by Kathi Daley
“There are too many possibilities,” Roy concluded after we’d tried twenty different number combinations.
“Assuming Judge Harper accessed the safe on a regular basis, maybe you can identify the numbers used by studying the keypad itself,” Kyle suggested. “Are any of the keys worn or more soiled than the others?”
I grabbed a flashlight and a magnifying glass from my backpack and studied each number. The keypad was white with black numbers. To the naked eye, none of the keys appeared more worn than any of the others, but when eyed through the magnifying glass, a clear pattern emerged.
“The three, four, five, and six are noticeably more worn than the others,” I said. “But that’s still a lot of possible combinations.”
“Try three, four, five, six, in that order,” Kyle told me. “The second most commonly used passcode to one with special meaning is an easy one to remember.”
Three, four, five, six worked. The heavy metal door nudged open to reveal a stack of file folders. I removed them and set them on the desk. “Should we look at them here?”
Roy shook his head. “Let’s take them to my place. That way we can look at them without worrying about someone figuring out what we’re doing.”
“We aren’t doing anything illegal,” I reminded Roy. “You’re one of the deputies assigned to investigate Judge Harper’s murder, you entered the house with keys you had in your possession, and you located files revealed to you by a source you trust and have worked with on other occasions.”
“I realize that, but now I have a partner to consider. I’d like to keep the fact that we’re working together just between us for the time being. As I said before, Kate’s a good cop and a nice woman, but based on my observations so far, she has very strong opinions that don’t seem to leave room for exceptions to any rules. Until we have a chance to really discuss things, I’d prefer we keep our partnership to ourselves.”
“Whatever makes you feel most comfortable is fine with me. Since I have you, however, do you think we could make a stop on the way to your house?”
“Stop? Where?”
“The impound lot. I’d like to take a look at Harper’s car.”
“The crime lab already went through it. There wasn’t anything to find.”
“The crime scene guys already went through the house and didn’t find the files,” I pointed out.
Roy let out a breath. “Okay. We can stop by, but we’ll need to be quick. Like I said, at this point I prefer that Kate not know we’re working together.”
“I won’t need long. I’ll let Kyle know what we’re doing and then follow you to the impound lot.”
The impound lot was on the outskirts of town. Any vehicle involved in a crime of any nature was brought to the lot for processing and storage. Cars which were parked illegally or had an excess of unpaid parking tickets were brought to the lot as well.
A wave of nausea gripped me when I saw Judge Harper’s car. Based on the twisted remains it was a miracle my dad had even survived. Roy must have noticed that I’d gone suddenly pale because he paused after entering the lot, giving me a few minutes to gain control over my emotions, before proceeding to the car.
“We don’t have to do this,” Roy said softly.
“I know. I want to. I just wasn’t expecting so much damage.”
Roy took my hand in his and led me around the exterior of the car.
“It looks like the car has been partially dismantled,” I said, noticing that the front of the car was sitting on blocks and the wheels and fenders had been removed.
“Like I told you before, the crime scene guys have already been over the car. I doubt there’s anything to find.”
I glanced at the interior though a broken window. There was so much blood. I hadn’t expected that, although I realized I should have. I closed my eyes and took several quick breaths before taking a closer look. The rear seat had been removed and the dash had been partially dismantled. Roy was right. If there had ever been anything to find, the crime scene guys would have found it. I suppose I knew that, but I was still glad I had seen the car for myself.
“Let’s go,” I finally said. “Maybe we will pick up a lead in the files. I’ll follow you to your house.”
Once we arrived at Roy’s house, he cleared the piles of newspapers and unopened mail from his dining table and spread the files in their place, then poured us both a soda. The folders were from cases that had come through Judge Harper’s court. He’d been a judge for a long time and had overseen hundreds of cases. What seemed to connect these particular ones were the subjects of the notes he’d made about them.
Roy and I spent a good hour going over those notes before either of us spoke.
“These all seem to be cases in which Judge Harper thought the jury had gotten it wrong.”
“Yeah,” Roy agreed. I could tell by the frown on his face that he was still trying to work out the significance of what he was looking at. “In almost all these trials the jury’s verdict was that the defendant was not guilty, but, based on his notes, Judge Harper seemed to believe that was the wrong conclusion.”
“Can a judge overturn a jury’s decision?”
“Not if the jury concluded that the defendant was innocent. If the reverse were true and a jury found the defendant guilty while the presiding judge disagreed, there are steps that can be taken, although it’s complicated and doesn’t happen very often. While most of the files in the safe are trials in which Harper believed the defendant was guilty but the jury disagreed, there are a few exceptions. In these four instances,” Roy handed me those folders, “it appears Judge Harper felt the person was innocent, but there wasn’t enough evidence to overturn a jury ruling.”
I sat back in my chair and took a minute to consider the situation. While the files we located in Judge Harper’s safe may or may not be in any way related to his death, in my mind, there was a better than average chance we’d find our motive from within the files. “Say it is true. Say these files represent trials in which Judge Harper believed a person to be guilty but the jury let them off. Why even investigate? It’s not as if Judge Harper could have the person retried for the same crime.”
“Not the same crime. A different crime.”
I frowned as I tried to work this out in my head. “Harper believed the individuals tried in these files escaped the punishment they deserved. He knew he couldn’t have them retried for the same crime, so he was working with law enforcement to have those people arrested for different crimes?”
Roy hesitated. “I don’t know if that’s definitely the case, but based on a cursory examination of these files I’d say it is. His notes indicate that Judge Harper believed these men and women were guilty of the crimes they were accused of, although they weren’t convicted. I don’t see anything that specifically indicates that he was working with law enforcement to try to rectify those situations, but there are notes tying those individuals to more recent crimes. Maybe Judge Harper planned to turn the information he’d gathered over to local law enforcement later.”
“Why? He wasn’t even a practicing judge anymore. Why would he bother?”
Roy shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe he had some legal reason for doing it, or maybe he was simply looking into the matters to satisfy his own curiosity.”
“Do you think any of these people should be suspects in Judge Harper’s death?” I asked.
Roy shuffled the files, separating them into piles. “Most of these trials happened a long time ago. There are a few corresponding cases that are more recent, though. I suppose we could research those to see if anything pops.”
I took my cell phone out of my pocket. I’d told Kyle I’d call him back, so he was probably waiting. If there were cases to be researched I knew that Kyle was the best man for the job. At least from an internet search perspective.
I dialed Kyle’s number and he ans
wered on the first ring. The poor guy probably had been sitting by his phone for the past hour. I briefly filled him in on the theory Roy and I had come up with. I then asked if he would have time to perform an internet search of all the cases and individuals mentioned in the files we’d selected as potentially being the most relevant.
“I’d be happy to,” Kyle answered. “Do you have a scanner?”
“Yeah, I have one,” Roy answered.
“Scan the important pages and email them to me. I’ll see what I can find out. While I’m doing that, maybe the two of you should look into potential suspects based on Harper’s tenure as mayor. There were several hot-topic issues causing controversy at the last town council meeting I attended.”
“Such as?” I asked.
“There were several controversial items on the agenda,” Kyle answered, “but one of the more organized protests came from the merchants association. They were up in arms about a sales tax Harper was trying to push through to fund an arts program at the schools.”
“No one wants to see increased taxes, but I doubt someone would kill him over an extra half cent on the dollar. Was there anyone who seemed to be leading the protest?” I asked.
“I’m not sure what may have occurred while we were away, but at the last meeting I attended, several individuals from the merchants association spoke about the subject, each from a slightly different angle. As I said, they were organized, and they’d gathered quite a lot of signatures to back up their opinion, which at least suggested that if the idea was placed on a ballot, it would most likely be defeated.”
“I suppose the conflict could have escalated, but I’m not seeing a strong enough reason to put anyone on the suspect list. Who else do you have?” I asked.
“There’s a developer, Striker Bristow, who’s been trying to get a permit for a strip mall,” Kyle informed us. “The council was divided, but Harper was very verbal about his lack of support for the project. I’m not sure Bristow would kill the mayor to get his way, but I got the impression he isn’t used to taking no for an answer.”
“Okay, I’ll add him to the list. Anything else?”
“The only other thing that comes to mind is the conflict around the proposal to tear down the old post office,” Kyle added after a slight pause. “I’m not saying anyone was necessarily upset enough over the issue to kill Harper, but when money or conservation of the environment or community is involved, it sometimes doesn’t take much to send someone over the deep end.”
“I’ll see what I can find out,” I told Kyle. “Let us know if you find anything significant in the files Roy is scanning.”
“I’ll call you as soon as I’ve had a chance to look at things.”
“I should get back to work,” Roy said as soon as we hung up the phone. “If you’re going to investigate, keep a low profile and keep me in the loop. And Tj…”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. I don’t want you to end up in the hospital alongside your father.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promised before heading out to Grandpa’s truck. Kyle had a good point about council business being a possible motive. He’d missed the last several meetings while we were away, but Grandpa’s friend Bookman was on the town council too, so maybe I’d pay him a visit.
Chapter 4
Bookman, a.k.a. R. L. Hellerman, was a bestselling author, a town council member, and the fiancé of Jenna’s mother, Helen Henderson. He’d been friends with my grandfather, as well as the entire Jensen family, for many years, and I knew I could count on him to help me in any way he could. Bookman lived in a lakeside mansion with Helen, who had moved in with him while I was visiting Gull Island.
“Tj, sweetheart.” Helen hugged me after answering the door. “Jenna said you were back. How’s your father?”
“The same. I was hoping to speak to Bookman. Is he around?”
“He’s in his study, working on his next novel.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I thought he’d retired.”
“He did.” Helen closed the door behind me. “But the reality is that writing is in his blood. He tries to quit in order to pursue other passions, but I doubt he ever will.”
I found I had to agree with Helen. Bookman had officially retired at least three times that I knew of. “I need to ask him about something important. Do you think it might be okay to interrupt him?”
“Normally I’d say no, but for you, given the circumstances, I’m sure he’ll make an exception. Let’s check.”
I followed Helen down the long hall paneled with dark wood. If I had to bet, I’d say the décor of the house was about to change dramatically now that Helen, who preferred light and airy spaces, had moved in. Helen owned half of the Antiquery, the antique store and café she shared with Jenna. Jenna ran the restaurant, while Helen dealt with the antiques, though she’d taken a lot of time off since she began dating Bookman. The pair loved to travel, and Jenna had indicated that Helen might give up her share of the Antiquery altogether once she married her wealthy fiancé.
I wasn’t sure what that would mean for Jenna, who really depended on her help, but with the promotion Jenna’s husband, Dennis, had just received at the fire station, it was conceivable she might sell the Antiquery and move on to something else as well.
Helen knocked once on the hardwood door leading to Bookman’s office, then opened it and entered without waiting for a reply. “Tj is here to speak to you,” she informed her fiancé.
Bookman, a distinguished-looking man with dark hair peppered with gray, looked up from his computer before standing up and crossing the room. “Tj, I’d heard you were back. How’s your dad?”
“The same.”
“I went by the hospital and tried to visit with him, but I guess that’s reserved for family only in the ICU. I told the nurse at the desk that I was like family, but that wasn’t good enough.”
“I’m sure Hunter can get you in if you really want to visit, although Dad hasn’t regained consciousness, so I doubt he’d even know you were there.”
Bookman motioned for me to take a seat on the sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling fireplace. “Still, I think I’ll talk to Hunter just the same. This whole thing has been such a shock. I can’t believe Harold is gone.”
I sat down next to Helen, who had decided to join us. She was a huge gossip, and I wished I could speak to Bookman alone, but this was her house now, so it would be rude to try to exclude her. “I understand my father and Judge Harper were at a town council meeting before the accident.”
Bookman nodded. “Yes. Your father was there to give a report on the resort’s part in the upcoming Fourth of July festivities.”
“And his truck wouldn’t start, so the judge offered him a ride home,” I continued.
“That’s what I heard as well; I left before they did, so I can’t state that as a fact,” Bookman answered. “I’ve spoken to several other people who were still at the community center when I left. Based on what I’ve been told, I’m fairly certain your father and Harold were the last to leave at the end of the meeting.”
I sat back on the sofa and tucked one leg up under my body. I anticipated a lengthy conversation and figured I might as well make myself comfortable. “I’d like to ask you some questions that relate to the accident, but I need you to promise that what we discuss today will remain between us.” I looked directly at Helen. “Do you both agree?”
“Certainly,” Bookman answered right away.
I continued to maintain eye contact with Helen.
“That’s a given,” Helen answered. “You know I’m not one to gossip.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. If I wanted to talk to Bookman, I was going to have to trust Helen.
“I spoke to Roy,” I began. “He informed me that the crash wasn’t an accident at all. The brake line of the car had been sliced and he believes Judge Harper was specifi
cally targeted.”
“Oh my.” Helen gasped.
“I hate to have my suspicions confirmed, but the possibility of tampering entered my mind when I heard what occurred,” Bookman said.
“I’ll be investigating the case with Roy, though at this point we’d like to keep that fact to ourselves. He has a new partner he doesn’t quite have a feel for yet. The last thing we need is for the sheriff to find out I’m helping Roy and come down on both of us.”
Both Bookman and Helen reiterated that our conversation would stay within the office walls.
“Roy and Kyle are looking into some old cases Harper had been digging around in, but it occurred to us that another motive could stem from Judge Harper being the mayor. Kyle indicated that he’d ruffled a few feathers since he’d assumed the position.”
Bookman sat back in his chair and paused before answering. “It’s true Harold has made a few enemies along the way, but I have a hard time believing anyone would kill him over anything involving the town council. I suppose it could be worth looking into. Is there anything specific you’d like to know?”
“We’re thinking that whoever did this had a current beef with him. The fact that the brake line was cut while he was dealing with town business could indicate that the person who did it had a matter under discussion at that very meeting.”
Bookman opened a drawer and took out a piece of paper. “This is the agenda for the meeting. Most of it was spent discussing the upcoming holiday celebration. There were a few arguments but nothing major.”
“What sort of arguments?” I asked. I’d learned during earlier investigations never to discount anything.
Bookman paused briefly before answering. “There are a few merchants who’d like to see the parade route altered so it covers all of Main Street, from the bridge on the west end to the park on the east end of town, rather than turning north on Pine after it crosses the midway point. Of course, those merchants who currently are on the parade route but would no longer be if the change is made were just as vocal against the change.”
