Escape Clause

by James O. Born

  “Shot in the head.”

  “Inside?”

  Rufus nodded. “I’m sorry. Billie told me you were his friend.”

  “You catch the killer?”

  “Not yet. I got the county guys out at the crossroads looking for strange vehicles and we’re trying to piece this together now. The perp won’t get far.”

  “Billie okay?”

  “Pretty shook up. She found the body. We figure it happened about two hours ago, based on when he left his site and when she found him. Only about a forty-five-minute window.”

  Tasker was still in a daze. “What was the motive? Any idea?”

  “Looks like he surprised a burglar. Place is a wreck.”

  “Who would burglarize a college professor? Especially one that lived in a dump like this?”

  Rufus just looked at him.

  “What the hell did he have that was worth killing him for?”

  Rufus kept staring silently.

  Tasker said, “We’re going to have to jump on this quick.”

  Luther Williams had heard the sirens earlier and seen the activity of the correctional officers. That’s what he called them, correctional officers. They hated the word “guard,” so he tried to keep them happy. He came to the visitor pavilion unescorted because of his trustee status. She was waiting for him when he walked into the booth. All one hundred and eighty pounds of her. Her thick hair sprayed and teased into impossible waves and curls. Her stupid grin glued to her face whenever he walked into the room.

  He flopped down in the wooden chair across from her and picked up the phone on the wall next to him. Sometimes he was happy there was a glass partition between them.

  She fumbled with the phone on her side with her gigantic hands, then cut loose with one of her horse grins. “Hey, you,” was all she cooed.

  “Hello, my darling,” was perhaps the warmest thing Luther had ever said to another human. He supposed he’d told his mother he loved her when he was a child but could not now, in all honesty, recall uttering such words.

  “How are you?”

  He looked around him. “I am imprisoned, my dear. Aside from that, I am fine.”

  “What about your appeal?”

  “My dear, I assure you, I believe my release is imminent.”

  Her eyes nearly sparkled as they widened.

  Luther remained steady. “I just need a few things from you.”

  “Anything.” She had a gasp of emotion in her voice.

  “Keep this schedule exactly. Wednesdays and Sundays at four-thirty.”

  She nodded.

  “No exceptions, no excuses.”

  “You can count on me.”

  “I know I can, my darling. Also, let me see your keys.”

  She lifted up a purse that looked more like a duffel bag and started to search through it. Finally she retrieved a key ring with a photograph of her miniature white poodle attached.

  “Why would you want to see my keys?”

  “I have a small problem that the right-sized piece of metal might solve. Just lay them on the counter. No need to draw attention to us.”

  She laid the ring with the various keys on the small counter between them.

  He pointed at the smallest key on the chain. “That one. Is that your car’s trunk key?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you have a spare?”

  Another nod. “At home.”

  “Excellent. Slide that off the ring, my dear, and when you leave, just drop the key, very casually, mind you, next to the last pole in the rail leading down to the parking lot.”

  “Drop it on the ground?”

  “In the grass. No one will bother it.”

  “What on earth do you need with a key?”

  “Just a simple engineering problem. Nothing you need give a second thought.”

  She smiled again. “I’m just so excited about your appeal. You think they’ll let you walk free on all charges?”

  “My dear, I believe I will be a free man soon.” He was in such a good mood that he even had to admit she had a pretty, if large, smile.

  Tasker woke from an uneasy night’s sleep. It took a second to focus as the previous day’s events became clear in his head. He had to work to develop the drive to get out of bed. A crime of violence affected everyone, but one so close, almost in his own home, had unnerved Tasker. And Rufus’ assurances that they’d catch the killer in a day or two did nothing to satisfy him. Professor Kling was such a good guy, how would he even tell the girls? And now Donna wouldn’t let the girls visit and he couldn’t blame her.

  He plopped into a chair after making a bowl of bananas and bran cereal. The TV droned on without saying anything of interest. He liked watching the West Palm Beach ABC affiliate because it reminded him of his life with Donna and the kids.

  He finished breakfast, jumped in his Monte Carlo and headed down the long access road to US 27. He turned east toward Belle Glade, but instead of making the turn toward Manatee prison he turned right toward Gladesville’s police department. He needed to make sure Rufus Goodwin handled the professor’s homicide like a professional.

  fifteen

  Tasker found Gladesville’s small police department attached to the rear of City Hall. The four parking spaces by the entrance were shaded by an old oak tree with years of unraked leaves clogging the sidewalk and the edges of the parking lot. To the side was a small wall with a Dumpster behind it, and next to the Dumpster was the rear entrance to the police department.

  Inside, things didn’t improve much. The lobby consisted of two unmatched vinyl couches over some cheap linoleum and the city police dispatcher/receptionist sitting behind a flimsy Plexiglas partition. A twenty-inch color TV, secured to the upper wall, played a West Palm Beach NBC affiliate that anyone on one of the couches and the receptionist could see.

  The large black woman behind the counter sat reading a National Enquirer as Tasker walked up. She showed no interest in looking up until he pulled out his badge and tapped the window with it.

  She cut her eyes up to him without moving her head. “Yes?”

  “I’m Bill Tasker with FDLE to see—”

  The radio console crackled in front of her and she held up one finger to silence Tasker while she turned her limited attention to the city police radio. Tasker couldn’t understand what was said over the static and hiss, but the lady took an old-style stand-up microphone and said, “Ten-four, Harold. I’ll let Eugene know.” She turned back to Tasker, this time showing him the courtesy of actually turning her head.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. FDLE agent, whatchu need?”

  “Rufus Goodwin?”

  She picked up her phone and spoke for a second, then said to Tasker, “He’ll be right out.” She didn’t wait for a reply, just turned back to her paper.

  Tasker looked around the empty lobby. Normally he’d have taken the minute to sit on one of the couches and catch the news or just clear his head, but the events of the last day had turned his normal thoughts upside down. He just couldn’t imagine why someone would kill Professor Kling. He’d seen plenty of senseless killings, but they almost always had something to do with the victim being involved with the killer or trying to resist a robbery or home invasion. He didn’t see the mild-mannered professor standing up to burglars hard enough to be shot.

  The inner door opened and Rufus Goodwin stood in a white short-sleeve shirt with a thick blue, polyester tie. “What’re you doin’ here, Bill?”

  “Came to see what I can help with on the Kling murder.”

  “What d’ya mean?”

  “I mean, what’s going on with the investigation and what can I do to help?”

  Rufus looked at him. “Nothing and nothing.”

  Tasker walked to the doorway, knowing his invasion of the Gladesville detective’s personal space would move him back and then they could talk this over in the detective bureau.

  Rufus stepped back and said, “C’mon back to my office.”

  Tasker followed hi
m down a narrow hallway to the one-room detective bureau. The lone desk in the ten-by-ten office was piled with police reports and file folders. The cheap bookshelves had out-of-date statute books and texts on police work from courses not offered in the past ten years. A double fluorescent light stretched across the ceiling, giving off enough illumination to see through cardboard.

  Rufus stopped and shoved a stack of reports from one of the two chairs in front of his desk, then tiptoed through the mess on a well-worn path to his old, straight-backed wooden chair.

  He looked at Tasker and said, “I appreciate your concern for the investigation, but this is a Gladesville homicide investigation, not a big-deal FDLE operation.”

  “Rufus, we need to find this killer. I don’t care who gets credit.”

  “I’m workin’ on finding the perp. You need to work on your own homicide investigation.”

  “Rufus, you know as well as I do that the first few hours of a homicide are vital. My case is six weeks old. Nothing new is going to happen while I help you on this.”

  “If the mayor thinks we can’t do our own police work, he’s gonna find some new policemen.”

  Tasker took a deep breath and gave the Gladesville detective the benefit of the doubt. He remembered what it felt like when the FBI swooped in and stole one of his cases. Finally he said, “Okay, Rufus, will you at least keep me updated on what’s going on?”

  “That, I can do.”

  Renee Chin stood at the front of the admin building, looking out the large plate-glass window. She had been drinking her morning coffee waiting for Bill Tasker to arrive. She’d called him the night before after she heard about the murder of his neighbor. He’d seemed all right, but she could tell the FDLE man was not one to go on about emotions. He wasn’t one to go on about anything, but he had a quick sense of humor to match his pleasant, if infrequent smile. He was unlike anyone she had met in the last few years in Gladesville. Around the facility, she couldn’t show her feminine side very often. Both the inmates and the correctional officers might try to get over on her if they thought she was soft. The men in town weren’t much better. She’d dated a teacher from Belle Glade for over a year until he’d had a chance to teach English in Bosnia. She wasn’t sure if he had left to find adventure or because of the adventure. After that, Rufus was the only interesting man she had seen. He may not have looked like much, but he was smart and had some ambition. He was only nine hours short of a degree and he always had his eye on a chief of police job. Too bad he couldn’t keep it in his pants.

  Renee watched the man from the State Division of Management Services work outside on the lights in the grass. She’d seen him around a number of times, but had never met the heavyset, balding man. Nance was his last name. She knew that from running his background to make sure he wasn’t related to any inmates and didn’t have a criminal history.

  He squatted near the walkway from the visitor center and picked through the grass as he adjusted the lights. She never could’ve had his job. Too bland, not enough human contact.

  She turned and found Luther Williams at the far end of the corridor, watching her. She didn’t get the sense he ever watched her with an eye toward lust, more like he was sizing her up. He seemed to do that to a lot of the staff. She might have to set his ass straight one day real soon.

  Bill Tasker was vaguely uneasy about his visit with Rufus Goodwin. The Gladesville detective hadn’t sounded like he was going to beat the bushes on this case. He made his way past the few stores on Gladesville Avenue and then through the industrial section where they had chased the escaped inmate on Friday night and then onto the Manatee Correctional grounds.

  Tasker worried about Billie Towers. He didn’t know how the professor’s death might affect her.

  He pulled his Monte Carlo into the last available visitor spot next to a step van with the State Department of Management Services logo across the side. Tasker, like most state employees, dreaded dealing with the bureaucratic dinosaur responsible for keeping up state buildings. It took a memo and ninety days to have a framed photograph hung on an office wall. The kicker was that no one but a DMS worker was allowed to hang framed photos in a state building.

  Tasker took the path near the visitor center as a shortcut to the administration building. With his ALL ACCESS identification and badge, he found that he could travel around the facility much faster. He passed the stooped DMS man working in the grass at the end of the path and turned toward the admin building. He noticed a tall figure in the wide picture window and, as he came closer, realized it was Renee Chin. Her brilliant smile was visible from twenty yards away even through the glare of the window. He gave her a wave, which she returned, and he felt his spirits lift as he headed toward the main entrance. He had already pondered the ethics of asking her out before he finished his report and had decided to wait, at least for a while. He wasn’t sure if it was the ethics, the fact that he was also attracted to Billie Towers or the fear that she’d laugh in his face that kept him from taking the plunge.

  He caught himself almost smiling as he made the final turn toward the administration entrance. She was really having an impact on him and he had to admit it. At least to himself.

  She met him in the hallway near her office.

  “I’m so sorry about your neighbor.” She took both his hands.

  Tasker nodded.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No. I’m just gonna keep working on the Dewalt case.”

  “What’s next?”

  “I’m going over to the lockdown facility to compare photos with the real thing and make a few sketches. I figure it’ll be nice to be away from people for a while. It’s pretty quiet over there.”

  “No one will bother you, that’s for sure. Sometimes one of the inmates in the psych unit will be loud and you can hear them in lockdown, but it should be quiet.”

  “That’s what I need: a quiet afternoon.”

  Even though he was still on administrative leave for the shooting, Captain Sam Norton walked along the north fence with Sergeant Henry Janzig waddling hard to keep up. Norton knew the older man had problems, keeping up a fast pace with his arthritis and hip problems, but it was just so damn funny to see him move his stubby legs fast and try to keep up a conversation that he couldn’t help himself. They never talked about non-department business inside unless it was an emergency. This way he let the perimeter officers see he was on the prowl, even in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, and he could talk with his partner without fear of being overheard or recorded.

  Janzig huffed and puffed, then finally said, “What do we need to talk about way out here? Everything on track with the business?”

  “Yeah, Henry, don’t worry. We’re in good shape there.”

  Finally Janzig stopped walking and reached up and grabbed Norton by the shoulder. “Let’s take a break and talk right here.”

  Norton let a smile slip over his face. “All right, you old coot. The boys in the tower are gonna think we’re having a lovers’ spat the way you just stopped me.”

  “They’d think that more if you had to give me CPR. You walk too damn fast. Now what’s goin’ on?”

  “It’s the FDLE agent.”

  “Tasker? What’s that dickwad done? He’s just lookin’ into the Dewalt kid’s death. I know he and Renee found the goddamn pendant I stuck in Baxter’s stuff. They gotta be wonderin’ why he had it.”

  Norton looked at him. “They’re keeping it quiet. They haven’t even told me about it yet.”

  “They will, and it should lead him to the right fucking conclusion.” Janzig laughed. “That boy Tasker does get into things, doesn’t he? He works the murder and jumps in on our escape.”

  Norton looked down and said, “He’s doin’ a few other things, too.”

  “What else is he doin’? Renee Chin?”

  Norton glared at him. “Don’t you talk like that.”

  “Why not? Ain’t it obvious to you?”

  Norton sighed. �
��Don’t matter. He’s causing other kinds of shit. I need to have a good scare thrown into him.”

  “Why not a beating?”

  “Either way, I just need his ass heading back to the coast. Soon.”

  “I’ll talk to the Knights about it.”

  “Naw, you use them shitheads too much. They might talk. What if he just gets stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  Janzig scratched his chin. “He’s around the hatch and lockdown quite a bit. Might be we could work out something over there.”

  “You handle it, but keep it quiet.”

  The pudgy man paused, then asked, “What if he isn’t scared by an unfortunate incident?”

  “Then we have to set up something more drastic. That’s his option. He leaves on his own or in a box.”

  Janzig nodded and smiled. “I know exactly what to do.”

  Norton knew better than to ask.

  Luther Williams replaced the book he had just retrieved from Dorm D. One of the numskulls had checked out a book on surfing. Luther knew the man had twenty-two years left on his trafficking-in-cocaine sentence. Was he optimistic he’d be able to surf at an advanced age? Luther could see why most of these guys got caught. He sorted through the other books on his cart and was glad he’d done the favors he needed to do to be assigned such a cushy job and given trustee status so quickly. A little legal advice here and a few documents created there and suddenly he’d skipped five hundred men waiting for a job like this.

  He shuffled over to the doorway of the library and looked down the hall at Inspector Renee Chin. She had her back to him as she looked out a window, but he knew who it was. No one else looked like that from behind, not in this place. He found himself imagining what it would be like to have those incredibly long legs wrap around him and squeeze. Though maybe not squeeze all the way, because Luther had seen what that girl could do to an inmate who crossed the line. She was as feared as any man in the prison, except Captain Norton. Norton ran a tight ship and he was not a man to put up with bullshit. Luther admired that in a man, even one whose job it was to keep him locked up. Captain Norton was all right to him because of their arrangement, but Luther knew not to push it. He had seen what had happened to Rick Dewalt and the lesson hadn’t been lost on him.