by Anne Hagan
“This is very nice Mr. Marshburn.” Dana could lose herself for days in here...
“Thank you. Over there,” he pointed, “is my gun case. All of my long arms are there, all three of them, as you can see.” He emphasized the word ‘three’ with what I detected as humor but he didn’t elaborate. “But, if you step around the desk there and look closely at the lock on the storage drawer below, you’ll see it’s been tampered with. My all stainless, match SIG P220 is missing from it.”
I did as he asked and knelt before the cabinet to take a look at the lock. It seemed to be untouched.
“You’ll see scratch marks on the surface of the lock there where someone has obviously jimmied it.”
Peering at it closely, I didn’t see anything that couldn’t have been made by missing just slightly with the key that was meant for the lock but I wasn’t about to argue with the man. It was apparent that he took great pride in his surroundings and in his belongings.
I had Mason get down beside me and photograph it anyway and then I asked, “Is the drawer unlocked Mr. Marshburn?”
“Yes. When I found it unlocked, I didn’t relock it.”
I donned gloves but Mason was already wearing hers. Gently, I eased the draw out from the edges rather than from the thin pull handle. “That handle,” I told my detective, “probably won’t yield much in the way of prints but we’ll want to dust it.”
The drawer now open, we both looked inside. It contained a box of shells, a cleaning kit in a tooled leather case and nothing more. More than half the space was empty.
“Your 220 sir, was it in a case?” Janet asked him.
“Actually, a handmade wood presentation box with a leather tooled cover. The pistol was gift from a major client and it was meant to display as well as shoot but...well, the grandchildren, you see.”
“When was the last time you had it out?”
“Why, just a couple of weeks ago. I’ve shot it here and there, at the range, so I like to give it a good cleaning right afterward and then again every few months or so because that carbon collects so badly otherwise.”
“A colleague and his wife were over for dinner last night and he’s an enthusiast. I wanted to bring it out to show him and, of course, that’s when I realized it was missing.”
“Do you have any idea when it might have been removed?”
He shook his head no.
“Any household staff that had access to that cabinet?”
Again, he shook his head. “My wife takes care of everything herself. She’s at the market now or she’d be here. She...ah...she doesn’t know I actually called this in. She worries quite a bit about these sorts of things.”
“Are there any family members who have access to the house or to the cabinet?”
“Our daughter lives in Mansfield with her family. She has a key, I believe, but I doubt she has the current alarm code. We change it every so often for security, you know.” He waved a cautioning finger at me.
“Have you and your wife been away from home recently overnight?”
“Only for Thanksgiving. We visited with my brother in Cleveland and we stayed overnight with him. That’s a long trip to make all in a day at our age.”
“Would your alarm system been armed during that time?”
“Absolutely young woman, absolutely.”
“And no one stayed here to keep an eye on the place while you were gone?”
He shook his head no.
“Were there any reports from the alarm company while you were away?” Mason put in.
He looked her way and shrugged, “Brinks? No, not at all.”
“I see,” I told him. I was perplexed but then I remembered something else, “Sir, not to rush you, but you said there were two areas that were a concern?”
“That’s right. This way please.” He led us out of his study and back toward the front of the house where he mounted the bottom stair in the staircase before stopping briefly.
Over his shoulder he said, “Over the weekend, my wife was dressing for a get together with friends and she couldn’t find a diamond brooch I’d given her a few years ago. She’s not much of a jewelry wearer you see, but she admired the pin on a visit to New York so I purchased it for her as a surprise. We assumed she’d just misplaced it but now I’m not so sure.”
William Marshburn led us to his wife’s dressing area in the master suite upstairs. We again found not a thing out of place and no evidence that anyone besides the two of them had recently been there. The small jewelry box in the dressing room stood silently on a side table as a testament to the fact that what he said about his wife’s lack of interest in jewelry was true.
“It’s quite a puzzle, isn’t it Sheriff?” he asked me.
“That it is sir.”
While Mason photographed the room, the box and the area surrounding it and dusted for prints, I pulled him aside and questioned him more about his trip to Cleveland.
“We left early Thursday morning and we arrived at my brother’s home in Shaker Heights just before noontime,” he told me. “We didn’t leave to come back until after lunch on Friday. We get to see them so little and it’s always a nice visit.”
“That period appears to be the only real opportunity anyone would have had to enter your home and take your pistol and the brooch. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to have you give the Brinks service center a call to check with them for any unusual activity during the time you were away.”
“Of course, of course.”
###
In contrast to William Marshburn, Lacey Oberle was a real piece of work. She and her husband Michael occupied a slightly smaller home a quarter of a mile further along from the Marshburn’s place but you would have thought it was the grand estate of a royal duchess the way she acted.
Lacey had her children’s nanny greet us at the door and show us to her ‘rooms’. We were ushered into a small sitting area, upstairs, just off the master bedroom. The mistress of the house, as the barley twenty year old nanny called her, was posed behind a small desk, little more than a table actually, set diagonally in the furthest corner from the door. She half rose when we entered, Mason behind me, but promptly sat back down when she spied us.
“Sheriff Crane ma’am and this is Detective Mason,” I introduced the two of us for the second time in an hour.
“I called for you hours ago. What took you so long to get here?”
“I apologize Mrs. Oberle; I wasn’t aware of that but I’ll look into it. We were at a call in the area when we received a radio call to come here.” I just prayed Mason had the good sense to maintain a blank face. “I understand a burglary may have taken place?”
“May have, Sergeant?”
“It’s Sheriff ma’am.” I was doing my best to control my tone with her but my irritation with her pretentiousness was already seeping out. Still, I plowed ahead, “Can you detail for us what’s been taken?”
She plucked a piece of paper off the desk and held it out to me. I stepped a little closer to the desk to take it. Glancing through it, I realized she’d listed five pieces of jewelry and described them all very briefly.
“Where were these kept?”
“Why, in my jewelry case, of course.”
“Can you show us that please?”
She eyed the two of us and then made to get up from the little desk, “Very well. Follow me please,” but, before moving, she made it a point to stop and look at my black uniform boots and Janet Mason’s shoes. “Be careful of the carpets. I’ve just had them cleaned for the holidays.”
Who cleans their upstairs bedroom carpet for Christmas? I thought to myself. Different strokes, I guess.
She walked us into the master bedroom and pointed to one of those combo jewelry and lingerie cabinets on legs that you always see advertised at Christmas and Valentine’s Day.
“Is that where it always is ma’am?” Mason questioned her.
She shot Janet a look but answered, simply, “Yes.”
The cabinet was placed by a dressing table that appeared to be a mirror image of the table Lacey Oberle had been sitting behind in the tiny sitting room. Only a few things adorned the surface of the table.
“Has anything else been disturbed in the room Mrs. Oberle, besides your jewelry case?”
She looked about as if she was looking around for the first time. Finally, she answered, “No; I don’t believe so.”
“Anything of Mr. Oberle's missing?” Mason asked her.
“No, I don't believe so.”
“When did you notice these pieces were missing?” I held up her list.
“Why, just this morning. I’d had plans to meet Michael in Columbus for lunch but now I’ve put that on hold to deal with this.”
“Michael?” I asked.
“My husband; he’s a torts lawyer at the Moody, Pierce, Rallingsford firm. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Before I could respond, she rambled on, “He just made junior partner.”
I controlled a shudder. Moody, Pierce was a firm that specialized in the criminal defense of anyone who could afford their high-end fees. I’d run into their mouthpieces more than a few times in court. They’d made my job more than a little tough over the years.
“When was the last time you were in that cabinet?” Mason asked her, taking notes.
Lacey Oberle appeared to think for a minute but her answer was less than helpful, “I’m in and out of it just about every day. There are always events and gatherings to attend, after all.”
“So,” I probed, “these five pieces were present and accounted for yesterday?”
“Well...no...not necessarily. I wouldn’t say that...”
“When was the last time you can remember seeing any of them?”
She looked upward as if contemplating her response and then told us, “We had the junior associates holiday party on Saturday. They always have that a couple of weeks before Christmas.” Her tone, to me, sounded grudging as she continued, “The full partners get a big party where they get their bonuses between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Michael’s bonus will come with his last paycheck for the year but it won’t be much this year since he just made junior partner...only a few grand after Uncle Sam’s cut.”
“You were in your jewelry case before the party on Saturday, then?”
She nodded.
“Was the house empty Saturday night while you and your husband attended the party?” Janet asked her.
Again, she nodded. “Yes; the children stayed with their grandparents...my parents. We stayed in Columbus.”
“And your nanny?”
“Alicia? Oh...Alicia doesn’t actually live in if that’s what you were thinking. She wouldn’t have been here.”
Janet questioned her a little more, “Was that the only night recently that your home has been empty?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Is someone usually here during the day?” I asked.
“Yes,” she nodded, “The children aren’t in school yet. Alicia and they are usually here. I’m...in and out.”
While Janet took photographs of the area and dusted for prints, I proceeded through all of the rest of the usual questions with Lacey Oberle. I was surprised to hear they had no home alarm system. Lacey told me she thought their mini-mansion was relatively safe by nature of it being in a gated community.
Mason and I stopped and parked just behind the little guard shack on the way out of the community. The guard, who must have been reading, jumped up from his chair inside when he realized we weren’t going to just drive right by once he raised the gate.
He started to approach me as I dismounted and stepped up to the shack but I was faster and he didn’t get any further than the doorway.
“A couple of questions, Kyle?” I asked him as I stood directly in front of him and read off his name tag.
“Yes; how can I help you?”
“Is this gate manned 24/7?”
The young, unarmed guard shook his head no.
“When is it manned?”
“There’s two shifts ma’am...Sheriff,” he told me as he looked at my name badge. “Six to two and two to ten o’clock. Between 10:00 PM and 6:00 AM anyone that wants in and out has to use a key card.”
“How do you deal with service people and visitors during the hours this is manned?”
“All visitors sign in and out in our log.”
“Do they actually sign or do you write down what they tell you?”
His look turned classically sheepish, “We, ah, just write them down.”
“Do you take ID’s or plate numbers?”
“Um, no; actually just the name of the person or the business and the time.”
“Can I look at your log for this past Saturday?”
“I...I don’t know if I should show you that.” He drew himself up a little straighter but he was just a rail of a boy turned man and not the least bit intimidating.
“We’re here today because there have been some burglaries in the area. I’d like to take a look and see if anything stands out to me. If you won’t show me now, I’ll go get a warrant.”
When his color visibly blanched, I pressed my advantage. “I promise I’ll just take a quick look.”
He was still hesitant but then he gave in and stepped backwards back into the little guard house. Picking up the log book from where it lay, He handed it to me open to the current date. I read aloud, “County Sheriff SUV, 9:28 AM.” He didn’t even bother to stop us when we drove in, just raised the gate... That was the last entry. “No one else has entered or left since we got here?”
“Just residents, Sheriff and we don’t note them coming and going.”
I flipped the pages backward to Saturday and scanned the day’s entries. There were more than two dozen including individuals, a catering company, a florist and a limo service. “Looks like it was a busy day,” I told him.
Kyle looked at the log as I traced my finger down the page. “Nope, not really, not for a Saturday,” he said, tapping the date at the top of the page. “Anything that day ‘stand out’ for you?”
I half shrugged, “Not at first glance.” After checking a few more pages, I handed the book back to him and stepped back out of the shack.
I looked to the left and right of the entry drive at the white, split rail fence. Pointing at it, I asked, “Does that go all of the way around the development?”
“No ma’am. It’s just for show up here. There’s only one road, in and out though. You’re standing on it.”
So much for security; Dana would have a field day with this place...
Back in the SUV and rolling, I quizzed Mason, “What do you make of Lacey Oberle?”
“To be honest Sheriff, I’m not entirely sure she was telling the truth.”
I mulled that over for a minute before asking, “Why do you say that?” I knew what I thought but I wanted to see where her head was.
“William Marshburn was really attached to the things that were taken but, more than that, he was able to describe them...describe them with emotion and, when we asked for it, he had the particulars...the serial number for the SIG, the receipt for the brooch and he even scrounged up a picture of his wife where she was wearing it. He genuinely wants those things back.”
“And Lacey?”
“If her stuff was even taken...and I’m not saying it wasn’t, I got the feeling that she was just going through the motions so she could file an insurance claim. I mean, maybe they need money.”
“Do you think they’re living a little above their means?”
“I think it’s possible but then, who am I to judge? I did find it odd that he had a valuable looking signet ring sitting in a tray on his dresser that wasn't taken.”
Hmm, I thought the same thing...
Chapter 6 – Prized Pooch
Friday Morning, December 12th, 2014
“Duchess is an agility grand champion and very obedient, the hallmark of the breed. She wouldn’t have just wandered off!”
&nbs
p; I took a deep breath and waited while John Savage vented most of his anger.
He pulled a picture off his mantel and handed it to me. “That’s Duchess there on the left,” he said. “She’s a Lowchen.”
After studying the photo, I concluded that ‘Lowchen’ must be French for ‘mop’ because that’s what I felt like I was looking at but I didn’t dare express that opinion to the obviously agitated Savage. Instead, I passed the photo along to Janet to take a look at.
Savage wasn’t finished. He railed on about how someone must have breached the security of his home and snatched the dog the mere moment his back was turned.
I’d had enough and raised a hand to stop him mid-sentence, “Mr. Savage, I understand that Duchess is a very well trained, very valuable dog and with, I’m sure, a lot of accolades to her credit but, in my experience, most dogs aren’t stolen directly from their homes. They wander off while you’re out with them and your attention is drawn away for a minute and they get themselves into trouble or someone takes them then. Dog napping, if that’s in fact what happened here, tends to be a crime of opportunity.”
Savage fell silent.
I waited a few beats and then, after seeing his expression soften, I asked him, “So, what really happened Mr. Savage?”
The snooty dog owner used his index finger to gently push his horn rimmed glass back to the bridge of his nose. He sighed dramatically and then confessed, “I might have accidentally left the kitchen door open during dinner last night. We had sea bass and it smelled a little fishy in here. If that’s what happened, Duchess must have gotten out then.”
“When did you realize she was gone?” Janet asked him.
Savage tapped a finger to his lips, “Let me think...Oh, probably about 7:15 or so. We had Tab and Stephan in from Columbus for dinner. They left just after 7:00 to get back since poor Stephan had to work today. I went to the kitchen to start clearing then. Her day bed is in there next to her feeding stand. She wasn’t there like I assumed she would be and...and the door was still ajar. I remember it being very chilly in the kitchen.”
Janet asked him, “Can you point me to the kitchen?”
He beckoned her to follow and pointed into a room just off the dining room that I could see to an area that I couldn’t see from my vantage point. Janet disappeared in the direction he pointed, presumably to have a look outside.
