“She’s just fine, thanks. How’s...”
The waitress interrupted Mann and they both ordered. As usual, Buchanan’s order was full of calories, grease, and cholesterol. Mann tried for a salad and a Pepsi. He ignored Buchanan’s questioning look and continued after the waitress left.
“How’s Gretchen?”
“Gretchen? Oh, Gretchen. I haven’t seen her in two weeks or more. I’m seeing a secretary from The Hill. We are going to go sailing in the summer.”
“If it lasts that long.” The old man amazed Mann. A widower who had desperately loved his wife, he had not wasted any time becoming active again. However, he didn’t, as he put it, waste his time with young women. He much preferred mature women. According to him, they were more appreciative. He didn’t bother with a woman unless she remembered that there had been another Bush in the White House.
“I heard they pulled the marina shooting. SOCU grab it? Got you pissed off?”
“I haven’t shot anyone yet. What the hell, as long as somebody puts that Italian bastard away.”
An older lady at the next table looked over and said something to the woman she was with. They both looked over again. Mann just stared back until the waitress came between them. When she left, the women had returned to their meal.
Mann pushed his salad around the plate. After sampling some of the cottage cheese, he reached across and speared one of Buchanan’s fries. “What did you find when you opened the boy up?”
Mann’s voice was just loud enough to carry to the next table. Buchanan glanced sideways and spoke at the same volume.
“First, what we didn’t find. No major amount of drugs in his system, just trace amounts marijuana and cocaine. He wasn’t high when he died. From the amounts, I would say he was in complete control of his faculties. As much as he probably ever was, anyway.”
“Was there any evidence of homosexual activity?”
“None that I could see. No recent sexual activity as far as the boy is concerned. Rectum was normal, no signs of prolonged homosexual activity. I would say that the kid was either not active or straight and he tested negative for AIDS.”
Mann heard the intake of breath from the table beside and smiled. “So it wasn’t a gay bashing?”
“Straights have been bashed as gays before. There was even a case where a man and his wife – she had short hair and small breasts – were attacked as gays. Gabel was slight, longish hair, bit of a twink, I suppose. However, I don’t have much faith in that explanation. For one thing, the beating wasn’t severe, except for the head wounds. And that was definitely postmortem. Usually, you see more damage with a gay bashing.”
“Was this a gang killing?”
Buchanan gave up and shoved his plate of fries between him and Mann. “If it was, it was one of the strangest on record. He died from a blow to the back of the head. No knife wounds, not much bruising, nothing that would suggest that he tried to defend himself.”
“Did someone whack him from behind before he knew what was going down?”
“Definitely not.”
“You’re that sure?”
“About that, yes. Let me lay it out for you.”
Buchanan began to shift the plates around the table. The women were blatantly staring now. “This is the washroom. This is the south entrance on Euclid. This is the little garden patch.”
Mann pictured the station lot in his mind. “I remember. Kydd said that you knew for sure that the body had been moved. You followed the blood trail?”
“Yes, but at the time, we didn’t know for sure who’s blood it was. Confirmed it was all the vic’s. Anyway, let me show you how it worked.”
Buchanan pointed at the plate representing the washroom. “The trail went from the garden to the washroom. CSU searched the garden and came up with our murder weapon – a rock.”
“Somebody tossed it there?”
“No, it was buried with only about thirty percent above ground. It was in the dirt, solid and deep, so it hadn’t been moved in years. But it had a good point on it and there was blood on the rock and surrounding ground. We even got some hair.”
“So, are you ruling this accidental or maybe a fight?”
“On the accident side, there appears to be fresh orange juice on the vic’s boots and pants with some spatter on the sidewalk. Maybe he slipped in it or maybe he spilled it himself. We’ll know if he was drinking any later today. If it was a fight, there wasn’t much to it. No evidence of the vic having landed any blows. Whatever put him down did it fast and with enough force to put that rock into his skull. He didn’t have a chance to throw a single punch. That sounds like a fall. I’d rule it accidental, except for what happened postmortem.”
“So the kid lands on the rock and death is instant. And then, the body was moved to the washroom?”
“Actually, given the position of the body in the bathroom, something happened before the body was moved. There was some damage to the upper torso. Most likely, the perp landed several kicks to the midsection resulting in bruised ribs and contusions. All those injuries were postmortem.”
Buchanan mopped up gravy with his roll and poured more tea. “The interesting thing is the wounds on the back of the head. As I said, the initial wound was low and punched through the cerebellum and into the brain stem. The wounds from the wall were much higher. The beating in the washroom was vicious. You saw the cracked tiles. That was nothing compared to the condition of the skull itself. Whoever did it was pissed. These were very personal injuries.”
Mann shoved his salad plate aside and drank some Pepsi. “So, the kid was killed accidentally, then kicked repeatedly, then dragged to the washroom and then the back of his head was bashed in?”
“That’s about it. He might have been pushed but I see no evidence of it.”
“What about the time of death?”
“I’d put it somewhere between ten and two, give or take an hour. Because the bathroom door was open after the body was discovered, we couldn’t get an accurate ambient temp.”
“Kydd said that the attendant came on at eleven. The guy he replaced used the john before he left. So, it was between then and two or three?”
“My best guess is the closer to eleven, the better.”
“Anything else?”
“CSU got a footprint out of the garden. The top layer of the garden was peat. It was pretty deep but not much detail.”
Mann could picture someone lifting the kid, his foot sinking into the soft soil because of the added weight. Peat was useless for prints. He stared at Buchanan, realizing he was still no farther ahead. “Was it gang related or not?”
“I’m guessing the powers on The Hill have already answered that question for you,” Buchanan said, smiling.
Chapter 7
When Mann got back to the squad, Kydd was questioning a young man wearing tattered jeans and a black T-shirt with a blazing skull etched across it. His hair was spiked on top and shaved to the skin on one side and hung past his shoulder on the other and the back. He also had three earrings in his left ear. Pimples dotted his face and he had what was, for him, probably a month’s growth of splotchy beard. Mann wandered over and motioned Kydd away. Kydd, in return, motioned him over.
“Lieutenant Mann, this is Detective Phil Garnham.”
The two detectives laughed at the expression on Mann’s face. In his early days, when undercover Narcs were first entering the schools, they usually looked like exactly what they were. This creature might look like a cop to the kids but he doubted it.
“Nice to meet you, Lou. Detective Kydd was telling me that you might have some gang trouble in your area.”
“Sorry, pleased to meet you too, Detective. You’ll have to excuse the asinine expression on my face.”
“No problem, sir. You should see what my dad says.”
“Where are you working out of?”
“Officially, I’m out of The Hill. SNU. I work anywhere they can get me into school. I just transferred out of the school
that Gabel attended. The school he was registered at, anyway.”
“What can you tell us about the Intimidators?”
“Lame,” Garnham said as he eased back onto the desk. “Anything but intimidating. Gabel was the leader but the Ints aren’t a gang. They’re a little boy’s club for wannabe losers with only four hardcore members, well, three now. They’ve been friends since diapers. They were together because nobody else would have anything to do with them. Occasionally, they get one or two other members but they soon drift off. Like I said, lame.”
“Violence?”
Garnham laughed. “Only on the receiving end. They made some moves on a rival gang about a year ago. All four ended up in the hospital. Total pussies.”
“They have a sheet?”
“Small time. Mostly they sit around talking about what they’re going to do and smoke ‘fry daddies’ and drink a bit of ‘swamp juice’.”
“Sorry?” Mann said, feeling his age.
“Cigarettes laced with Crack and gin with fruit juice, light on the crack and heavy on the gin. B&E and some auto but the auto was strictly joyriding. They might deal a little crack but everybody is doing that. Unfortunately, I got nine and ten year olds dealing more than these pukes.”
“So, they’re nothing.”
“Less than nothing, they are totally off the map. Too bigga losers to bother fighting let alone wasting one of them. They’re just ignored. A bunch of wimps that hang together because nobody else will have them. They wouldn’t even qualify as an initiation kill. They... Oh, Christ.”
Mann had seen it the same moment Garnham had. Mann grabbed Garnham’s collar with both hands and lifted the detective to his feet. In one smooth movement, he threw the smaller man across Kydd’s desk.
Garnham was up in a second and flew back across the desk at Mann. He landed a glancing right across Mann’s jaw. Mann turned his head to avoid most of the punch and let himself fall backwards. He stumbled back two steps and Garnham was on top of him. They struggled until two patrol officers pulled Garnham off and pinned him to the desk. They were not gentle putting on the cuffs.
“Take him downstairs. Put him in holding until I can get something on paper.” Mann swung around and faced the three Intimidators Tetrault had been leading into the squad room. They had been cheering on Garnham. “Who are these three? You dickheads with this one?”
Faced with Mann’s rage, the three cowered back and Tetrault stepped forward. “No, sir. They are friends of Gabel. I brought them in for a statement.”
“Take them to Interrogation. Get them the hell out of my face!”
“Yes, sir.”
Tetrault led them away and Mann went back to Kydd’s desk. She had picked everything off the floor and was trying to straighten some files. “I’m sorry, Lou. We agreed we wouldn’t pick those three up until tonight. Give them some time on the street. If it was a hit, they’d be scared enough to talk. I thought it would be safe to bring Garnham in.”
“Solid plan.” Mann gently touched his lower lip, feeling the swelling start, checking for blood. “I’ll have a talk with Tetrault. Did you get anything out of Garnham that I didn’t hear?”
“Just what he told you. It’s not a hit. There’s nobody taking credit and no reason to hit anybody that low on the food chain. It just doesn’t track.”
Mann nodded. “What about Gabel’s family? Why haven’t we seen them down here?”
Kydd searched through the papers on her desk. “Gabel was on probation for a B&E. He was on a midnight curfew. That is why he left the rest of his crew.”
“Under parents' supervision?”
“Just one parent, his father. Mother’s gone. His father isn’t exactly broken up about the kid. Says he has been no good all his life. He has two younger kids. He wants to try to keep them straight. My feeling is, this makes for one less bad influence.”
“Or a good object lesson for the kids?” Mann asked, thinking about what Alf said about it being personal.
“That too. Solid alibi though,” Kydd added, anticipating Mann’s thinking. “Haven’t finished the final checks but it should clear.”
“Okay. Go down and make sure the uniforms know that Garnham is one of ours. I’ll go see what else Tetrault is screwing up. Good work reaching out to Garnham. I’m marking the case open and pending for now but I’m beginning to think that it is a no go. Opinions?”
“Let me do a little more digging into his background. I might turn up an enemy with a big enough beef. The Three Stooges in there might know someone.”
“OK, keep digging for a while. Oh,” added Mann, feeling the lip swelling even more, “when you cut Garnham loose, thank him for pulling that punch.”
*
Mann stalked into the interrogation room and banged the door shut. He stared at the three boys lounging behind the table. Leave it to Tetrault to put them all in one room. He let his anger at Tetrault show on his face and the boys reacted to it instantly. Mann wished Davis were here. Now that would be some intimidation for these losers.
Mann stared at them, sizing them up. The muscle had positioned himself to protect the smaller boy on the right. The one on the left, slouched and trying to look bored, was the new leader.
“You,” Mann shouted, pointing to the kid on the right. He had pitched his voice loud enough that all three boys jumped. Unfortunately, so did Tetrault. The detective tried to cover it by jumping to his feet and grabbing the smallest boy and yanking him to his feet. The muscle started to stand but Mann stopped him with a quiet “Don’t.”
The muscle eased back into his chair.
“Hey,” the new leader said, trying to assert himself. “We want a lawyer.”
“Why?” Mann asked.
“It’s our right,” he said, almost making it a question.
“You aren’t under arrest. You are here voluntarily to help us find your friend’s killer. If you don’t want to help, we can arrest you. When we get around to talking to you, in a few days, then you can have your lawyer. Detective, cuff this suspect. He has become uncooperative. Check his alibi again. Leave him cuffed to the chair for now and I’ll decide what to do with him in an hour or so.”
Tetrault shoved the smallest boy toward Mann and moved behind the leader. Mann grabbed the kid and started walking him from the room.
Mann took the boy into the next room and shoved him toward a chair.
Mann sat across the table from him and stared.
“What’s your name, kid?” Mann finally asked.
“Fox,” the kid replied.
“Do you know who killed Luis?” Mann asked quietly.
“If we knew, he would already be down,” Fox said. “Ajax would do him. No way somebody’s doin’ Swan and getting’ away with it.”
Mann thought for a second, thinking the names sounded familiar. When he finally placed them, he fought to keep the smile off his face. Garnham could have warned him that the gang had grabbed their names from The Warriors. Truly a bunch of wannabes.
“What were you doing that night?” Mann asked.
“You know, nothin’. Just hangin’. It was a nice night so we were just walkin’ ‘cause our wheels were fucked and Vermin didn’t have the money to make it right.”
“Any hassles that night?”
“Nope,” Fox said, not entirely convincing.
“Nobody on your case?”
“Nobody gets on the Intimidators’ case. We get on theirs.”
“Were you on anybody’s case that night?”
“Nothin’ major. You know, just making sure everybody knew we were there,” Fox said.
That meant scaring some civilians, maybe some half-assed graffiti. He had to go at this another way.
“Swan much of a fighter?” Mann asked.
“Hey, we all bop with the best, you know.”
Mann thought back to the movie. “Ajax is the best, right?”
“Sure, he’s great. Split a head easy but Swan could take care of himself.”
“So
anybody coming up on Swan would have to be pretty big, right?”
“You know it. Swan wasn’t big but he could fight. Or he’d stick the guy, you know?”
“Swan was packing?” Mann asked.
“Uh, well,” Fox said, backtracking a bit.
“Come on, a gang like yours, I know you’d be packing.”
“Ya, we have blades. None of us go anywhere without them. ‘Cept here.”
“What was Swan carrying?”
“Same as us, he had a Blackie Collins Thin Red Line. We each have the same blade.”
Mann knew a knife wasn’t among the kid’s effects. Maybe these losers were going to be useful after all. Mann kept the interview going for a while longer but got nothing. He cut all the Intimidators loose but told them he would be back at them if anything turned up.
Chapter 8
The three girls watched the dark haired man slide through the crowded bar. He smiled and nodded to a few people, expertly balancing his drink while dodging around the early evening patrons. He turned sideways to slip between two groups of drinkers, giving the girls a good view of his tight, jeans-clad butt.
“Ya, real hot. I’m still not looking anymore.”
“It never hurts to look,” Belinda said.
Christine’s laugh was almost lost in the raucous noise. “Maybe. But why bother when you’ve got the hottest thing going waiting at home for you?”
However, she watched until the crowd swallowed him up. Belinda caught her eye when she looked back and Christine laughed guiltily.
Christine Yeck was out for one last drink as a single woman. In two days, she was to be married.
She suddenly smiled again and her small nose crinkled into what her fiancée called her darling face. God, she was happy.
“You’re really going to go through with this?”
Christine turned her attention on Heidi. Twice married and twice divorced, Heidi was not a believer in marriage. “We’ve signed the lease on the apartment, the minister is sacrificing a goat or whatever they do in Jamaica, and our bags are packed. The day after we arrive in Montego, we hit the beach and we are husband and wife.”
Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel) Page 4
