inside,” Singh said as he proceeded to knock on the door.
The door opened and we were met by an elderly woman in a white tracksuit. “Good morning, gentlemen. My name is Maggie. I believe we spoke over the phone.” Her demeanor was seemingly somber but I could also see she was on edge, her forehead furrowed tensely from everything that had happened. She closed the front door partway behind her.
Singh went on to explain what our team had discovered as of yesterday before sunset and proceeded to ask her some follow-up questions. “Have you had any threats made to you or your family,” Singh inquired.
She shook her head. “Why would someone do such a thing?” she said in dismay. “Also we couldn’t find our pet Rottweiler since we got home, did one of the officers take him?” She sounded frantic in search of her pet.
As for the pool of blood by the stairwell, I considered that the dog may have been a surprise to the intruder and attacked him. “We will make a note of that, Maggie and let you know if we have any answers,” I said.
“We have only meant good for our community and the people we live with. It’s horrendous.”
“Yes ma’am, we have heard what
your non-profit does for the community. This seems to be a very detailed and planned crime. Did anything happen in the days leading up to your departure to NOLA? Anything at all?” Singh asked.
Just then the door opened again and a heavy-set Caucasian male appeared. He shook our hands and introduced himself as Maggie’s husband Joe. “We left on Tuesday around noon and had our maid Maria tend to the house while we were gone,” Joe explained. “I overheard you asking about anything peculiar leading up to our departure. My wife and I don’t have anything to say.”
While Joe was speaking I kept an eye on Maggie and noticed she looked as though she had wanted to interject. “What is it, Maggie?” I asked, “Anything you can tell us will be very helpful in apprehending this criminal.”
With Joe glaring at her as if to keep her from talking, Maggie responded apprehensively. “Well, we did see a police cruiser patrolling the community on the day we left.”
I looked at Singh briefly, while Joe went on to laugh and say, “It’s a gated community. I’m sure it was just someone that called in a patrol to keep an eye on the neighborhood.”
Maria disagreed, saying she thought it was strange, as the neighborhood watch never called a police cruiser unless it was an emergency.
Joe ignored her point and went on, “Now, can you explain how long the intruder was here for? We have a security system installed in the mansion, which means the intruder may have disarmed it. This very much means he is a professional, because the system is top of the line.”
I nodded. “Joe, we asked the security company as of yesterday to contact you. Out of courtesy, please give them your cooperation so we can retrieve any footage. The sooner we can solve this crime, the sooner you both will have your answers and can move on.” Looking at Maggie’s distraught demeanor, I added, “If any other details come to mind, feel free to reach out to us.”
Singh gave them our information as I stepped away to look at the side of the mansion. “Is Maria in the side unit today?” I asked.
“Yes,” Maggie told us, “she has a shift at the diner later in the day but she will answer any questions you may have now. I’ll give her a buzz.”
The side-unit where Maria stayed was located further down the winding driveway adjacent to the mansion. As we walked towards the side-unit, I couldn’t help but admire its beautiful architecture. The large columns in the front and side of the building had grooves carved up its length, with ornaments shaped like a scroll towards the top. I wondered how much a mansion like this would cost and how many people in this community secretly hated the Chan’s for it. Without them knowing, it may have created a jealous neighbor.
Maria had stepped out of the unit. She looked to be in her twenties and was wearing a white uniform with the label “Retro Diner” stitched on the top right corner.
I introduced us. “Maria, my name is Officer Jim Mills, and this is my partner, Detective Ravi Singh.” We both shook her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you. How can I help?” Maria asked softly. It seemed our presence had frightened her.
“Maria,” Singh explained, “I know you already gave your statement to the officers that were here yesterday, but we are assigned to this case and would like to hear all of what transpired, from you directly.”
Maria looked at us cautiously and proceeded to explain her entrance to the mansion around 5 p.m. for her normal scheduled cleaning shift. She explained that she saw the first floor was a mess, at first thinking that the Chan’s had gotten into a heated argument, before remembering that they were out of town. “Then I heard someone in the house,” she said with a look of fear in her eyes, as if she were scared to mention it.
“Wait, that was not in your original statement,” I said, looking through the paper file I had on hand. “Did you hear a noise above you, coming from the second floor?”
She nodded, explaining the footsteps scared her so she ran out of the mansion and immediately called 911.
Singh, watching and listening intently, finally broke the silence by asking, “Maria, how long till the first cruiser arrived on scene?”
“It must have been a few minutes,” Maria said, “The community has a neighborhood watch that will call it into any nearby police officer.”
Singh nodded. He requested the contact at the neighborhood watch and then asked, “Where were you standing and waiting before the police officer arrived?”
Maria pointed towards the gates leading to the winding driveway.
“So, you ran out the front door and waited by the gate. Did you see anyone entering or leaving?” he asked.
She shook her head violently and twisted her hair.
Singh looked at me. “Officer Mills, can I speak with you privately?” We stepped to the side as he said, “Excuse us, Maria.”
His eyes were searching as if he was thinking of every possible angle. “The captain texted me. The security camera tapes are back at the precinct. Let's review them. If the killer was still on the premises there’s a chance we might catch footage of him. Let Maria know that she may be needed in the future to tell her account.”
We pulled into the precinct to review the security tapes. The captain met us at the lobby of the building.
“Did you get my message?” he shouted.
We shook our heads and looked quizzically.
“The tapes have been tampered with, apparently. It completely cuts out a few days prior to the crime.”
Singh and I looked at each other, trying to trace the timeline.
“The Chan’s left their home for vacation a few days ago, right?” I asked.
Singh nodded in agreement. “So whoever tampered with the Chans’ tapes possibly knew their schedule and waited for them to leave to tamper with the security system.”
The captain’s phone buzzed and he quickly stepped out of the lobby to answer.
“Something is bothering me,” Singh said, stepping with me into a side conference room for privacy. “The police cruiser that Maggie noticed—why would someone be patrolling the area unless something got called in? Let's try reaching out to Maria’s contact from their neighborhood watch, see if there was anything called in and check with our internal records to look at the history.”
I agreed, and while Singh started to make calls I logged into electronic records at the precinct, to see if there were any dispatches in the gated community within the last forty-eight hours. I searched through the calls and isolated the specific region in New Hampshire. As I skimmed through the results, I found that a majority of police officers in the area had no reason to be in the gated community. No dispatches were made. Now, my mind started to drift back to what Maria had told us. I wanted to speak with the first responder to the crime scene. I looked through the records and came across the officer's name, Ethan Rodriguez.
Abruptly the captain walked through the doors to see if there was any progress.
“Cap, do you know an Officer Ethan Rodriguez?” I inquired.
The captain told me he was at the precinct if I wanted to speak with him directly, and confirmed he was indeed the first responder at the crime scene.
Rodriguez was pouring himself a cup of coffee when I found him, standing in the break room.
“Officer Rodriguez, my name is Jim Mills. I’m investigating the crime in Lempster,” I explained.
Rodriguez shook my hand. “Mills, I’ve heard the name before—did your father work as a cop?” he asked.
I nodded proudly, as my father had a long and extensive history with a myriad of precincts in the area. “Sorry to cut to the chase, Ethan, but what can you tell me about when you got to the scene? I know you got the call and responded.”
Ethan divulged that he was a few blocks away at a fast-food restaurant, when he heard the call over dispatch. He had met Maria by the gate entrance, reassuring her and placing her in the back of the squad car to make her feel safer. “The woman was really shook, terrified actually. I called it in, drew my weapon and entered the house nervous as hell. I was lucky O
fficer Hunt was walking down the stairs then, felt better knowing he was there,” Ethan explained.
“Wait. Who is Hunt? There was someone else on the scene before you, Ethan?” The red flags went up in my mind. Maria had mentioned hearing someone upstairs, and said she had called the police almost immediately.
“Officer Eddie Hunt… um, Edward Hunt, I mean. He told me he arrived on scene just as I had. I assumed he went right in. Is something wrong?”
“That’s all, Officer,” I said. “Just curious and wanted to get your take on the dispatch was all.”
I stepped out of the room, immediately found Singh and got him up to speed.
Officer Hunt—why does that name sound so familiar? I racked my brain, until I remembered: Hunt was the officer the captain had berated as we first entered the crime scene.
“Let’s approach this cautiously. We don’t want the precinct to know he is a suspect just yet,” Singh said. “If he had any part in what happened, we don’t want him to be alarmed and go on the run.”
Singh then made a search through the electronic records to forty-eight hours prior, in order to trace and account for Hunt’s movements. The records showed he was off duty, yet his squad car was active. Further research showed he had no affiliation with the Lempster district, yet somehow Hunt had been there at the scene of the crime. From a quick discussion with a precinct admin, we were able to retrieve Officer Hunt’s shift information on the electronic records. We saw that Hunt was on vacation for two weeks, and he had been off duty while he had been on site. There were too many red flags to ignore. Singh and I decided to stake out his home to watch his whereabouts. We chose not to tell the captain, but would move forward to see if we could find any clues ourselves.
We waited in Singh’s vehicle for a few hours at a vantage point within sight of Hunt’s home in a nearby town named Goshen. The sun had already begun to go down. Hunt had walked a few times out of his home to check his mail, so we knew he had not left town. Drinking coffee and watching intently, our phone had been buzzing with messages left by the captain. The blood sample analyzed by forensics confirmed it was indeed a pet dog that was shot at point-blank range. Forensics was not able to find any DNA evidence or ballistics, though. This was indeed a professional job, and if the lead on Hunt panned out, it would make sense that an officer could pull off a crime of this caliber.
Malice Aforethought: A Mystery Crime Thriller (A Detective Ravi Singh Mystery Book 1) Page 2
