The Slowest Death

by Rick Reed

  The body was curled into a ball with hands drawn into a pugilistic pose, knees drawn up to the chest. The sight and smell of fire victims was always nightmarish.

  Walker took pictures while Lilly instructed her intern on the physical anomalies caused by fire.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Liddell asked Lilly.

  “It’s a railroad spike,” Little Casket said. “Just like Sonny Caparelli. Except this one’s stuck through his ear instead of his eyes.”

  “And he was set on fire,” Liddell added.

  “Ya think?” Little Casket said.

  Richard Howard, fire investigator for Evansville Fire Department, walked over. He was wearing extra-large Dickies winter coveralls. The pant legs were tucked into a pair of lined hunting boots. On his head was a fur-lined aviator hat with the earflaps down.

  “Hey. It’s Rocky, the Flying Squirrel,” Liddell said.

  Howard came back with, “Gee Bullwinkle, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

  “Did you identify him yet?” Lilly asked the fire investigator. When he didn’t answer immediately she said, “Didn’t think so.”

  Lilly took several photos with her iPhone. She said. “He was naked.”

  Liddell said, “At the risk of sounding stupid, how do you know he was naked? His clothes could have burned off.”

  Lilly speared him with a stare. “You never worried about sounding stupid before. What’s gotten into you?”

  Liddell said, “That hurt, Lilly. You know Marcie and I are having a baby girl and we were thinking of naming her Lilly.”

  “So you said,” she scoffed and turned back to the body. “His wrists and ankles were bound. See?”

  “She’s right,” Howard said.

  “A’course I am.”

  “The license plate has melted,” Jack said to Walker. “We’ll need to get the VIN from the door or engine.” VIN stands for Vehicle Identification Number and is usually on a small plate stuck to the inside driver’s door panel, the front dash near the windshield, or on the engine.

  “We’ll have to wait to see.” Walker asked Howard, “What do you think?”

  “This one was pretty hot,” was all Howard would commit to.

  The unmistakable smell of charred human flesh was both disgusting and somehow pleasant. Jack suggested they move away. Walker and Howard stayed behind and the rest moved to the street. The temperature near the fire scene was twenty degrees warmer than back at the cars.

  “That’s a new BMW,” Igor said. “Z4. Sport convertible. 2017. I’ll bet there’s not many of these around Evansville.”

  Jack called dispatch. “Connie, can you do something for me?” He listened. “You have? How did you get the information? I see. No. Thanks. Can you text me the information? Thanks.”

  “What?” Liddell asked.

  “Connie at dispatch said she already knew the model of car and ran a list of similar makes registered in Evansville and Vanderburgh County. She’ll send us the names and addresses.”

  Lilly said, “I’m glad to see my tax money isn’t being wasted.”

  Sergeant Walker came over. “Hi Lilly. Who’s your intern?”

  “Don’t you start on me too,” she said with a scowl and stomped off.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Walker asked.

  Liddell grinned. “Well, first the dinosaurs roamed the earth. One of them didn’t go extinct.”

  The cabin resembled burned Lego blocks. The victim’s car was barely visible from the road. Water was freezing at the outer edges of the fire scene and steaming where it was hottest.

  “Most of my people are still working Sonny’s murder scene,” Walker said. “I told Dr. John we had another body. I’ll let you know what I find here. Guess I’ll see you at the autopsy.”

  Richard Howard approached the men. He was holding something in a gloved hand. “See what I found.”

  Jack could see it was a man’s bi-fold wallet. The wallet was soaked. Howard had scraped most of the muck from it and held it open. The driver’s license was melted and unreadable, but the next plastic frame held a Vanderburgh Superior Court identification card for Judge Samuel J. Knight.

  Jack called police dispatch and got Connie again. “Connie, we have a possible name. Can you see if Samuel Knight is on the list of cars?”

  “I don’t have to. It is.”

  “Who have you told?” Jack asked.

  “I’m not a blabbermouth.”

  “Sorry, Connie. Can you get his address, work, and home phone numbers for me?”

  “I’ll text them to you,” she said. “And Jack. He has kids.”

  “Connie, on second thought, can you connect me to Judge Knight’s office?”

  There was a click, and a young man answered on the first ring. “Judge Knight’s chambers. Jason speaking.”

  “Jason, Detective Murphy here. Is Judge Knight in today?”

  “He’s taking a late lunch, Detective Murphy. Can I take a number and have him call you? The judge is really covered up today. It may be a while. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Jason, I need to find the judge right away,” Jack said. “Can you tell me where he is? I only need a moment of his time.”

  It turned out that Jason didn’t know exactly where the judge was. He suggested a couple of restaurants on the Main Street walkway, and another on the west side of town. Jason gave Jack Knight’s cell phone number.

  Jack turned back to Captain Swenson. “Can you keep this quiet? No talking. Not even to nosey dispatchers. Not even to wives.”

  “Do guys still talk to their wives?” Swenson asked. “Just joking. Hey. You think this is related to Sonny’s murder? He was a great guy.”

  “Hell of a way to die,” Liddell said.

  Chapter 23

  Judge Knight lived on the east side of Evansville near Harrison High School. There was nothing Jack and Liddell could do at the fire scene. They rode in silence until they reached Fielding Court on the city’s east side. Liddell said, “If his kids are home, we need to have someone come and sit with them while we talk to the wife. Her name is Michelle.”

  He turned left onto Outer Lincoln Road. Their destination was a few blocks ahead.

  “His law clerk, Jason, said his calendar was crowded today.” Jack said. “Maybe the wife can tell us who he was meeting during his lunchtime today.”

  The house was just ahead. Jack said, “She may not know anything. We’ll have to talk to his clerk. The judge might have handled cases for the Task Force.”

  “I’m not sure what kind of cases Knight heard,” Liddell said. “He was in Superior Court, so he could have heard drug cases. Sonny didn’t make any friends dealing with druggies. I’m sure if Knight dealt with that garbage, he cost a bunch of people their livelihood. Revenge is as old of a motive as they get. Hell, between him and Sonny there could be a thousand suspects, pod’na. That’s not including the enemies Sonny made in Boston.”

  “Knight’s death may not be connected to Sonny’s. We need to talk to Sonny’s crew and bring Angelina up to date. Maybe she can work some magic and find something all these people have in common.” Jack texted Angelina telling her to add Knight’s name. She texted back “leave me alone.”

  “You need to add Marty Crispino to that list, pod’na,” Liddell said.

  Jack texted her again, adding Marty Crispino—Boston. She didn’t text back.

  “I’d add you to the list, Bigfoot, but these killings weren’t over picnic baskets.”

  They arrived. Sam Knight lived in a brick ranch-style home with empty lots on both sides and a privacy fenced backyard. He wasn’t starving, but he wasn’t living high on the hog like Sonny. Christmas lights were strung on the eaves and in the holly bushes. Wreaths decorated the front door and the dormers. A Christmas tree, heavy with lights and ornaments, could be seen thr
ough the picture window. On each side of the front walkway were a deflated blow-up Santa, sleigh, and reindeer.

  Kids.

  Jack could read the angst on Liddell’s face. Marcie’s pregnancy had changed him. Plus, he’d just had a run-in with some pretty dangerous characters in Louisiana involving the kidnapping of his niece and a human trafficking ring involving children. Liddell wouldn’t admit it, but situations involving kids hit him harder now. Jack’s heart sank. “I’ll make the notification, Bigfoot.”

  “Nah. You’re better at shooting people, pod’na. No offense,” Liddell said.

  “None taken.”

  The driveway curved around to the back of the house. One door of the two-car garage was open. A maroon Chrysler Pacifica minivan was pulled in one of the bays with the back hatch open. A woman, thirtyish, wearing a hooded parka, was unloading grocery bags. Liddell pulled up behind the minivan and stopped. She gave the approaching Crown Vic a cursory glance, but, being the wife of a judge, she’d seen many detectives’ cars.

  Mrs. Knight set the bags of groceries back down and waited for them to exit their car.

  Liddell said, “Ma’am. We’re here to…”

  “Vincent Sullis said you might come by,” she said without letting him finish.

  Liddell nudged Jack with his elbow.

  “Help me with the groceries and come inside,” she said. She picked up several environmentally unfriendly plastic bags of groceries and went to the back door of the house. “My kids aren’t home. I’ll make tea. Sam’s not here but I expect him any minute.”

  Jack and Liddell brought the rest of the groceries into the kitchen and set them on a counter. She busied herself making a pot of tea, putting the frozen things in the freezer, and chattering on, the weather, her children, the new Aldi grocery store that had opened in Evansville, how the prices were half of Schnuck’s—anything other than why Sully had told her Jack and Liddell would be coming there.

  “We have twin boys. Bryce and Timmy,” she said. “They’re four years old next week. I let them go on a playdate with a family we know from their preschool. I have to pick them up in an hour.” She motioned them to seats at a kitchen island. The electric teapot whistled. She placed matching china cups and saucers in front of them and poured steaming water into each of their cups. Seeing Jack and Liddell had made no attempt to fix their drinks, she said, “Sorry. It’s just a habit. I didn’t even ask if you wanted tea. You’re probably in a rush. You guys always are.” She said this last with a wry smile. “Can I offer you something else until he gets here?”

  Liddell said, “Mrs. Knight. Please have a seat.”

  Her smile faded gradually. Liddell took the teapot from her and placed it back on its stand. He pulled a barstool out for her and helped her sit. She remained silent, her eyes never leaving Jack’s.

  Jack said, “Mrs. Knight, I’m afraid we have bad news. Is there any one we can call for you?”

  “Call for me? I don’t understand,” she said. “Is Sam in trouble? Has he been arrested? He didn’t do anything bad in Boston. I can promise you that. Sully said he might be arrested and taken back to Boston. It would be completely humiliating for Sam. For us. What would I tell the boys?”

  “Mrs. Knight, have you talked to your husband today?”

  “Not since this morning when he left for work. Oh God! He has been arrested! He said Boston was not a problem.”

  “No, he hasn’t been arrested, Mrs. Knight. Does your husband drive a BMW?” Liddell asked.

  “Yes. It’s a little blue convertible. Did he have an accident? Was he hurt?”

  Liddell said, “Mrs. Knight. We’re very sorry to tell you this.”

  Her face tightened and turned white. “Is he…?”

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Knight,” Liddell said.

  Her hands went to her mouth and she drew in a sharp breath and stared into nothing. “I warned him about that car, but he said it made him feel good. He was always under so much pressure. Always working. Always…” The dam broke.

  Liddell took some napkins from a holder on the kitchen island and put them in her hand.

  She took several deep breaths and let them out slowly. When she calmed slightly she said, “I have to see him. The kids…?”

  Liddell asked, “Can we call someone for you? Family? A neighbor?”

  She put the napkins on the table and wrapped her hands around the teacup, not seeming to notice the heat. “We don’t have family here. I’ll call his dad in Boston. My mother lives in Connecticut. I have to see him.”

  Jack saw she was struggling with the reality of this. It was times like this he wished he was better with people. “Mrs. Knight,” he said. “You won’t be able to see him for a little while. His body was taken to the morgue for an autopsy.”

  Her eyes searched his. “An autopsy? I thought it was an accident. You don’t know how he died?”

  Liddell said, “Mrs. Knight, let me call a neighbor or a friend to come stay with you.”

  She said absentmindedly, “No. No. We really don’t know the neighbors. We’ve been here over five years and we’ve never made friends with the neighbors. That’s why our boys were spending the night with a family we met at preschool. And Sam didn’t even want to do that. He’s very protective of us.”

  “I see,” Jack said.

  “And my best friend lives in Boston. But it would take her too long, wouldn’t it? I mean, she’d come, but—I just don’t know what to do,” she said and buried her face in her hands, crying again.

  Liddell held his finger and thumb up to his ear, mimicking a phone, and mouthed “Marcie” to Jack. Liddell went in another room and Jack could hear him on the phone with his wife.

  Jack asked, “Mrs. Knight, you mentioned a call from Vincent Sullis.”

  “Sullis?” She sounded confused. “Oh yes. Vincent Sullis. He called this morning.”

  “You said he told you we might be coming by?” Jack prompted her. “Do you remember what time that was, Mrs. Knight?”

  “Was he in the accident with Sam?”

  “It wasn’t a car accident, ma’am,” Jack informed her. “If you can remember when you spoke with him…”

  She gave Jack a quizzical look, but answered his question. “Umm, maybe an hour ago. Around eleven I guess. I was on my way to the store when the phone rang. I remember because I thought it was Sam saying he wasn’t going to make it home this evening until late. He worked late some nights.”

  “Can you tell me exactly what Mr. Sullis said?”

  “Detective Murphy, I…I… Let me see. He asked to talk to Sam. I told him he wasn’t here and he said he knew Sam from Boston. I knew who Mr. Sullis was because Sam spoke of him recently.”

  Jack didn’t interrupt, but that was interesting.

  “He said it was important. I didn’t give him Sam’s cell phone number. I thought if Sam wanted to talk to him, he would already have the number. I didn’t get a good feeling from him. I can’t tell you why. I just didn’t.”

  “Did he give you any idea why he wanted to talk to your husband?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “You said he talked to your husband recently. When was that? What did they discuss?” Jack asked.

  “It was weeks ago—a weekend. Sam was still putting one of the boys’ Christmas presents together. Sam was never very good with assembly instructions. I answered the phone and a man asked for Sam. Not Judge Knight. I asked who was calling and he said “Sully.” I didn’t recognize the voice but I got the impression he was from back home. From Boston.”

  Boston again.

  “And this was the same man that called approximately an hour ago?” Jack asked.

  “Yes. Sam didn’t want to talk to him when he called before. He seemed to be angry. He got that way when someone bothered him when he was playing with the boys. He wanted me to hang up and I
told Mr. Sullis that Sam wasn’t available. He said, “Tell Sam it’s about Boston, and he might be arrested.”

  “Who might be arrested?” Jack asked.

  “I assumed he meant Sam. It was ridiculous.”

  “Did your husband talk to him?”

  “He took the phone and went into his study. I could hear him raise his voice but I didn’t hear what was being said. It wasn’t like my husband to raise his voice. When he came out I asked who that was. Sam said it was about an old case, but he wasn’t involved. Did you know Sam used to be an Assistant District Attorney in Boston before we moved here?”

  Here’s the connection. Sonny, Sam Knight, and Sully. All in law enforcement or the legal system. All from Boston.

  * * * *

  “It’s things just like this that make me thankful we have a Police Wives Society, Bigfoot,” Jack said as Liddell drove toward headquarters.

  Marcie had come to Knight’s house in less than ten minutes. She had things well in hand by the time Jack and Liddell left. Marcie had called the woman taking care of the twins and the very nice woman had offered to keep them for another night. She told Mrs. Knight the boys were having such a good time they wouldn’t notice for a while.

  Jack convinced Mrs. Knight she would be unable to identify the body because of the injuries, but if she wanted to have a few minutes with him—like Jack had afforded Mindy, albeit for a different reason—someone would take her and bring her home. One of the wives volunteered to spend the night at her house if needed.

  Michelle Knight knew Sonny Caparelli because Sonny had been to their house several times over the years to get warrants signed.

  Liddell pulled into the detectives’ parking area just across the way from the Courts Building. They went to talk to Judge Knight’s law clerk, Jason. Jack’s phone rang.

  “Jack, did you make the death notification?” Sergeant Walker asked.