The Cleanest Kill

by Rick Reed

  Schirmer said, “Imagine what this would do to a person’s head.”

  Jack imagined the exact damage they had seen on Max’s X-ray.

  “The tip of the dart is extremely sharp, like a needle, to allow it to penetrate a shark’s thick hide. It could easily penetrate a human skull, especially on the side where the bone is not so thick.”

  He pointed to the inset picture again. “The dart is hollow. Like a big hypodermic needle, if you will. The compressed air is released when the CO2 cartridge is ruptured and pushed through the dart. It’s like an explosion of air and not gas created by igniting gunpowder. Its purpose is to kill sharks or predators, not to deter them. The air creates a cavity that expands until it causes what you see here. This poor man was accidentally stuck with the dart and the expanding gas literally eviscerated him.”

  Jack didn’t know what to say. This put a new spin on the case.

  “I know you’re skeptical, Detective Murphy. I’ve had personal experience with sharks. I wasn’t always a doctor. I was a Navy Seabee and I’ve used these, or a variation of them. I’m sure with the world at your fingertips, given the current technology, you can find many other examples of these types of deaths.”

  Jack turned a couple of pages. In another picture the shark dart was attached to a pole. He wondered if it could be detached.

  “Can this be used like a knife?” Jack asked.

  Schirmer opened the magazine to an advertisement for a Farallon shark dart. “The company doesn’t make this for divers any longer, but they are still available for military use. As you can see, the handle and dart are screwed onto a longer spear, but the CO2 cartridge can be used with just the handle. Like a big ice pick.”

  “Were these available in 1980 when Max was killed?”

  “The first I heard of them was in the late 1960s. Sharks aren’t as big of a problem for divers as television makes out. They’re like our Lil here. You don’t want to piss them off or you’ll get bit.”

  Little Casket grinned and thumped Schirmer on the arm.

  “I have to sit for a minute,” Schirmer said.

  They retreated to Little Casket’s office. She made another pot of coffee. They relaxed and drank coffee while Jack and Liddell absorbed what the old surgeon had said.

  Dr. Schirmer finished his coffee and said, “Let’s get to it.” He got up and they all followed him back to the autopsy room. He was limping now and Little Casket was visibly resisting taking his arm.

  When they got back to the light box and X-rays, Jack pulled one of the desk chairs over for Dr. Schirmer. “Sit,” he told the doctor and Schirmer didn’t protest.

  “You have more for us,” Jack said.

  “Lil, take all of those down except the profile one,” Schirmer said to Little Casket. “Now get my bag.”

  She did as he asked and he took another set of X-ray films from the bag. Little Casket clipped them to the light board. One was an X-ray of a chest, the other a left shoulder.

  “These are Max’s?” Jack asked.

  “They are. I want to show you what that boy endured before someone killed him,” he said.

  “There”—he pointed to a rib on the X-ray. “See that break? See the jagged edges? That’s from a direct blow from a blunt object.”

  “A tire tool?” Liddell asked.

  Schirmer said, “Could be. Yes. Whatever it was, it was swung very hard. And by a left-handed person. The blow to his ribs damaged his lung. That’s not what killed him, but it would have, given time.”

  He moved onto the X-ray of the shoulder. “Here we have a fractured left clavicle and damaged acromioclavicular joint. That’s where the clavicle joins the shoulder. See where the joint is separated here? You can’t see the other injuries on the X-rays, but my report indicates a bruise on his right ulna near the wrist. Nothing was broken, but it appeared he fended off a blow. He also had abrasions on his face and the knuckles of both hands. He was definitely fighting when he took this beating.”

  “Did Olson tell you a tire iron was found at the scene?” Jack asked.

  “If I had been told, it would be in my report. It’s not.”

  “Got it,” Jack said.

  “We have some new information that suggests Max was in a fight the night he was killed. That’s between us,” Jack said.

  “Who am I going to tell?” Schirmer said, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. “Detective Olson attended the post and I showed him the X-rays just like I’m showing you. He said he didn’t see anything unusual on the X-rays. He insisted it was a gunshot. He seemed in a hurry for the autopsy report and suggested very strongly that I stick with the obvious and say the boy was shot in the side of the head. I didn’t agree and I said I wouldn’t put my name on a finding like he was suggesting.”

  “You say he suggested very strongly. Do you mean he threatened you, Dr. Schirmer?” Jack asked.

  “No one would dare threaten the doc,” Little Casket said.

  “I told him to go to hell,” Dr. Schirmer said. “I couldn’t prove the weapon was a CO2 shark dart, so I gave a finding that the instrument of death was unknown. Where my report went after that is anybody’s guess, but I kept a copy just in case I was called to court. I never was.”

  Jack asked, “If you had questions, why not a coroner’s inquest?”

  “Detective Murphy, there hasn’t been a coroner’s inquest in Indiana since the late 1800s. Plus, I didn’t think it would change anything. The police were still investigating and I didn’t want to interfere. No suspect was ever found.”

  Jack knew what the political climate in Evansville was back in the days of Max’s murder. A coroner was an elected position and he wouldn’t want to rock the boat too much. “You’re sure it was Detective Olson you spoke to?” Jack asked.

  “Dan Olson. The man had no imagination, and imagination is a necessity for a good detective, don’t you think?”

  Lilly jumped in again. “Olson was a moron. He couldn’t think his way out of a paper bag. The dumbass!”

  “Language, Lilly,” Dr. Schirmer reprimanded.

  “Sorry, Doctor,” she said, chastened.

  “A shark dart,” Jack said again.

  “Yes. I’ve got my report for you and supporting documents. I would like a complete copy back, if you don’t mind.”

  Little Casket took the file and hurried off to make the copies.

  Jack imagined the handheld shark dart. The killer in the passenger seat. Max was already hurt. His lung collapsing. The killer stabbed him and blew his head off.

  Schirmer said, “I suggest you should talk to someone in the Navy. Or Special Forces. Maybe at a dive school. Someone familiar with the tools of the trade.”

  Jack didn’t doubt Schirmer believed the weapon was a shark dart. If it was a CO2 weapon the injury could have appeared to have been from a large-caliber handgun.

  “You performed the post on Harry Day, Max’s father.”

  “I did. The cause of death was a contact gunshot wound to the back of the head. I knew Harry. Hell, everyone did. He was generous with people in law enforcement, and I guess that included the likes of me.”

  “You don’t happen to have a copy of Harry Day’s autopsy report do you, Doctor?”

  “I knew you’d ask.” He retrieved another X-ray film from his case and put it on the light board next to the X-ray of Max Day.

  “You see?” Dr. Schirmer asked.

  Jack saw. There was a perfectly round hole in the back of Harry’s skull. The front of the skull and most of the sinus cavity were obliterated.

  Schirmer added, “This was a large-caliber handgun. See the stippling around the entry.”

  Stippling was when burned and unburned cordite, or gunpowder, gathered at the site of entry and adhered to the tissue, which formed a black circle or pattern. The stippling showed up on the X-ray as a sh
adow.

  “I’d say the barrel was an inch or two from his head. Detective Olson came in with the body and stayed a short time. He didn’t like to watch. He called the murder a ‘robbery gone bad’. I remember him using those words several times. Even after all these years. It was like he had practiced saying them.”

  “Did he take an autopsy report?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah and then Sergeant Mattingly came in about a week later. He was suspicious that Harry’s murder was more than just a robbery. He said the family was auditing the store inventory but nothing seemed to be missing. In fact, he asked questions about the boy’s murder.”

  “Did you tell Sergeant Mattingly what you told us about Max Day?” Jack asked.

  “Yes. He asked for a copy of my autopsy report, but I told him he’d have to get it from Sergeant Olson. Sergeant Olson told me not to give it to anyone and he had mentioned Mattingly specifically. I don’t know if he thought Mattingly was a suspect, or if he just didn’t like the man. Personally, I didn’t know Mattingly well. I didn’t tell him I had copies. Why? Is that important?”

  “Maybe,” Jack answered.

  Dr. Schirmer shrugged and said, “Well, I guess I’ve answered all your questions. The Max Day death has troubled me greatly. And now the mother being murdered. It will be interesting to see if she was killed with the same weapon that killed Harry. Two murders in the family might be a coincidence, but three…never.”

  Jack didn’t believe in coincidence. The revelation that Max didn’t die from a gunshot threw a wrench in the works, but he was sure these murders were committed by the same person or persons.

  Dr. Schirmer said, “I’m happy to see these murders being investigated again. But for now, I’m an old man and an old man needs his rest. I’ll let you get back to work. I have some catching up to do with my little rose.”

  Jack eyebrows tented.

  Schirmer smiled warmly at Little Casket. “Little Rose was her nom de guerre when I was the coroner. Did she tell you that? No. I’m sure she wouldn’t.”

  Liddell couldn’t hold it back. “But I can see why you would call her that. She’s our little rose too. Always smiling and always so cheerful. So much fun to work with.”

  Lilly was careful to not let Schirmer see the death-star glare she focused on Liddell.

  Chapter 31

  Dennis James was a devout Catholic. He’d forgotten that about Dennis. They’d all gone to Rex Mundi Catholic high school where Religion 101 and 102 were required classes. He himself had stopped going to any church many years ago. He didn’t see the point. Religion didn’t advance anyone. Success was more important than spiritual needs. He did unto others as they thought they could do unto him. He was better at it.

  He made a few calls and found that Dennis went to the 8:00 mass at St. Anthony’s every Saturday. Still. Tomorrow was Saturday. He would likely find Dennis there. It was time for Dennis to stop worshipping and meet his maker. The daughter, Reina, had seriously pissed him off, but in the grand scheme of things she didn’t matter. She knew nothing but the rumors and lies she had heard all these years. If she stayed out of his way, he might let her live. Might.

  Chapter 32

  Jack would have liked for Sergeant Walker to be present while they talked to Dr. Schirmer, but he hadn’t expected to meet Schirmer. Liddell was able to get some good pictures of the X-rays and Schirmer promised to make them available if they were needed. The old surgeon didn’t want to let them go and understandably so. Jack called Walker and they agreed to meet at the war room.

  Walker arrived before they did and was in the war room talking to Angelina when they arrived.

  “Angelina has some interesting information for you,” Walker said.

  “I need to tell you about this first,” Jack said. “Sorry, Angelina.”

  Jack put the autopsy reports on the table and related what they were told by Dr. Schirmer. Liddell let Angelina download the pictures from his phone. She made prints and taped these to the whiteboard.

  Walker examined the X-rays of Max’s head. “A shark stick?”

  “He called it a shark dart,” Jack said. “How many murders have you heard of committed with something like that?”

  “I’ve never even heard of a death like that. This goes beyond my training and believe me, I’d remember. But you’ve got to admit we’ve seen some pretty inventive weapons and weird killings,” Walker said.

  Jack said, “Neither Olson or Mattingly found the weapon at Max’s or Harry’s scene, but both thought the deaths were caused by a large-caliber handgun. Mattingly said Olson found a .50 caliber bullet casing at Max’s scene, but Olson denied finding it. At Harry’s scene, Mattingly found a .50 that didn’t match the shell casings from Reina or Mrs. Day’s scenes. Olson accused Mattingly of trying to grandstand or advance himself by claiming to find evidence.”

  Walker said, “I’ve worked with Mattingly on many cases, both as a detective and as crime scene. I’ve never had that impression. If anything, he takes the blame for his guys screwing up sometimes.”

  Angelina said, “When you know someone it’s hard to see a bad side of them. Forget you know Mattingly and decide on what you do know, who you believe. What does the evidence tell you?”

  “I think Olson is the one that’s lying to us,” Jack said. “He practically derailed the investigation from the get-go. Dr. Schirmer said Olson wasn’t interested in the autopsy results and just wanted Schirmer to say it was a gunshot wound that killed Max. Schirmer showed us Harry’s X-rays and it was obvious he’d been shot, but I agree with the doc about Max’s being a different type of weapon.”

  Walker agreed. Angelina asked Liddell, “What do you think?”

  “What he said,” Liddell said.

  Jack said, “Okay, Angelina. You’re on. What did you find?”

  She put her hand on top of a stack of printouts. “These are phone records for everyone you’ve given me. You don’t have to go through them. I just wanted you to see that I really do work.” She took the top sheet and said, “I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version. First, I couldn’t get phone records from thirty years ago. I had to start somewhere, so I started with Mrs. Day’s phone records for the day she said Dick called her. She received a call from Dick’s personal cell phone at eleven that morning. The call lasted one minute and ten seconds.

  “Dick made four calls that day to phone numbers in Columbus, Ohio. The first call was made a few minutes after the call to Mrs. Day. Then around noon and the other around three p.m. The number he called is the switchboard at the Senate Building in Columbus, Ohio.”

  “Carl Needham?” Jack asked.

  “Must be,” Liddell said.

  Angelina continued. “The fourth phone call was made at seven that evening to a cell phone with a Columbus area code. That cell belongs to Carl Needham. Senator Carl Needham. The call to Needham’s cell phone lasted twenty-three minutes and seventeen seconds.”

  Liddell quipped, “That’s a pretty long conversation, or a lot of Muzak.”

  “I can’t tell you all four calls were to Needham, but I read online that thirty-one of thirty-three Ohio state senators have offices in that building. Needham is one of them.

  “We can safely assume Dick and Needham were in touch the same day Dick went to see Mrs. Day. It would make sense to talk to the others involved in the fight with Max. But we still don’t have a fix on Dennis James.”

  Angelina admitted, “If Dick or Needham called Dennis, I didn’t find it.”

  “Do me a favor,” Jack said. “Add Janet Cummings to your list. She’s in her early twenties and works at Old National Bank. I’ll call and get her info for you.”

  While he was saying this Angelina was punching keys. She said, “Don’t have to. I’ve got her pulled up.” She hit a few more keys and said, “Personnel records. Phone numbers. The number she’s given the bank doesn’t match an
y on the list I’ve run.”

  “She’s tied to Dennis James somehow,” Jack said. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure, but why don’t you see if you can make a connection?”

  Angelina jotted a note.

  “Angelina, how hard will it be to see if any of Mattingly’s calls went to Ohio or to Dick’s phone—Richard Dick or his dad Thomas?”

  “You telling me how to do my job?” she asked.

  “Just thinking out loud.”

  “Okay then,” she said. “I already checked. Mattingly didn’t call Ohio or either of the Dicks. And he didn’t call Reina Day or Mrs. Amelia Day. I checked calls going back a couple of months and there was nothing to any of the people you gave me. He made a lot of calls from his cell and home phones, but I didn’t check the recipients out. Do you want me to do that?”

  “No need for that yet,” Jack said. Mattingly was divorced, had two daughters and a son. His family would account for the majority of the calls. He didn’t expect to find anything there.

  She continued the report. “There were several calls from Mrs. Day’s cell phone to a medical answering service the morning Reina was attacked. Two calls to Reina’s cell phone and two to the answering service.”

  “Reina’s cell phone wasn’t with her property at the hospital,” Jack said. “Can you keep an eye on it and see if someone tries to use it?”

  “I tried to locate it,” Angelina said. “It’s been disabled. The last location was the cemetery.”

  “Figures,” Jack said. He privately thought that he was dealing with a smart killer. Of course, the ability to locate a phone was common knowledge to every eleven-year-old kid in the country. But to have just shot a car up, rob and beat the owner in public, run from the scene, and still have the presence of mind to disable the phone—that took a special mentality.