by Rick Reed
“I think Vinnie is standing in. Jake sounded like he was coming down with something when I talked to him yesterday,” Jack said. “What do you think of Mrs. Day’s take on all of this?” Jack asked, trying to get the focus back on the case and away from food.
“First off, I don’t like the fact that Max and Harry Day were both shot to death. And I don’t like that most of Max’s and all of Harry’s files are missing from headquarters. And the way the scenes were handled. If there is a complete file on either of these cases, maybe Detective Olson took them home and just never brought them back. Then there’s the little fact that Sergeant Mattingly is tied to all of this. I mean, I like Mattingly, but this is suspicious, don’t you think?”
Jack agreed. “The whole thing stinks, Bigfoot, but we can’t get ahead of ourselves. We’ll find Harry’s robbery/murder file when we get downtown. Then we go to property and see what evidence they have for us.” He hoped the files were just misplaced. If Olson had taken them home, which was a good possibility, he might still have them. Olson hadn’t done much and what he’d done was done badly. “When I was young, my father told me, ‘Jack, real life is different from what people think. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut and you won’t catch flies.’”
“Wise man, your father,” Liddell said. “Wiseass, his son.”
“Bite me, Bigfoot. Can you drive a little faster?”
Liddell responded by pulling to the curb and stopping. “If you want to drive, it’s okay by me, pod’na. Maybe you can take some of that aggression out on the other drivers.”
“Sorry, Bigfoot,” Jack said. “I guess this case—these cases—are getting under my skin. You don’t drive like a sissy. I apologize.”
“Does this mean you’re going to get off my butt for my safe driving habits?” Liddell asked.
“Don’t get carried away,” Jack said and grinned. “You still drive like an old woman. So, put your big foot down on the gas and let’s get this party started.”
“I love you too,” Liddell said, put his left signal on, and pulled back onto First Avenue.
The truth behind Jack’s temper was their getting assigned to this case. He’d planned a romantic evening at home. Him, Katie, no dog, no phones, wine, scotch. Maybe some more scotch and wine. He’d had a hot tub installed at their house. The water would be the perfect temperature and the tub was the perfect place for drinking.
The special evening was for Katie. She hadn’t been feeling well. Yesterday morning when he woke up he found her in the upstairs bathroom. She said she didn’t want to wake him, but he could tell she’d been crying. He knew better than to be an insensitive lout and ask her what was wrong. She either wouldn’t answer or he wouldn’t like the answer and then he’d try to fix whatever was wrong and would make it worse—“just like a man,” as women were fond of saying.
He thought about having flowers delivered. She loved flowers. But should he have them delivered, or should he bring them? He’d put together a picnic basket with candles, a tablecloth, her favorite cheese, chips, dip, her favorite wine, his favorite twelve-year-old Glenmorangie scotch and glasses. Screw the flowers. If the rest of that didn’t get him laid, nothing would.
It was going to be a surprise. Instead, the Captain and Chief had surprised him with this damn case. Political cases never ended well. Or on time.
As if to prove his point, 3:30 traffic on First Avenue going south became a rolling parking lot with workers heading home toward the Twin Bridges and on into Henderson, Kentucky. It was always bumper-to-bumper down First Avenue. Liddell had taken a shortcut through side streets that the crowd of driving dead must have discovered. Now they were sitting, stuck in traffic on St. Mary’s Drive, behind Berry Plastics.
“Oh, like you could do any better,” Liddell said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yeah, but you were thinking it.”
“Was not.”
“I can tell by that little tic in the corner of your eye.”
“Bite me, Bigfoot.”
They turned off Martin Luther King Boulevard and onto Sycamore Street, then a sharp right into the parking area behind the Chief’s complex. Double Dick’s reserved parking spot was taken. Jack said, “Pull in there.” He was pointing to the police garage doors. A large sign on the roll-up door declared no parking and under that said that violators would be towed.
Jack took the FBI placard from the glove box and placed it on the dash. “Now it’s our spot, Agent Blanchard. No one messes with the FBI.”
They went to the side door. Jack pushed the intercom button, the lock clicked, and they entered.
Judy Mangold, the Chief’s secretary, sat at her desk, said “He’s waiting,” and hooked a thumb toward Chief Pope’s office. Jack knocked on the Chief’s door and heard, “Come.”
Jack and Liddell entered. Chief Pope and Captain Franklin were listening to the audio recording of the ill-advised conversation again. The recording stopped and the Chief motioned for them to take chairs.
Jack said, “Maybe we should go to the conference room.” They did.
Jack arranged the documents on the conference table. “We’re going to need some direction here, Chief,” Jack said. “We need to get into central records and find any material they have relating to Max’s case. Also, the robbery-murder case of Harry Day.”
“I can get whatever you need, Jack,” Captain Franklin offered.
“I appreciate the offer, Captain, but I would like to recruit someone from records to work on my team,” Jack said.
“You want the record-room sergeant?” Chief Pope asked. “He’s pretty new at the job and wasn’t around when all of this took place.”
Jack said, “I want someone who will dig until they find—”
“Any piece of dirt or gossip they can,” Pope finished the thought. “Penny Pepper?”
“Yeah.”
Central records was staffed by a gaggle of civilians, mostly women, and gossip was measured in half-lives. The rumor mill was headquartered in central records and their supreme commander was an early-sixties-year-old blond dynamo named Penny Pepper. She knew everything there was to know about everything and everyone. Penny was the ninja master, the Red Power Ranger, and the Xena: Warrior Princess of all police-related rumors.
“Penny,” Chief Pope said. “You’re serious?”
“If anyone knows any background, it will be Penny. I can make her my supersecret agent.”
Chief Pope picked up the phone and punched a button. “Judy, is Pepper working today? She is. Tell her you need to see her. Tell her you have something juicy if she doesn’t say anything. Then show her in here. Yes. I’m aware.”
He hung up and said, “Judy said Pepper will sell us down the river. She’s right. Do you really need her, Jack?”
Jack didn’t have time to answer before there was a knock on the door and Penny Pepper was shown in by Judy.
Pepper said, “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.” She said it jokingly, but her expression said she was guilty of something.
“Penny,” Captain Franklin said. “We need your help with something extremely sensitive.”
Penny’s face began to glow as if she had won the powerball lotto and was bursting at the seams to tell someone. “I’m your girl,” she said. “I can keep a secret.”
There was an old saying: Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead. He’d have to kill her. He asked Penny, “What have you heard?”
“I haven’t heard a thing, Detective Murphy.”
He noticed she had called him by his title and not Jack like she usually did. His mother would do the same thing when she was mad at him. She would call him Mr. Murphy. As in, “Mr. Murphy, you take your hands off that boy’s throat this instant.” Penny would call him Detective Murphy when she had been snooping into his affairs.
“Penny, what have you heard?”
Chief Pope asked.
“Okay. I’ve heard that Jack and Liddell are investigating the old murder case of Max Day. And I heard that Deputy Chief Dick went to Mrs. Day to tell her to keep her mouth shut because he was going to become Chief.”
“Is that all?” Jack asked.
“Well, I know that Captain Franklin took the Day case file from records,” she said, confirming what Jack had suspected. Their discreet investigation had already been blown to hell.
“So…” Jack prompted her.
“I know he didn’t find much. I could tell by how much space the file had taken up in the cabinet drawer. The date of the file he took was around the time Max Day was murdered. Then he got in another cabinet that would contain records dated around the time Harry Day was murdered. He didn’t find Harry’s file. I couldn’t find it, either. You’ll need the missing files and so I started doing some investigating on my own,” she said proudly. “That is what you want, isn’t it, Jack?”
“I think you chose well,” Chief Pope said to Jack. To Penny he said, “Penny, I’m going to ask you to do something that is not in your job description, but…”
“I’ll be happy to, Chief Pope,” Penny said. “As long as I don’t get fired by the incoming mayor, that is, or let go by Double—erm, I mean Deputy Chief Dick. I don’t think he cares for me. If he finds out I’m helping you build a case against him he won’t be happy. Not at all.”
Pope frowned. “We’re not building a case against anyone, Penny. This is a discreet investigation. A peek, if you will. I can promise that I won’t fire you. Unless you compromise Jack’s investigation, of course. That means no talking to anyone except for the people in this room. No one can know what you’re doing or what you provide to Jack. If you don’t want to be involved, I’ll understand.”
“No. I’ll do it. Whatever it is. Just ask.”
Chief Pope said, “It sounds like you have a handle on what I want. I remind you—”
Penny put her fingers to her lips and mimicked turning a key. “My lips are sealed. I have to keep quiet about this,” she finished for him. “I’ll be glad to help with anything that keeps you here, Chief Pope. I like things just the way they are.”
She was dismissed and Jack watched down the hall to be sure she left the offices. Chief Pope said, “I hope this doesn’t bite us in the ass.”
Jack wanted to say, “Chief, we’ve already been chomped,” but he said, “Let me show you what we have and tell you what we suspect. You’ll see why we need to take the chance with Pepper.”
Jack took them through Harry’s collection of papers, the remembrance books, the copies of police reports, and a little notebook log Harry had kept of all the dates, times, and who he spoke with at the police station. Mrs. Day hadn’t remembered the notebook was in the bottom of the box. Captain Thomas Dick’s name was mentioned several times. There were also a dozen notations of people he’d spoken to that he considered possible witnesses, but he didn’t say why he thought so.
Jack said, “The file we have right now doesn’t have any corresponding reports to show any of these people were ever interviewed.”
Chief Pope was going through Harry’s notebook and he put it down. Captain Franklin closed the remembrance book. Jack put the documents back in the mailing envelope.
Chief Pope said, “I can certainly see why they thought the police were covering something up.”
“Mrs. Day wants us to copy this and give it back,” Jack said.
Chief Pope leaned out of the conference room. “Judy,” he called. She came and Jack handed her the box.
“I’ll make a copy,” she said.
“The family seemed to just give up after Harry Day was killed,” Jack said.
Pope said, “I was a motor patrol officer when Max and Harry were killed. I seem to remember that Detective Olson worked Harry’s case.”
“He was the investigator on Max’s case too,” Jack said. “Hopefully, Penny will find something. We’ll check the cold case cabinets in the detectives’ office. We need to check the property room. If we don’t find anything, we’ll visit Olson.”
There was another knock at the door. Judy stuck her head in and handed Jack a piece of notepaper. “Penny said you’d need this,” she said and closed the door.
“What is it?” Liddell asked.
“Dan Olson’s home address,” Jack said.
“She’s a mind reader,” Liddell whispered.
Jack asked, “What can you tell us about Harry Day’s murder, Chief?”
“I remember he owned a gun shop downtown. It’s still there. Earl’s Gun Emporium. At least, that’s the name now,” Chief Pope said.
“Mrs. Day said they sold it after Mr. Day was killed,” Liddell said.
“It’s been a long time back, but I remember Harry was shot and killed during a holdup. Dan Olson worked the case. I remember, because there were some rumors going around that he helped himself to a couple of guns while he was in the shop alone. Of course, detectives weren’t very popular among the lowly street cops back then and rumors were in abundance,” Pope said.
“The documents Mrs. Day gave us have copies of two different offense reports made out when Max was killed,” Jack said. “One of them was handwritten and signed by Officer T. Mattingly. The other was typed and signed by Detective Olson. The reports give different facts. For instance, Mattingly’s report indicates signs of a scuffle outside of Max’s car.”
“And Olson’s report?” Pope asked.
“Olson’s report concludes there was no suspect and doesn’t mention any type of scuffle. There’s not much more than basic info on Max or the car he was found dead in. Olson’s supplementary report was minimal at best. There’s no mention of interviews, evidence, nothing but Max being found in his car, dead from a gunshot wound to the head. His report sounds like Max was sitting in the car and someone just walked up and popped him. No tire tracks, no scuffle, nothing to indicate a fight or whether there was one person or twenty there when it happened.”
“Don’t forget Mattingly was a new patrolman, Jack,” Chief Pope said. “Maybe he turned in the report and Detective Olson decided it wasn’t correct and made out his own.”
“That would be more plausible if Mattingly’s offense report was in the file you gave us, Chief. Mrs. Day had both offense reports. She said Mattingly was in touch with her husband and giving him information as to Max’s murder. She didn’t seem to notice the reports were different.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Pope said.
“The common denominator in all of these, if you include Reina Day, is Sergeant Mattingly. He was the one who found Max’s body. He also found Harry’s body. He was involved with investigating Harry Day’s killing, and he was the first officer on scene at Reina’s attack,” Liddell pointed out.
Jack said, “The remembrance book from Max’s funeral shows that Sergeant Mattingly attended the service. Mrs. Day said he was the only policeman who came to the service to her knowledge. He talked to Harry and Reina at the service and she said Harry was angry afterward, claiming the police were incompetent. She said Mattingly began getting together with her husband and discussing Max’s case. She said he supplied Mr. Day with some of the documents she gave us today. He never came to their house, but she knew they were talking because Mr. Day would tell her things they said to each other. When weeks had passed and there was nothing new from the investigation, Mattingly went to Rex Mundi and talked to several students about a fight that occurred between Max and Deputy Chief Dick and two of his friends. The fight is not mentioned in Olson’s paperwork.” He told them that Reina Day, according to her mother, said Double Dick and two of his friends were involved in the fight and it was over a girl named Ginger Purdie. Dick and Max were vying for Ginger’s affection. “She said Mattingly suddenly backed off. She thought he’d been warned not to talk to them anymore. From what she told us,
I think the idea of a cover-up began with Mattingly.”
He told them about Olson’s contact after Harry’s death and the suspicious questions he asked, then the missing ledger. He told them Mrs. Day couldn’t determine if any guns were missing because of the missing ledger, and that the money was locked up in the safe. And how Olson had offered to open the safe and check the contents. She declined.
“This doesn’t prove anything, Jack,” Captain Franklin said, because he was expected to play devil’s advocate. “Could be coincidence. We need something solid to clear these cases.”
Jack didn’t believe in coincidence. Everything happened for a reason. Everything was connected. He just couldn’t see the links. Yet.
“What do you know about Olson, Chief?” Jack asked.
“Olson was a detective when I came on. He’s been retired for a while,” Chief Pope said. “Did you know him, Charles?”
Captain Franklin said, “Vaguely. He retired right after I came on the department. I knew who he was.”
Chief Pope mused, “He wasn’t a real good detective, but he was connected. Politically. And more.”
“What do you mean by ‘more’, Chief?”
“He was part of the Masons, Jack. The Masonic Lodge here in town. Everyone in the detectives’ office was a Mason. A lot of the upper ranks were too. Your father also belonged,” Chief Pope said. “Jake Brady. But they didn’t make a big deal out of it. Your dad and Jake were street cops to the core. I’m glad to see the business those two started has done so well. A lot of guys here were jealous of their success.”
Jack didn’t know what to say. He was seeing his dad from a totally new perspective. He knew his dad never wanted to be anything but a street cop, but he had no idea about the influence that being a Mason had with the PD in the past. It made him respect his dad even more. Jake Murphy wasn’t an ass-kisser or game player.
“I’m well aware of your war room at your restaurant, Jack,” Chief Pope said.
