“Mr. Spangler will be with you in a moment. Can I get you anything?”
“No, thank you,” he replied, though he wouldn’t mind if she would just talk to him some more. There was something about a pretty woman with a southern drawl.
“Sean?” a large man asked, stepping through the door a few minutes later. “Rich Spangler. Come on back,” he said, holding the door open for him. “What can I do for you?”
Rich appeared to be about sixty, his hair thick but snow white, and was at least a hundred pounds overweight. He was wearing a crisp white shirt with a loud paisley tie knotted loose around his thick neck, and a dark gray coat with matching pants. If Sean were asked to describe a stereotypical southern lawyer, Richard Spangler would be it.
“I’d like to get a copy of the complaint against the city.”
Rich chuckled as he squeezed behind his desk and sat down, the chair groaning under his weight.
“Which one?”
“There’s more than one? The one filed by Boyd Thacker over the spill in September.”
“I can get that for you. Does this have anything to do with him getting himself killed?”
Sean had to struggle to not smile at Rich’s turn of phrase. “It has everything to do with it. I’m at a dead end, so I’m taking another step back, starting at the very beginning, and trying to work the case from there.”
Rich tipped back, his high back leather chair again groaning in protest.
“I’ll have Jacquelyn make you a copy of the file before you leave. I can tell you the case was going nowhere. Thacker was so far off the reservation I’m surprised I couldn’t have the case thrown out of court for lack of merit.”
“Can you give me a layman’s overview?”
“Sure. It’s pretty simple. He was blaming the city for the fish kills that happened upstream from where Lizard Lick Creek empties into the Siouan. Now, I’m no hydrologist, but even I know shit don’t flow upstream. Anyway, when the city had the spill, he was all over it and began blaming the Brunswick for all the fish kills.”
“Maggie Neese said there was no kill from the spill.”
“That’s correct, but Boyd, he didn’t like to be confused with facts. Hell, the city didn’t even get fined for the spill, that’s how much it was a non-event.”
“So, he was making a big deal out of nothing?”
Rich made a face as if his stomach hurt. “I wouldn’t say nothing. There have been fish kills on the Siouan, and nobody can figure out why. But the city hasn’t been causing them, and just because we got the shit kicked out of us by a hurricane doesn’t mean Brunswick is polluting the water either. That was the basis of his complaint, that the city was responsible for all the fish kills but just hadn’t been caught. Thacker is as full of shit as the sewer plant is. Well, he was.”
“Any thoughts on who might like to see him dead?”
Rich chuckled. “Only everyone who knew him. He was a real asshole. Standing on the steps to city hall, talking on a bullhorn about how Brunswick was poisoning the water, and how they didn’t care about the safety of the children… blah, blah, blah,” Rich said as he waved his hand dismissively. “I’m almost sorry he’s dead because I would’ve liked him to have his day in court so I could make a laughing stock of him.”
Sean grinned. “I take it you didn’t like him very much.”
“Does it show?” Rich chuckled. “I don’t have much use for people who abuse the legal system. Instead of suing the city, he should have been spending that time and effort finding out who, or what, was actually responsible for the damn fish kills he was so wrought up about.”
Sean thought a moment. “Do you suppose he did, and that’s why he was killed?”
Rich’s smirk disappeared in an instant and he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his desk. “You know, I didn’t even think of that. I wonder if that’s what happened?”
“He was killed for some reason. That’s a much better motive than someone killing him simply because they didn’t like him.”
Rich looked at him a moment, his eyes intense. “Yes it is. Jesus, do you think it was someone at the plant? Maybe there is something going on down there.”
“Don’t know. I can’t find a scrap of evidence, one way or the other, which is why I’m here. I’m looking for something, anything, to give me a starting point.”
Rich sucked on his teeth a moment then rose. “I’ll get you everything we have. I trust I won’t be reading about the stuff I’m going to show you in the paper?”
Sean snickered as he shook his head, rising with Rich. “Nobody will see it but me, and maybe one other officer, the one who’s actually investigating the case.”
Rich nodded. “Jacquelyn!” he began as he opened the door to the reception area. “Pull everything we have on the Thacker suit and give a copy to the chief, please.”
“I’ll get right on it,” she said as she rose from behind her desk.
“Sean, if I can be of any other assistance, just let me know,” Rich said as he stuck his hand out.
“Thanks,” Sean replied, gripping the hand. “I’ll do that.”
-oOo-
With his head propped in his hands, Sean was poring over the file Jacquelyn had given him. The folder was at least two inches thick and was crammed full of documents, briefs, copies of reports, emails to and from the wastewater plant, and legalese that made his head hurt.
From what he could understand from reading through the file, Thacker’s complaint was just as Rich described it. It made no sense. There were reports in the file, submitted to the court by Thacker, which he would need someone to interpret for him, but Thacker had to have some evidence, didn’t he?
His desk phone chirred. “Sean,” he said, bringing the handset to his ear.
“Chief, Mayor Klinger and Councilman Locoste are here to see you.”
Sean sighed. “Thank you, Kim. Send them back.” He closed the file and rose from behind his desk. “Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” he asked as he motioned to the two guest chairs, silently inviting them to sit.
“I’ll come right to the point,” Rudy began as the three men sat down. “I’m concerned about the lack of progress on this investigation. The Brunswick Stew Festival is in only three days, we’re still getting killed in the news, and you’ve made no progress.”
“It’s only been a week!”
“I understand, but the last murder we had in this town, Bill wrapped it up in a couple of days.”
Sean glared at him. “You have someone come forward and confess to the murder of Boyd Thacker, and I can wrap this one up in a couple of days too.”
“The point is, Sean, we need some demonstrable progress on the case. I saw on the news at lunch today that the wackos are planning a major disruption of our festival to protest the murder and cover-up of Thacker’s death. We can’t have that. We need an arrest.”
“Who do you suggest?” Sean asked, his voice cold and hard.
“Well, Maggie is your most likely suspect, right? She had the biggest grudge against Thacker, and she can’t account for her whereabouts.”
“She also didn’t come into the plant at any time she wasn’t supposed to.”
“You’re sure of that?” Rudy asked.
“She’s not on the video entering the plant except when she was supposed to be there. Or do you think Thacker was riding shotgun when she came to work?”
“You know there’s another gate, right?” Steve asked. “Up by the dump pit?”
“We know. She said that gate isn’t used except when they need to get heavy equipment in on that end of the plant. We looked at it and it didn’t appear the gates have been opened in years. Besides, a vehicle would still pass within the field of view of the dump pit camera. Why are you so sure it’s Maggie?”
“Who else could it be?” Rudy asked, throwing his hands out in exasperation. “Can’t you arrest her and, I don’t know, hold her for questioning or something? Just until after the festival.”
; “You can’t be serious!”
“Sean, you don’t know how important the festival is to the town and the people who live here!” Rudy exclaimed, his tone sounding like he was scolding a small child.
“More important than ruining a woman’s life if she turns out to be innocent?”
“You said you had another suspect?” Steve asked.
“Yes, but there are as many problems with him as Maggie.”
“Who is it?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Could they have been working together?” Rudy asked.
“They?”
“Maggie and whoever this other person is.”
“Now you think we have two murderers working at the wastewater plant? I think that’s pretty unlikely, don’t you?”
“What if Maggie, or this other person, were to bring the body in and sneak down the fence? Would she be in the field of view of the camera then?” Steve asked.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing! I have not one shred of evidence Maggie did anything wrong and you two have already convicted her! How did she move the body? I’d be hard pressed to carry Thacker from the road to the ditch, and you think Maggie did it? You don’t think she’d be just a little worried someone would come along while her car was parked on the side of the road so she could pull a dead body out? That applies to my other suspect as well. You know who makes more sense than either of them? Thacker was in your truck, Steve, and you knocked him on the head and chucked him in the drink.”
“Are you accusing Steve of—” Rudy began, his voice loud.
“I’m not accusing anyone!” Sean snapped, cutting him off. “You’re the two who seem to think a hundred forty pound woman managed to move a two hundred pound man a hundred yards without anyone seeing her. My other suspect made a couple of moves a cold-blooded killer would have to be incredibly stupid to do. But Steve, he drove in and stopped right where the body was found. So, you tell me, mayor, which scenario seems more likely? If you’re going to press me to arrest someone on a hunch, and without any facts to support it, there’s your man right there,” he said, waving his hand at Steve. “What’s it going to be? If you want an arrest for questioning, you’ve saved me the trouble of having to send out an officer to serve a warrant.”
“You can’t be serious!”
“No, I’m not. I couldn’t get a warrant anyway. But you’re completely out of line. Both of you. I’m not going to let you bully me into doing something I know is wrong. If you don’t like it, you can have my badge right now.”
Rudy glared at him. “I’m tempted to take it.”
Sean rose from behind his desk, pulled his badge and pistol, and placed them on the desk.
“Your call, mayor, and then you can explain why I resigned,” he said, still standing.
“Rudy, this will only make things worse,” Steve murmured, putting his hand on Rudy’s shoulder.
Rudy ran his tongue over his teeth. “I don’t think you have the best interests of the city at heart.”
“I guess it depends on how you define ‘the city.’ I most certainly have the best interests of the people who live in Brunswick at heart. All of them. Do you?”
“I don’t like your attitude,” Rudy said.
Sean swept his hand over the badge and pistol still laying on the desk.
Steve stood. “Thank you for your time, Sean. Rudy, let’s go.”
Rudy rose and stomped out of the office without a backwards glance, Steve nodding to Sean before following him out.
Sean took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to let go of the annoyance and frustration, before picking up his badge and weapon and returning them to his belt.
Ten
“Maggie, Sean McGhee. Have you got a minute?” he asked when she answered the phone.
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
“I have some documents I’d like you to look at and tell me what they mean, if you can.”
“What kind of documents?”
“Papers Thacker submitted to the court when he filed suit against the city over the spill. It says ‘Certified Water Analysis’ at the top. Below that is a bunch of test results, but the numbers don’t mean anything to me.”
“I can probably help you with that,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “You want me to come there?”
“No, to be honest, I’d rather come there. I need to get out of the office.”
“It’s only nine in the morning. How can you be having one of those days already?”
He smiled, enjoying her gentle teasing. “Not today so much as yesterday.”
“Oh…” she breathed. “Yesterday must have been a doozy if it’s bled over into today.”
“You could say that.”
“Sure. Come on down and I’ll see if I can help you out. I’ve always wanted to be a junior detective.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
When he hung up he walked down the hall and stuck his head into the dispatcher’s office.
“Claire, do we have any badges to give to kids? Anything like that?”
Claire looked up from the text book she was studying, tucking her light brown hair behind her right ear in the unconscious gesture she performed when she was thinking. Petite, in her mid-thirties, recently divorced, and with a ten-year-old son, she was taking classes to try to become Brunswick’s newest, and first female, sworn officer.
“I don’t know. If you want to cover the desk for a minute, I’ll go look. I know where they’ll be if we have anything.”
“That would be great, thanks.”
She slid out of her seat and Sean sat down, placing the headset over his ears. He often covered the 9-1-1 position when his dispatcher had to step away so one of his officers didn’t have to report back to the station. Five minutes later she was back with a small box.
“This is all I could find. Why do you need them?” she asked as she took her position again.
“I’m looking for a junior detective badge,” he said as he pawed through the collection of police car shaped erasers, pens with a policeman’s head as the clicker, and brightly colored plastic whistles.
He’d been hoping for a little plastic shield that could be pinned on, but one of the stick-on badges would have to do. He pulled one out of the box then set the container aside.
“We should take that to the stew festival and pass that stuff out, just to get it out of here.”
She grinned. “That’d be fun. Maybe we should do it every year.”
“Maybe. I wonder if I could get some of these stick-on badges run up before Saturday?” He thought about it a moment. “Maybe for next year. Thanks, Claire. Just leave the box there and I’ll take care of it when I get back.”
-oOo-
Sean pulled to a stop in front of the wastewater plant admin building and stepped out of his car, making sure he had the junior police officer badge tucked into the papers. He entered the building and turned left, pausing at Maggie’s office. She wasn’t in there, so he went farther down the hall to the breakroom, but it was empty as well.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Sean,” Maggie said when he found her in a room full of expensive looking equipment.
He waited in the hall until she finished talking to Ted, the lab supervisor.
“Sorry,” she said as she led him back to her office. “Our fecal counts are a little high today.”
“That’s a problem?”
“No, not really. We’re still well within our limits, but I like to stay on top of stuff so little problems don’t turn into big problems. Whatcha’ got for me?” she asked as she stepped into her office.
He handed over the reports as she sat down, and then plopped into one of the guest chairs. There were three reports run on three different samples over a six-week period. Maggie took the sheaf of papers and quickly thumbed through them, pulling out the badge with a grin.
“For me?” she asked with exaggerated surprise and delight
before she peeled the badge off the backing and stuck it to her shirt. “These are a standard water analysis. What do you want to know?”
“What do the numbers mean?”
He sat quietly as she looked over the reports more closely.
“Okay, these are water analyses run on the Siouan about four miles upstream of where LLC empties into the Siouan. This gives fecal counts, BOD—”
“BOD?” he interrupted.
“Biochemical Oxygen Demand. Remember when I told you if you dump nutrients into the water, the bacteria grow and sucks all the oxygen out of the water? The BOD is a measure of how much of that sucking out of the oxygen is going on.”
“Ah, got it.”
“There are also tests for TSS, pH, ammonia, total nitrogen, and metals, in this case, copper.”
He sighed. “And TSS means what?”
“Total Suspended Solids. That’s a measure of how much gunk is in the water.”
“Okay, so what do the numbers mean?”
“The first thing that jumps off the page at me is the BODs are very high on the second test. What it looks like is these are tests before, during and after an event. I don’t know, but I assume the second test coincides with a fish kill or something else Thacker noticed.”
“So, he wasn’t crazy?”
“I never said he was crazy. I said we weren’t the people causing the problems. You’ve heard the old saying ‘shit rolls downhill?’”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it flows downstream too. This is upstream of our discharge. It’s absolutely, positively, impossible for us to have caused this spike in the BOD. I’d have to look at our lab records, but I’d bet my job we saw this spike as well.”
“What do you mean?”
“We sample upstream of our discharge so if we see a spike downstream, we can tell if the spike is caused by us or if it was already in the water. We test three times a week in the summer and once a week in the winter. We test upstream on both LLC and the Siouan, and downstream only on the creek. We started sampling upstream on the river when Thacker started raising so much hell.”
“Because if the creek is okay, you know you’re not putting anything into the river?”
Deadly Waters (A Sean McGhee Mystery Book 1) Page 9
