by Bill WENHAM
Beer and pizza wasn’t exactly champagne and lobster, but it was a start. She thought about some of the odd looks and whispered comments there had been around the office recently. So, maybe someone in the office had noticed and had set this up.
People in the office had noticed, but they hadn’t done it. Vinnie Cardilli had! He had put his plan into action and was now waiting for it to unfold. He wouldn’t be a witness to it but he would enjoy the results of it just the same when it happened.
While they were waiting for the pizza delivery, Factor got out tray tables, napkins, paper plates and a couple of Buds each. Streeter offered to help but he just laughed.
“You can do the heavy stuff later,” he said.
“Heavy stuff?”
“You get to put the pizza box and the cans in the trash when we’re done. Is that heavy enough for you?” he said, laughing.
Streeter thought back to the morning she’d first met him. He had almost emerged from an angry and drunken binge. He’d also had another, a week long one, after she’d confirmed his wife’s death to him. At the time she wondered if that one was caused by grief or was in celebration of being single again.
Factor’s next words to her were as if she’d just read his mind.
“Its okay, Liz. I can handle a few beers once in a while. The night we first met was an exception. I’d never gotten that drunk before and the only other time was when you told me about Dellie. That was tough to handle without having some kind of support. The bourbon bottle was the closest thing at hand.”
He may have said more but he was interrupted by the ringing of the front door bell. The pizza had arrived and they settled down to just enjoy each other’s company.
Both of them were a little nervous and neither wanted to make what could perhaps be an unwelcome move on the other. Even so, each without the other being aware of it, neither of them of them wanted to ruin what seemed to be developing between them.
When they had finished with the pizza, Streeter licked her fingers as free of tomato paste as she could. She didn’t want to criticize, but, although Factor had provided plates and napkins, he hadn’t put out any cutlery, not even plastic.
Streeter said, “That was just great, Dean, but do you mind if I pop along to the little girl’s room to wash my hands?”
“Ah, Liz, I’m afraid the little girl’s room is out of action right now. A small plumbing problem apparently, but there’s another bathroom just a little further down the hall,” he said and pointed to a door across the room. “It’s the second door on your right.”
Streeter had kicked off her shoes when the pizza arrived and her jacket was draped over the back of another chair.
“Be right back, Mr. Factor,” she said. “Don’t you dare go away.”
“Or what? You’ll arrest me, will you?” Factor grinned.
Streeter smiled and padded away across the deep pilecarpet to the bathroom.
The next thing Factor heard was Streeter yelling, “Oh, my God, Dean! What the hell is this!”
Factor scrambled out of his chair and rushed down the hallway to where Streeter stood with her hands braced on either side of the door frame.
She had the door open and was looking inside. Even a cop is capable of shock when taken by surprise, even though she’d seen this kind of thing dozens of times before.
Factor came up behind her and looked into the bathroom as well.
He was astounded to see a naked female body floating face down in his bathtub! How the hell had that gotten there, he wondered, and then he realized Streeter would soon be asking him the very same question.
She stepped forward into the bathroom, leaned over the bath and felt the woman’s neck for a pulse. There was none and it appeared to Streeter that the woman must have been there for some time.
“Was this meant to be a little surprise for me, Dean,” she said and then added, “Sorry, I didn’t really mean that.”
Factor was speechless as she carefully turned the body over. She looked back at Factor and noted the shocked look on his face as he recognized her.
“You know her, Dean?” she asked.
Factor nodded and then shook his head as his shoulders slumped.
Streeter said, “Its okay, Dean. I know this wasn’t any of your doing, and even with practice, you’re still not that good an actor. So, who is she?”
Factor said shakily, “Its Wanda Fullerton, the wife of one of our franchisees. The second one, as it happens,” he added inanely. He immediately realized how ridiculous that sounded but Streeter picked up on it immediately. Gone was his relaxed pizza eating companion of a few minutes ago. Streeter was now all cop and all business.
“And Patti Thatcher was the first?” she asked.
“Yes she was,” he said. “This makes two of them.”
“No, Dean, you’re wrong. This actually makes three. Your Dellie was also an Easy Green related homicide. I just hadn’t made that connection before.”
They went out of the bathroom, closed the door and returned to the living room. She picked up her handbag and took out her cell phone.
“I have to call this in, Dean,” she said as Factor stood dejectedly in front of her. “You poor guy. Up until now, I was really enjoying being here with you. It was a really wonderful evening.”
“And?” Factor said.
Streeter shrugged.
“It’s actually a ‘but’ not an ‘and’, Dean. As I said, I was enjoying the evening, but, as of right now, you’ve become a murder suspect all over again in the eyes of the law.”
She punched in a number and reported yet another murder in which Dean Factor was somehow involved. Even as she did so, she wondered when this nightmare would ever end for him and why did they have to all happen on her patch?
When the next murder occurred, it would still be on her patch, it would still involve Factor, but this time it would nail him neatly to the wall. Unlike the others, this time the victim would be male!
Chapter Sixteen
Streeter was called into the Chief’s office a couple of weeks later. The Chief, Kevin Stewart, a heavy featured, grey haired man in his early sixties, indicated a chair in front of his desk. She sat down in it but had no idea what he wanted her for.
“Liz, we have to talk,” the Chief said.
“About what?” Streeter asked.
Stewart looked at her and frowned.
“Don’t try to play it cute with me, lieutenant. You know damned well why I’ve got you in here.” he said testily. “If it wasn’t bad enough this city’s got the reputation as being Michigan’s most violent, this department also happens to have several unsolved murders hanging over our heads now as well. The Commissioner is not happy, lieutenant. He is not very happy at all.”
He glared over at Streeter.
“We also have the same bloody suspect involved in three of them now, and you wonder why we need to talk?”
“Dean Factor” she said.
“Of course, Factor” Stewart snapped at her. “We’ve had that bastard in here three times already and each time he’s managed to wriggle free, damn it!”
There was actually a very good reason why Factor had ‘wriggled free’ as Stewart put it.
In each of Factor’s three appearances in court for preliminary hearings to face charges of suspected murder, each of the judges had made remarkably similar comments.
The first ruling, in the case of Patti Thatcher’s murder, was made by Judge Myron Faraday, a deep voiced and boringly ponderous speaker, who said,
“It is one thing to have a dead body discovered in or on an accused person’s property. Perhaps it may even be considered relevant that the deceased was also known by the accused.
However, in the eyes of the law, it is a different situation entirely to try the case and obtain a murder conviction against an accused without a solid basis of proof.
Do I have to remind you again of a basic fundamental of the law? Mere relevance is not proof and neither is supposition or susp
icion.
The law clearly states that an accused person must be proven guilty, beyond all reasonable doubt.”
Faraday made this same speech on a fairly regular basis and Streeter thought he should have just made a DVD of it. Then he could stay home and they could all watch his ramblings on a monitor in the courtroom.
Faraday continued, “It is the responsibility of either the accused themselves, or the State, if the accused is unable to do so, to retain counsel. That counsel is then charged, regardless of their own opinion of the accused’s guilt or innocence, to defend to the best of their ability, against the charges that have been leveled against the accused.
However, in order for the accused to be convicted of those charges, the burden of proof of any wrongdoing, and in this case, murder, lies squarely upon the shoulders of the police and the prosecution.
In this instance, it is the considered opinion of the court that the proof necessary to obtain such a conviction, or even to consider further court action, has not been forthcoming from the either the police or the prosecution.
Therefore, all charges against Mr. Dean Factor are hereby dismissed.”
Streeter was pleased with the outcome and had agreed with the judge.
“I happen to think he’s innocent, Chief,” Streeter countered. “You know as well as I do there is no evidence against him to support the charges. The judges have even said so.”
Stewart said. “And I’m saying that think doesn’t cut it here, Liz. You know that as well as I do, don’t you? If you believe he’s innocent, then bloody well prove it, just like those judges said. But as far as this department is concerned, I’d rather you spent the city’s time and money proving he was guilty. The Commissioner isn’t going to sit back twiddling his thumbs while we and that means you, lieutenant, sit around taking your time.
You’re supposed to be a detective, Liz, so get out there and bloody well detect.”
He stopped talking and glowered at her.
Thinking her bawling out was over, Streeter stood up.
“Well, if that’s it, sir, I guess I’d better go out and start detecting,” she said flippantly.
Stewart replied, “I’m not through with you yet, lieutenant, so just sit your smart ass back down again and listen. I’ll tell you when it’s okay for you to leave.”
Streeter sat her ass back down as requested but inside she was fuming. The Chief had no right to haul her over the coals like this. There had to be another reason for all this. Stewart didn’t leave her waiting too long to find out what it was.
When he spoke again, much of the aggravation had left his voice and it took on an almost fatherly tone.
“Liz.” he said, “In a place like this, people talk. You know that. Sometimes they’re right and sometimes not. This time I believe they are.”
He stopped and looked at her.
“And for a police lieutenant, I believe you’ve been pretty damned indiscreet lately, missy.”
Streeter knew exactly where he was going with this but she still said,
“How, Chief?”
“With this guy, Factor, that’s how. He’s a murder suspect, for God’s sake! Liz. You were seen and overheard being, as it was relayed to me, ‘overly friendly’ with the suspect,” Stewart said.
Streeter just exploded angrily.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Chief? Have I missed a departmental directive telling us we have to beat up suspects the moment we get them through our doors? And right now he isn’t even a murder suspect. All the charges against him were dismissed.”
“No, Liz, but…” the Chief began.
“There are no ‘buts’ about it, sir. Dean Factor is merely a person we held for questioning in a series of unfortunate and suspicious events. He hasn’t been formally arrested on charges of murder and he submitted willingly to appear before a judge for the hearings anyway. Three separate judges, in fact, all of whom dismissed him.”
Streeter was virtually seething with anger.
“And I want it on record that I resent people poking damned their noses into my private….business.” She was about to say ‘affairs’ but caught herself just in time.
Stewart breathed out heavily.
“Are you reprimanding me, lieutenant? I would be very careful about saying what you want on record, young lady. Some of those things can easily come back to haunt you.”
Streeter shook her head.
“No, of course I’m not reprimanding you, Chief, and I don’t want to lose my badge over this, either. But I’m a woman, dammit, and I have the right to think and act like one if I want to.”
Stewart was trying hard to control his temper. He knew he wouldn’t have stood this for a moment from one of his male officers, or even some of his other female ones.
He said, “No one is questioning your gender here, Liz, but I am questioning your common sense. Something you’ve been showing a remarkable lack of recently. It’s just not like you.”
He paused and then said, “And since you have brought up the subject of rights, Liz, let me remind you that you are a Detective Lieutenant on this city’s police force. Both the city, and I, as your superior officer, have a right to expect you to act like one at all times.”
He looked over at the angry woman glowering sullenly at him from across his desk.
“That will be all now, lieutenant. I will be expecting to see some more positive results from you in future following this discussion,” Stewart said, dismissing her.
Streeter took a deep breath, stood up and left Stewart’s office with as much dignity as she could muster. She stopped just long enough at her desk to pick up her bag and then left the building. She was absolutely furious and she felt deeply humiliated, but at the same time she knew Stewart was right and at least she’d kept her badge. As she walked to her car, all kinds of thoughts were clambering for attention in her mind.
What did she really know about Factor anyway? Not enough to risk losing her career for, that was for sure! As far as he was concerned, she was just going on a hunch, a woman’s intuition, a gut feeling or whatever, that he was completely innocent of everything he’d been charged with.
Then she started to wonder how much her own hormones were affecting her woman’s intuition.
The words of Judge Faraday suddenly popped into her head and as she recalled them, she realized proof cut both ways, as the Chief had also said. If others were trying to prove him guilty, then it was up to her to prove him innocent.
If that was what she truly believed.
Get out there and detect, Stewart had told her. Okay then, Streeter, she said to herself, if everyone else wants him thrown in jail, then it’s up to you to keep him out of it and to make sure he gets a fair shake. Prove that he’s innocent, Liz – or forget about him. If he is guilty, you don’t want him either. She would detect, but she would also do it her way!
When she reached her car, she took her cell phone from her bag and punched in a number. A moment later Factor answered.
“Hi, jailbird, how’s things?” she said cheerfully.
“Things are just fine, Liz,” Factor said. “Until another body turns up, that is.”
There was a moment of silence on the line and then Streeter said softly, “Feel like some company, Dean?”
Her question sounded a bit tentative to Factor, as though she was scared to ask it. They’d been associating at arm’s length, one way or another, all summer but both of them were aware of the spark that rippled between them when they were together. They also knew all that was needed was just a little something to fan that little spark into a roaring flame.
Was that what she was doing now or was this just an innocent friendly question?
“Sure, Liz,” he said in answer to her question. “Would you like to go for a beer or out to eat somewhere, or both, if you like?
She thought about that for a moment.
“Well, even though you’re not quite as notorious right now, that might be a bit uncomfortabl
e for both of us with people staring and whispering. You know how they are.”
“Would you like to come over here then?” he asked.
Streeter laughed.
“Ah, no thanks, Dean. I think I’ll pass on that, for this time at least. Our last get together at your place didn’t turn out too well, did it?
But why don’t you come over to my place? It’s only a small apartment because I live alone but it’s comfy and nobody will be pointing, whispering and pointing at you.” she said.
Well, I might, she grinned as she waited for his answer.
What was I thinking, Factor chided himself. The one and only other time she’d visited his home socially, she’d found Wanda Fullerton’s body floating in his bathtub!
Suddenly he realized he hadn’t answered her question.
“Sorry, Liz. Of course I’ll come over there. Can I bring anything? Beer? Wine? Chinese take out, maybe?” he asked.
“No, that’s okay, Dean. I’ll put together something for us to drink and nibble on. Something non-alcoholic because I don’t want to have to arrest you for drinking and driving when you leave, do I?”
“No, I guess not but I’d forgotten for a moment you were a cop,” he said.
Did you really? Streeter thought and smiled. Well that’s a good start then, isn’t it?
She gave him her address, said she’d expect him when she saw him and disconnected. Then she got in her car and drove home. Maybe if she could get him alone and relaxed she could find out more about him, like whether or not he was innocent, perhaps.
She realized that, if he was guilty, she was taking a hell of a chance being alone again with him, well away from the eyes and ears.
Anyway, that was her decision, but, as she would find out later, finding the proof of his guilt or innocence wouldn’t up to her at all!
After he’d hung up, Factor thought about Dellie, something he did often, particularly when he was alone. He knew he’d never have considered anything like this while she was alive, but she wasn’t alive anymore, was she?
He’d mourned her in his own way for a while and he realized that she hadn’t been gone long. Just a few months, in fact. He had loved her dearly but now she was gone. Although he could continue to love the memory of her, the person wasn’t there to love anymore. She just wasn’t there for him to love.
