The Dead Detective

by William Heffernan

  “As best we can. I’m the lead investigator on this case and I don’t want the media in contact with any of our witnesses. But I can only control it from our end. If you or any member of your family, or any of your friends, chooses to talk to the media, I can’t control that. But no information will come from us.” Harry didn’t say that he also couldn’t control what the brass in his own department might do.

  “We’ve already had them calling,” she said, “and right off we changed our phone number. Again.” The line of her mouth hardened, but Harry could tell she was fighting to keep tears from her eyes. “We sold our old house six months ago and moved here. I loved our old house. We all did. Our kids were born there; most of our friends were there. But that woman—what she did and all the madness it brought down on us—didn’t leave us much choice. My son was scared every time he went out of the house, scared that some reporter or some fanatic was gonna jump out of the bushes and start in on him.” The tears began to well in her eyes. “The school system even made him change schools. He got thrown out of his school because of what that woman did to him. One of their own employees.” Both her fists had clenched now. “Oh, they said it was for his own good, but they just wanted to be rid of him, be rid of what they let happen to him. And he saw it for what it was: a punishment.” She shook her head violently. “How else could he see it? Even the church he’d gone to all his life turned against us.”

  Harry opened his notebook, which held the notes Vicky had taken. He had to turn the questions to areas where he needed answers and hoped the woman was ready for it. Cooperation, he knew, even among the innocent, was a matter of will.

  “Mrs. Hall, when Detective Stanopolis was here yesterday you folks told her that you were all at home together at the time Ms. Beckett was killed.”

  “That’s right. My husband and I were in the living room watching a show we like. The kids were in the family room watching something different. We even told her what the shows were about,” she added.

  “I know you did,” Harry said. “But according to Detective Stanopolis’s report, no one other than the people who were here could confirm that you were all here together.”

  “Well, that’s not true,” she snapped. She shook her head. “I don’t mean that the detective didn’t tell the truth. What I mean is that after she left I realized that my husband’s mother had called that night to say she couldn’t find her medicine. She’s got heart trouble and her husband just passed away a few months ago, so she calls Joe every time something goes wrong. I think she just needs to know someone’s there to help her.” She smiled, weakly. “Anyway, I answered the phone when she called at about ten o’clock and gave the phone to Joe. Then, when she called back an hour later, I answered the phone again, and gave it to Joe.”

  “Did she talk to her grandchildren?” Harry asked.

  Betty Hall’s jaw tightened. “No, she didn’t. You’ll just have to take our word that they were here.” Her voice was ice.

  “It’s good to have whatever confirmation we can get. It’ll just spare you more questions down the road.” Harry offered her a small smile that wasn’t returned. “Can I get your mother-in-law’s name, address, and phone number?”

  Mrs. Hall rattled off the information.

  Harry consulted the notebook. “Was there anyone in particular who seemed unusually upset about what happened to your son or the fact that Ms. Beckett was allowed to plead to a lesser charge?”

  “You mean that she walked away pretty much scot-free?” Her eyes became fierce. “Yeah, there were Joe and me for starters. I don’t think my son cared. I think he was just glad it was over. At least he thought it was.”

  “Anyone outside your family?” Harry pressed. “How about anyone at your husband’s job, or friends of yours?”

  “No, our friends either tried to be supportive, or just avoided the subject … and us too—at least some of them did. The guys on my husband’s job, well, they all thought it was real funny. Or they were telling him how lucky his kid was, especially after they saw that bitch on television. The only people who really wanted to see her hung out to dry were some of the people at our church. They couldn’t understand why we were willing to let her off the hook without a trial. But they didn’t have to listen to Billy crying in his room, they didn’t have to see him afraid to go out of the house. Even the psychologist we sent him to said to let it go. He said having to testify and live it all over again, plus dealing with all the publicity that a trial would bring, could cause him serious emotional stress. So I said to hell with all of them, I was gonna put my son first. So I just told the prosecutor to kiss my grits and we stopped going to that damned church. My husband never wanted to go to the church anyway. He just did it for the kids, and because I wanted it.”

  “What’s the name of the church?” Harry asked.

  “The First Assembly of Jesus Christ the Lord.” She pushed back an unruly strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. “I’ve got a church bulletin. There’s something in it I want to show you, anyway.”

  She retrieved the bulletin and gave it to Harry. It was professionally printed and slickly laid out, filled with church information, some short feature articles, and a column by the minister, the Reverend John Waldo. Betty Hall had underlined a comment in that column relating to Darlene Beckett. She jabbed a finger at it. “Just read it. That’s what we were living with every time we went to church.”

  Harry read the minister’s column. In it, Reverend Waldo urged his parishioners to fulfill your Christian duty and do whatever you can to bring justice to Darlene Beckett and thereby free the boy she has led astray so he can be returned to the loving arms of Jesus Christ.

  “And that s.o.b. pressed for that every chance he got,” she said.

  Vicky decided that she and Jim Morgan would take on Darlene’s probation officer before they ventured into the quagmire of the department’s computer systems. Morgan, apparently a closet computer geek, raised a mild objection, but Vicky refused to be swayed.

  “People before machines,” she said. “People have heart attacks or get hit by buses. Machines will be there the next day.”

  Morgan pointed out that machines caught deadly viruses and had fatal crashes too. Then he laughed and agreed that he couldn’t fight her logic. He had a nice laugh, she thought, one that went well with his outgoing, easy manner. He was tall and lean, well put together, but not the type who wore his shirts a size too small to accent his biceps. There were enough of those in the department and she had no interest in working with someone who had to check himself out in every mirror he passed. Before today she had only seen Morgan in uniform. Now, dressed in casual civilian clothes, there was a youthful quality about him that she found very appealing. He had short, sandy hair, striking blue eyes, and a wide, sensual mouth, and she couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. She caught herself and pushed that thought away. She had no intention of getting involved with anyone. She’d been dumped by her last boyfriend and had no interest in having a rebound love affair with somebody on the job. She found herself smiling. But you can look, she thought.

  Darlene’s probation officer was an eighteen-year veteran named Bennie Rolf. His office was adjacent to the Hillsborough County Courthouse in a featureless 1960s building. The interior was much the same, cookie-cutter offices filled with drab, institutional furnishings that were one step above those found in most prisons.

  Bennie Rolf fit the offices perfectly. Just under six feet, he carried two hundred and forty pounds layered over a frame designed for one-eighty. He was in his early forties with fast receding brown hair and a badly trimmed beard that was flecked with gray. Just looking at him, Vicky would have bet the rent money that he had a nasty case of bad breath.

  The man also looked a little twitchy, Vicky thought, as they took chairs in his cramped office. She decided she’d have to watch his eyes throughout the interview, looking for the tell that would let her know when he was lying.

&nbs
p; The office was a mess with client folders and papers piled haphazardly. There was a lone window that looked out onto a parking lot and the glass in the window was the only part of the office that appeared clean.

  Vicky started off slow and friendly. “So Bennie, did Darlene ever tell you about any threats she’d received, or anyone in particular that she was afraid of—like maybe her ex-husband, or boyfriend, or somebody she met while she was out bar hopping?”

  “She wasn’t allowed in bars,” Rolf said. “That was part of her probation agreement.”

  Vicky smiled across the desk. “Well, let me clue you in, Bennie. The lady was a regular at one bar we know of for sure. And we’ve got witnesses who’ll swear to it. In fact, the guy who was killed with her picked her up in that bar.”

  “I know. I read it in the papers.” Rolf shook his head as if even now he found it hard to believe. “We can’t follow clients around twenty-four-seven. We can only do the best we can.”

  “Well, you sure seemed to be trying.” She watched Rolf nod agreement. “You sure made enough visits to her apartment.”

  “Not that many,” Rolf protested.

  Now it was Vicky’s turn to shake her head in disbelief. “Bennie, Bennie, Bennie, we got a neighbor who was a regular hawk about Darlene. He literally kept a book on every car that was parked in her driveway. And he was home day and night, so he didn’t miss many. In the past nine months, which is ever since she started reporting to you, he’s got you there thirty-nine times. That’s at least once a week. Seem about right to you?”

  Bennie began to stutter. “Wa … Wa … Well, I don’t know about that. I don’t think my case file would show that many visits.”

  “Maybe you didn’t write them all down,” Morgan suggested.

  “Oh, no. Oh, no. I always record every visit.”

  “Is it normal to visit a client that many times?” Vicky asked.

  Rolf raised his hands defensively. “Look, this woman was notorious, a very high-profile case. Sure, I visited her more than usual. If anything went wrong with her, if she got involved with another kid, say, well, my butt would be on the carpet big time.”

  Bennie was sweating now. His eyes were blinking rapidly and his stutter wasn’t about to go away. The man had so many tells going you could hardly keep track of them, Vicky thought. She remained silent, knowing instinctively that Bennie would fill the void. She glanced at Morgan, letting him know she wanted him to follow her lead. The silence didn’t last long.

  “Look,” Bennie said, “if this was a drug dealer, or some petty hood that somebody offed, you guys wouldn’t even be here. I’ve had plenty of clients who’ve ended up dead, but I can count on one hand the number of times you guys have come to me with questions.”

  Vicky and Morgan continued to stare at him. Finally, Vicky leaned forward as if expecting him to say more.

  Rolf obliged. “Okay, maybe I was a little intrigued with her too. For crissake, she’d become a media star, hadn’t she? So just like everybody else, I took a special interest in her.”

  Vicky nodded as if she understood completely. “Tell us about the ankle monitor, Bennie.”

  “Oh, no. Oh, no.” Bennie waved both hands in front of himself as if it would ward off what Vicky was suggesting. “I’ve got no idea how she got that off. The last time I visited her I checked it—just like I did every time I saw her—and she had it on just like she was supposed to. That’s right there in every one of my reports.”

  “How do you think she got it off?” Morgan asked.

  “How the hell do I know?” Bennie caught himself and made his voice less defensive. “Look, this isn’t the first case I’ve had of somebody getting one of those off. It’s not foolproof, for crissake.”

  Vicky looked toward the window. Disbelief mingled with disgust and Bennie picked up on it immediately.

  “Hey, if you’re trying to say that I had something to do with the monitor coming off, that’s bullshit. Why would I risk my career, my pension, everything I have, for that slut?”

  “You married, Bennie?” Vicky asked.

  “What? No. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Yeah, law enforcement, it’s a lonely life outside the job,” Vicky said.

  “Sometimes that’s all you’ve got, the job and the people you work with every day.” She looked back at him. “You find that to be true, Bennie?”

  “Hey, I don’t like where you’re going here,” Rolf snapped. “You’ve got no proof I did something wrong. If anything, what you’ve got shows I worked extra hard to keep an eye on Darlene. And that’s all it shows.” Perspiration began to gather on his upper lip. “But if you even suggest what you’re hinting at here, you could cause me a lot of grief. You know that. We have the equivalent of an internal affairs division in our department too. And they get on your case, they start going through all your files, interviewing all your clients. And when they do that, they can always come up with something. Hell, the clients will claim you did all kinds of shit. You’ve been breaking their chops and suddenly they have a chance to get back at you, and they take it. You better believe they take it.”

  “We don’t want to cause you any trouble, Bennie. We just need to know what went down with Darlene Beckett.” Vicky made the claim with as much sincerity as she could muster.

  “Nothing went down with her. Not with me. I did my job the way I was supposed to. If anything, I did it too well, and now I’m getting slammed for it.” Bennie took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face. “God it’s hot in here,” he said defensively. “That damned air-conditioning system must be on the fritz again.”

  “I was just thinking it’s a bit chilly,” Vicky said. “But forget about that, Bennie. Let’s get back to our original question. Did Darlene ever express any fear about anybody—ex-husband, boyfriend, the guy next door, anybody at all?”

  Bennie shook his head emphatically. “All she ever did was whine about the restrictions the court put on her.”

  “Did she ever express any remorse about what she did to that young boy?” Morgan asked.

  “Darlene? Are you kidding? She never expressed remorse about anything. She was just like all the others I deal with every day. The only thing she regretted was getting caught.”

  Vicky stared at him, wondering if the man saw that the same description fit him as well.

  “I need a complete rundown on where you were and who you were with on the night Darlene was killed,” Vicky said, her voice becoming very cold.

  Bennie Rolf closed his eyes momentarily and nodded. “Sure,” he said, “whatever you want.”

  Back in their car, Vicky took a few minutes to jot down some additional observations in her notebook. When she finished she glanced at Morgan. The line of his jaw had a hard set to it. “So, what do you think?” she asked.

  Morgan stared straight ahead. “I think Darlene Beckett talked her P.O. into taking that monitor off, and I think she paid him off with sex whenever he came by.”

  “Yeah, I agree. I think she made him the proverbial offer he couldn’t refuse. It was probably a dream come true for that poor, pathetic slug. But I don’t think we’ll ever prove it.”

  Morgan turned to face her. “Are we at least going to recommend that his department investigate him? He’s probably doing the same thing with every female client he has.”

  “Could be. But that’ll be up to the state’s attorney when we close the case and hand over our final reports. I’ll sure include my suspicions. But after that it will be up to powers greater than me.” She let Morgan chew on that before adding, “Just don’t be surprised if nobody wants to raise that issue. Law enforcement agencies don’t like to piss on each other. They all worry about being tarred by the same brush. So, unless there’s some political advantage to be had, or they’re forced to do something, they usually prefer to look the other way.”

  “That stinks,” Morgan said.

  “Yeah, it does.”

  Harry returned to the Halls
’ Temple Terrace home promptly at six-thirty. He had spent the intervening hours confirming Mrs. Hall’s alibi, running background checks on all members of the family, and trying to trace the origin of the gold cross he had found at the Tarpon Springs crime scene.

  Mrs. Hall opened the door, looked at him, and sighed. “My mother-in-law told me you stopped by to see her,” she said.

  “Just routine, Mrs. Hall,” Harry said. “I’m just dotting all the I’s. Are your husband and son at home?”

  “As promised,” she replied. “Come in. My husband’s out on the lanai cooking some burgers. You know the way. I’ll tell my son you’re here.”

  “I’d rather talk to your husband alone and talk to your son when we’re finished.”

  Betty Hall eyed him suspiciously. “Back when this all started, our lawyer told us we had the right to be present whenever Billy was interviewed by the police.”

  “That’s true,” Harry said. “And if that’s the way you want it, that’s the way it will be. But I do want to talk to your husband without your son being there. I think he’ll be able to talk more freely if we do it that way. I can take him to my office if you’d rather.”

  Betty Hall glared at him. “Do it your way. That’s the way it’s been since this whole thing started.”

  Joe Hall was a big, burly man, who worked as a supervisor for one of the area’s larger construction firms. He was easily six-three, a good two hundred and forty pounds, and dressed as he was now in shorts and a T-shirt, he looked like someone who could have played middle linebacker for a Division I football team. There was no question in Harry’s mind that he could have overpowered both the “cowboy” and Darlene Beckett. But all of that was dispelled when he turned to greet Harry. He had a high widow’s peak over the softest brown eyes Harry had ever seen in a man, and his voice was so equally soft and gentle that Harry had to listen carefully to be sure he caught every word. He was as far from homicidal as any man Harry had ever met.

  “I hope you’ll take it easy on my son Billy when you talk to him,” Hall began. “He tries to cover it up, but all this has hit him pretty hard. We thought he was starting to come out of it, but now with her being murdered and all, it’s just started up for him all over again.”