by Bob Moats
I was really hungry, so I stopped at the nearest Subway I could find and had lunch. I was mulling over my morning and wondering if I should go bother a judge about his involvement in the case. I thought about going to Penny’s studio and questioning the news people on the list, might just stir up some talk about the murder, but I didn’t really think they did it. I was really liking Doan for the killings. I took my time eating, just relaxing, then I finally finished my lunch, got back out to my car and drove to my office. I was surprised to see two patrol cars, one unmarked, sitting in my parking lot. I saw Trapper off to the side standing next to his car. He waved at me. I went over.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Well, Buck called me and told me about his run in with the hooker. I had to laugh to myself, I didn’t want to offend him. The plate numbers he gave me came up to a prior felon, Joe Michaels, a car thief, known to live in my town. I took a couple of men with me and we found a chop shop in his double sized garage. After threats of the rubber hose, Joe finally told me that he got his info for available cars to steal from a couple of girls who worked out of this office. So I talked to the Fraser police, and we conducted a little raid. Looks like you may not have your parade of babes anymore.” He grinned.
I was crushed. I enjoyed watching the girls go by. I looked at him and said, “I’m hearing about this rubber hose from you and Lawson. What the hell is it?”
He grinned. “It’s just the way we threaten a suspect with all kinds of torture and spending life behind bars. All talk, but it works.”
“Ah, I see,” I said as the Fraser police were escorting three beauties and one male to the waiting cars. Trapper said they’d be out by tomorrow, there was lots of money behind this operation. They’ll just go set up somewhere else.
About a half hour later the Fraser cops were gone, and Trapper and I sat in my office as I filled him in on my visit with Doan.
“I knew he was a little prick from his commercials,” Trapper said.
“Yep, and I would love to know where the machete ended up,” I offered. “Unfortunately, there are a million places he could have disposed of it, any number of box crushers in his stores, or just a drop in some garbage can alongside the road. It could even be in the St. Clair River by now. I wouldn’t know where to start, but I had one odd thought about his botanical garden out back of his headquarters. Might be buried out there.”
“Well, Lincoln has the power to do a search for the weapon, with a warrant, if he was doing his job. Maybe you should go talk with him. If he knows you know, it may force him to do something about it,” Trapper offered.
“After the way he was in the interrogation, I can believe he would do that. I can’t figure his place in this whole thing. Bruce and Melody never said anything about him and the blackmail. So far he hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary to look criminal. I’m thinking he thought his step-son was involved in the murders and was trying to find out, or to cover his ass, but that would be bad for Lincoln if he was found out. I can’t really say he was going to shoot that store clerk. He may just like holding on to his weapon.” I sat back and wondered.
“Well, he’s not one of the police department’s finest, but he is the man on the case. May need to bring him up to speed,” Trapper said. “Let’s go have a little talk with him.”
I looked at Trapper like he had offered to go into combat with me. “You want to go right now?” I asked.
“Sure, I did my duty today, broke up a chop shop, that should keep my captain happy for a day or two.” He grinned. “Besides, you haven’t annoyed Lincoln today, so we can rectify that situation.”
We went to our own cars and headed to Roseville. We were taken to Lincoln’s cubby hole. He grumbled, “What do you two want?”
I sat on the chair next to his desk. “Be nice. I have some info to share with you. If you are still on the Weston case.”
He was silent, then, “What?”
I told him about visiting Doan in the course of my investigation and the connection I made with the machete commercial and the machete death of Noreen. I told him that the commercial company said Doan kept the machete and the mood he was in with said machete. Lincoln just sat listening.
“Not bad, it’s usable,” he said. Then he sat back in his chair and looked at Trapper then me. “I know I’m not liked very much. I am a bit abrasive, more than I should be. But I take my job seriously, sometimes too much. After twenty-five years on the force, I’ve seen too much to make my stomach turn.” He looked at Trapper, who nodded back knowingly. “I hope this pans out. I’d like to go out with one good bust under my belt. I’m retiring when this is over. You really think that Doan may have the guts to pull off a murder?”
“I have a gut feeling myself that he knows more than he is admitting. The machete connection is what makes me wonder,” I answered.
“I’ll need to go talk to this commercial maker to get an official position on it. I’ll get back to you if I get a warrant, but where the fuck do I start to look for the weapon? He’s got a huge empire to hide it in,” Lincoln said.
“I got the feeling he wouldn’t get rid of it, but I could be wrong. I wish I could give you an answer,” I said.
“You’re a pretty snoopy guy. Maybe you could snoop around and find something that might help,” he said slyly.
“I could do that.” I paused, then asked, “Since we’re playing nice here, I need to know a couple things. Can we talk honestly?”
He sat forward again, and looked at Trapper then said, “Sit down, Trapper, get comfortable.”
Trapper pulled up a chair from the side and sat. He had an idea of what I was going to do.
“Let’s play nice, then,” Lincoln said.
“OK, explain to me the Weston photo fuck-up.”
“Just that, a fuck-up. The cop who started the case was handling it bad. His filing system was screwed up, and I got the wrong photos from him when they pulled him off the case. I read the files and went on my hunt without even meeting Weston, my first mistake. That barmaid couldn’t I.D. him from the wrong photo so I assumed he was lying. No evidence from the motel, so more lying assumed. I will admit I fucked up on that whole mess.” He went quiet again.
“Someone took a couple of shots at me and Marylou Martin outside the Midnight bar when I found her. What’s your take on that?”
“Don’t know, hadn’t heard about it till now. Did anyone else know you were tracking her?”
“Just the lawyer and Trapper. Weston gave me his info from the jail, so I don’t know if he talked to anyone else. I could have been watched and followed from going to Noreen’s office.” I paused, then, “Did Bruce have an interest in stopping Martin from talking, maybe to see Weston go to prison?”
“That kid is such a dip shit, he may have.”
“I shot out the shooter’s back car window. Did Bruce have a back window of his car missing?”
Lincoln’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, he said he was vandalized. I’ll take care of that with him, if I have to. He’ll face attempted murder charges. I don’t condone anything he did. Step-son or not.”
I hated to admit it, but I was sort of liking Lincoln about then.
*
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Well, if I find anything good to help get you a warrant, I think it would be good to go to Judge Mortimore. He’s on the list of blackmailed suspects, too. Just to see what he does,” I said.
For the first time since I’d known Lincoln, he cracked a smile. “Yeah, I like that too.”
“How’d you find out who was on the blackmail list from Bruce and Melody?” Lincoln asked.
“I saw Gregory put it on a desk and I kind of snooped a look, just to help my case.” I didn’t tell him Gregory knew I had it or that I took it with me. What I told him was good enough.
“You are good at snooping aren’t you?” He smiled again.
I stood and said, “Well, I’ll let you do your thing and I’ll go do mine.” I added, “I’l
l keep you informed as to my progress.”
Lincoln stood, too, said he would, also, and held his hand out. I shook it and felt like a barrier was broken. Trapper nodded to him, and we left.
“Well, that was a revelation,” I said when we reached the parking lot. Trapper laughed and agreed.
“What are you going to do now?” Trapper asked.
“Well, Lincoln asked me to snoop. I just may do that. But I’ll need good criminal help. I’m calling Buck.”
Trapper laughed out loud, got into his car and headed out. I got on my cell phone, called Buck, and asked what he was up to. He said he was polishing his babies, and I asked if he wanted to go commit a misdemeanor. He said he’d love to, and I told him to meet me at my office.
About a half hour later Buck came in and sat. I filled him in on what happened after he called Trapper.
“Damn, the ladies won’t be parading by anymore?” he lamented.
“Nope, they’re all gone. Sorry, Buck, but at least your cars are safe now,” I offered.
“So what kind of crime are we going to be committing?” he asked.
“When it’s safe to go, we are going to be trespassing around a garden hunting for a machete.”
He just stared and snickered. “We are going to be digging up a garden to find a big knife?”
“No digging.” I got up, went to my ample closet and took out two metal detectors I’d had for years. I gave one to Buck, pulled up a chair next to him and showed him how they worked. I stood and showed him how to swing it and to listen for the sound of metal. I put a couple of metal items on the floor and showed the way they sound when detecting an object.
“These won’t find dead bodies, will they?” he asked.
“Not unless they have metal in them.”
“OK, this looks like fun. Can I borrow this to go to the park and hunt for treasure?” he asked.
“Sure, anytime you want. We need to wait till Doan is closed for the night and go when it’s dark. I checked my moon phase program on my Palm, and there is a full moon tonight, luckily. Take it home with you and play with it in your yard, get used to it. I have extra batteries if needed.” I showed him the pointed tool used to probe the ground for the metal objects and gave him a small trowel used to dig up the finds. I gave him the instruction book to look over and sent him home. I said I’d call him and we’d meet at his place and go from there. He went off.
It was almost 4 p.m., and I decided to go back home and see what Penny was up to. I forgot to ask her who was on her show that day so it would be a surprise when I got there. Lately, she was having themes at home, bringing her work home to bug me. I was dreading going back that night since I didn’t know what to expect.
I drove up to the house. Nothing moved, and the door didn’t open when got there. I went in and it was quiet, so I went to the back and saw Penny out in the yard with an artist easel painting on a small canvas.
I came out. She saw me, smiled and said, “Take your clothes off. I want to paint you nude.”
“Hardly.” I came up and saw she had painted a picture of the lake and the backyard. It wasn’t half bad. “Not bad. It looks good. You had an artist on your show today?”
“Yes, sir, he’s a convict who paints jailhouse portraits now.” I looked at her and said I hoped she didn’t invite him home. “No, sweetie, they wouldn’t let him go out on his own. They had guards watching him.” She reached down to the side of her easel and brought up a portrait of her. It was good. “The artist painted this while he was in the studio. Everyone loved it. He can paint one of these in less than 20 minutes.”
“Why is he in jail?” I asked, sort of knowing.
“Art forgery, what else?” she said, as if it was funny, which it was.
“Ah, stands to reason. I’m going to be going back out tonight with Buck. We’re going to trespass on Doan Appliance property.”
“That’s nice, sweetie. Don’t get caught,” she said matter-of-factly as she painted. Sometimes she amazed me. I said to enjoy her painting and went in the house to look for dark clothes to wear.
Around 9:30, after I told her about my day and my visit to Doan, she said she’d never buy from them again. We had dinner and watched a bit of TV. I said I was going to pick up Buck. She said to be careful and went back to painting a fruit bowl on the dining room table.
I called Buck, told him I was on my way, and asked if he understood the metal detector. He said he found 78 cents in his yard, and he definitely was going to be borrowing it again. I got to his house, we put the detectors in a duffel bag and headed off to Doan’s offices. I parked in the lot next to Doan’s, a warehouse for a furniture company, and we crossed over onto Doan’s property.
“I hope he doesn’t have some kind of security system out here,” I said.
We didn’t hear any alarms, nor did any lights go on, so we made it to the side of the garden. I whispered to Buck to go to the other side and sweep back through the flowerbeds towards the middle where we would meet. If he found something, signal to me. He went around to the other side and started his search. The moon was just enough so we could see the ground, but not enough to make us very visible in our dark clothes.
I was finding a number of junk metal items, and nothing good was hitting. I was almost to the center of the garden, as was Buck, when I heard a car door slam. Buck heard it, too, and we ran to the back of the yard and into the trees and bushes. We watched as a figure came around the building, carrying something that looked like a grocery bag. The figure went to the side of the flower bed, pulled out a trowel from the bag, and started digging what looked like a deep hole. Then the figure put something into the hole and covered it. Smoothing the ground around it, the person went back to the side of the building, and we heard a car door slam again. A car started, and we could hear it drive away. We waited about five minutes and then ventured out. We went to the spot where the hole was dug. I swept the metal detector over until I hit something big. We carefully dug until we found the item. It was wrapped in newspaper. I put on the rubber gloves I brought, carefully opened one end and found it was what we hoped for, a machete blade sticking out of the partially unwrapped paper. Buck gave a quiet cheer. I re-wrapped the package and buried it back in the hole. I stuck a small stick into the ground to mark the spot, and we headed out quickly.
Back at Buck’s, we celebrated with soft drinks since that was all Buck had, and I told him my plan to reveal the weapon to Lincoln. Buck asked how I knew the thing would be back there. I said I didn’t, but it was some place to start. Although it wasn’t back there when we started, we got lucky that Doan did decide to hide it back there.
I said I was going to head back home, and he could keep the detector till we needed it again. I drove back to the house and found Penny asleep on the couch. I gently woke her and just about carried her to the bedroom. I undressed her, tucked her in, then went out to the kitchen for a brew. I deserved it. We found the murder weapon and our killer. Now to let Lincoln have the glory. He deserved it, I felt. Besides, he would retire now and be out of everyone’s hair.
*
Chapter Twenty-nine
The next morning I was awakened by Penny standing over the bed with a bed tray of breakfast. I sat up and asked why I deserved this, she should be the one getting breakfast in bed. She climbed in with me and said this was for both of us. We had our breakfast, feeding each other, then we went to take a shower together and toweled each other off. A good morning all around.
She was heading out the door when I stopped her and asked what new ventures would await me that evening. She laughed and said I had nothing to worry about. She had a program today about female problems. Nothing to do with me unless I got cramps once a month. I said I thankfully didn’t and kissed her good-bye. I called Trapper and happily told him of our findings from last night and that I was going to see Lincoln today. He said that was good, now Lincoln could retire in peace. Then he wondered if they would be doing Doan’s commercials from prison. I laughed
and said I’d fill him in later on what happened today.
I drove over to Roseville, parked, and went into Lincoln’s cubbyhole. He was doing some paper work and saw me coming.
“Any good news, Mr. Snoop?” he asked, fairly cheerful.
“Oh, you’re going to love this.” I told him about our adventures in the garden and the mysterious figure who so nicely buried the machete in the ground. I told him we left it there to be found properly with a search warrant. He was smiling from ear to ear.
“The only problem is, we can’t identify the figure who buried it, too dark to see. But that’s beside the point. Fingerprints on the machete should reveal the killer,” I said.
