The Death of Alan Chandler (The Red Lake Series Book 1)

by Rich Foster

  Lilly shrugged in indifference. They walked out to the garage together. Lilly lifted the lid. “It was just printer paper. It will be crumpled up.”

  Maddox lifted the top bag. It was heavy and the plastic stretched and began to tear. Jagged points jutted out slits in the sides.

  “Be careful, I dropped a stack of plates. You don’t want to cut yourself.”

  He set the bag on the ground. As he undid the tie on the bag he glanced into the metal trashcans. There were sodden paper towels with reddish stains. There were also chipped plates with dark red splotches. He pretended not to have noticed.

  “You’re lucky!” he said. “Last week we had a waiter who dropped a tray of dishes and laid his leg open. Sure made a mess. It killed the lunch business for the day.”

  Maddox reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves.

  Lilly asked, “What are those for?”

  For the garbage, ma’am. He lifted out a coffee filter full of grounds, assorted vegetable matter and a couple empty containers of microwavable dinners.

  “I think that’s it!” said Lilly pointing.

  At the side of the bag was a crumpled ball of paper. He unrolled the paper, but was careful to keep it out of her reach.

  “He didn’t have much to say, did he?” said Maddox. “He didn’t even sign it.”

  “It was just a note, not a last will and testament,” said Lilly, who then blanched at her choice of comparisons.

  “Do you love your husband, Mrs. Chandler?”

  “What do you mean?” she responded huffily.

  “It’s a simple question, like is the sky blue?”

  “Of course!”

  “Does he love you?”

  “What is it you’re getting at Sergeant?”

  “It just seems strange. The note is from a printer, it’s not signed, and it doesn’t even say love, just Alan. Someone might conclude that your husband no longer loved you and that he wanted out.”

  “You said you argued the night he left. What was it about?”

  “I don’t see that’s any of your business, Sergeant. It happens in married life you know. Or aren’t you married?” Lilly sniped.

  “My spouse is dead Mrs. Chandler. I only hope that yours isn’t. Good day!”

  He turned on his heel and walked away. Glancing back he saw his attempt to rattle her defense had found their mark. She stood with her open hand pressed against her mouth. She had forgotten the note he still held in his gloved hands. Maddox walked down the long drive and out to his car. He opened the trunk and pulled an evidence bag out of the back. Alan’s note was slipped into a clear plastic bag. On the outside he noted the time, date and the location. He locked the note in the evidence case and closed the trunk. As he pulled away he saw Lilly Chandler glaring at him from the front windows. Maddox waved a lazy hand good-bye and drove off.

  He pulled his cell phone from his belt and called Delaney. He didn’t want to broadcast what he had to say for every jerk that owned a police band scanner.

  “Hey Mick, Ray here. I want you to pull the paperwork for the Chandler case. Start filling out a search warrant. Make sure you have the names and address correct. I don’t want this getting kicked out because we screwed up.”

  “What do I put down for cause? And what are we searching for?” asked Delaney.”

  “Just get the details started, I’m on my way in.”

  “Is that all?”

  “If you have a phone book, look up the number for Muni Trash.”

  There was a pause and then Delaney said, “555-0816.”

  “Thanks! I’ll see you in a little bit.”

  Maddox pulled away from the stop sign at Warren Court. Traffic was moderate as he made his way back into town. He dialed the number Delaney had given him.

  “Muni Trash, how may I direct your call?”

  By the time he returned to the station he had the information he wanted. The Chandler’s garbage day was Saturday, the day after tomorrow!

  What Maddox had hoped to be a speedy process proved to be a tedious wait. They had drafted the warrant request and were wise enough not to disturb Ashe at home upon what was slim if not hopefully compelling evidence. But the next day Judge Ashe was in court all day. At the lunch break he went out to eat. Consequently, he did not see the warrant request his administrative assistant had left on his desk. It was after four o’clock before he returned from court and another hour before he read the warrant request and duly considered it over a cigar. It was after five when Maddox received the long awaited call. Judge Ashe agreed to see him after diner at eight p.m.

  Three hours later Maddox was nervously waiting for Judge Luther Ashe to return to his chambers. He was the first black judge in the state, but that was thirty years ago. At the time the local sentiment about the appointment was that the state’s liberal governor was making a social statement. However, Judge Ashe proved to be an astute scholar of the law. Both Assistant D.A.’s and defense attorneys had at times groaned inwardly when they drew Ashe’s name for their cases. But this was always when their case was weak. They knew that for him the process was about justice, while adhering to legal procedure. He was a stickler for the letter of the law. In many a sidebar conversation he was known to say, “Don’t forget to dot your i’s and cross your t’s gentlemen.” Maddox knew it took more than able speculation to get the Honorable Judge Ashe’s signature on a warrant.

  Equally nervous, Delaney sat next to him reviewing the warrant request for the third time. Any omission or error could cause it to be thrown out of court.

  Looking up he asked, “You really think she did it?”

  “I don’t know Mick, but it’s a possibility.”

  Before he could say more they were interrupted. The judge’s door opened and Judge Ashe himself motioned them in. Ashe had entered the office by his private entrance. The room was paneled in dark walnut, which matched the judge’s dark skin. He sat behind a broad desk with a black granite top. He had narrow, sagging shoulders as though justice had weighed him down over the years. His hair was grey and closely cropped. Half lens glasses perched on his broad nose. He held up one finger while he once again perused the single document on his desktop.

  Maddox glanced around the office. He was struck by how the room was devoid of anything personal. There were no family pictures, no knick- knacks on the wall. Even the desktop was bare except for his computer terminal. The only truly personal item was Ashe’s black robe, which hung from a hook by the side door.

  The judge looked up at the two police officers who remained standing before him. Without telling them to be seated he started the ritual of question and answer. He had just read their warrant request yet he asked anyway.

  “Sergeant Maddox, Officer Delaney” he nodded at both of them. It is eight p.m.; I should be at home, in my study, sipping port. So why am I here?”

  “I need a warrant your Honor,” said Maddox.

  “You mean a search warrant, that is correct is it not?”

  “Yes, sir.” He breathed deeply gathering his thoughts before continuing. “I want a search warrant for the Chandler resident, at the address stated in the request. I wish to search the house and garage, especially the garbage cans. And I need it today.”

  Ashe looked at Maddox with eyebrows raised, “You what?”

  Maddox heard the anger in Ashe’s voice and quickly realized his poor choice of words. “Pardon me your Honor, that wasn’t meant to sound like a demand. I was referring to time constraints. The Chandlers scheduled trash day is tomorrow morning.”

  “What do you expect to find in these trash cans and more importantly what is your probable cause?”

  “The trash can has possible evidence of a violent crime. I saw paper towels and broken china which appeared to have dried blood on them.”

  Ashe interrupted, “Did you have a warrant when you lifted the lid to that can?”

  “I didn’t need one, sir. The lady in question opened it for me. She had given me permis
sion to look for a note from her husband.”

  “What may be blood is rather a thin argument Sergeant.”

  “We have a witness to hearing a screaming fight and the sound of shattering objects. The fight went suddenly silent. This was the night Alan Chandler disappeared. Yet, when I spoke with Mrs. Chandler, she tried to pass it off as a minor disagreement. Alan Chandler has disappeared but there has been no activity on any of his accounts or credit cards. His car is on the hot sheet but so far we have had no hits. Their finances are a mess and they have a half million-dollar life insurance policy on him, which is about to expire. And, lastly she has made separate and contradictory statements to our department.”

  “Have you questioned the lady concerning her apparent contradictions, Officer”?

  “No sir. I’d rather gather my evidence first. I don’t want to tip my hand.”

  “Why not simply seek for her cooperation? Just ask for permission to search the house.”

  “I intend to your Honor. I would like to see her response. However, I would like to have a warrant in case she says no.” He finished and remained silently waiting. Silently he thought he sounded stilted whenever he was talking to a judge.

  Judge Ashe pulled on the center drawer, which slid open silently. He picked up an old fashion ink pen and signed the search warrant. It was so quiet in his chambers that Maddox could hear the faint scratching sounds of the pen on paper.

  “Remember Officers, this is not a fishing trip! Now if you will excuse me I wish to return home.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  When Maddox entered Lilly Chandler’s office he found himself in a spacious, well appointed room. Mullioned windows faced north, framing a lot of blue sky and the tops of leafy green street trees. The walls were a deep rich color and were set off by wide crown molding in linen white. Neatly framed photos decorated the walls. Ray assumed they were projects she had designed. The furniture tended toward modern with a few scattered antique pieces as accents. Lilly sat on a stool at her drafting table. Drawings of the Blain Estate lay open across the top. Her open hand rested against her cheek as she thought. She shook her head and the red hair swung back away from her face.

  “But what do you want to search my house for?” she asked.

  “Anything that might give us a clue where to look for your husband. For example, does he have a passport? If so, is it in the house?”

  “What, do you think he just ran off?”

  “I don’t know ma’am. Maybe he ran off or was taken off. Possibly he meant to leave, maybe he was carjacked or was the victim of foul play. Have you looked in his computer or his e-mails? What web sites did he visit last week?”

  “No I respect his privacy,” said Lilly curtly.

  “That is all well and fine Mrs. Chandler but if you want our help we need to look around. Otherwise we can all go home and wait to see if he turns up someday.”

  The process annoyed Lilly. She wished she hadn’t been quite so quick to file a missing person report.”

  “I suppose so, it can’t hurt for you to look around.”

  “I’ll follow you home. First may I use your phone?”

  Lilly nodded and went to put her coat on and turn off the lights while Sergeant Maddox had a hushed conversation on the phone.

  Traffic was light in the late afternoon. It was a short drive to her house. The sun was edging toward the horizon and the colors were gaining that intensity which comes before sunset. Lilly wheeled her Miata up the drive and Maddox pulled in behind her. When Lilly exited the car it seemed to him that Lilly’s eyes had drifted over and held the trashcans. He pretended not to notice. By the time her eyes returned to him he was looking away toward the neighboring house.

  They walked across the brick drive, up the walk and entered by the rear door.

  She dropped her briefcase on the counter. Turning toward him she held up her hands as if in surrender and said, “Go ahead, officer, look away!”

  “Did your husband use this computer?”

  “Yes, that’s the one he wrote the note on.”

  Maddox turned on the power switch and waited for it to power up.

  “Could you look and see if your husband’s passport is missing?”

  Lilly shrugged in reply and left the room. Maddox heard the soft tap of her shoes on the hardwood floor. The sound faded as they mounted the stairs. He clicked the computer icon for history. There were no glaringly obvious sites visited. He saw no exotic locations or travel agencies. Nor was there anything that sounded like a chat room where Alan may have struck up a special friendship.

  When he clicked on the e-mail it opened without asking for a password. It surprised him how many people who would lock their house carefully and silently feared strangers, who would willingly leave their life unsecured on a computer. With identity theft rising information on a p.c. was a very real danger. Checking the sent e-mail file he didn’t see a frequently listed address. Then again if Chandler was fooling around hopefully he wasn’t dumb enough to use his home computer.

  There was a knock at the front door. Maddox hurried down the hall and called upstairs to Lilly, “I’ll get it. It’s just someone I sent for.”

  When he opened the door a small team of men filled the porch. Several wore white paper coveralls, all wore latex gloves.

  Curbside a large white van was parked. Across it’s side neat block letters read, Beaumont Police Department Mobile Forensic Unit. “Okay people, first of all I want gloves on everyone. Forensics I want you to start in the kitchen, set up for the luminol test. Larson bag the whole trashcan in back, the one that has the broken china in it. I took a quick look at his laptop and nothing seemed unusual but I want you to go over it, McCurdy. See if you can find if anything was deleted. Also look for a file where the Chandlers might have left notes for each other. Lane, go upstairs and offer to help Mrs. Chandler to go over the husbands effects. See if she can tell what’s missing. Okay lets hit it.”

  The kitchen was warm with light. The afternoon had given way to sunset and rays of sunshine filled the room. Technicians set up tripod mounts and screwed black lights to them. Outside the clouds were changing to cotton candy as Larson and another officer carried a plastic wrapped trashcan down the drive. As they set it in the side of the van a voice called out, “What are you doing?”

  Looking around they saw Lilly standing at the doorway of the second story porch.

  “Loading up evidence ma’am. You’ll get an inventory and receipt.

  “Evidence of what?”

  They shrugged, “You’ll have to talk to Sergeant Maddox.”

  Downstairs in the kitchen Maddox heard the clatter of hard heels on the stairs. There was a momentary pause followed by the front door slamming closed and then the clattering heels charged up the hallway and into the kitchen.

  Lilly stopped dead still. She gaped as she looked around the kitchen. Her mouth began to work but for a moment nothing came out at last she blurted out,

  “I thought you wanted to look around.”

  “I did and I am,” said Maddox. “Is there a problem?”

  Lilly turned and picked up the phone off the counter.

  “I think I better call my lawyer.”

  Lane had followed Lilly into the room. While she used the phone he motioned with a jerk of his head for Maddox to join him.

  “He took some clothes but not much. She’s not even sure what is missing. But his shave kit is gone and one of his jackets. Also his rucksack is gone.”

  Lane laid a passport on the counter top.

  “It doesn’t look like he left the country. But then again I did find this.”

  He laid a plastic baggie on the counter. Inside was a nine-millimeter automatic.

  ‘The gun’s been fired. It’s dirty but it doesn’t smell too recent. I didn’t open the chamber.”

  Maddox looked over Lanes shoulder. Lilly was evidently on hold. He found her interesting to watch. She seemed under control. When she spoke her voice was even, but below the
surface he sensed hysteria close to the surface. If possible he hoped to make her explode. It could certainly give insight into the fight Sunday night and what she might be capable of doing.

  “They are in my kitchen, they are taking things. I told the Sergeant he could look around. Yes, please come right away.”

  Lilly hung up the phone. “He said I don’t have to let you do this. He said I could tell you to leave and I think you should.” Turning on McCurdy she was close to shouting as she told him in a voice that was close to a snap, “Get away from that, I don’t want you going through my husbands’ things.”

  “Okay everyone, stop! Let’s wait for Mrs. Chandler’s attorney to get here.”

  Lilly seemed to relax slightly as the confrontation passed. Ray leaned against the wall in light that was fading quickly in the kitchen.

  “I thought you wanted your husband back, Mrs. Chandler.”

  “Please stop calling me that,” she hissed like a cat that had gotten its back up.

  “What should I call you ma’am?”

  “Certainly not that! Just call me Lilly! Why do you keep acting as though I am guilty of something?”

  “Are you, Lilly?” replied Maddox stressing the word Lilly. He lifted the automatic off the granite counter.

  “That’s Alan’s gun. I hate them. If it was mine I would throw it away.”

  “Do you now how to use it?”

  “I’m tired of your questions. I want my things back and I want you out of my house!”

  She glared at Maddox but it left him unmoved so she turned her back on him and faced the wall. He gestured to the other officers with spread out hands. “Let’s wait.”

  Within ten minutes a car roared up the street and pulled into the drive. A pretty fast response time thought Maddox. He wondered how many people knew their lawyers phone number, and how many lawyers would be so quick to come. Through the kitchen window Maddox saw a young, good-looking man. He slid out of a used but well kept Porsche wearing a leather jacket and driving gloves. To Maddox it was a cliché. The lawyer hurried up onto the back porch and opened the screen door with enough violence that it banged against the outside wall. He charged into the room, looked around for dramatic emphasis and boomed, “What the hell is going on here?”