Goode shook hands with Chris Newkirk, smiled and said hello to Abby then asked, “What do we have?”
“Woman, blonde, probably five-foot-seven, one-twenty to one-thirty. Good looking. Three bullet holes in her back. I didn’t check for exit wounds on the body, but there was no blood on the front of her blouse. Here comes Gayle,” Newkirk said looking down the road toward a coroner’s office vehicle coming toward them. Gayle Parker was one of four doctors in the county who took turns doing six-month tours as the medical examiner.
“It looks like she was dragged through the trees. Her neck appears to be broken, too,” Newkirk added.
“Why would he break her neck after shooting her in the back?” Goode asked.
“She could’ve done it when she went down,” Abby interjected. “We’ll probably find the place where she went down in the morning when it’s lighter.”
“Did you get a picture of her?”
“No. We didn’t want to disturb the scene any more than we had to.”
They waited for the fifty-year-old Dr. Parker to join them. Newkirk gave her a quick rundown of the scene while Goode talked to Earl.
“These kids’ parents know where they are?” Goode asked.
“Yeah. They’re camped right over there. They’ve called three times.”
“Take them back, but get a promise from their parents to bring them in tomorrow for a formal statement.”
“Will do, Boss,” Earl replied.
Goode turned back to the doctor and his investigators and said, “Abby, you go with Doc Parker. Chris, you come with me. We’ll go over to the Simpson place and see if anyone is missing or if anyone heard or saw anything.”
“With all the fireworks going off…” Newkirk started to say.
“Yeah, I know.” Goode nodded. “Let’s take the Tahoe. No point in scaring his guests unless we have to.”
While Sheriff Goode and his people were having their discussion, Cal Simpson was watching from his front yard. In the driveway, along the road coming in and parked on the grass were over fifty cars, some quite expensive. Cal casually looked them over while sipping his drink and puffing on his Cuban.
Cal had come out front a little while ago, after the fireworks show, to get away from his guests and find a little quiet solitude. Instead, he saw the flashing emergency lights through the trees on the main road leading in. Cal knew it wouldn’t be long before the sheriff would come driving up his driveway for a little chat. Unperturbed, he took a seat on the front deck and calmly waited for him. About a half-hour after coming out the front, Cal saw headlights coming down his quarter-mile-long driveway. There were no emergency lights flashing on the vehicle, but he assumed it was the sheriff. Instead of waiting where he was for the car to drive up to him, Cal started walking toward it.
“Good evening, Sheriff,” Cal said as Sheriff Goode walked toward him.
Cal had met the Tahoe about a hundred yards from the house. Recognizing the wealthy resident standing in their headlights, Newkirk had stopped before him.
“Good evening, Mr. Simpson,” Goode said as the two men shook hands. Goode introduced Newkirk to Simpson.
“What’s all the fuss about up on the road?” Cal asked.
“Well, sir, I’m afraid there’s been a homicide,” Goode said.
“What? How, what, are you serious? Sorry, of course you are,” a startled Cal Simpson replied.
“A young woman,” Goode continued. “Shot in the back then dragged into the trees. A couple of kids from the campgrounds found her.”
“My God, that’s horrible. How did this…”
“We’re not sure,” Goode said. “She hasn’t been dead long. We stopped to see if you or any of your guests saw or heard anything?”
“Or if anyone is missing,” Newkirk interjected.
Cal stood still, silently thinking about the question before saying, “No, not a thing. And if someone saw anything out of the ordinary, I’m sure they would have come to me with it. Several of the guests have left. Mostly by boat.”
“I’d like to ask around if you don’t mind,” Goode said.
“No, I don’t think I want you doing that. Sorry, but well, just between us, there are some very important people here. A couple of U.S. Senators and four or five members of Congress. There must be at least a dozen lawyers here. You know what a pain-in-the-ass they can be.”
“That’s true,” the sheriff said.
“Plus, as I said, a lot of them have already left. They stayed for the fireworks then took boats across the lake to their rooms.
“I’ll tell you what,” Cal said, “let me check around. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”
Newkirk’s phone rang. He checked the ID, saw it was Abby, excused himself and walked several steps away to take the call.
“I guess that will be okay, for now. Tell your guests to be careful. We may have a lunatic with a gun on the loose. Do you have security on the premises?”
“Yes, I do. I’ll be sure to talk to them. Can my guests leave? Do you have the road blocked?”
“We’ll set up so they can get out,” Goode answered.
Newkirk came back and said, “That was Abby. Ronnie and Mike found the car about a mile up the road. It was driven into the trees. A woman’s purse was on the front seat with the victim’s ID A Lynn McDaniel. Do you recognize the name, Mr. Simpson?”
Cal slowly shook his head as if thinking about it, trying to place the name. “No, it doesn’t sound familiar,” he said.
Newkirk was staring at Cal’s eyes watching his reaction. Goode stuck out his hand which Cal took.
“Okay, maybe ask your guests. And be sure to tell them to be careful.”
“Sure, of course. A murder, this is horrible,” Cal replied. “Call me anytime Sheriff. If I find out anything at all, I’ll let you know right away.”
“All right, sir,” Goode replied. “Good night and again, be careful.”
While Newkirk was turning the Tahoe around to drive back to the crime scene, Goode asked him for his impression.
“He’s lying,” Newkirk said. “He knows her or at least recognized her name.”
Newkirk, after over thirty years as a cop, detective and investigator had a reputation as a walking lie detector. Most cops with his experience are able to spot a lie. That was why, before they arrived, the two men had agreed to let the sheriff do the talking while Newkirk observed.
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” Newkirk said as he drove back down the driveway. “In fact, I’d like to play poker with him. He’s got a tell. Very slight around the eyes, but it’s there. The question is why?”
“Maybe he didn’t want us bothering his guests,” Goode replied.
“Yeah, well, he just guaranteed that we have to.”
TEN
Sheriff Goode heard a sharp rap on the glass window of his office door. He looked up from his desk as Chris Newkirk, coffee cup in hand, came in followed by Abby Bliss.
“What do you have?” Goode asked.
The sheriff had waited at the scene until the crime scene unit from the BCA arrived. It was well past midnight by then. After hearing the news, Cal Simpson’s guests had all left and with Newkirk on the scene with Abby, there wasn’t much more for him to do. Chris and Abby had both stayed until the crime scenes where both the body and car were found had been analyzed as much as possible by floodlight. The areas had been taped off and Newkirk had two of the mid-watch patrol deputies stay there to keep the scenes as clean as possible. A few hours of sleep and they were back in the office.
“Just got off the phone with Gayle Parker,” Newkirk said as the two of them took seats in front of the sheriff’s desk. “She recovered all three bullets. 223 caliber copper-jacketed still in pretty good shape. If we find the gun, we should be able to get a match. One went through the victim’s heart. Parker says that was the killer. She also had a broken neck. Doc says she found particles of tree bark in her face. She’s guessing a bit, but it looks like McDa
niel was running away and took three shots in rapid order in the back. She went down and smashed her face into a tree and that’s what snapped her neck.”
“But she’s sure about the bullet hitting the heart is what killed her?”
“Yeah,” Newkirk said after swallowing some coffee. “Probably dead by the time she fell into the tree.”
“We’re gonna run out there now,” Abby added. “The crime scene people are about done. They found the spot where she went down.”
“The bullet killed her,” Goode quietly said speaking to himself. “Good. I don’t want some asshole lawyer trying to claim the fall killed her and not the bullets.”
“Why is that important?” Abby asked.
“Could be the difference between murder and manslaughter,” Newkirk said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Abby said. “That’s like pushing someone off a twenty story building then claiming you didn’t mean to kill the guy. You only meant to push him off the roof. It was the sudden stop that killed him, not me.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Newkirk said.
Newkirk turned to the sheriff and asked, “Didn’t Simpson say there were a dozen lawyers at his party?”
“Yeah,” Goode replied. “So?”
“McDaniel was a lawyer. We found her ID’s in her purse along with a few business cards. She was with a firm, Everson, Reed, in Minneapolis. I pulled them up online and guess what I found? Simpson’s son-in-law, Zach Evans, is a partner with Everson, Reed.”
“Oh, that’s interesting,” Goode said.
“We’re gonna need a list of the guests at that party,” Abby said.
“Yes, we are,” Goode agreed. “Shit,” he added. “Politically, this could be a problem.”
“Warren, we can’t worry about that…” Newkirk started to say.
“Yes, we do have to worry about it,” Goode said cutting him off. “This is a small town, and Cal Simpson is a big fish. A couple of U.S. Senators…” Goode said letting the word trail off.
“We’ll be gentle,” Abby said with a cynical smile.
“Okay,” Goode said standing up. “I’ll go talk to Simpson. You two check with the crime scene people.”
Having already told Samantha about Lynn McDaniel the night before, Cal decided to wait until morning to tell Zach. Because of this, Samantha had decided to drive back to the Cities early. Sleeping in a separate room from her husband, she was able to get up and slip out shortly after 7:00 A.M.
It was now 10:00 and Cal was on the deck watching the catering crew cleanup after the party. He was seated at the main table waiting for Zach. He was sipping his third cup of the strong Columbian coffee he preferred when he heard the patio door slide open. A moment later Zach, with a cup of coffee and a carafe greeted his father-in-law.
“Where’s Samantha?” Zach asked after taking a chair.
“She went back to the Cities,” Cal replied. “Zach, I have to tell you something.”
“Okay,” Zach said as he sat down. What flashed through his mind was the word divorce from which he inferred all sorts of issues, all of them negative for him.
“Lynn McDaniel was murdered last night,” Cal calmly told him while intently looking for a reaction.
“What? How, what? No, that can’t be,” Zach stammered with a genuinely shocked look on his face, “No,” he continued shaking his head. “No, she was…”
“It happened around ten,” Cal interrupted him. “Right out on the main road. It looks like a random thing. A maniac with a gun.”
Zach turned his head away from Cal and remained silent for thirty to forty seconds staring out past the lawn to the lake. He turned back to Cal and sadly asked, “Are they sure? Do they know…?”
“They found her car up the road with her purse in it. Her license and IDs were in the purse.”
“They’re going to need someone to identify the body,” Zach sadly said. “When she didn’t show up I assumed she had changed her mind about coming.”
“Are you sure you want to get involved?” Cal asked.
The patio door opened again, and one of the housekeepers came through it.
“Excuse me, Mr. Simpson, the sheriff is here, and he would like to talk to you,” she said.
“Fine. Take him into the den, and I’ll be right there. Thank you, Lois,” he added.
Cal turned to Zach and said, “You wait here. We’ll talk about this later.”
“Bullshit, Cal. I’m not one of your servants. Lynn was a good friend…”
“A little too good,” Cal said.
“And she has no family here,” Zach continued ignoring Cal’s snide remark, “and they’ll need an ID And don’t talk to me like that. You’re a fine one to be talking.”
Cal’s face grew red as his anger rose. His eyes narrowed, and he quietly said, “Your ass is dependent on my goodwill. That’s my daughter you’re married to and your job is hanging by a thread.”
“A woman I cared about is dead, Cal. Right now, I’m not sure I care about your good graces. Besides, you have no idea what it’s like being married to your Ice Queen daughter.”
Zach stood up and said, “I’m going to talk to the sheriff.”
He walked off, and before he reached the patio door, Cal caught him and gently took his arm.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. You must be hurting. That was thoughtless of me,” Cal sincerely said. “Let’s go talk to the sheriff.”
“Morning, Sheriff,” Cal said as he and Zach entered the room. Dark paneling, firearms, trophy heads and leather loudly stated this was a man’s room. Cal introduced Zach to Sheriff Goode then Zach told Goode he knew Lynn McDaniel from work and offered to ID the body for them.
Interesting, Goode thought while he said, “Thank you, I’d appreciate that. So, you knew her from work?”
“That’s right. We work for the same law firm,” Zach replied.
“Was she here? At your party?” Goode asked looking back and forth between the two men.
“She was on the way,” Zach replied while Cal remained silent. Zach was barefoot and dressed in basketball shorts and a white T-shirt. He said, “Let me go clean up and change, and I’ll drive into town to the coroner’s office. Where is it located?”
“It’s on the north side of the jail. It’s on Main across….”
“I know where it is,” Zach said. “I’ll find it.”
When Zach left, Cal, who had taken his chair behind a large oak desk, a position of power, asked, “How’s the investigation going?”
“Well, sir,” Goode began. He was standing to Cal’s desk right next to a large, expensive, locked, glass-enclosed gun case with at least twenty rifles and shotguns on display. “It’s barely started. That’s why I’m here. Since Ms. McDaniel was on her way here, I’m going to need a list of all of your guests. Right now we’re assuming this was some type of random nut job killing. But I’ll tell you, Mr. Simpson, I sure as hell hope not.”
“Why?” Cal asked.
“Because if that’s true, then we have a problem. These guys don’t just do one person. If it is some psycho, we have more victims to come.”
“And if it isn’t?” Cal asked.
“Then we need to start looking for a motive. And we need to start with your guests.”
“I see what you mean,” Cal said with a frown. “How about I decide who to put on the list?”
“No, sir, that won’t be acceptable. I understand you had a lot of VIPs here. My people are professionals. They’ll be discreet.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I can easily get a warrant. And I’ll make you sign an affidavit attesting to the accuracy of the list. You’ll be under penalty of perjury. I’d rather not do that.”
“Relax, Sheriff. I was just messing with you,” Cal said with a smile. “Of course, I’ll have the list for you. Give me a couple of days.”
“Sir, there is something else,” Goode said nodding toward the gun case. “I see you have a Browning semi-automatic that looks
to be a .223 caliber. I’d like to take it in and have a ballistics comparison done. If nothing else, to eliminate it.”
“Sure, no problem,” Cal said. He reached into the middle desk drawer and removed a key. As he walked to the gun case, unlocked it and opened it for the sheriff, Cal asked, “She was shot with a .223?”
“Yes, she was. Any other .223’s around the house?”
“No, uh-uh,” Cal replied.
Goode put a surgical glove on each hand and removed the rifle from its case. He held it up by the shoulder strap and thanked Cal for his cooperation. Cal escorted the sheriff to the front door and out to his cruiser. Goode placed the rifle in his trunk and thanked Cal again.
“I’ll have the rifle back in a few days,” Goode assured him.
“Take all the time you need,” Cal said. “I’ll have the list for you tomorrow or the next day. I would appreciate your people’s discretion when dealing with my guests.”
“Absolutely, sir.”
Cal stood in the driveway and watched while Goode turned his car around to leave. The men gave each other a brief wave as Goode drove off.
Cal turned to go back inside just as Zach came through the front door.
“After I do this,” Zach said. “I’m going back to the Cities.”
“All right,” Cal said. “We’ll talk soon.”
As Cal watched Zach’s car drive toward the main road, his phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the caller. Pleased to see who was calling, he put the phone to his ear.
“Did you find it?” Cal asked without a greeting.
“No, Dad,” Samantha replied. “I’ve looked everywhere. I even went to the bank and checked our safe deposit box. Not there. It must be at his office.”
“Can you go there and look for it?”
“Yes, but he’d find out. Someone would tell him.”
“Okay. I know someone else who can check for it,” Cal said.
“It could be in the trunk of his car,” Samantha said. “He’s the only one with a key.”
“Damn,” Cal quietly said. “We should have thought of that before.”
Insider Justice: A Financial Thriller (Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Book 8) Page 6
