by Sid Kar
“What did you find?” Frank asked.
“This Adam Buck is nowhere on the internet. He doesn’t have a Facebook profile, or LinkedIn or any mention anywhere except for his name and address,” Romesh said.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Frank said, “too old, too old school. Wasn’t expecting anything on him,” Frank shrugged his shoulders.
“Without social media, I can’t link Adam to any friends or relatives,” Romesh said, “there is only a mention of his daughter, Laura Buck, which shows up in Google in relation to Adam’s address. That address is also listed on her previous license in the DMV database.”
“What did you find on her?” Frank asked.
“She has a Facebook profile which is your usual stuff and LinkedIn which mentions her work as a waitress at assorted restaurants, but here is something interesting,” Romesh said and pointed to a screenshot, “This guy named ‘Luke’ on Facebook comments on and likes a lot of her posts and once he commented, ‘Your old man is a total pain in the ass. That coot needs to croak soon.’ A few other mildly insulting comments about her father, and she never objected.”
“Very interesting. You emailed me all of that?” Frank asked
“I did. That could be your guy,” Romesh said.
Frank almost scoffed but said nothing. He didn’t need support personnel to draw conclusions for him; although, many of them felt no compunction in doing so, always believing their own particular piece of work to be the singular breakthrough.
“What about the neighbors? Any ex-army or ex-special forces?” Frank asked.
“Two Vietnam veterans in the half-mile radius in their late seventies and early eighties.”
“Nah…forget them,” Frank said, “Do a little more digging on this Luke and email me whatever you find. I will be working out of the office for the rest of the day.”
Frank walked back to his office while he thought about this character, Luke. Unless he had training as an infantryman or special forces…
He saw the voicemail light blinking on his phone. Joe had called but left no message. He dialed Joe’s cell phone and a rambling voice answered back.
“Joe, what the hell are you eating?” Frank asked.
“Pretzel,” Joe answered a few seconds later, “Got it free, courtesy of the owner. Good man.”
“What did you find?”
“You can cross off that boy,” Joe replied, “Spoke to the owner who works the morning shift. He had himself called the store’s landline and spoken with the clerk around 12:10 about a scheduled delivery early this morning. He was interrupted for a minute by a customer asking for a Lotto ticket.”
“Did you check his whereabouts 11:30 or so and onwards?” Frank asked.
“Yeah, got lucky, one of those Oldwood patrol boys himself seen him around 11:45 walking the shoulder of Route 1 towards the store,” Joe said, “Not enough time for him to prepare, make a hit, rush back and change back to normal.”
“Find anything about his background?”
“Owner says the boy joined right after high school and been with him ever since.”
“Don’t fit the profile,” Frank said.
“He off your suspect list, Frank?” Joe asked.
“Not yet, but near the bottom of it,” Frank said, “Joe we are going to talk to Adam’s daughter who lives in Bridgewater near our homes. I will meet you.”
“Where at?” Joe asked.
“Our usual hangout?” Frank chuckled and Joe guffawed.
Frank walked out of the office and headed down the corridor towards the stairs just when he saw a glimpse of Captain Arthur in his office across the glass door. Frank spun on his heel pretending as if had forgotten something, walked back, and did an entire round of the office to get to the door. Arthur Holcomb was the head of the Major Crimes Bureau, and Frank’s boss, and Frank disliked Arthur’s habit of regular interference in his detectives’ cases. Frank was no rookie and preferred to dump the completed case file when it was finished. Better if I’m not seen, Frank told himself as he trotted down the stairs. He hated elevators too for the possibility of being stuck with the wrong individual.
When Frank walked into the donut shop near Bridgewater, Joe was already sprawled out on a table, munching down on a chocolate frosted donut while checking the scores of some football game on his smartphone.
“Joe,” Frank said standing near the door.
“Not getting your coffee?” Joe asked.
“Already did in the morning,” Frank replied and started walking out. Joe hurried after him.
It took them less than ten minutes to find Laura Buck’s place. Her home was a small ranch-style two-bedroom house painted yellow with an unkept lawn. They parked on the street and knocked on her door.
A woman in her early thirties answered the door. She was half a foot shorter than Frank, but heavier, and dressed in a pink sweater and cream colored trousers both of which were stretched to their limits. She had a round face and hair that came down to her shoulders from both sides.
“Laura Buck?” Frank asked, “I am Detective Frank and this is Detective Joe.”
“Yes, I know why you are here,” Laura said.
“You were informed about…” Frank hesitated. Speaking with the family of the murder victims was the hardest part of the job for him, especially breaking the news to them.
“Chief Roger from Oldwood came by early this morning,” Laura said, “come in.”
“I know it’s a difficult time for you, but given the circumstances of your father’s death…” Frank said.
“Someone killed him,” Laura said, “I know,” she said fighting back tears but her eyes were welled up and moist, “you have to do your inquiry.”
Frank and Joe followed her inside. Her house smelled liked ham and sausages and steam was coming from her kitchen. She said, “Excuse me,” and went to the kitchen while Frank and Joe sat down on the sofa, and Frank took out his pen and the notebook. She joined them again a couple of minutes later.
“Are you his only family?” Frank asked.
“I am,” Laura nodded, “I was the only daughter, and my mother died a few years back. Oh, there was an uncle too, but I haven’t seen him since high school. He moved somewhere west.”
“Did he not get along with Adam?” Frank asked.
“Nothing like that. He too wanted to become a truck driver but crashed his truck into a tree his first year. Had a couple beers in him. Got his CDL suspended; trucking companies were also not keen to hire him,” Laura said, “He said he was going as far west as possible where he would have a new, clean background. It was easier in those days without the computer records.”
“Harder for us,” Frank said, “but go on.”
“No one else.”
“Any close friends?”
“Three guys who lived around him,” Laura said, “Dave, John and I forget…”
“Vinnie,” Frank said.
“Yeah him. My father was a long-distance trucker for most of his life, on the road most days of the year, hard to make and keep friends.”
“Now I am going to ask you this and it will be uncomfortable but getting justice for your father will depend on your answer,” Frank paused for a few seconds and after Laura nodded her head, he asked slowly, “who were his enemies?”
“No one,” Laura blurted out.
“No one hated him? No one ever wished him harm?” Frank asked.
“Not that I know of, no. He kept to himself. He could be rough but never got into beefs,” she replied.
“Not even Luke.”
“Oh no…it was nothing like…” she started then stopped, “how do you know?”
“We are investigators. Police the use internet too,” Frank smiled wryly, “I saw some of this Luke’s online posts.”
Laura said nothing. She got up and went to the kitchen and drank herself a glass of ice water then came back.
“More you tell, less we suspect,” Frank said.
“Luke was my fiancé,”
Laura sighed, “but my father didn’t like him. Luke works occasionally in odd jobs and smokes weed and does coke, but only sometimes, nothing serious …do you care?” she looked at them nervously.
“We are not the narcotics squad,” Frank kept his eyes down at his notebook.
“Nope,” Joe said.
“We don’t care,” Frank said nonchalantly.
“Yep,” Joe added.
Frank knew he would not hesitate to call the narco squad on Luke if required to get his cooperation but saw no reason to tell Laura that.
“My father didn’t make a lot of money, but he did hold down a job all his life, didn’t let me experience poverty,” Laura said, “he smoked a lot too but never did drugs. He threatened to write me out of his will if I married Luke.”
“Reason for the boy to hate Adam,” Joe said, but Frank raised his hand to quiet him.
“But Luke would not hurt him,” Laura said, “We pretended to break up. We were not in a hurry to get married, but we need whatever money he has saved. Luke is out of work. I live on the tips. Oh my god…” she started sobbing and asked, “Is Luke a suspect now?”
“No ma’am,” Frank said, “I never consider anyone a suspect without evidence.” Frank said. What he really meant was that he never considered anyone a culprit without evidence. Everyone was a suspect…but he wanted her to calm down.
“Oh good,” Laura said and composed herself, “You will find him innocent; I am sure of that.”
“Where can I find him?” Frank asked. “Earlier he clears himself, better for you two.”
“He lives near the Pennsylvania border, Stewartsville or thereabout.”
Frank talked to Laura for a few more minutes and gathered some more background information on Adam, Luke and her, and then he and Joe were back in his car. Frank got on his police radio.
“Dispatch, I need address, criminal and arrest records on one Luke Finley, Jersey resident, age: mid to late thirties, try a ten-mile radius around Stewartsville,” Frank said, “in the next half hour please.”
“On it, Detective Frank.”
Frank pulled his car on the street and a few minutes later they were rushing west on Route 78 towards Pennsylvania.
CHAPTER 3
Frank had pulled up to the side of the road while Joe had gone into the woods to answer the call of nature, when Dispatch crackled on his radio.
“Go ahead, Dispatch,” Frank said, “What did you find?”
“You’re in luck, Detective Frank. Only one Luke Finley west of Stewartsville that matches your description,” the voice of the dispatcher replied.
“Go ahead, give me the address.”
Frank jotted down the address in his notebook.
“Detective Frank, he has a record,” the dispatcher added.
“Tell me.”
“Two arrests for possession of marijuana, got community service the first time, time served the second,” dispatcher said.
“Nothing unexpected,” Frank said. He cut off the radio when Joe returned.
“Any luck?” Joe asked.
“Yeah, we are game,” Frank said, “Get in, he isn’t far.”
Frank and Joe drove some more on 78 West and exited near Stewartsville, then took the backroads to the address dispatch had given them. The final stretch was a dirt road that led through a wooded field towards a denser plot where the road ended. Frank grabbed the binoculars he always kept on the dashboard in front of him and scanned the area till he saw a shack. It wasn’t too far away, and he could see it with his naked eyes.
“What do you make?” Joe asked.
“Wooden, cabin like, maybe two rooms or one large one; a small side section, must be the bathroom,” Frank replied.
“What’s the game plan?” Joe asked.
“He has a record, might run when he sees us,” Frank said.
“We could sneak up, many trees and bushes to give us cover,” Joe said.
“But there might be a second door,” Frank said, “I am going to scan the perimeter.”
Frank and Joe slowly walked around Luke’s cabin in a circle always taking care to stay behind a tree or a thick bush. It took them half an hour to return to the same spot but the reconnaissance had been fruitful.
“So, there is a second door on the other side,” Frank said.
“I will position myself on that side,” Joe said.
“Let’s do it,” Frank said.
Frank and Joe approached the shack once again hiding behind trees and bushes. When they were fifty feet away, Joe walked away to go around and get on the other side. Frank gave him five minutes, checked the windows and then walked up to the thick, plain oak door. He knocked a couple of times but got no reply then loudly banged on the door.
“Open the door, State Police,” Frank shouted.
There was no reply, but he heard a disturbance inside the house, a couple of items falling to the floor, and a chair screeching across the floor.
“I just want to talk,” Frank added.
Then he heard another wooden door creak open from the other side. He was running, Frank thought.
At the rear of the cabin, Joe had been hiding behind a tree fifteen feet from the back door. A man ran out wearing a white shirt, blue jeans and sneakers and carrying a black leather jacket in his hands. Joe stepped out from behind the tree and tried to grab him with both of his arms, but the man quickly lurched to the left, and Joe fell flat on his stomach.
“Awww…” Joe shouted just when Frank came around the cabin.
“Joe, what the…you hurt?” Frank asked looking at Joe and then at Luke dashing out west.
“Fell…” Joe replied.
Luke haphazardly put on his jacket and then darted further into the woods, and Frank chased after him. Joe got up sluggishly then started running after Frank.
Luke was thin and fast, but Frank was able to keep pace even though he could not close the distance.
“Luke stop. I just want to talk,” Frank yelled.
Luke turned around once to look back but kept running. He had a bony, unshaven face with a stubble under his chin.
Frank kept a regular running workout schedule including going running into the woods once a week. But Joe was huffing and falling behind.
“Boy’s running for Pennsylvania border,” Joe yelled from somewhere behind.
“It’s not like Mexico’s border,” Frank yelled back, “I will go over and drag him right back by his hair.”
However, the distance between Frank and Luke slowly started growing as the pace of the pursuit was much faster than Frank’s training runs. He was running as fast as he could while jumping over branches, stepping on rocks and pushing off of trees. He wasn’t going to catch him this way.
Frank started looking down while running and picked up a thick log. A couple minutes later Luke came upon a small creek which had frozen over. Luke started running downhill towards the creek when Frank came over and flung the log striking Luke’s legs. Luke fell forward with his hands sliding over the ice at the bottom.
Frank ran down and jumped over Luke to the other side of the frozen creek and quickly turned around. Luke tried to push himself off the ice but his hands kept slipping. When he saw Frank in front of him, he turned around, and there was Joe, just coming down the slope.
Joe stopped midway with his hands on his knees and his breathing heavy.
“Give up Luke,” Frank said, “You can’t run sideways on ice.”
“Give me a hand. What do you want?” Luke said.
Frank reached over and grabbed one of Luke’s hands while Joe walked down and held the other. They pulled him off the ground and Frank said, “Cuff him, Joe.”
“Hey...what?” Luke said but before he could move, Joe had both of his hands in the cuff.
Joe dragged him up the slope and Frank followed behind. Then they started walking back to the cabin.
“Hey, cop, I ain’t done nothing wrong,” Luke said.
“Then why did you run?” Frank asked.
“A man sees a cop he gets scared, starts running,” Luke said.
“Only if he is a criminal,” Frank replied.
“Or if the man has a donut, and he sees your partner,” Luke snorted out an exaggerated laughter.
Joe smacked Luke backside the head with a backhanded whack.
“Hey, cop, I was just joking,” Luke said.
“That was for earlier,” Joe said, “but I will take your donut too.” This time Joe barfed out an uproarious guffaw.
Frank said nothing till they reached the cabin then he stood in front of Luke.
“Want to talk about Adam and Laura,” Frank said, “Adam was gunned down last night and Laura told us all about you, how you disliked him and how he was going to write her out of his will if she kept seeing you.”
“I didn’t hate him enough to kill him,” Luke said, “man, you got to believe me; that’s not why I ran. Laura called me earlier, told me what happened to her old man. He was an old bastard, believe me, but I never shot no one. Hell I don’t even got a gun.”
“You got a motive,” Frank said.
“Any monkey can throw a gun away,” Joe said, “perhaps you chucked it in Delaware River.”
“Hey, I don’t got to talk to you cops without my lawyer,” Luke smirked, “I want to talk to a lawyer first.”
“That wouldn’t be wise,” Frank said and walked to the open back door of the cabin and then walked inside.
“Hey, you can’t go in there,” Luke yelled, “you got no warrant.”
“You were a fool to run, that gives us probable cause to search,” Frank called out to Joe, “Bring him in Joe.”
Joe roughly pushed Luke forward into the cabin where Frank was prodding rolled up weed joints laying on a long tabletop with a pencil.
“I could call the narco squad on you,” Frank said.
“Hey man, Jersey is going to legalize weed soon. No judge is going to give two hoots for that,” Luke said.
