"Maybe," Ted said.
"How about this," Jerrod said. "The killer comes to the house and the struggle ends up in the bedroom."
"Maybe Walter was trying to get to his revolver in the nightstand," Shroom added.
Jerrod nodded. "And Walter's yelling. Killer gets on top and strangles him with his hands. Walter doesn't lose consciousness right away and keeps fighting back. Killer gets tired or is afraid someone will hear them. He sees the sash on the bed and wraps it around Walter's neck. He pulls it tight and hangs on until Walter stops fighting."
Shroom looked at Jerrod. "That works."
"Sounds reasonable to me," Ted said.
"I'll only report the physical findings in my report and not get into any speculation," Doctor Torosian said as he scanned the faces of all three investigators and stopped at Jerrod's. "But I'd bet good money your scenario is pretty much how it happened."
CHAPTER 42
Thursday Morning Meeting
Sergeant Brent Rozman and his two detectives -- Calvin Yee and Jeff Moreno -- were in their usual seats when the Investigation morning meeting started.
Detectives Nate Boxley and Bryce "Zippy" Zippich sat together under the whiteboard. Linda Westphal sat at the table. Sergeant Ted Lindsey and Detective Raymond "Shroom" Mingus had been called out to a suicide at the UC-Mesa campus and hadn't returned from the scene.
Sergeant Jerrod Gold was seated at the lieutenant's desk.
"Long story short," Brent said. "He tracked our shooter to Fresno where he has some family. We called the Fresno PD and they assigned their Street Crimes Unit to us all day. We started checking addresses and found the guy as he was packing a car for a trip to who-knows-where."
Jerrod nodded.
"Fresno PD was great," Calvin added.
Jerrod looked at Linda -- who was making a note on a light-green stenographer's pad. "Letter to the Fresno PD chief?" she said without looking up and before Jerrod could say anything.
"Yeah. A thank you letter to the chief would be great," Jerrod said.
"No problem," Linda said.
"Ben Zaff called this morning and he's going to be out the rest of the week -- the flu or something," Jerrod said. "And the L-T is due back on Monday."
Jerrod said to Brent, "While you and your guys were away yesterday chasing your shooter around the San Joaquin Valley -- we had a brand new homicide in Valle Verde. A seventy-two year old guy named Walter Jelinski. I borrowed Nate and Zippy for the day and Romero Diaz got to see his first murder scene. He was actually pretty helpful. Stan Walsh showed up later."
"You gonna keep the case or hand it off?" Brent asked.
"Keep it, I guess," Jerrod said. "I'm kind of committed now. The L-T may have different ideas when he gets back, but, for now, I'll hang on to it."
"Any leads?" Jeff Moreno asked.
"Yeah," Jerrod said. "Nate came up with a name from the son, Donny, who's in the hospital with a fractured pelvis. He named a guy -- Nick Usher. Stan and I found him and interviewed him at the VVPD last night."
"And?" Jeff asked.
"He admitted going to the scene the day we think the murder happened -- Monday -- but we got nothin' yet to tie him to the crime."
"Did Doc already do the autopsy?" Brent asked.
"Yeah. Last night," Jerrod said. "We think the killer manually strangled Walter and then used a bathrobe sash to finish him off."
Stan Walsh walked into the room and sat in a chair at the table. Jerrod nodded to him.
"Stan and I are going back down to Valle Verde this morning to talk to the son again and see were that leads."
"Let us know if you need some help," Brent said.
"I will," Jerrod said.
"Going to need us today, Sarge?" Nate asked.
"I don't think so. Not right away anyhow. You guys can get back to your regular cases while Stan and I run around Valle Verde. Thanks for all your help yesterday."
"No problem," Zippy said. "Just call if something comes up."
"I will. Thanks."
CHAPTER 43
Jerrod and Stan drove south from Mesa and Valle Verde in Jerrod's unmarked Buick. The first half of the trip was silent.
On the PCH just south of Willowmere, Jerrod snapped out of a daydream when Stan blurted out two words: "Piers Plowman."
Jerrod shook his head. "What the hell are you talking about?
"Piers Plowman. The series of poems written by William Langland in the English Middle Ages. The main character was Piers Plowman."
"I was thinking Piers Plowman must have been a farmer from West... Texas... in North... Texas," Jerrod said without looking away from the highway.
"You're hilarious."
"Please. Continue with the English Literature lecture, Professor."
"Anyway. Piers Plowman falls asleep a field--"
"North or south of... West?"
Stan shook his head. "Forget it."
"You've got me intrigued now. Please don't stop."
"Just shut-up and listen." Stan sighed. "Piers Plowman falls asleep in a field between a tall castle that represents Heaven and a deep valley that represents Hell."
"Fascinating, sir."
"The poems, and there's a lot of them, deal with his personal struggles over religion and morality and corruption."
"Sounds like every single day in my life," Jerrod said.
"The reason I brought it up," Stan said, undeterred, "was about the 'Patience is a Virtue' thing we talked about at the crime scene yesterday. That particular saying, or at least the original version of that saying, came from Piers Plowman -- not The Holy Bible.
"Okay. I'll just accept that as true," Jerrod said. "Shroom's off my hit-list."
"I couldn't remember the title yesterday, so I looked it up last night."
"That was riveting, sir," Jerrod said. "I'm pretty sure that if I died today -- my soul will rest easier because of the knowledge you have imparted to me. I will never forget this moment."
"Fuck you, Jerrod."
At ten o'clock, Jerrod and Stan stepped out of the elevator on the third floor of the Valle Verde Community Hospital. They walked to a circular, central station and waited for a woman in her mid-thirties -- with half-grown out dark roots on her otherwise blonde hair and wearing maroon scrubs -- to finish a telephone conversation.
Jerrod thought she looked vaguely familiar.
"Can I help you gentlemen?"
Jerrod pulled the seven-point gold badge off his belt and showed it to the nurse. "We're investigators -- I'm with the SO and he's with the DA's Office. We'd like to talk to a patient here. His name is Donald Jelinski. He was in 323."
"He's still in 323," she said as she craned her neck to look around for anyone else nearby. She whispered, "What a pain-in-the-ass."
"What did he do?" Stan asked -- a grin spreading on his face.
In a false, mocking voice, she said: "'I want my pain meds. Can I get more coffee? Can I get lunch early? Can I get something besides Jello? My dad was murdered. Can I make a phone call? Can I get any more TV channels? Did I tell you my dad got murdered? Can I have my pain meds... now.' Of course, there are no 'please' or 'thank you' in his vocabulary."
Stan laughed.
She stood up and moved to the counter. "We tried putting another male patient in with him, but we had to move the poor old guy to another room. Donny thinks he's staying at the Four Seasons. And if he says 'whatever' again, I'm going to punch him in the dick."
Stan laughed harder.
Jerrod smiled at her and placed his hands on the counter. The nurse glanced at his hands and focused at the scar on the back of his right hand.
"I know who you are," she said. "I used to work in the ER. You're that VVPD detective they brought a few years ago with the mangled hand. I assisted the doctor who sutured you. There was another detective with a gunshot wound in his leg. And, shit, there was another injured officer and a big, nasty bearded guy who had both been in car crashes. That was a wild night."
Jerrod pulled his hand
s from the counter and put his right hand in his pants pocket. "That was a wild night, indeed," Jerrod said. "It was very nice talking to you. Which way to Room 323?"
Jerrod and Stan walked away from the nurse's station.
"'That was a wild night,'" Stan parroted. "And you were the conductor for that entire concerto."
"Fuck you, Stan."
Jerrod and Stan found Room 323 just as Nate had described. Empty first bed. Curtain drawn. TV on.
"Can I get something to eat?" the male voice from the other side of the curtain demanded as they entered the room.
"We're not 'room service,'" Stan said as Jerrod pulled back the curtain.
"Oh, I thought you were a nurse."
"Donny, I'm Sergeant Gold and I'm with the Mesa Sheriff's Office and this is Inspector Walsh with the District Attorney's Office. We'd like to talk to you about your father."
Donny said, "What happened to that other detective that was here yesterday... the... uh... black guy."
"He's working on something else today," Jerrod said -- after a pause which included a long glare. "We'll be handling this case for now."
"Did you catch whoever killed my dad?"
"Not yet," Stan said.
"Any leads?"
"Sure. Lot's of 'em," Jerrod said. "And way more questions."
"Let's get on with it," Donny said.
"Did your dad have any life insurance?" Jerrod asked.
"Maybe," Donny said. "He may have had something. I don't know."
"How about a will or a trust?" Stan asked.
"I don't know. I'm not aware of anything like that. He said I get everything when he dies."
"We have some questions for you about Nick Usher," Jerrod said.
"What about him?"
"How do you know him?" Stan asked.
"We went to high school together -- Valle Verde High -- Class of 1967."
"Does he have any drug or alcohol problems," Jerrod asked.
"He drinks. I don't know if he has a 'problem.' No drugs that I know of... or whatever."
Jerrod uncontrollably smiled as he held a vivid image in his mind of a half-blonde nurse in maroon scrubs rushing into the room and throwing a right jab into Donny's genitals immediately after hearing him utter the word "whatever." He looked at Stan and he was smiling too.
"What's so funny?" Donny asked.
"Nothing... sorry... we were talking about Nick Usher," Jerrod said. "He got arrested for beating up his ex-wife's boyfriend awhile ago. What do you know about that?"
"We went to school with Billy Jones and Nick's ex-wife -- Alexis. She told Nick she wanted a divorce and moved in with Billy. Nick went over to their house, there was a fight, and Billy got his ass kicked."
"Have you seen Nick being violent before?" Stan asked.
"No."
"When was the last time you saw or talked to Nick?" Jerrod asked.
"I told that... uh... detective yesterday. I last saw him a few weeks ago at The CrowBar. Do you know where that bar is?"
"Sadly, I do," Jerrod said as he visualized himself dick-punching Donny after he made his second near-miss racial comment about Nate. Any hint of a smile was gone from his face.
"Why are you lying to us, Donny?" Stan asked.
"I'm not lying to you."
"We talked to Nick last night, Donny," Jerrod said.
"So."
"He told us he came to visit you here in the hospital on Monday around lunchtime," Stan said.
"I believe he'd be wrong."
"Does 'lemon Jello' ring a bell?" Jerrod asked.
"'Lemon Jello?'"
"Yes, 'Lemon Jello," Stan said as he moved next to the bed rail. "He said he ate your Jello because you don't like it."
Donny eyes tracked Stan as he moved.
"You may have seen Nick at The CrowBar a few weeks ago," Jerrod said, "but he was here, in your room, with you, on Monday."
"They've got me on some pretty strong pain killers and my head's a little fuzzy," Donny said as he raised his right hand and rubbed his scruffy beard. "Or whatever."
"'Fuzzy,' my ass," Stan said. "You didn't forget Nick was here."
"Donny," Jerrod said. "We want to find the person, or people, responsible for killing your father. Lying to us just slows down the process and puts you at the top of of our target list."
"I do too... and I... uh... understand," Donny said -- clearly now on the defensive.
"Was Nick Usher here on Monday?" Stan asked.
"Yes."
"What did you discuss?" Jerrod asked.
"My bike crash... uh... checking on my dad... uh...."
"Did you send Nick to your house to kill your father?" Stan asked.
"Of course, not," Donny screamed back. "Fuck you for saying that."
Jerrod looked at Stan. Donny's instant reaction was an appropriate response to the provocative and unexpected question.
Jerrod asked, "Could Nick have taken the opportunity to go to your house, take something of value, and kill your father -- either on purpose or by accident."
"I don't think so," Donny said as his voice changed to nearly a whisper. "Maybe."
Jerrod gave Donny a few moments to think.
"Nick knew I couldn't leave the hospital... he was going to check on my dad... maybe."
"Has Nick come to see you since Monday?" Stan asked.
"No."
"Called?" Jerrod asked.
"No."
"Donny," Jerrod said, 'we need to prove you didn't leave the hospital since your accident and need access to your medical records to do that. Here's a consent form for you to sign to give us access to those records. Okay?"
"Okay. Got a pen?"
"Here you go."
"Thanks."
Jerrod and Stan walked back to the nurse's station.
"Thank you for your help," Jerrod said to the half-blonde nurse.
"Donny said 'whatever' twice while we talked to him," Stan said. "Feel free to do what you have to do."
"The hospital frowns on us actually assaulting patients," she said. "But I may 'accidentally' touch one of those external fixator rods holding his pelvis together the next time I'm in there."
"'Accidentally?''' Jerrod asked.
"Sure. Nurses make mistakes once in awhile."
Jerrod smiled. "Donny signed a release for his medical records. Can I take a look at his chart?"
"I need to get a copy of the release."
"Sure."
The nurse walked to a nearby machine, made the copy, and returned the original to Jerrod.
"Here's his chart."
Jerrod scanned the file and noted the name and office number for the orthopedic surgeon who had repaired Donny's pelvis.
"You used to date Natalie Segura, right?" the nurse said. "She worked in Admissions when I started here."
Jerrod kept reading the chart. "A long time ago."
"She's living in Valle Verde again. She has her RN and works for a private office next door, an ear-nose-and-throat specialist, Doctor Raja."
"Thanks," Jerrod said -- still not looking up from the chart. "I'll be sure to give her a call."
"She's not married."
"I'm currently seeing someone. But, again... thank you."
"And she has a son."
"That's nice," Jerrod said -- now looking at, but not seeing, any information on the chart.
"He's about four or five-years old. Real cute little boy."
"Let's get out of here," Jerrod said to Stan.
* * *
"Four or five year-old boy," Stan said as Jerrod drove out of the hospital parking lot. "I wonder if the little tyke has brown hair and blue eyes. You have brown hair and blue eyes."
"Don't go there, Stan."
"Natalie Segura was the young lady at your house with you, on the sofa, when Efrain Hernandez shot out your front window, right?" Stan asked.
"Yes. She was."
"That was about five years ago."
"I'm warning you. My head's spinning
right now. Keep it up and I'll 'accidentally' slam on the brakes and plant your face into the dashboard."
"Just messing with you," Stan said -- as he slowly pulled on his seatbelt for the first time.
"'Seatbelts are for pussies,' Stan."
"Fuck you, Jerrod."
"Let's go back to the Jelinski house," Jerrod suggested -- after he stopped laughing. "I want to take another look around."
"Okay. What are you looking for?"
"Donny was kind of vague while answering about Walter having life insurance or a will or a trust of some sort."
"So?"
"So, I want to see if there are some documents at the house dealing with life insurance or a will or a trust," Jerrod said. "If Donny stands to inherit all of Walter's assets -- however small they are -- he has a motive to kill Walter."
"Or have Walter killed."
"Most likely," Jerrod said.
* * *
Stan sliced the sheriff's seal on the door of the Jelinski residence with the blade of a small pocket knife. Jerrod used two of the keys from Walter's ring to unlock the door.
"I just love that smell," Jerrod said as he inhaled the cigarette-tainted air of the house interior.
"You're kidding, right?"
"I'm totally kidding," Jerrod said. "Lets check Walter's bedroom first."
They went through the drawers of the night stand and dresser in the death scene bedroom.
"Found something," Stan said. "Check this out."
Stan pulled some folded papers from an opened letter envelope. The heading on the cover sheet had the logo and name of the Operating Engineers Local on it.
Operating Engineers is a heavy equipment operator labor union.
Stan scanned the attached documents. "Blah, blah, blah. Here we go. Term life insurance. Walter Jelinski. $50,000. Beneficiary is... Donald Jelinski."
"Fifty-thousand reasons to have the old man killed," Jerrod said.
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