Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) (6 page)

Jackson thought about the timing. “If Engall was there at ten, why didn’t the shouting start until eleven? What was going on during that hour?”

“Maybe the visit started friendly, two guys having a beer, then Jared brought up the blackmail,” Schak offered.

Jackson’s phone rang. It was the medical examiner. “What have you got?”

“I’m just letting you know we’re doing the post on Carla Walker at 8 a.m. tomorrow. We’ll do Nick and Jared on Wednesday.”

“Thanks.” Jackson hung up and looked at Quince. “Anything else from the neighbors? Any unusual behavior from the Walkers lately?”

Quince shook his head. “The neighbors liked the family. They all said Jared and Carla were friendly with them and affectionate with each other.”

“What about their teenagers?” Jackson asked. “Any complaints?”

“Occasional loud music when the parents weren’t home, and Nick once put up a skateboard jump in the middle of the cul-de-sac, which nobody liked. Typical kid stuff.

“Except the family is dead now.” Jackson rubbed his forehead. “What did we get from the house besides the blackmail list?”

Schak spoke up. “I scanned the e-mails on the computer in the living room and nothing seems unusual. In the last week, the boy sent only one e-mail to a friend, asking about a basketball game. Carla sent out a bunch of job search e-mails with her resume attached, but only two personal communications, one to her sister and one to a woman she used to work with. The father, Jared, doesn’t seem to use the computer.”

Jackson looked around at the group. “Unless this slaughter was the act of a psychotic stranger, someone in this family likely had some connection to criminals.”

McCray cut in. “What about the guns? What if it was a robbery gone wrong?”

“It’s a possibility.” Jackson nodded at Evans; she wrote
guns
on the board under her motive list. “Yet they didn’t take the case with the rifles or handgun in the cookie jar.”

“Still, we should look at similar crimes,” McCray pressed.

“We will. In the meantime, each of you investigate a family member, and I’ll talk to the suspects when they’re brought in.” Jackson gulped some coffee before it got cold. “Evans, take Lori. Start with her friends; find out if she had a boyfriend. I asked the nurse at the hospital if Lori had a cell phone in her clothes, but she wasn’t sure. Will you follow up?” He turned to McCray. “You found the blackmail list so you get Jared. Talk to all of the people he used to work with. Find out what you can about Engall too.”

Jackson stood, needing to take pressure off his still-tender scar. “Quince, you look into the boy, Nick, and the cousin, Shane. That leaves Carla for you, Schak. If you find anything significant, call me right away. We’ll meet again in the morning at ten, unless you hear otherwise.”

They wolfed down the rest of their sandwiches and headed out. As Jackson stopped by his desk, his cell phone rang. It was the front desk officer. “A uniform just picked up Roy Engall and he’s bringing him in.”

While Jackson waited for his suspect to arrive, he called Kera. He’d met her eight months earlier when he’d investigated the murder of a young client at the Planned Parenthood clinic where Kera worked as a nurse. Their attraction had been instant and powerful, and they’d started dating as soon as the case was resolved. After his surgery, Kera had insisted he and Katie stay with her while he recovered. He’d woken up in her bed this morning, as he had for the last four weeks.

“Hey, Jackson. We missed you at dinner tonight.” Her warm sexy voice had a touch of melancholy.

“Sorry. We had a mass homicide last night. I went out to the scene this morning and haven’t had a chance to call until now.”

“What do you mean by ‘mass’?”

“Three family members dead and one critically injured.”

“Oh no. How horrible.” Kera had lost her son to the Iraq war, and Jackson hated to mention death to her. “Was it a murder–suicide?” she asked. “Did the father do it?”

“It doesn’t look that way. We have a suspect and I’ll question him soon. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be working really late.”

“Are you okay physically?” Kera couldn’t help but be a nurse.

“I’m fine. Except I miss you already, just knowing how it will be for the next few days.”

“Don’t work too hard. There are seven other detectives in your unit.”

“For now. They’re laying off one of us on Friday.”

“That’s a damn shame. Do you know who?”

“No, but Lammers looked right at me when she announced it. If the city lets me go now, they won’t have to pay my full retirement.”

“No! You’re only a month away from twenty years. They wouldn’t do that, would they?”

“These are desperate times.” Jackson didn’t want to think about it. “Is Katie around? I want to say hello to her.”

“She and Danette took the baby out for a walk. I have the house to myself for a moment and I’m enjoying it immensely.” Danette was a college girl Kera’s son had slept with before shipping out to Iraq. Nathan had died on his second day in the war zone, never knowing he was a father. A few months after the baby was born, Kera had taken in Danette and her grandson. It made for a full house.

“In that case I’ll let you go. I’ll be in touch.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” Jackson hung up and unconsciously glanced around. The only other detective in the area was across the room on the phone. Jackson was still adjusting to Kera’s openness and occasional displays of public affection, but he loved those things about her and hoped he would never stifle her. He’d rather take a little grief from his peers.

Jackson printed some of the photos from the crime scene, then went out in search of coffee. After the interrogation, he’d start on the cell phones and work until he was too tired to focus. In the past he’d taken Vivarin tablets to stay awake when he had cases like this, but Kera had strongly encouraged him to stop. Too much caffeine made his heart race. They were both a little worried about his heart now that they knew about the growth around his aorta. Retroperitoneal fibrosis. The diagnosis two months ago had stunned him, and his future was uncertain. In the meantime, one small cup of coffee couldn’t hurt.

He’d let Engall sit alone in the interrogation room for twenty minutes. By the time Jackson walked in, the sleazy house painter was already rocking himself for comfort. Jackson took a seat, and the gray walls instantly closed in on the small windowless room.

“Whatever this is about, I’m not your man,” Engall pleaded. “You’ve made a mistake.”

Jackson set his digital recorder on the table and clicked it on. “Please state your name for the record.”

“Roy Engall.”

“You’re here to answer questions about a homicide last night,” Jackson said for the recorder. “Stand up, please.” Jackson walked to the other side of the table and scrutinized the suspect’s clothing. He saw no blood but he hadn’t expected to. Twenty-four hours had passed. “Roll up your sleeves and hold out your hands.”

Engall did as instructed. His fingers had a grayish tinge from years of paint stain. “Turn them over.” A two-inch gash on his forearm was still fresh, the skin around it raised and red.

“How did you get the cut?”

“I work with my hands and use a utility knife every day. What’s this about?”

Jackson pulled his camera from the bag and took a picture of the wound. “It looks like somebody in the Walker family fought back.”

“It’s a scratch! I come home with these all the time.”

“I’ve already talked to your wife, Roy. I know you didn’t come home last night. Tell me where you were.”

“I was drinking at the Time Out Tavern.”

“What time did you leave?”

“I don’t know.” Roy took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I had a blackout. I woke up early this afternoon in my van in the parking lot of Value Village.”

“Your statement is you don’t remember anything about last night or this morning?”

Roy hesitated. “Yes.”

“I’m supposed to believe that?” Jackson gave him a look of incredulity.

“It happens sometimes.”

“Who were you drinking with?”

“I had a few beers with my painting crew, then they went home. I had a few beers with another friend named Steve Zuckerman. After that I don’t remember.”

“It’s not much of an alibi.”

“Why would I need an alibi?” Engall blinked rapidly as he spoke. He was a terrible liar.

“Jared Walker and his family were murdered last night. A white van was seen outside their house, and you experienced a binge drinking blackout. You also have a defense wound made by a knife. This doesn’t look good for you.”

Engall’s face crumbled. After a moment, he remembered to act surprised. “Jared’s dead? And his family? How horrible.”

“What did you and Jared argue about when you went to his house last night?”

“I wasn’t there!”

“How much blackmail money was Jared asking for?”

Engall’s eyes registered a little panic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We found Jared’s list.” Jackson slid the paper across the table. He needed Engall to feel trapped.

“Jared never said anything to me. We haven’t talked since I laid him off. ”

“Your wife called Jared’s cell phone this morning looking for you. I believe you and Jared have been in touch.”

Engall slumped a little. “I called him a few times last month asking him out for a beer but he never picked up or called back. He was mad at me.”

Jackson decided to mix it up. “What have you got against Carla?”

“Nothing. I like Carla.”

“Did she hit or scratch you to defend Jared? Is that why you cut off her hand?”

Engall lost a little of his natural flush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jackson slid an image of Carla’s severed hand across the table and laid it next to the blackmail list. “She must have really pissed you off.”

Engall stared at the wall.

“Look at the photo!”

“You’re wrong about me.”

Jackson stood. “Let me see your feet. Put one shoe up on the table.”

Engall started to object, then thought better of it. He lifted his right foot to display a pair of white, paint-stained running shoes.

“Size ten?”

“So?”

“The tread looks familiar. You left tracks in the blood on your way out of the Walker house. It’s enough to convict you.” Jackson took close-up photos of the shoes, then snapped shots of Engall wearing the shoes. He didn’t have a subpoena yet to seize evidence from Engall. The blackmail list and this photo, alongside the crime scene picture of the footprints, would convince a judge to let them search Engall’s property and collect his DNA.

“I want to call my lawyer.”

“First, let’s get a swab of the inside of your cheek.” It didn’t hurt to ask. Some criminals didn’t know they could refuse.

“Not a chance.” Engall tried to sound tough, but his voice couldn’t contain his distress. “I’m invoking my rights.” He put his foot back on the floor.

“You haven’t been arrested or charged. I’m just giving you a chance to tell the truth and clear yourself.”

“I want to call my lawyer, and I’m not answering any more questions.”

“Refusing to cooperate will not look good to a jury.”

Engall stayed silent. Jackson finally took him out to the hallway and let him make his call. Afterward he made Engall sit in the interrogation room while he wrote a subpoena to collect his suspect’s shoes and DNA.

Engall’s lawyer showed up an hour later, and Jackson grudgingly released his suspect. Without a witness to place him at the crime scene or a DNA match to any evidence, he couldn’t hold him. He’d arrested Engall for obstructing justice, but it wasn’t a serious enough charge to book him into the overcrowded jail. Jackson would ask Lammers to assign uniform officers to watch Engall round the clock in the meantime. He thought about the officer watching Lori Walker. He still held hope she would be alert soon and able to identify the family’s attacker.

As Jackson finished the subpoenas, he tried to assess Engall’s demeanor during the interrogation. He had been holding back and worried about something, yet his face had shown no dishonesty when he said he’d had a blackout and couldn’t remember anything. Was it possible Engall had killed the Walkers during an alcoholic rage and didn’t remember it? The suspect hadn’t seemed very concerned about Jared’s list of infractions. Yet he was involved in this mess somehow, Jackson was certain. He would have to explore Engall’s connections. For example, did Roy Engall know Jared’s brother-in-law, Kevin Compton, who’d been assaulted at the Time Out Tavern where Engall liked to drink?

Had Jared been blackmailing more than one person? Did he have something on his brother-in-law too? Jackson reached in his desk for some aspirin and checked the clock: 9:12 p.m. Why did he feel so damn tired already? He pushed himself to finish the paperwork, then grabbed the evidence bags with the family’s cell phones. He started on Jared’s first.

He found the Recent Calls menu, then scrolled through the Sent Calls option, which held the last twenty calls Jared had made. Most were to his wife and kids, two were to the Employment Division, and three had no ID available. Jackson entered the numbers in the Lane County database and came up with three businesses: Caldwell Construction, Olive Garden, and Umpqua Credit Union. Just a man looking for work. He would call each business to ask about Jared’s contact, but he didn’t expect much. He would have to wait for the cell phone records to see if and when Jared Walker had called Roy Engall. Maybe Jared hadn’t called his ex-boss at all. Maybe he’d made the blackmail threat in person.