"You really think they did it?" Grayson asked.
Elizabeth shrugged. "Had to be more than Clancy moving poor Louella Belle around the laundromat. I want to question them. My guess is they'll be so close to wetting themselves that we'll get answers pretty quickly."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
AT SIX AM SATURDAY, Elizabeth splashed water on her face in the station restroom and combed her hair. She hadn't napped in her uniform jacket, so it bolstered her appearance as much as fresh lipstick.
She headed to the break room to make the first pot of coffee, then snooped around Hammer's desk for donut leftovers from Friday. She found none, so she ate an emergency granola bar from her locker.
Elizabeth finalized her notes on the conversation with Clancy and his lawyer. A few minutes before seven, the station's back door opened and someone stomped feet on the mat to shake off the slush that had refrozen overnight.
"That you Hammer?"
"Hey Chief. Need something?"
"Come on back after you get coffee. No big rush."
She could hear him talk to someone and realized it was Grayson. Of course. She'd told him to stay in the station.
Food smells drifted down the hall. Hammer had brought breakfast sandwiches for them, including Clancy. She got up from behind her desk and followed the smells.
In the locker room, a bleary-eyed Grayson sat on a bench as Hammer stowed his coat in a locker. "Morning guys."
"Chief," they both said.
"Grayson, you in one piece?"
"Yeah. Clancy's snores would wake the dead and they'll be in my head all day when I sleep."
"I caught three hours." She nodded at the two bags of fast food and then looked at Hammer. "Make sure you get reimbursed."
"I will. You want me to take his food to him?"
"Is he still sleeping, Grayson?"
"Unless he just woke up. He hollered for me about four and I took him to the john."
"He doesn't want to go to county, but if he doesn't bail out today we may have to do that. We aren't set up for escorting inmates and feeding three squares."
Hammer shut his locker. "Agreed." He looked at Grayson. "If the Chief says you can head home, I'll take him food in an hour. Or earlier if he calls out."
Elizabeth took a sandwich from the bag. "Beats the granola bar I had in my locker. Head home, Grayson. Thanks for pulling guard duty."
He snorted. "My tailbone did not like that hard chair."
She didn't respond. Grayson had been known to nap in his patrol car. Maybe she should put a hard seat in it.
Hammer picked up the bags of food, offered a sandwich to Grayson, who did not take one, and turned toward Elizabeth. "Calderone sent me a text I just read. You want me to get those two Sweathog guys down here?"
Elizabeth walked into the hall with him. "When Mahan comes in. I told Calderone to sleep a couple extra hours. Come to my office with Mahan and we'll strategize."
"Oh boy," Hammer said. "Is that Chicago police talk?"
"Up there we would say, 'Let's meet and get this the hell over with.'"
"Works down here," Hammer said.
WHEN NEITHER HERBIE OR Just Juice answered Hammer's calls, Elizabeth told Mahan she'd ride to their apartment complex with him to strongly suggest the men drive to the station. "If they're sleeping, they can crash again when we're done. Either at their place or here, as our guests."
The two men lived across the hall from each other in an older, red brick, college-owned apartment building. Elizabeth had not been in them, but had heard all units were efficiencies and up to three students could live in each apartment. Sounded crowded to her, but probably roomier than a three-person dorm room.
The early morning Saturday drive through town felt peaceful. Christmas season usually did, though Elizabeth thought this year was shaping up to be a very different holiday.
As they pulled up in front of the building, an older, possibly dark blue, Ford SUV pulled out of the parking lot at the side of the building. Snow spatter covered both sides, and the rest of the SUV looked as if it had not been washed in months.
Behind the wheel sat Herbie Hiccup, with Just Juice Jenson in the passenger seat. A quick glance showed the SUV was loaded to the roof with boxes and suitcases
"Would you say the guys are going on a trip?" Mahan asked.
"Taking us for a ride, I'd say." Elizabeth tapped the car's internal dome light. "Turn on your pretty red and blue ones. No need for a siren."
"With pleasure." Mahan flipped the switch that set the bubble atop the car in rotation.
Though they were less than two car lengths behind the duo, the SUV continued down College Avenue, heading west.
"What do they think they're doing?" Mahan asked.
Elizabeth half-laughed. "Their version of a getaway, I suppose."
"But what's the point?"
Elizabeth thought for a moment. "I bet they figure we won't follow them outside of town."
"Amazing these whack-a-doodles made it out of high school." Mahan honked the police car's horn.
Elizabeth dialed 9-1-1 and told the county dispatcher they would follow the SUV onto county roads, and gave its license number.
The woman asked, "Need any help, Chief Friedman?"
"No, just a couple of dumb guys who figure we turn our car around at the town's edge. Thanks, though."
As city streets turned into rural roads that traveled beside now-harvested corn fields, Mahan honked the car horn in rapid succession. "They can't say they didn't hear us."
"Get on their tail," Elizabeth said.
Mahan edged closer until only about ten feet separated the police car and SUV. After about ten seconds, the SUV's brake lights began coming off and on. Mahan pulled back as the SUV slowed.
"Give them a few more seconds," Elizabeth said. "If they don't stop, turn on the siren."
Within five seconds, the van began to edge to the side of the road and slowed.
"No shoulder here," Mahan said.
As they stopped, Elizabeth opened the passenger door. "Hang here for a minutes. I'm going to tell them to turn around and we'll follow them to the station."
She unholstered her gun and held it at her side. The SUV's driver's window came down and a chubby hand held out a driver's license. And then dropped it.
"Out of the car," Elizabeth said.
The driver's door opened first, and Herbie almost slid out. "Um. Hello Chief Friedman. Can we help you?"
The passenger door opened and Elizabeth could hear Just Juice's ample form land on the snow-covered brown grass that ran along the road. "Come around here, Mr. Jenson. Walk in front of your vehicle, please."
Elizabeth studied them. Both men had on lightweight jackets, having expected to be in the SUV rather than standing in the cold. They also wore expressions similar to a kid who took chocolate from a sibling's Christmas stocking. Neither appeared armed.
She replaced her gun in its holster. "Where were you guys going?"
They spoke simultaneously. "Home."
"Finished your studying?"
Neither responded.
"We have some questions for you. I want you to turn around and Officer Mahan and I will follow you back to the police station."
"We're kinda late," Herbie said.
"Or we can stand out here in the cold while we have Officer Calderone join us. Then I can put you in separate police cars for the ride. Handcuffed of course."
Just Juice's shoulders sagged and Herbie said, "I'll drive."
AT THE STATION, Elizabeth put the two men in the conference room. She didn't specifically want to give them better treatment than Clancy. She didn’t want the two to know Clancy resided down the hall. Or vice-versa.
To herself, she repeated, “Herbert Gibson and Erasmus Jenson.” She didn’t want to slip up and call them Herbie Hiccup or Just Juice. Not out loud, anyway.
“So, gentlemen, we have a lot to discuss this Saturday morning. Let’s start with why you decided to leave town when you said you planned to s
tay here over Christmas to study.”
“Do we need a lawyer?” Herbie asked.
“As I said when we arrived at the station, you have a right to counsel.”
Just Juice cleared his throat. “Like we said, we haven’t done anything wrong.” He looked at Herbie. “We’d have to pay for a lawyer.”
Elizabeth tapped her pen on her notebook. “Also as I said earlier, if you can’t afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you.”
Calderone spoke up. “But you need to decide either way, so we can get this show on the road.”
Before either man responded, someone knocked lightly on the conference room door. Hammer entered and handed a note to Elizabeth.
She read it silently. Clancy’s lawyer arranged a bail hearing at ten. Judge wants you there.
Elizabeth tilted the note so Calderone could see it. She kept her face expressionless as she handed the note back to Hammer. “Tell him I’ll be there.”
She turned to Herbie and Just Juice. “Gentlemen, I have to be in court in about forty-five minutes on another case. Won’t be long. We’ll talk for a few minutes now and resume when I return.”
In a bolder tone than he had previously used, Jenson said, “Chief, we need to get our own show on the road. Can’t this wait until after the holidays?”
“You must think I just fell off the proverbial turnip truck." Elizabeth paused for several seconds. She had planned to dive into Louella Belle’s case, but didn’t want to stop and start over. It would give Just Juice and Herbie too much time to think.
“Why were you leaving town?” Elizabeth asked.
The two men looked at each other and Herbie spoke. “We heard you picked up Finn Clancy and thought he might tell you lies about us.”
Elizabeth held his gaze. “Had you come to see me to dispute a lie, rather than trying to leave town, I’d be more likely to see your perspective.”
Just Juice glowered at Herbie. “I told you we should come here!”
Good, let them start to argue with each other.
Calderone asked, “How did you know we picked up Clancy?”
“It’s all over town. We heard at the sub shop near the highway, about ten last night.”
She asked, “What lies might Mr. Clancy have told us?”
Herbie said, “I guess we do need a lawyer.”
Elizabeth stood and Calderone followed suit. “I’ll send Sergeant Hammer in to make arrangements. If you leave this room without permission, I’ll handcuff you to those chairs.” She shut the door with a firm bang.
Calderone looked at her. “Turnip truck? Not exactly Chicago talk.”
She grinned. “I heard Mahan say it once.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ELIZABETH DEBATED TAKING Calderone or Mahan to the bail hearing. But she decided she wanted more officers than usual in the station, even though Clancy would be at the hearing with his attorney.
The county courthouse was on the town square, only two blocks from the police station, and Elizabeth wanted some cold air to wake her up. She strode briskly down a mix of shoveled and unshoveled sidewalks. She returned a few greetings, but minus her official hat and in a heavy parka, most people didn’t recognize her.
She greeted the sole guard who staffed the magnetometer in the courthouse lobby. He didn't look happy to see her on a Saturday – much less a Saturday two days before Christmas.
Elizabeth slid into the seat behind the county state’s attorney just as the door to Judge Kemper's chamber opened. Donaldson, one of the more self-centered people in town, turned briefly to her. “Nice you could make it, Chief.”
Stuffed shirt. “You’ve probably heard we have a lot going on.”
The bailiff called, "All rise."
Judge Kemper was so tall he had to stoop to walk through a couple doorways in the old courthouse. A quick glance told Elizabeth his robes should be a couple inches longer. He reached his elevated bench, knocked lightly with his gavel, and looked at Donaldson. “Tell me why we’re having a bail hearing two days before Christmas for a man who broke into the home of a recent murder victim.”
Donaldson stood and launched into an explanation about Clancy not being a suspect in Louella Belle’s murder. He added that Chief Friedman indicated she did not oppose bail because Clancy had provided useful information in the case.
“That true, Chief Friedman?” Kemper asked.
“Yes sir.” When the judge made a gimme gesture, she added, “I’d rather not state what the assistance was in open court. Would you like me to approach the bench?”
He waved a hand. “For now, if you two agree that’s good enough for me to start the hearing.” He turned to Max Henderson, who sat next to Clancy. “Tell me why your client will be no danger to anyone and will stay in town.”
Henderson acknowledged Clancy’s nonviolent run-ins with police and stressed his recent willing assistance to law enforcement. "Beyond that, Your Honor, Mr. Clancy is not a man of means. He has support systems in place in Logland that he could not duplicate elsewhere.”
"And where will Mr. Clancy reside while he is on bail?"
Henderson had a ready answer. "I have spoken with folks at the Logland Mission, which is near the Salvation Army store."
"I know where it is, counselor," the judge said.
"Yes, sir. Mr. Clancy has stayed there many times, and is never a problem to others who use the facility. As long as he is in the Mission when it opens at seven PM and leaves when it closes for the day at seven AM, he's welcome there."
The judge faced Clancy. "And how will you wile away the daytime hours?"
"I hang out at the library a lot. Folks at McDonald's don't mind if I spend an hour or two there for meals."
Judge Kemper peered at Clancy over his bifocals. "I'd like some collateral."
"I don't have much money, Your Honor, just from SSI."
"Supplemental Security Income," the judge said.
Elizabeth thought he was about to ask something, but changed his mind. Her own question about Clancy's income source had been answered. SSI was for people on disability who hadn't worked enough to collect Social Security Disability. She'd try to find out the basis for him getting it, but figured he had some form of documented depression. Or at least convinced Social Security he was depressed rather than lazy.
The judge looked at Donaldson. "How do you feel about releasing Mr. Clancy on personal recognizance?"
Donaldson scowled. "Though I would prefer not to, I have not been able to identify any assets, Your Honor."
Judge Kemper studied Clancy. "You're a lucky man. If it wasn't the holiday season I'd have you be a guest of the county until you came up with some resources." He focused on Henderson. "I'm relying on you to get your client to any future hearings."
Elizabeth was pretty sure Henderson gulped as he agreed.
SHE HURRIED BACK TO THE station after the hearing. Herbie and Just Juice might seem like buffoons, but if Clancy was telling the truth, they killed Louella Belle and covered it up. Of course, they might have reported her death right way if Clancy hadn't 'helped' them.
She reminded herself that it didn't matter what the circumstances were after Clancy showed up in the laundromat. Herbie and Just Juice had not rendered aid to a badly injured woman – or called for an ambulance. No excuse for that.
Ten-thirty. She called Skelly as she walked.
"Good morning, Chief. How's my patient?"
"Frisky, except she doesn't seem to want to jump. I put a stool next to my bed so she can get up there more easily."
"Aha. Now I know who you're with at night."
Elizabeth flushed. "In the station conference room I have a couple suspects for Louella Belle's murder. Wondered if you had anything more on her."
Skelly's tone became businesslike. "Heard that. Not on the death itself, except what I told you about the amount of water in her lungs. Close to negligible. She could have been dead when she was dunked, and any water entered her lungs almost as a reflex when someone lea
ned her over the laundry tub."
"Poor woman."
"If I were a defense attorney, I'd try to get me to say on the stand that I think she was deceased before they pushed her head into that tub. Would make the killer look less callous."
"Less evil. I figure they'll try to say they panicked. I take it you know who I have in for questioning."
"Hammer told me."
Elizabeth swore softly.
Skelly laughed. "He'd never tell me anything he shouldn't."
Elizabeth had almost reached the station. "Any more on Stanley?"
"It'll be awhile before I get DNA information from what was under his fingernails."
"You're pretty sure it was skin?"
"Yep. You know what the odds are for a match, though…Just a sec."
Skelly apparently took the phone away from his ear and said, "I'll be right out there." To Elizabeth, he said, "I've got somebody here. Can I call you back?"
"Sure." Elizabeth hung up as she entered the station.
Hammer sat at his desk, about to bite into a donut. "How'd it go?"
"Clancy got bail. He could be back here to process out any minute." She pointed a finger at him. "Skelly says hello." She walked behind the counter into the bullpen.
Hammer flushed.
"Try to work with Clancy and his lawyer quickly and quietly. I don't want our two other guests to know he's around. Or that he's getting out."
"Roger that, Chief."
"Where's Calderone?"
"He's been talking to our guests, as you call them, to see if they qualify for a public defender. Sounds like both have mommies and daddies who could pony up, but they don't want to call them to say they're in a pickle."
Elizabeth took the last pastry from a box on Hammer's desk. "I doubt Mom and Dad would be legally required to provide money for an attorney."
"Yeah, they're both actually over twenty-one."
Calderone's voice came from around the corner, outside the conference room. "Sit tight and I'll have them send someone over." He came toward the bullpen, shaking his head as he walked in. "They're so worried about their parents finding out they need a lawyer."
Final Cycle Page 15
