Personal Justice (15 page)

Alfie marched off, leading the way. Amber stayed close at the woman’s side as they followed him across the lawn and up the lane. He stopped and pointed.

The woman gasped, took a step back, seized Amber by the arm, and half-dragged her to the house.

Alfie took a last glance at the man on the ground and then turned and followed, swishing the stick through the air and wondering if all girls were scaredy cats like these two.

Chapter 28

Wednesday, 3:54 p.m.

RHPD WAS NOTIFIED when the 9-1-1 call came in and cruisers were dispatched immediately to secure the scene. Hank was informed, and by the time he and King pulled to the shoulder of the road behind a cruiser, its lights still flashing blue and red, the CSI van had already arrived.

The access lane leading to the tracks was taped off, and the main focus of attention seemed to be near a group of bushes, down the lane, along the side of the railroad tracks.

The coroner’s van pulled in behind Hank’s vehicle and Nancy Pietek stepped from the passenger side. She joined the detectives. “Lovely afternoon, Hank, King,” she said.

“Nice day to be alive,” Hank answered.

King nodded, grunted, and said nothing.

The small group went up the lane where investigators did what they do best. Trace evidence was being photographed, collected, and documented. Most of it would be meaningless, but the search for any elusive piece of telltale evidence would be thorough.

Hank approached Rod Jameson, lead CSI. “What do we have?” he asked, glancing at the body on the ground a few feet away.

Jameson consulted his clipboard. “Thirty-three year old male. Looks like he was shot in the chest. I’ll defer that to Nancy. According to his driver’s license, his name’s Michael Norton.”

Hank whistled. “Michael Norton?” He moved closer to the body and leaned over. There was no mistake; the pale white face was that of Michael Norton. The body lay flat on its back, facing upwards, the arms resting at each side. He looked like he might be sleeping, except his eyes were open, and he was very, very dead.

Nancy stepped over beside Hank and crouched down. She pulled aside the red, plaid shirt, soaked with crimson, and made an examination of his chest wound.

“Gunshot wound to the heart,” she said. “Small caliber weapon.” She pointed to the shirt. “Appears to be gunshot residue on the front of the shirt. As close as I can guess right now, he was shot from a distance of eighteen to twenty-four inches.”

“Close up and personal,” Hank said.

Nancy rolled the body slightly and examined the back. “Livor mortis shows he might’ve been killed here, or dropped here within a few minutes of death.” She pointed to a light, purplish discoloration of the skin. “See how the blood has begun to settle. It starts to pool a few minutes after death and congeals after a few hours.”

Jameson had come over, listening to Nancy’s report. “It makes sense he was killed elsewhere, Hank,” he said, pointing to the laneway. “We found evidence the body was dragged from over there. And there are trace amounts of blood on the ground. That would indicate he was dead already.”

“Or at least, mortally wounded,” King added.

“I’d say he was already dead at the time the body was deposited here,” Nancy said. “The shot would’ve killed him immediately.”

King turned to Jameson. “Probably brought here in a vehicle. Any tire tracks?”

Jameson shrugged. “They’re still looking closely at that, but the ground is hard. It’s possible, but unlikely.”

“Time of death?” Hank asked Nancy.

“Rigor mortis hasn’t started to set in,” Nancy replied. “I’d put the approximate time of death at two to three hours ago.”

“So he was dumped here in broad daylight,” King said.

Nancy nodded. “Almost certainly.”

Hank crouched a little lower and rolled the body halfway over. “Looky here,” he said. “He’s carrying a weapon.” He pulled a pair of surgical gloves from his pocket, worked them on, and then carefully removed a pistol from behind the back of the victim’s belt. He held it up.

“A .38-caliber revolver,” King said.

“Werner Shaft was killed by a .38,” Hank said. He stood and turned to Jameson. “Better bag this.”

The weapon was placed in an evidence bag, sealed, and labeled.

Hank crouched down again and patted the pockets of the victim’s pants.

“We removed his wallet,” Jameson said. “And we found a cell phone in his front pocket.”

Hank stood. “Where’s the phone?”

Jameson turned away and returned a moment later with an evidence bag containing a cell phone. Hank removed it carefully. “It’s not locked,” he said. A moment later he looked up at King. “Last call was to Annie Lincoln. 12:13 p.m..” He dropped it back into the bag and handed it to Jameson. “Looks like he was killed not long after he made that call.”

“So, if this guy killed Shaft,” King said. “Who killed him—and why?”

“Good question,” Hank said, and turned to Jameson. “Who found the body?”

“A couple of kids.”

“Kids?”

Jameson pointed. “They’re waiting in the house over there. They were walking the tracks on their way home from school, and there he was.”

“Are their parents around?”

“The mother’s on her way here from work. Father couldn’t come.”

Hank motioned to King. “We’d better go talk to them.”

They walked to the house where Hank tapped on the back door. He introduced himself and King when a woman answered. She led them into the kitchen and motioned toward a boy and a girl, sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over steaming hot chocolate.

“This is Alfie and Amber Owens,” she said. She motioned toward chairs, took a seat at the far end of the table, and sat quietly, her hands in her lap.

King leaned against the fridge while Hank pulled back a chair and sat forward, resting his arms on the table. He looked at the girl, then the boy. “I’m Detective Corning,” he said. “And this is Detective King.”

The boy glanced at King then back at Hank, his eyes widening. “Real live detectives?”

Hank chuckled. “As real as they get.”

“Are we in any trouble?” the girl asked in a low voice, her brown eyes narrowed.

“Of course not,” Hank said. “In fact, we want to thank you for waiting to talk to us.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Did you see the dead guy?” Alfie asked.

“Yes, we saw him,” Hank said. “And I only have a couple questions for you.”

“Fire away.”

“Did you touch the … man, or move anything around him?”

The boy frowned.

“Alfie touched him,” Amber said.

Hank’s head whipped toward the boy. “Did you move him?”

Alfie swatted Amber on the arm. “I only touched his foot with a stick. That’s all.”

“That’s the truth,” Amber said, pulling her arm back and frowning at her brother. “I saw him.”

Hank suppressed a smile. “That’s okay. It’s always better never to touch anything and call the police right away. That helps us a lot.”

“I was a-scared,” Amber said.

Alfie straightened and pushed back his shoulders. “She’s just a girl,” he said. “They get scared real easy.”

Hank nodded as if he understood and then looked at Amber. “It’s okay to be frightened.” He screwed up his face. “I get scared sometimes too.”

Amber giggled, raised her chin, and gave Alfie a tight smile.

King shook his head, rolled his eyes, and went back outside.

Hank removed a notepad and pen from his inner pocket. “I need your mom’s name and phone number in case I have to talk to you again.”

He wrote down the information Alfie dictated and Amber confirmed it was the truth. He turned to the woman. “I assume you didn’t touch anything at the scene?”

“Land sakes, no,” the woman said. “We came straight here and called the police.”

Hank nodded and flipped his pad closed. “That’s all I need.” He put the pad away and pulled out two business cards, handing one to the woman, and one to Amber. “Give this to your mom.” He pointed to his phone number. “She can call me here anytime if she has any questions.”

Amber took the card, tucked it into the pocket of her jeans, and gave the detective a wide smile.

Hank stood, nodded at Alfie and winked at Amber. “Thanks, guys.” He went back outside and joined King. “Let’s go,” he said. “That’s all we’re gonna get from here.”

Chapter 29

Wednesday, 4:36 p.m.

ANNIE WAS IN the office when the doorbell rang. She peeked through the front window, saw Hank’s car parked at the curb, and went to the front door.

“I came to pick up the recording of Michael Norton,” Hank said, when Annie opened the door.

She motioned for him to come in. He stepped inside, followed Annie into the living room, and took a seat on the couch. Annie went to the office, retrieved the recording, and brought it out to him.

Jake came into the room and sat on the other end of the couch, his feet resting on the coffee table.

Hank cleared his throat and spoke. “I think I should let you know; Michael Norton’s body was found.”

Annie’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Hank in disbelief. “I just talked to him.” She moved to the armchair, sat and leaned forward, waiting for Hank to continue.

“He was killed shortly after he called you,” Hank said. “I just came from there, dropped King off at the precinct, and I’m on my way to see Tammy Norton now. But I wanted to listen to this recording first.”

“What happened? Where was the body found?” Jake asked.

“Down by the railroad tracks near an access road. It appears he was shot elsewhere and then dumped there.”

“He was afraid for his life,” Annie said. “That’s why he called me.”

Hank stood. “Maybe we’d better play the recording. I’d like to hear it before I visit Mrs. Norton.”

Annie stood and led the way to the office. She took a seat and started the recording. Jake stood by the desk while Hank sat and listened silently.

“The final known words of Michael Norton,” Hank said when it was finished playing. “And he’s accusing Rocky Shaft of his murder.”

“Is he right about the possibility of planted evidence?” Jake asked.

“It’s possible,” Hank said. “And it wouldn’t be the first time someone was framed. His point about the shell casing with his print on it is logical. The idea Shaft borrowed his car is a little harder to swallow, but not impossible.”

“He certainly predicted his own death accurately,” Annie said.

“But he’s wrong about one thing,” Hank interrupted.

“What’s that?”

“The case doesn’t get closed by his death, as he said. As long as we have evidence pointing elsewhere, we’ll continue to investigate.”

“True enough,” Jake said. “But would you have that evidence without this recording?”

Hank pursed his lips and said thoughtfully, “Perhaps not. All the evidence for Werner Shaft’s murder points toward Norton. However, once we find Norton’s killer, that evidence might point elsewhere.”

“Toward Rocky Shaft, possibly.”

“Perhaps,” Hank said, a deep frown on his brow. “But there’s even more evidence against Norton now. He had a .38-caliber gun on him, the same caliber that killed Werner Shaft. Ballistics will tell whether or not it’s the same gun.”

“If Rocky Shaft killed Norton, then he could’ve planted it.”

“True enough,” Hank said. “But if the crown is convinced of Norton’s guilt, they can’t prosecute a dead man, and the real killer might go free.”

“Then we have to find out who killed Norton,” Annie said.

“Norton also wore a red, plaid shirt,” Hank said. “The witness to Shaft’s murder stated that’s what the killer wore. Granted, that’s only circumstantial evidence, but it’s one more piece.”

“What about Punky Brown or whatever his name is?” Jake asked. “Could he have had a hand in either one of these killings?”

Hank shook his head. “He has a solid alibi for Shaft’s murder. He was with his parole officer. And he was in our custody when Norton was killed.”

“What about that drug money heist the three of them were involved in?” Annie asked. “Maybe they were found out and they’re being picked off one by one.”

“There’s a problem with that theory,” Jake put in. “Why would they frame Norton?”

Hank nodded. “It seems like a lot of trouble for no good reason. And it would be hard for them to set up a frame. They would need access to Norton’s gun to place his fingerprints at the scene. And what about the car, and the plaid shirt? It seems to me, if it were the drug dealers getting their revenge, they would need to know a lot about Norton to set up such a solid frame job.”

“So, we’re back to Rocky Shaft then,” Annie said.

“We certainly have to check him out a lot closer.”

“The real killer—or killers—might be someone else entirely,” Jake added.

“That’s the thing,” Hank said. “We don’t know for sure if we’re looking for one killer, or two.”

“Michael Norton claimed his wife knew nothing about the heist,” Annie said. “And Maria Shaft claimed not to know of any relationship between her husband and Norton. Hank, how true do you think that is?”

Hank shrugged. “I see no evidence against that, but it’s a hard thing to prove.” He paused. “But I’m not making any assumptions either way.”

“I’m thinking out loud here,” Jake said. “But if Norton killed Shaft, then was Norton killed out of revenge? Or did one person kill both?”

Annie said, “If it was one person, why go to the trouble of framing Norton, just to kill him?”

“To throw suspicion away from the real killer,” Hank said.

“Then why kill Norton? Why not leave the frame in place? By killing Norton, it keeps a case open that otherwise could’ve been closed.”

Hank leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. “We’re missing something here for sure. A lot of this doesn’t make sense, and I can’t come up with a clear motive for either murder.”

“It might come straight back to money,” Jake said. “I’d say it has something to do with the money from the heist. I don’t see any other motive.”