by Al Boudreau
“Is Erlichman on a mission to become infamous, or what?”
“Seems that way. The reporter claims the argument escalated into a violent brawl inside Erlichman’s office. They haven’t released the injured party’s name, but he’s definitely in rough shape. Apparently, Erlichman pushed the kid’s head straight through a second-story window. The reporter said the kid would’ve landed head-first on the sidewalk if a couple of Erlichman’s employees hadn’t intervened when they did.”
“Unreal. Well, it’ll be interesting to find out if the dispute has any connection to our case,” I said.
“Pretty likely, don’t you think?” Sarah asked. “James said Erlichman was pissed because someone from his paper leaked his scoop about Amanda and Coughlin to the Gazette.”
“Yep. Guess I’ll be more surprised if the incident is unrelated,” I said. “Anyways, getting back to Coughlin. I can’t find a single piece of information that talks about any children he might have. But several articles mentioned that he was never married.”
“Well … there goes that theory,” Sarah said.
“Not necessarily. If he had one child out of wedlock, don’t you think there could be more?”
“I guess you’re right,” Sarah said. “But talk about a needle in a haystack. How on earth would we track them down?”
“Good point. Not necessarily the launch pad for kicking this investigation into high gear I was hoping for.”
“I think I feel a headache coming on,” Sarah said. “I’m going to take something. Mind if I lie down for a few minutes?”
“Go for it,” I said. “It’s not like this case is about to break.”
Chapter 17
I sat back in my office chair and closed my eyes, hoping some connection, some piece of the puzzle I hadn’t found yet, would come to me out of the blue.
It wasn’t working.
I picked up my phone and called Detective James, hoping he’d had better luck.
“Hey, Carter. Did you see the news?” James asked.
“You talking about Erlichman?”
“So you did see it.”
“I didn’t, but Sarah did. She caught the live report and told me about it. Do they know who the other guy is, yet?”
“They haven’t released his name. But I doubt the incident has any connection to our investigation.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked.
“I got similar stories from two reliable confidential informants---each from different sides of the tracks---that Erlichman was messing around with this guy’s girlfriend. I wasn’t aware of Erlichman’s extra-curricular activities before tonight, but I’m told it’s common knowledge, in and around Boston, that Erlichman is quite the womanizer.”
“He’s married, right?” I asked. “I saw him in a good many photos, all with the same woman, when I was doing a little digging on him.”
“Been married thirty-two years, I’m told. Guess he must have some sort of arrangement with his wife, because he doesn’t seem to be trying to hide his skirt chasing.”
“Good for him,” I said. “I’m counting on the fact there’s a special place reserved for people like that idiot in the next world.”
James laughed. “Eternal justice. Oh, I heard back from the radio station’s intern, Kayla Brock. Said she spoke with you.”
“She did.”
“Well, so much for what I said earlier about not having the energy to conduct another interview today. I asked her to come to the station first thing tomorrow. She hemmed and hawed about having to take some exam, so I gave her a choice: tomorrow morning, or tonight. Wouldn’t you know? She called my bluff. On her way back to Bridgeport now.”
“Oh, man. What did you do to piss-off the powers that be?”
“I’m not sure, but now I’m regretting those drinks we had after work. I know they say it doesn’t actually help, but I’ve been drinking coffee ever since I got off the phone with Brock.”
“What’s her ETA?”
“I expect she’ll roll into town in another fifteen minutes, or so. Why?” James asked.
“I’ll come and get you,” I said. “We can drive over to the station together. I’d like to be there and observe your time with Kayla. Sarah’s nursing a headache, anyways, so I’m sure she’ll appreciate the peace and quiet.”
“If you don’t mind, I’m all for it,” James said. “Knowing you’re working, too, will ease my pain.”
I laughed. “Take me a minute to write a quick note to Sarah, then I’ll be on my way.”
* * *
“You’re a good man, Carter Peterson,” James said as he climbed inside my car. “I appreciate you doing this.”
“No problem. It’s not like I’d be doing anything tonight but thinking about the case, so why not keep it interesting. Who knows? Maybe this Kayla kid will give us the lead we’ve been hoping for.”
“I sure hope so, because heading back to the station is the last thing I want to be doing with my down time. The Sox are on, for crying out loud.”
I turned on the radio so James could listen to the ball game during the ride over. “Look on the bright side. Tonight’s game isn’t crucial. They’ve got the AL championship in their pockets after last night’s win.”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Thanks for reminding me. Another game I had to miss. What, in the name of all things good and right, ever made me choose this career, anyways? The work day never seems to end.”
“What would you do instead?” I asked.
“Are you really asking, or just being a wise-guy?”
“No, I’m being serious,” I said. “I’ve asked myself the same question for years, and still haven’t come up with an answer.”
“I’d be a master electrician,” James said with a straight face.
I laughed. “Where’d you come up with that one?”
“I’m totally serious. Think about it,” James said. “Run your own business. Call your own shots. No nights. No weekends. And no losers pointing guns in your face. Not to mention, electricians make serious bank.”
“Doesn’t sound bad, I suppose. But, like most jobs, there must be some downside to it you haven’t considered.”
“Maybe,” James said. “But if I were an electrician, at least I’d be back in my recliner, beer in hand, watching the Sox right now.”
I wheeled into the station’s employee lot and parked in James’s spot. “But you wouldn’t have a parking stall with your name on it.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” James said as he backhanded me in the shoulder. “It’s good to be me.”
I followed James inside. We were met by an officer as we made our way down the hall. “Evening, Detective,” he said. “A woman named Kayla Brock is waiting for you out front.”
“Wow. Can’t believe she beat us here,” James said, looking at his watch. “Thanks.”
“No problem, sir.”
I waited for the officer to walk away before I slapped James on the shoulder. “Doubt your employees would be calling you ‘sir’ if you wired houses for a living.”
“Yeah, yeah. See you when I’m finished,” he said.
I entered the interrogation viewing room, pulled my notebook out, and chose the same seat I’d occupied this morning during James’s time with Corey Anders.
I was getting settled in, when Kayla Brock enter the room adjacent to the one I was in. Detective James followed, closing the door behind them.
“Have a seat, Kayla,” I heard him say over the speaker.
She did as she was told, the expression on her face tough to read. My guess: a combination of annoyance and mild apprehension.
James got started. “First off, Kayla, I’ll need you to tell me where you were, and who you were with, from 9 pm last night until 2 am this morning.”
“I was just up the street at Amanda Enright’s house. Amanda was there. And our producer, Corey Anders. I left Amanda’s with Corey at 8:50 pm. He brought me to the bus station so I could go back to school. I g
ot into Boston at 10:40 pm. Uh, I walked back to my dorm. It took me, like, 30 minutes. I climbed into bed around 11:45 pm, studied for a while, and fell asleep. I was there until I got Corey’s call this morning.”
“In your dorm room?” James asked.
“Yes,” she replied, nodding.
“Did Corey Anders wait at the bus station until you boarded the bus for Boston last night?” James asked.
“No. He dropped me off and left.”
“I trust you kept the receipt for the bus ticket you purchased,” James said.
Kayla hesitated then said, “Yes, I did.”
“Do you happen to have it with you right now?”
“I think I put it in my change purse,” she said and began digging in her bag. “Yes. Right here,” she said and slid the receipt across the table to James.
I watched him nod his head. “So, according to this stub, you purchased the ticket around 9:00 pm last night.”
“I did. I just barely made my bus.”
“And you said you walked straight to your dorm from the bus station when you arrived in Boston?” James asked.
“Yes,” Kayla replied.
“Was anyone there when you got back to your dorm room?”
“Yes. My roommate, Jen.”
“What’s Jen’s last name?”
“Parker,” Kayla said.
“And did you speak to Jen Parker when you arrived?” James asked.
“Yes. Well, I accidently woke her up when I came in. I, like, stumbled over her shoes. She told me she had a test in the morning. And then we said good night.”
“Does Ms. Parker have a cell phone, too?” James asked.
“Yes.”
James slid a piece of paper and a pen over in front of Kayla. “Write down her contact information for me, would you please?”
Kayla nodded and complied, without hesitation.
“Did you communicate with anyone else last night? By phone? Text? Email?”
Kayla hesitated then said, “Yes, Corey sent me a text to make sure I arrived safely. I texted him back, and let him know I was fine.”
“What time was that?”
“Around 12:05 am,” she said.
“Do you have the phone you used to communicate with Corey Anders on your person right now?” James asked.
Kayla gave James an odd look. “On my person?”
“In other words, do you have the cell phone with you right now?”
“Yes.”
“Kayla, would you be willing to let me borrow your cell phone in order to run a few tests, so I can confirm you’re being truthful with me?” James asked.
She hesitated before answering. “For how long?”
James smiled. “As long as it takes.”
“Uh … I guess,” she said. “But, um. Well, can I, like, wait for it? I can’t go back to Boston without my phone.”
“Slide it over to me and I’ll take a look, right here, right now.”
“She took her phone out and handed it to James. I noticed she was fidgeting in her seat a little as James fiddled with the device, but she didn’t appear to be panic-stricken like a guilty party might.
James leaned back in his chair and stared at Kayla, as he always did to suspects at the end of his questionings, then said, “You’re all set, Kayla.” James slid her phone across the table to her. “Thank you for coming back this evening. You’re free to go. I’ll call you if I need anything more from you.”
“No problem,” Kayla replied.
“Go see Officer Bray out front,” James said. “He’ll give you a ride back to the bus station.”
I watched James follow her toward the door, letting go a shrug, hands out at his sides---which I’m sure was for my benefit. A few seconds later he entered the viewing room where I was seated. “Well, that’s that,” he said. “Can I go home now?”
I smiled. “Any progress in charging or eliminating your other guests?”
“I cut Lee Sands loose right before I got started with Kayla. My men spotted Sands’s orange Mustang on several Portsmouth traffic cam recordings with timestamps around 9:35 pm. Got stills, with a couple good views of his face behind the wheel. The car also showed up on cameras along routes 1, 1A, and 133 down in Massachusetts, heading south. All in towns he told me he drove through. One timestamp indicated the Mustang passed a police station down in Essex, Mass at 10:43 pm.”
“Explains why he was so blunt in telling you his feelings about Amanda Enright.”
“I guess,” James replied. “I’m just relieved I didn’t have to detain more than one suspect overnight. This station just isn’t big enough.”
“Wait. Who else is out?” I asked.
“I sent the therapist home, too,” James said. “Her lawyer was really getting on my nerves. I never liked McCue for this one, anyways---despite the fact she didn’t have a solid alibi. However, I told the lawyer not to let McCue leave town. Just in case.”
“Does that mean you found new evidence against what’s-his-name?” I asked. “You know … the contractor?”
“Troy Webber. Scarborough PD picked up Webber’s son, high as a kite, and in possession of enough meth to put an entire Army out of commission. Turns out the kid’s got a rap sheet a mile long. Needless to say, we won’t be using his statement to corroborate Troy Webber’s whereabouts last night.”
I checked the time. “Which gives you roughly twelve hours to come up with some sort of hard evidence linking Webber to the crime.”
“The boys in Scarborough are working on getting a warrant to search Webber’s home. Maybe we’ll find something damning there. Just got to remember to set my alarm clock to wake me up extra early,” James said. “Got to hit it hard again tomorrow morning. ”
I nodded. “Let’s get you home.”
“I’m going up front to let the watch commander know I’m leaving. Meet you out back in a few?”
“You got it,” I said. I headed out to the car, wondering whether or not James had chosen the right person to remain in custody. The whole he-said-she-said situation, concerning the appointment Corey Anders said Amanda had with Meghan McCue, was still bugging me.
James popped out of the back door of the station and jogged over to the car.
“You planning on asking Corey Anders about Meghan McCue’s claim?” I asked.
“You talking about the 9 am appointment confusion?” James asked.
“Is that what you think it was? A simple misunderstanding?”
“Why? You seeing something I’m not?”
I thought about it for a few seconds. “Guess not. But if your gut is telling you it’s nothing, why not ask in order to get some clarification?”
“Sure,” James said. “Why not? I’ll take an extra hour out of my free time and get right on it.”
His biting answer took me off guard. It wasn’t like James to be a prick. I kept my mouth shut, started the car, and backed out of his parking stall.
“Sorry, Carter,” James said as I pulled out onto the roadway. “That was uncalled for. I’m fried, but it doesn’t give me the right to take it out on you.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. Good chance it’s just what you said, anyways. One of them got their schedules confused.”
“Oh, before I forget. I just took a look at Enright’s toxicology report,” James said. “She had clonazepam in her system, but everything else looked normal.”
“Huh. You think maybe Lee Sands mistook Amanda’s use of anti-anxiety meds for a drug addiction problem?” I asked.
“Who knows? He certainly didn’t come across as being a huge fan of Enright’s. But personality conflicts play a huge role in causing problems in the workplace. I wouldn’t admit this to just anyone, but I’m guilty of playing favorites every now and then, myself. I’d be lying if I said there aren’t certain cops on the force I like a whole lot better than others. I just chalk it up to human nature.”
“You might be right,” I said. “By the way, do we know how Enright got from her ho
use to McCue’s office condo yet?”
“Yeah,” James responded, giving me an odd look. “Didn’t we talk about this already?”
“Nope.”
“Man, I must be losing it. The dispatcher over at City Cab has a recording of Enright calling for a cab at 8:58 pm. The call was made from Enright’s cell---which we still haven’t found. Cab company records show a pick-up at Enright’s address at 9:25 pm, a stop at 7-11 at 9:40 pm, and a drop-off in the Briarwood parking lot at 9:55 pm.”
“How’d you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Rattle off all those times without looking at a piece of paper,” I said
“In a word? Obsession. I think I’ve reviewed my notes 20 times, or more. This case has got me tied in a knot. I just can’t seem to get out in front of it.”
“I hear you. Sarah asked me earlier who I thought did it. I told her the contractor was the only suspect that made sense to me. I get the impression you’re not convinced he’s our man.”
“Well … maybe I’m not. I just don’t know. I mean, what’s the guy’s motive?”
“Same thing Sarah said.”
“I’d like Webber for the crime a lot more if there were a sexual component, but the medical examiner said there was no sign of sexual assault, whatsoever,” James said.
“Didn’t you say the ME thought the bar from the ratchet set was used to strangle her?”
“Yes, I did. And he confirmed it. Also confirmed the bar was used to strike Enright from behind.”
“So, don’t you think that’s a fairly good early indicator that Webber might be guilty?” I asked. “You know … that a tool of his trade ended up being the confirmed murder weapon?”
“It’s a mark against him, I’ll give you that,” James said. “But, let me play the Devil’s advocate for a minute. The fact that strangulation was the cause of death makes me think it was personal for whoever committed this crime. It’s up close. Intimate. Like there was passion behind the act.”
“You just narrowed it down to about 10,000 of Amanda Enright’s callers. I’ve listened to her show plenty, and if there’s one conclusion I can walk away with, it’s that her callers were passionate. Bet every single one of them thought they knew her.”
