“So, why are you here?” Beatrice asked again suspiciously.
“You know that Marty killed them,” he said.
“Marty killed who?” Beatrice said confused.
“Marty killed Letty and the baby,” Charles said.
“I don’t know that,” she said defensively.
“Did you keep a copy of the package my father gave David?” Charles asked pointedly.
“No, the copy David had was the only copy,” she answered.
“Good. I can’t have that package surfacing,” he said.
Beatrice stiffened at the thought of what Charles had just said. “You didn’t get the package when David’s house was cleaned out?”
“No, the Dorans owned the property. We didn’t get anything out of it,” Charles said.
“Is it possible the Dorans have it?” Beatrice asked.
“Maybe. I was hoping to retain you to write a letter to them and ask for David’s personal effects back,” he said.
Beatrice couldn’t contain her laughter. “Your son died over thirty years ago. I doubt that the package even exists anymore,” she said.
“Could you give it a shot?” he asked.
Beatrice thought about it for a moment. What if her brother or Marty did kill that lady and her kid? It was in her best interest to let the past be the past. “No, I don’t take on work like that,”
“So what should I do?” he asked.
“You should drop the whole thing,” she answered sternly.
“I can’t. There are too many people poking around,” he answered.
“That’s exactly why you should leave this all alone. What do you hope to accomplish?” she asked.
“I want to see the package again. I want to assuage my own guilt,” he answered.
“Your own guilt about what?” Beatrice asked.
“In retrospect, I think there are some things that I didn’t realize at the time,” he said in a guarded tone.
“Some things regarding?” she let her voice drift off.
“The circumstances regarding my son’s death,” he said.
“What do you mean by that?” Beatrice asked.
“I don’t know exactly. Maybe it wasn’t all about his wife and drugs,” he said. “I was so sure at the time it happened and now I’m not.”
“Charles, I’m sorry. I don’t think you need a lawyer. I think you need a good therapist,” Beatrice said and rose from behind her desk. “I have other appointments. Can I see you out?”
Charles looked at her and understood that he was being dismissed. “Of course,” he said and got up from his chair.
Chapter 45
Beatrice went back to her office after seeing Charles Davenport to the door. She was angry that he had tried to pin this on her brother. She was also angry that he had just admitted he and Marty had raped that college girl her dad had taken the fall for. Charles was always so arrogant. Had he made that appointment with her to write the letter to the Dorans or had he made the appointment to see what she knew? She wondered if she could make inquiries about the package to the Dorans without raising any red flags. She had to be careful how she did this. She would be breaking attorney-client privilege if she shared this information with anyone.
Beatrice rummaged through her desk until she found Lindsay Carter’s business card. If she called Carter, what would she ask her? Do you know if my brother killed Letty Carlson? That sounded stupid, Beatrice thought. How could she do this? She stood up from her chair and went over to the wall safe in her office. She opened it and pulled out the copy of the old police file that she had from her brother’s murder. The police had never found the murderer. Did Bing do something that had gotten him killed? Did he kill Letty and the baby and did someone go after him?
She sat back down at her desk. A tension headache was creeping up her neck and into her temples. She read the file again. Nothing jumped out at her. It was the same file she had been looking at for years. She wished it would just speak to her and tell her what had happened to her brother.
She took out a legal pad and started jotting down the things Charles had said. He told her that David had confronted him with the package from his grandfather. Charles had admitted that he and Marty had raped the girl. He told her that his dad knew about the bodies that were buried under his house. Why hadn’t Charles Sr. gone to the authorities with that information? It dawned on her all of a suddenly, like a bolt of lightening. Had Charles and Marty killed Letty and the baby? Is that why Charles Sr. never went to the police? Was Charles Sr. once again protecting his son and covering up his misdeeds? Maybe Bing had nothing to do with this at all. Maybe it was Charles misdirecting and making Bing the fall guy. Maybe Charles and Marty had killed Bing to cover it up.
If Charles had set up this meeting to find out what she knew, maybe she was in danger. Either way, that made Charles and Marty dangerous. She needed to start watching her back.
Chapter 46
Lindsay decided that Gerry Michaels needed to be checked into. The fingerprints that came back matched the name, but the story didn’t fit. She called Cal Poly and asked to verify information given on a job application. She was told that they only handled written requests.
She called Marge Clarke and let her know that the fingerprints were on their way back. Marge asked, “Did you find anything?”
“No, Gerry appears to be who he says he is,” she remarked.
“Good. He is a nice man.” Marge said.
“Sandy mentioned that Gerry works there part time. How did he come to own the other business?” Lindsay asked.
“I think he came into some money several years ago. He started the flower shop and then expanded into the landscaping end during the building boom,” Marge said.
“He worked for you full time until he started his own business?” Lindsay inquired.
“Yes, he did. We were all surprised when he opened the shop. Flowers didn’t seem like his thing,” she said.
“But he has a college degree in Horticulture,” Lindsay said.
“I don’t remember seeing anything like that in his file,” Marge responded. “Where was that degree from?”
“His website says Cal Poly San Luis Obispo,” Lindsay answered.
“I don’t remember seeing any college information in his file,” Marge said again.
Lindsay decided to try Gerry Michaels shop to see if she could catch him in. He answered on the second ring, “Desert Orchid, how can I help you?”
“Gerry?” she said.
“This is Gerry. Who am I talking to?”
“I’m Lindsay Carter. I’m a private investigator,” she said.
The other end of the line was silent. She continued, “I have been hired to locate a friend of yours, Ellen Jericho.”
“I haven’t seen Ellen in a long time. She got married and left the area,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Lindsay said. “You knew her from when she lived in Los Angeles?”
“No, I didn’t know her then,” he said. Lindsay could hear the tension in his voice.
“When did you first meet her?” Lindsay asked.
“Look, I don’t know you and I don’t feel comfortable answering questions about Ellen,” he said tersely.
Lindsay ignored his response. “I noticed from your website that you graduated from Cal Poly San Luis Obispo.”
“That’s what it says,” he retorted.
“That’s funny. When I looked at your employment records, I didn’t see it on there,” she said cheerfully.
There was a long pause. “I don’t know where Ellen Jericho is. I think we are done here.”
Lindsay heard the phone click to disconnect the call. She thought, he wasn’t very helpful. She went back on the internet to see if she could find a picture of Gerry. She found one from several years earlier. He was accepting an award from the chamber of commerce. She printed the picture and put it in the file.
Lindsay took a break and got herself a soda. She sat do
wn at the kitchen island and pulled out the mail. She shuffled through until she found the envelope from the DNA lab. She opened the envelope and read through the results. The results were not what she expected. It appeared that Dan McCarthy had been right about Ellen Collins. Ally Collins and Dan McCarthy were related. She could break the news to Dan and see how he wanted to proceed. Technically, she didn’t have the right to even do a DNA test on Ally Collins. This new information if not handled correctly could cause some problems for her. Even more disturbing was Tracy McCarthy’s DNA profile. It didn’t match Ally Collins or Dan McCarthy’s. Lindsay didn’t understand how that could be. Shana McCarthy had dropped Tracy off to her parents and told her that Tracy was her child.
Lindsay decided to call Dan McCarthy and talk to him first. When he answered, she told him she got the test results back. “So, is Ellen Collins Tracy’s mother?” he asked immediately.
“No, but she is your sister,” Lindsay said.
“I don’t understand,” Dan said with confusion in his voice.
“Your sister is not Tracy’s mother,” Lindsay said.
Dan let out a whistle. “How can that be?”
“I don’t know. Are you sure your sister left Tracy off with your parents?” Lindsay asked.
“That’s what I understood. I was a teenager at the time. I know that’s what my parents told me,” he said.
“You said that Shana ran away and she came back for a couple of weeks and left Tracy. Is that right?” Lindsay asked.
“That’s what happened.” he confirmed. “Shana and her friend were at our house with Tracy.”
“What was Shana’s friend’s name again?” Lindsay asked.
“Tim Herron.”
“You’re sure that Tim wasn’t Tracy’s father?” Lindsay asked.
“There’s no way. I remember my dad saying something about it,” Dan said.
“What did he say?” Lindsay asked.
“He said that you could tell Shana and Tim weren’t a couple,” he said. “My mom kept asking Shana if Tim was the father. Shana told both of my parents that they were friends.”
“Well, the good news is that you found Shana,” Lindsay said.
“What am I going to do with that?” he asked.
“Are you asking me if you are going to tell her you know?” she asked.
“Yes,” Dan said.
“That’s up to you,” Lindsay said
“Look, my parents were never able to find her. Do you think you can look into where she was when she ran away?” Dan asked.
“That was thirty years ago. I don’t know how much I would find.”
“What about Tracy?” Dan asked.
“Are you going to tell her?”
“I don’t know where to begin,” Dan sighed. “We have to find out where Shana got Tracy from.”
“That means that you are going to have to confront Ellen Collins,” Lindsay said.
“Poor Tracy. This is going to hurt her,” Dan said. “I never thought about that when I started all of this.”
“Dan, why don’t you digest all this information. I know it is shocking. Why don’t we touch base in a few days and see if we can come up with a plan,” Lindsay said in a comforting tone.
Chapter 47
Jim Alberts took all of his paperwork to the D.A. for a second time. Jennifer Marshall listened passively to what Alberts claimed was new evidence. He asked for the investigation to be reopened.
“Look,” Jennifer said, “I admire your passion, but Small’s admission that he found the one hundred and fifty dollars does not reach the threshold of new evidence.”
“So, you won’t reopen this?” Alberts asked directly.
“No way. The people have spoken and your client is guilty,” she said.
“I am going to have an independent lab go through all of this again,” Alberts said calmly.
“You have that right sir, but there is nothing here I can do for you,” Marshall said.
***
Alberts called Lindsay. “The D.A said no to re-opening the case.”
“I want you to file a complaint with the police department and claim that Small lied under oath to the parole board,” she said.
“Are the Dorans on board with this?” Alberts asked.
“They signed the affidavit. Didn’t they?” Lindsay answered. “Someone in internal affairs will get the complaint.”
“Does a department this size even have an internal affairs officer?” Alberts asked.
“Every department has some sort of oversight,” Lindsay said. “Look, I’m not saying that any one is going to look at it. It’s the only thing I can think of to help you.”
“Then, I’ll give it a shot,” Alberts said.
Chapter 48
Steve Magon had been a cop for twenty years. Fifteen of them had been at the Paso Robles Police Department. Because the department was small, he wore many hats. He was the public affairs liaison, as well as the internal affairs investigator. Most days, he reviewed reports citizens filed against the other officers. Most of them went nowhere.
Magon was a formidable looking man. At six foot two African American with a shaved head he could look mean and intimidating until he smiled. He had a smile that could light up the room. His chocolate colored brown eyes danced when he smiled. His biggest weakness was that he loved children. He had four children of his own and spent his weekends and evenings coaching or reffing one of the kids’ sports.
Most departments hate the men and women who investigate them. Magon was different. Everyone at the department loved him. He was fair, honest and kind to a fault. They all knew he could be tough when he had to be, but he always gave people the benefit of the doubt.
When the complaint came across his desk from Barton Edmunds, he was intrigued by its contents. He remembered Small from when he started with the department. Small and Paul Davis were the department’s investigators until they both retired. He also remembered that this case was Small’s big case. The men talked about it all the time back then. How Small knew from the minute he saw that creep Edmunds that he was the killer. Magon read the affidavit from the Dorans that claimed that Small had never contacted them about finding the one hundred and fifty dollars. He read the transcript from the parole hearing. He had never seen a complaint quite like this. After all, this was a convicted killer filing a complaint against his investigating officer. In a small town like Paso Robles, he usually got complaints about officers being rude at traffic stops or being out of line on DUI busts. Occasionally, a defendant would claim an officer planted drugs. Almost all of these incidents were proven to be false.
Magon saw detective Kragen talking to Dixon Calhoun outside his door. He interrupted, “Kragen, can I talk to you for a minute?”
Kragen shrugged, “Sure. What’s up?”
“Aren’t you investigating the bodies found at that ranch out in Shandon?” Magon asked.
“Yes,” Kragen answered pensively. “Why?”
“I just got a complaint filed against an officer on the Davenport murders,” he answered. “Has that case come up in your investigation?”
“Well, yes and no,” Kragen answered. “There is a P.I. from L.A. that has been asking questions.”
“Jim Alberts?” Magon asked.
“No, Lindsay Carter. She used to be an L.A.P.D. homicide detective.”
“Seems like quite a crowd investigating the Davenport murders,” Magon commented.
“Davenport is looking into a missing persons case relating to it,” Kragen said.
“Didn’t they find those little girls dead?” Magon asked.
“No. One of them was never found,” Kragen said.
“Edmunds never told the police where she was?” Magon asked.
“Edmunds said he had nothing to do with the murders.”
“Yes, another innocent man in prison,” Magon said sarcastically.
“There are a lot of important people involved in my case. From what I’ve been able to ascertain,
many of the same players are involved in the Davenport murders,” Kragen said.
“Can you give me any names?” Magon asked.
“The Davenports of course, and Judge Van Buren.”
“So, what are you saying? Political pressure?” Magon asked.
“Maybe. Maybe a rush to judgment,” Kragen answered.
“Thanks,” Magon said.
When Kragen left, Magon thought about the complaint in front of him. If this officer lied at the parole hearing, maybe he lied in other places too. He knew he would be taking a trip to the evidence building that day.
Chapter 49
Lindsay Carter and Dan McCarthy knocked on the door of the home in Santa Clarita in the early afternoon. Ellen Collins answered and looked visibly shocked.
“Ellen, it’s been a long time,” Dan said. Ellen Collins stared at him. Finally she said, “Dan, how did you find me?”
“This is Lindsay Carter, she is a private investigator,” Dan said.
Ellen looked at Lindsay. “You found me?”
“No, your brother did, but it was a fluke that he did. Can we come in?” Lindsay said.
“No,” she said abruptly.
“We really need to talk to you,” Dan said.
“I have no desire to reconnect, Dan. I have a family who doesn’t know anything about you,” Ellen said flatly.
“I know. We met Ally and Gabe,” Dan said.
Fear crossed Ellen’s face. “Do they know?”
“No, we didn’t say anything. We wanted to talk to you first,” Dan said.
“Dan, I have a good life here. Please don’t mess it up for me,” Ellen pleaded.
“We are here about Tracy,” Dan said. “We know Tracy is not your child.”
Ellen started to cry softly. “I can’t tell you anything about Tracy.”
Lindsay said, “Who are Tracy’s parents? We need to know.”
“I can’t tell you that,” Ellen said again. “I would like you to leave now, please.”
“You have to tell us,” Dan pleaded.
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