by Jim Riley
Sam dropped his keys and cursed in the early morning hours. The weather had turned cool, but the Hispanic professional did not notice. His evening had been spent at one of his favorite local bars, the Bronco Lounge. Wiping out the thoughts of the death of Scott Wilson, Howard Jenkins, and Dale Blocker was not an easy task. Sam had consumed too much of the adult beverages that he relied on so much. When his mind was troubled, Gonzalez surrendered to the one weakness that had plagued him for most of his adult life.
Sam fumbled around on the front step and found his set of keys. He still could not discover which one worked on the front door. A voice from immediately behind him startled the stockbroker.
"Why don't you let me help you?" He heard.
"Who are you?" Sam slurred.
The person did not answer, but took the keys from Sam's hands. Soon the door swung open, and Sam was escorted inside.
"What you doing?" Sam asked.
The intruder did not answer, but went down the hallway, opening and closing doors to the bedrooms. The door to the last bedroom which belonged to Sam, was left open.
The stranger came back and grabbed Sam by his arm. They walked together to Sam's bedroom. The covers were already turned down on the king-size bed. The intruder helped Sam remove shoes, shirt, and pants. Then he helped him into bed.
Sam struggled to identify the person who was helping him, but in his inebriated state, none of it made sense. After getting into bed, the intruder pulled the top sheet over his entire body, including his head. Sam did not mind. The darkness protected him from the terrible events of the outside world.
As Sam was about to nod off to sleep, he heard clicking noises. He had no idea what was making them. It really did not matter. Sam was far too drunk to know these noises were sealing his eternal fate.
Saturday Morning
Central
"Where is she?" The detective demanded.
"I don't know," Niki answered. "She went straight to bed when we got home from eating. Donna didn't say anything about going anywhere."
"She is supposed to be here with you. That was one of the conditions for her release. She is in violation of that condition of her bail."
The detective was not a happy man on this early Saturday morning.
Niki had been awakened at 8:30 when he banged on her door. She put on a nightgown and stumbled to open the door of her townhome. Normally, the young detective would have been awake much earlier to get in her daily ritual of her exercise routine and the thirty-minute run. But the late hour of their return last night and the energy consumed by the multiple investigations, caused her to sleep in this Saturday morning.
The detective had asked to see Donna. When Niki opened the door to her spare bedroom, it was empty. The bed was made, and Donna was nowhere to be found.
Now, Niki was facing an angry detective with hard questions for which she had few answers.
"I'm sure she only stepped out for a minute. She will probably be right back," Niki said.
"What time did she step out?"
"I don't know," Niki replied, trying to untangle her long hair with one hand. "I didn't know she was gone."
"So you can't attest to her whereabouts from the time you went to bed until right now. Is that true?" He asked.
"I can't. She went to her room right before I went to bed. That was a little after midnight. I went to sleep and didn't hear her leave."
"Does she have a car?"
"She has it parked right beside mine. I'm assigned two spaces for my townhome. She is using one of those."
"You didn’t notice when the car was missing?"
"I can't see the parking lot from my bedroom windows." Niki paused. "What is this all about?"
"Sam Gonzales was found beaten to death in his home early this morning. A neighbor complained of screams coming from his house a few hours ago. Unfortunately, he went back to sleep, and didn't go over and check it out until around six. Mr. Gonzalez didn't answer the door, even though his car was parked outside. When the officers arrived, they found Mr. Gonzalez beaten to death in his bed."
Niki scoffed. "And you think little Donna beat this man to death? She couldn't have done it if she wanted to. She isn't strong enough."
"We have evidence that says she did," he replied.
Niki rubbed her eyes for clarity. "I don't believe that. She physically isn't capable of beating a grown man to death. There is no way."
"I'm afraid you're wrong, Miss Dupre. She easily could have committed this murder."
Niki's mouth dropped, but she did not say anything. The detective continued.
"The victim was stapled between sheets on his bed."
"Stapled?" Niki repeated. "How was he stapled?"
"Actually, he wasn't stapled. The sheets on bottom and top of him were stapled together. It also appears the victim was drunk. In that condition, he was unable to escape his bed. Someone, and we believe it was Miss Cross, beat him to death with a baseball bat while he was trapped between the sheets. It wasn't a pretty scene."
Niki's hand automatically moved to her mouth.
"As far as I know, Donna doesn't own a baseball bat. I know she doesn't have one in my house."
"She might have kept it in her car. You wouldn't have known if she did, would you?” He asked.
"I didn't check her car. But you can't believe it was her because she might have a bat there. That's not much to go on."
“We have more than an assumption, Miss Dupre."
"What? What do you have the ties Donna to this?" She asked.
"The stapler used to fasten the sheets together. It was left behind. Miss Cross's fingerprints are all over it," the detective said,
"What's going on?" Donna asked from behind the detective, a box held tightly under arm.
"Where have you been?" Niki inquired in a voice much higher than normal.
"I thought it would be nice if we had some donuts this morning. I me, nothing against all the healthy foods in your pantry, but sometimes a good glazed doughnut helps get a Saturday morning started."
"What time did you leave?" The detective asked.
"About twenty minutes ago," the young hourglass blonde replied. "I went to the shop right in front of the old junior high. It's only about ten minutes each way, and the line wasn't long this early."
"Did anyone see you leave?"
"Niki was asleep, and I wanted to surprise her. She's the only other one in the townhouse. Why are you asking all these questions? Is it important?"
The detective pulled out his handcuffs. "Miss Cross, you are being arrested for the murder of Samuel Gonzalez." He finished cuffing her, pulled a laminated card from his pocket, and informed her of her Miranda rights.
After the detective escorted Donna to his car and placed her in the backseat, Niki was left alone in her townhome with a full box of fresh hot donuts, the glaze still dripping from each one. But Niki’s appetite disappeared when she watched the car leave the lot with Donna crying in the rear seat.
Saturday Morning
Zachary
"Dalton, I'm glad you're here. I felt nervous coming here by myself. It's hard to believe that Sam Gonzalez was beaten to death inside this house a few hours ago."
Dalton put his arm around his fiancée. Niki squeezed Dalton's arm.
"I don't mind. I'm glad the police let you in. They don't normally do that," he said.
"I asked Farrell to call them. He told them it was necessary for her defense. They didn't want the charges thrown out due to a technicality, so they agreed to let us in."
He walked into the house first. "We had better hurry before they change their mind."
Once inside, the couple first noticed the chalky, fresh fingerprint dust over most of the flat surfaces of the room. Knowing how hard it was to remove from clothing, both try to avoid contact.
"You said he was killed in his bed?" Dalton asked.
"That's what the detective said," Niki nodded. "He told me that the sheets were stapled together around t
he edges and Donna beat Sam to death with a baseball bat."
"Where in the world would Donna get a baseball bat? Are you sure he said baseball? Could could it have been a softball bat?"
"I'm positive. He said it more than once, and referred to it as a baseball bat each time," she replied.
"Let's go back to the bedroom. If there is anything to be found, that's probably where it will be."
They walked slowly and quietly to the master bedroom. Entering the room, the smell of blood hit them before they stepped inside the door. The source of the odor was evident, even with the body and the sheets removed.
The mattress was soaked in crimson red. It was on the floor on each side of the bed. Even the deepest of the pools of blood was already drying, crusting on the outer edges.
Dalton and Niki walked closer, inspecting both sides of the bed. The headboard was cracked from a misdirected below. Blood spray streaked and dotted the ceiling as well as the walls. Blood covered the mirror on the dresser a few feet from the bed.
Niki stood quietly with her hands on her hips. Her gaze shifted from the ceiling to the walls to the headboard.
"What are you thinking?" Dalton asked.
“Donna didn't do it. I'm positive,” she said, without looking at Dalton.
"That's good. Any particular reason or more woman’s intuition?" He smiled as he said it.
"We need to get as many photographs of the blood spray and the headboard as possible. We’ll be able to prove that Donna wasn't holding the bat that killed Sam Gonzalez."
Dalton shook his head.
"I trust you, but I'm not following you. How will some photographs prove it wasn't your friend?"
"Look at the headboard." She pointed at the cracked wood. "That wasn't hit by a little girl's blow. Whoever hit that and made that big of a crack in it, had a lot more strength than Donna."
"I'm with you for that. But it could be argued that Donna is an athletic young lady and could have used her ability to leverage her blow and get more power than anyone would suspect."
"The odds will be on our side when we have this much blood evidence." Niki pointed at the streaks of blood splatter streaming across the ceiling. Then she made a motion like she was holding a bat and swinging it up and down over the bed.
"See how long those strokes are." She said. "I'm a foot taller than Donna, and my swings aren’t long enough to make those. Somebody a lot taller than either of us made them. Donna is innocent."
Dalton grinned.
"You're earning your pay, investigator."
"Donna isn't paying me," she responded.
"At least you eliminated her from the suspect list for this one. If she didn't kill Gonzalez, then it stands to reason that she didn't kill the others either."
"I wish you were on the jury," Niki grinned. "Unfortunately, I will have to prove her innocence."
“You said there were a couple of items.”
"The other thing in our favor for this one is the stapler. Donna hasn't been in the office since last Monday. She might have taken the other letter opener before then, but not the stapler. That’s a little shaky, though."
“Why?”
"She still has a key," Niki sighed. "And they haven't changed the alarm code. They were scared the other guys in the office wouldn't remember a new one. She had the opportunity to go to the office anytime she wanted and get the stapler."
Dalton rubbed his hand across his forehead.
"When will Ashton learn? He needs to put in a security system with video. Then we would know who took those items from her desk."
"Unless he doesn't want that evidence."
Dalton stopped walking.
"You're saying Ashton may be the one who took those things. Without a video system, nobody would suspect one of the partners pilfered cheap items from the receptionist desk."
"And then used them to eliminate all of his problems when taking over the firm. Remember, you told me at Frank's that his primary motivation was to get rid of problem personnel. Sam Gonzalez fit into that category."
"He sure did. I don't remember the particulars, but I remember he was giving Scott fits when he was alive. It's looking more and more like Ashton killed his partner, doesn't it?"
Niki nodded.
"To you and me. It does, but not to the police. Donna is still at the top of their list. All the murder weapons came from her desk."
"But you just showed me proof that she couldn't have murdered Sam. It had to have been someone a lot stronger and a lot taller."
Niki looked around the room one last time.
"There are two problems with that. First, the state can always get an expert, some hired gun that will testify to anything if you pay them enough. That expert will testify that Donna may have been so enraged that she turned into a superwoman and had robot–like strength."
"I think we’ll win on that point. The evidence is overwhelming, even to a novice like me," the senator said.
"You're smarter than the average bear, Yogi. You believe in facts, not emotions."
They walked to the door. "You said there were a couple of problems. What's the other one?" Dalton asked.
"If they go in order of the killings, there could be as many as four trials with this one going last. The prosecutor may take it one at a time or try them any way he wants. He may try the first three and leave this one separate if he thinks there may be some serious evidence that doesn't fit in with his theory."
They reached Niki's SUV.
Dalton, still thinking about what Niki said, spoke. "If you're right, he could try Donna for the first three murders, and wait until afterwards to try her for Sam's murder. If the jury finds her guilty of the first three, it won't make a lot of difference. Donna will already be on death row, regardless."
"Now you understand why I have to find the actual killer. The police think they already have her in custody, and they will aren't willing to spend the resources to prove someone else did it. To them, the case is over."
Dalton looked out the passenger side window.
"I wonder if Donna understands how much trouble she is in."
Niki grimaced. "I don't think so. She knows that she is innocent and is still young enough to be naïve and think justice will always prevail."
Niki backed up to turn around when a pickup truck slid to a stop next to her rear bumper. The couple got out of Niki's SUV. They found themselves facing Blake Hebert, his face red and his bulging muscles tense.
Saturday Morning
Zachary
"Where is she?" The football player demanded.
Niki stepped toward the hulk of a young man instead of away from him. That move seemed to take Blake by surprise.
"Donna is in police custody. She has been arrested," Niki answered.
"Why? She ain't done nothing." Blake slurred.
"That's what we’re trying to prove, Blake. That's why we're here. Why are you here?"
The large athlete seemed to have difficulty putting his words together. "I came to—I—I came to get her. She needs my help."
Niki stepped right in front of the muscular young man.
"You have to let us handle this. If you go down to the station, you will hurt her more than help. Let us do it our way."
“What if your way don't work? What then?"
Niki put her small hand on one of his massive arms. That seemed to calm Blake a little.
"It will. It may take a little time, but both of us believe in her innocence. We’ll do everything possible to prove it."
Blake jerked his arm away from Niki. He turned and slammed a fist on the hood of his pickup, leaving a huge dent in the almost new vehicle. He paid it no attention.
"Blake, you must control yourself. Donna needs for you to be under control so you can help her."
"How can I help her if I can't get her out of jail?"
"Answer a couple of questions for me."
"Okay."
"Do you know if Donna owns a baseball bat?"
The irate youngster laughed. "Why would she have a bat? She ain't no athlete. She's a girl."
Niki could not let that statement pass uncontested.
"Some females are elite athletes."
Blake shook his massive head. "A girl can be an athlete or girl. She can't be both."
Niki decided that arguing with the biased man would accomplish nothing. She pressed on.
"Did you see the stapler from her desk in her possession this week?"
"She don't need no stapler when she's with me. What would she do with it? That's stupid."
Niki stayed calm.
"We need to know, Blake. Some questions may sound stupid to you, but they are important to us and to Donna."
"You ain't gonna help her by asking stupid questions about bats and staplers. Do you know what you're doing?"
"I hope we do. I really hope we do."
Saturday Morning
Central
Niki and Dalton opted to have a sandwich and a salad at her townhouse rather than eating out again. They were about halfway through the turkey and spinach combinations when the doorbell sounded.
Niki was surprised to see David Phelps standing on the other side when she opened the door. She stepped back.
"May I help you?" She asked.
"I need to talk to you and the senator. Is he with you? Is he here?" The nervous man asked.
Niki glanced over her shoulder, but Dalton was more interested in the rest of his sandwich than her conversation at the door.
"Come in, but only for a few minutes. We still have a lot to do."
"It’ll just take a minute. I promise," he said.
Niki let Phelps inside. Dalton saw them coming in and immediately stiffened when he recognized the small man.
"What are you doing here?" His tone harsh.
"I want to ask y'all a favor," Phelps responded.
