“Which is?”
“That small, flashy faux crystal thingy in front of him, underneath the edge of the vanity.”
“Do tell,” Wineski said.
“I hope so.”
Chapter 11
“Did this canine screw up my crime scene?” Wineski asked after one of the crime scene techs had carefully retrieved the small crystal from underneath the vanity. We were back in the room with the body.
“Not even a morsel,” I said.
“You better hope not.” I wanted to ask him how he would know if Sam had disturbed the scene, but I decided against it.
Wineski surveyed the room in a quiet huff. He could be grumpy without saying a word. His demeanor carried information easily translated. Everyone in the room gave him a wide girth.
“Some preliminaries, guys?” he asked the tech people with strained temperance. I knew him well.
“We count four stab wounds in the back,” the young woman said candidly without feeling. “Considering the amount of blood on the floor, he bled out and died on this spot.” She pointed to the body on the floor at her feet.
“Got a time?” Wineski said to her.
She looked up at the man standing over the body. He was not one of the uniformed tech people.
“Less than eight hours, all things considered.”
“Best guess,” Wineski said to him.
“Around four or five this morning. After the autopsy I might get a tad closer, but I’ll stay with that for now.”
“Joseph,” Wineski said to one of the uniforms, “check the roster to see who was assigned the duty here and what time they left.”
“Yes, sir.”
The young officer moved away quickly as Wineski grabbed my arm and we exited the house. Sam followed.
We walked into the yard. I could tell that he wanted to talk away from the others who were still working inside. He looked around before he spoke.
“I could have McGrady’s badge for this,” he said.
“You have no proof that it was McGrady,” I said. I was actually defending the man I didn’t like. Imagine that.
“No proof…yet.”
“But you’ll go looking.”
“Damn straight.”
“Hurts the case,” I said.
“Yeah. Nice to have a witness who actually saw the culprit kill one of our joggers.”
“He could’ve been a witness for both of the slayings,” I said. “One for sure.”
“Yeah,…could’ve helped with both killings,” Wineski said as he looked away seemingly distracted. “And we still keep collecting those sparkly things.”
“His shoes are falling apart,” I added.
“Like our case,” Wineski said and walked back toward the house.
“We could start looking for a barefooted guy in a hoodie,” I said loud enough for Wineski to hear me. He continued walking without responding to my feeble attempt at humor.
As I was contemplating what to do next, McGrady drove up. His casual approach was not endearing. He was chewing on a toothpick and acting as if all was right with the world. Maybe it was with him.
“So, what’s happening here? Why all the people?” McGrady said with the toothpick still lodged on the side of his mouth.
I fought the urge to beat the coleslaw out of him. My daddy used to say things like that when he would get mad at some stupidity performed by someone in our county who should have known better than to do what he had done. He also talked a lot about taking certain personality types out behind the woodshed and having a come-to-Jesus moment with them. He never threatened to do that with me, although my mother did threaten that more than once. In my mother’s more-than-imagined metaphor, I came to Jesus several times.
“You should know,” I said to him.
“I just got here. How would I know anything? Has something happened to that Sizemore kid?”
“He’s dead.”
“When did this happen?”
“Early this morning, the ME believes.”
“Where were the uniforms who were watching the place?”
He sounded convincing. Either he was a con artist, an accomplished liar, or he was innocent of what Wineski and I suspected he had done.
“I figure that the two uniforms who were protecting and serving were re-assigned, went home without authorization, or were kidnapped. Apparently, they were not around when someone showed up and stabbed Sizemore to death,” the anger in my voice was noticeable.
“You think I did that. You think I sent those two cops packing so Sizemore would be left unprotected. You must really have a low opinion of me,” McGrady said.
“My opinion of you has nothing to do with your guilt or innocence. I think there are different ways to commit a hate crime.”
“Made no secret how I felt about Sizemore’s lifestyle, but I didn’t have anything to do with this. He was a witness. This hurts the case. I didn’t like the idea of giving him police protection. Told you that up front. I didn’t believe he was in any danger. But I never would have removed those two cops without going through Wineski.”
I didn’t like McGrady, but I believed him. My desire to jump on top of him and beat him to a fare-thee-well subsided. It’s good to have some control of one’s emotions.
“Seems that you were wrong about the danger,” I said without expecting any answer from him.
While I was patting myself on the back for not killing him, a police car pulled up and two cops jumped out and ran inside. I could see the fear on their faces as they ran past me. My brilliant detective skills told me that they were the two on duty last night.
McGrady and I followed them inside. Sam was on my heels. The three of us stopped at the front door. I could hear Wineski’s voice coming from around the corner in the living room area.
“Let’s take this outside, fellows,” he said.
The two cops walked past us. Wineski stopped when he saw McGrady.
“Follow me. You’re a part of this as well,” he said.
McGrady turned and followed the two uniforms into the front yard. Sam and I followed along behind them. Wineski circled us together.
“What’s your story?” he was addressing the two uniforms.
“We received a call on the scanner to leave,” the older of the two said.
“Official call,” Wineski said.
“”We thought so.”
“You thought so,” Wineski repeated.
“The voice identified himself as the desk sergeant and told us that you had ordered the protection detail pulled, that it was no longer needed. Said you had apprehended a suspect and that the witness was no longer in jeopardy.”
“The voice named me.”
“Yes, sir,” the older cop said.
“You made no inquiries once you returned to the precinct station?” Wineski said.
“Had no reason to make inquiries. Assumed it was the gospel, Captain,” the younger officer answered this time.
“So you both packed it in and went home.”
“Yes, sir. Our shift was over, and we were both tired. Nothing else was said to us.”
“Even when you passed by the sergeant’s desk?” Wineski said.
“The sergeant wasn’t at his desk when we passed. He had been called away to check on some disturbance outside the building. There was some kind of ruckus, a couple of dudes were fighting. It took a few of the guys to break it up. We watched for a few minutes to make sure that all was under control, then we left. I don’t think the duty officer… uh, the sarge, ever saw us.”
“Convenient, huh Clancy?” he said to me without looking. I was standing at his back. The eyes in back of his head must have seen me.
“To say the least.”
“You have anything to do with this, McGrady?” Wineski turned to look McGrady directly in the eyes.
“No.”
“You believe him, Clancy?” Wineski asked me.
“I do.”
“I do, too,” Wineski said. “
Glad you didn’t, McGrady. Awfully glad you didn’t. I’m mad enough right now to shoot someone.”
“We’ll find who did this, Captain,” McGrady said, looking at me.
“Maybe,” Wineski said.
I was taken aback by McGrady’s bold declaration. Wineski’s remark was not as surprising. Like the captain, I wasn’t as optimistic about finding out who had called and removed the protection as McGrady seemed to be, but I decided not to rain on his parade.
“Yeah, we’ll work on that. I have a plan,” I said without having any idea of a plan.
Chapter 12
“So, you lied to the cops about a plan,” Rogers said, interrupting my verbal remembrances of the old case.
“I didn’t really lie. I was formulating as I spoke.”
“You had no plan. You lied.”
“Everything’s black and white with you,” I said in my weak attempt to chastise her.
“It’s the way you made me, sweetheart. What can I say?”
“You have the ability to process data. You can draw conclusions as well as postulate philosophical possibilities for conundrums. To use your word, you can opine.”
“I can do all of that. So what you are saying to me is that when you told them you had a plan, you were deeply involved in a conundrum.”
Unless you have ever been in an argument with artificial intelligence, you have no idea how frustrating it can be. All frustrations aside, I did find that the verbal cat and mouse games we played from time to time kept my mind from becoming idle. However, I would never want to admit that to Rogers for fear that she would likely use it against me. Not likely, fact. She would use it as part of her arsenal.
“Definitely a conundrum. Most of my work is about solving puzzles or finding the right spot for a puzzle piece to fit whatever picture I am forming in regards to the matter at hand.”
“But is it not possible to be in the midst of a conundrum and still lie?”
“Is this an ethics debate?” I said.
“We could easily move in that direction.”
“Let me tell you about my plan instead.”
“That would be the one you were forming when you told them that you already had a plan,” she said.
“Just listen and learn,” I said.
McGrady climbed into my car. Sam was in the backseat.
“Thanks for believing me,” McGrady said as we pulled away from the Sizemore house.
“Let’s get something straight. I don’t like you and I certainly am not convinced, as yet that I can trust you. Your attitude about people and police work leaves a lot to be desired. Aside from that, I don’t care for people taking the rap for something they didn’t do. Playing fair means something to me, even when it comes to folks like you.”
“Maybe you’ll come to trust me,” McGrady said.
“You have a ways to go.”
He grunted but said nothing else.
Sam mumbled. It wasn’t exactly a growl, but it was a sound that he made when something went against his better judgment. I smiled to myself knowing that he had the same feeling about McGrady that I had. Friends share, you know.
We headed to my apartment.
“What’s your plan?” McGrady said after several minutes of complete silence.
“We need to find a way to pull our killer out into the open.”
“Okay, whattaya got?”
“Well, I would suggest that you and I both jog at Barraud Park. But since that ain’t gonna happen any time this century, you’ll hide and watch, and I’ll jog.”
“What makes you think the killer will come out to play?”
“Slight hope. I have no idea as to why someone killed those two joggers. They had some relationship to each other, but so far, we’ve got no connection that they have with anyone else except for…well, Sizemore. So, this is all I’ve got. Just an idea. I jog around Barraud Park and you hide and watch.”
“Not much of an idea, but since I have nothing to counter it, I guess we can play it out to see what happens. Will the dog jog with you?”
“Ordinarily I would say yes, absolutely. We do that regularly, but not this time. I’m afraid that a dog of his size would inhibit the best of assailants, especially one who seems to enjoy the close-up kills with a knife.”
“What if he’s already seen you with Sizemore or doing our door to door?”
“Then my wondrous plan will not work.”
“Yeah, we might have to consider that. So, how long you think we need to do this jogging gig?” McGrady said.
“If I thought it was a fool-proof plan, I’d say as long as it takes. But since you and I both know there are some holes in it, we might jog for a week while we do some real police work when I’m not jogging.”
“Morning or afternoon?”
“Both. We have no idea when our killer does his reconnaissance. Or if. We’ll have to perform both/and.”
I picked up my jogging outfit and then drove us back to Wineski’s office. I thought it best to involve the Captain with my longshot of a plan. I also wanted to see if the lab had found time to process that trinket Sam found in the bathroom.
It was early afternoon, so we had some time to do some actual detective work before I commenced my jogging workout and dubious plan. Wineski didn’t think much of the plan.
“You’re crazy,” he said without mincing words.
“Agreed, but I often get results.”
“You trust this guy as your backup?” he pointed to McGrady who was standing next to me. I had left Sam in the car since I considered this to be a brief visit with the captain.
“Hey, I’m standing here, you know.”
“I know,” said Wineski, “but I also want to impress upon you that if anything happens to her and you come back with some feeble, idiotic, lame-brain excuse that your gun jammed or you didn’t see what happened…there will be hell to pay for such ineptitude. Is that clear, Detective McGrady?”
In my brief experience of working with McGrady, I had not known him to exhibit any fear of anything. However, I did observe on this occasion that when Wineski confronted him with this stern warning, McGrady did take two steps back. I had always known that I was Wineski’s favorite girl, but I would never have stated that to anyone. Wineski and I both knew it. The unspoken relationship. McGrady was getting the idea and the more complete picture of Wineski’s expectations in the haphazard plan of mine.
“No excuses, Captain. She’ll be safe. I’ll have the dog with me as well.”
I checked with the lab people about the trinket from Sizemore’s bathroom. They had just finished examining it and told me that it was also a match to the other two trinkets Sam had found. All we needed to do now was to find a person with tennis shoes missing three phony jewels. The downside of my logic was that if those faux jewels were falling out along the jogging trail and in the bathroom, what was to keep them from falling out any other place? I hate logic at times. It’s so logical.
One other question bothered me a little – what was the killer doing in Sizemore’s bathroom? Was he simply being thorough in his search for whatever it was he wanted?
“You’ll have the dog with you?” I said to McGrady as we were leaving the building. I had serious doubts about the voracity of his statement to Wineski. “You and Sam now copacetic?”
“Added protection for both of us, right?”
“Right. Maybe you’re learning, McGrady. Just don’t cross him.”
“The captain?” he said.
“The dog. He doesn’t suffer fools gladly.”
Chapter 13
My first jog around Barraud Park was a waste of time except for the benefit of exercise. I think McGrady and Sam dined on peanuts while I huffed and puffed for nearly an hour. Huffing and puffing is my usual jogging style. I can generally jog for two to three hours at a time, but I always huff and puff. It often generates sympathy from the people I pass who don’t consider me insane for jogging in the first place.
I walked the trail fo
r another hour doing my best to give our stabber a chance at me. I came up empty except for sweat and the few calories I burned. Little ventured, little gained.
After our first busted attempt to lure the attacker, we went back to some boring police work. We followed a lead we had on a local sporting goods store that sold the Centelle Blade Runner jogging shoe. We drove downtown. That is, I drove downtown. McGrady wanted to canvass some more houses close to the park, so we parted company. Sam chose to go with me.
The teenage clerk in the store tried to be helpful.
“I’m working with the Norfolk Police in a murder investigation,” I began with the official line in case he could be easily impressed.
“Cool,” he said. He sounded impressed.
So good, so far.
“Do you keep records on your various shoe brands?”
“Cool,” he said.
“That was a question.”
“What was the question?”
“Do you know how many shoes of the Centelle Blade Runner you have sold?”
“Can’t say without checking.”
“Right. Would you mind checking?”
“Who wants to know?”
“I do.”
“And who are you?”
I must have been in a time warp or another dimension in which common sense was lost and logical answers were non-existent. He was immune to the normal give and take in conversations as well.
I told him again who I was and what I was doing.
“Cool.”
“We’ve been down this road before,” I said.
“What road?”
I could tell that metaphors were not his strong suit. I tried a different tack.
“Do you keep records on your shoe sales?”
“Yeah. It’s automatic. Happens inside the cash register thing there. I think it’s a computer or something. You know. Could be a government thing, you think? Works like a charm. Keeps tabs on everything that leaves the store, except when someone lifts it. You know, sticky fingers and all. Can’t keep up with that.”
I tried to ignore his obtuse reasoning.
Jewel of a Murderer Page 8
