Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

by Michael Norman

  “It’s not such a terribly big stretch, Sam. Think about it. Somebody hires Watts to kill Levi Vogue. Maybe Vogue isn’t even his first victim. And then that somebody kills Slick and tries to make it look like a suicide.

  “But there’s more. Yesterday, I tracked down Watts’ sister, one Vicki Gallego. She’s straight, no criminal history, married, two kids, and has worked for the past nine years at Utah Power. She’s the only member of the family that maintained any semblance of contact with Slick. The father is dead, Mom has remarried and, according to Vicki, is a serious alcoholic. The youngest sibling, another sister, resides in California and has nothing to do with anybody in the family.

  “Vicki told me when she received the call informing her that her brother had committed suicide, she didn’t believe it. When I asked her why, she described her brother as narcissistic, with much too large an ego to have killed himself. She said he always bragged about some big deal that was just around the corner and would make him big bucks. She said there was no way he’d have ever been content holding down a nine-to-five job like everybody else. When I asked her if she thought he might be capable of carrying out murders for hire, she didn’t hesitate for a second. She said if the price was right, he’d do it.”

  “Not a particularly flattering picture of her own brother. Anything else?”

  “That’s it. I do have the names of two more guys on parole who Walker maintained were also friends of Slick when he was inside. I’ll run them down in the next day or two.”

  “Thanks for the update. I don’t know exactly what to make of it, but you’ve sure given me something to chew on. Keep after it.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  When I returned to my office, I found nineteen voice mail messages waiting, one of them from Kate. I hadn’t spoken with her since the episode at her condo the previous day. She asked me to call her as soon as I could. She didn’t say what we needed to talk about, but I was afraid I had a pretty good idea. I still felt embarrassed. I decided not to call her back until later in the day.

  Not surprisingly, I also had a call from Jim Allen asking whether I’d been able to set up a meeting with Kate. He sounded anxious. This was a meeting we wanted to delay for as long as possible. I decided to take a chance. I dialed his number hoping he wouldn’t answer so I could leave him a voice message. He didn’t pick up. “Jim, Sam Kincaid. I still haven’t been able to reach Kate but I’ll keep trying. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have the meeting set.” I told Patti that Allen would probably be calling back and that she should tell him that I was tied up in management meetings all day. The stall continued.

  ***

  By early afternoon I was in the field looking for Sue Ann Winkler. I found her walking to her car in the parking lot outside the Satin & Lace Club. She had some large goon in tow who appeared to be nothing more than an escort from the club to her car. He was a large Asian guy who wore his jet-black hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was wearing tight black jeans and a yellow sleeveless tank top. Both of his well-muscled arms were covered with tattoos from wrist to shoulder. Both ears were pierced and he wore a round, silver ring above his right eyebrow. If he had other body parts pierced, I didn’t want to know where. As I got out of my car, I could tell Sue Ann recognized me, but she didn’t look enthused about seeing me again. George, the gorilla, put on his most sinister look and stepped between us. Sue Ann whispered something to him and he moved around behind her, still giving me his best scowl.

  “Hello, Detective Kincaid. You here for business or pleasure?” she asked. The greeting, while not dripping with affection, wasn’t hostile either.

  I did my best to put on my most sincere, friendly, non-threatening face. I said, “Business actually. I’m glad I found you. I really need your help with something. It’s important. I’d like you to take a look at some video footage of people who attended Levi’s funeral. We’re attempting to identify the guy Vogue brought over to the motel on those occasions when you did the ménage à trois.”

  Her facial expression hardened instantly. The nonverbal look told me that I’d pissed her off. “Oh, Christ. I don’t see how this could have one goddamn thing to do with Levi’s murder,” she hissed.

  “You know what. You’re probably right. But you might be wrong, too. This is a loose end in the investigation that might be meaningless, or it might be important. Right now we’re following every lead we possibly can. And at the moment, we’ve about run out of leads. You put on a tough exterior, Sue Ann, but I believe you really cared for Levi. So I figured you’d be willing to help.” I’m wasn’t sure I really believed what I’d just said, but it sounded like the right thing to say at the time.

  “Well, maybe you figured wrong, Kincaid,” she said, her stern facade starting to slip. I stopped talking and allowed a moment of awkward silence to fill the space between us. She finally said, “Ah, shit. Let’s get it over with. I guess it could be worse. You might have brought Kathryn the Great with you, or should I say Kathryn the Bitch. In that case, I’d be telling you both to fuck off.”

  “I appreciate your willingness to do this. You can follow me in your car or ride with me, and I’ll drive you back afterward. Your choice.”

  “How long do you expect this to take?”

  “One hour at most.”

  “Then I’ll ride over with you.” She got in the passenger side of my department-issue Chevrolet Impala and looked over at me, smiling. “You know, Kincaid, you’re kind of a cute guy in a funny sort of way. A little too straight-looking for my taste, but what the hell. Why don’t we spend that hour you want me looking at video over at the motel. If you want to watch movies, I’ll show you some really hot video. We could have an intimate party for two. I’ll make sure you leave relaxed and with a smile on your face.”

  I smiled back and said, “That was a backhanded compliment if ever I heard one. And it almost sounded like you were soliciting me.”

  “I wasn’t soliciting. I didn’t ask you for money, honey. This one’s free—on the house, so to speak. What do you say?”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her a vice raid at the Starlite Motel was imminent, and that it was a good place to avoid for the next little while. “Thanks for a very tempting offer. I’m flattered. I really am. And you’re a beautiful lady. But I’m a little busy right now trying to solve a couple of murders. Some other time, maybe?”

  She gave me an indifferent shrug and didn’t say anything more. I felt as though I’d managed to extricate myself from an awkward situation without offending her.

  I called ahead and had Patti set up the videotape in our conference room. I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. When we arrived, the TV monitor was on and everything was ready. The only thing missing was the beer and hot buttered popcorn. The tape had a total running time of approximately forty-five minutes. About halfway through, Sue Ann asked me to stop the tape and back it up a little. I had no sooner hit the play button when she said, “Hold it. That’s him. That’s the guy I did the three-way with.”

  I backed it up and ran it forward once more. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. That’s the dude Levi brought with him to the motel. The two things I distinctly recall about him were the tattoo I told you about and what a little dick he had. I mean, at full attention, we’re talking about something the size of your little pinkie. I remember thinking later that any woman deserved more than that.”

  I excused myself momentarily and hustled over to my office, where I picked up a current copy of the Utah Department of Corrections Annual Report. I brought it back to the conference room and flipped through it until I found the page I was looking for. It was a section of the report devoted to the Utah Board of Pardons and Parole. This particular page included individual head-and-shoulder shots of each member of the board. The photographs were significantly larger than the video images she had just viewed to make the identification. I set it down in front of her and asked her to make the identification again. She didn’
t hesitate, pointing immediately to the picture of William Allred.

  “Wow. So this Allred dude is a member of the parole board just like Levi was?” she asked. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Do you think he’s mixed up in Levi’s murder?”

  “That’s a very good question, Sue Ann, and the answer is, I just don’t know.”

  ***

  I took Sue Ann Winkler back to the Satin & Lace Club, then I headed to my office at the prison. I called ahead to Terry, who was waiting for me when I arrived. I told him what I’d learned from Sue Ann. I said, “I want Bill Allred placed under visual surveillance. Call the Board of Pardons and find out discreetly Allred’s hearing schedule for the next several days. Then we can assign some of our staff to track his movements.

  “I want to know where this guy goes and who he sees when he’s not conducting parole hearings. That means getting him up in the morning, following him to work, following him if he leaves for lunch, and then following him home in the evening. Once he’s safely tucked in for the night, then it’s okay to discontinue the surveillance. But somebody has to be back on him early the next morning.”

  “That’s really going to stretch our resources,” said Burnham. “I think I can free up two investigators, and I’m available to help. We’ll have to work solo, which will be tough if he’s on the move very much. If this goes on very long, we’ll need additional personnel.”

  “I’ll see if I can convince McConnell to provide some help. She’s been less than enthused about this line of pursuit. But maybe the current revelation from Sue Ann will change her mind. In the meantime, we’re still trying to identify the guy who wrote the forged suicide note.”

  “You want his phone records?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Find out which company provides cell phone service for the Board of Pardons. All the board members carry a cell. Let’s get both his home and cell phone records for the past six months. Who knows, the phone records may turn out to be more useful than all the time-consuming visual surveillance. And also have somebody snatch his garbage can and sort through the trash—never can tell what might turn up in the garbage.”

  “You must really think Allred’s involved.”

  “Hell, I wish I knew, Terry. It’s a calculated gamble, that’s for sure. When I interviewed him, he acted kind of funny when I asked about his friendship with Levi. At least now we know why. I’ve got to trust my instincts, and right now, my instincts are telling me somehow Bill Allred’s involved. I’ve been wrong before. It wouldn’t be the first time. But over the years, I’ve guessed right a lot more often than I’ve been wrong. We’ll know soon enough.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  I turned to the task of identifying current inmates who might have been responsible for creating the forged suicide note. So far, nobody had come forward seeking protection, although the likelihood of that happening was always a long shot.

  Using the Department’s automated offender database, I searched for inmates currently serving sentences on forgery charges or with prior felony convictions for forgery. I ended up with a sizable group of one hundred eighty inmates. Knowing that it would be extremely time-consuming to interview all of them, I narrowed the search by removing those not currently serving sentences for forgery. That reduced the size of the list by more than half. I then scanned the remaining prisoners, focusing on prior criminal history. I was searching for inmates who appeared to be skilled forgers and those for whom forgery was their primary criminal occupation. This allowed me to further narrow the list so we could begin by interviewing the most promising suspects.

  The task looked daunting. It was conceivable that we might have to interview all of them. If that were the case, I’d have to call in reinforcements. At least by starting with the most likely candidates, we might get lucky.

  Patti informed me that Kate had just cleared security and was on her way to my office. I used the brief interlude and called Aunt June to explain that I wouldn’t be home in time for dinner. I talked briefly with Sara, and told her that reading a bedtime story would have to wait until another evening. She wasn’t happy. I glanced up just as Kate entered my office, closing the door behind her.

  She looked tired, like maybe she hadn’t slept much the night before. No surprise.

  “Hi, Kate. How are you?”

  “I’ve had better days. How about you?”

  “Okay, I guess. Look, I know I’ve said this before, but I had no business dropping by your place unannounced yesterday.”

  “No big deal. Well, on second thought, it was a big deal. But I didn’t come out here so you would have to apologize again. After you left, I leveled with Tom. I told him that our relationship had become personal and that I thought there might be some chemistry between us.”

  “Ah, shit,” I said. “How’d he take it?”

  “Pretty hard, I’m afraid. We agreed to break things off for a while until we both have a chance to think things over. I take full responsibility for what happened.”

  “I’m sorry for the problem this has caused you and Tom, but I don’t have any regrets about what happened between us. I wanted to be there. It felt right to me. And I haven’t felt that way about anybody since my divorce. I hope I didn’t ruin it. I’d like to believe that when things finally settle down, we can see each other. I know you and Tom have issues, and I’ll stay out of the way. And God knows, in the meantime, we’ve got plenty of work to do. And speaking of work, do I have news for you.”

  I filled her in on the news regarding Allred. It piqued her interest sufficiently to offer additional personnel for the surveillance. Burnham would be happy to hear this, I thought.

  “Since you’re here, I might as well put you to work.” I showed her the list of forgery inmates requiring interviews. “Any ideas about how we approach the people on this list?”

  She considered this. “Well, we need their cooperation, and since time is of the essence, how about using an electric cattle prod?”

  I laughed. “I can see you haven’t lost your sense of humor. That approach would make you the instant poster girl for every jailhouse lawyer we have in the system, not to mention the American Civil Liberties Union. Next idea?”

  “Seriously, I think we need to stress the possible danger the forger is in, and offer protection in exchange for their cooperation.”

  “I think that’s the right approach, but I think we need to consider offering an additional carrot,” I said. “I’m afraid that appealing to their sense of potential danger by itself won’t provide sufficient motivation for them to cooperate. These guys live in a dangerous environment to begin with, and they’re smart enough to understand that if the word gets out that they snitched somebody off, they’re as good as dead.”

  “So what do you propose?”

  “I think we should offer to make a positive recommendation to the parole board—something that might shorten their prison sentence. We could also arrange a transfer out of this prison to a different facility. And what about offering immunity from prosecution?”

  “I’m okay with all of it except the immunity offer. We’ll have to get the approval of the D.A.’s office on that one. I’ll speak with Tom about it.”

  ***

  A prison inmate turned snitch almost always made a lousy witness in court. Defense attorneys love to get them on cross because it’s easy to destroy their credibility. By the time an experienced defense attorney reveals the inmate’s prior criminal record to the jury and exposes the rewards offered to secure the inmate’s testimony, the prosecution’s star witness ends up looking like a dolt. But given our present situation, right now a dolt looked pretty good.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Milo Sorensen had been working in the prison’s furniture assembly and upholstery plant for a little over a month. He worked afternoons from one to five. For the first time in a lengthy prison career, he’d finally gotten a job with decent pay and the opportunity to learn a vocational skill that might do him some good on
the outside.

  As the newest inmate hire, Sorensen’s lack of seniority made it his responsibility to perform routine janitorial duties at the close of each work day. He had to sweep the plant floor, empty the trash in the adjoining small office, and clean the head. Most days, Milo began the evening cleanup by four-thirty to ensure he would be finished by five o’clock or a few minutes after. On this day, he’d been so busy attaching legs to new office chairs that he hadn’t begun cleaning until almost five, when a civilian employee noticed and told him to get busy. At a few minutes past five, Sorensen was alone in the plant.

  He moved methodically from task to task. First he took a broom to the plant floor. Then he emptied the trash and tidied up the small office adjacent to the production line. At first, the only sounds he heard came from the four large ceiling fans scattered around the plant and the constant drone of the old natural gas furnace. The old furnace had long since failed to provide adequate heat to an equally old building. For just an instant as he shuffled with mop in hand toward the restroom, Sorensen heard what he thought sounded like the rustle of clothing and the soft foot-fall of a tennis shoe on the concrete floor. He looked around but saw nothing.

  Minutes later, as he came out of the restroom on to the plant floor, for a fleeting second, he saw a blur of motion. It was the last thing he would ever see. The three-foot-long metal pipe crushed his skull on the first blow. Before he hit the concrete floor, a second assailant had stabbed him several times in the lower back with a sharp plastic shank. The blows rained down. By the time it was over, Milo had been stabbed more than a dozen times. His head looked like a crushed melon. For good measure, one of the attackers bent over the prone figure, lifted his head by the hair, and ran the shank across his throat from ear to ear, leaving a deep, jagged wound, amid a river of blood and tissue.

  The assailants dropped the weapons next to the body and quickly left the shop. Almost an hour later, a corrections officer, on routine patrol, entered the plant and discovered Sorensen’s body.