The Dead Detective (21 page)

“I didn’t tell them much of anything. They told me stuff, like how two of the bimbos at the Peek-a-Boo were able to eyeball me as somebody they saw sittin’ at the bar with Darlene.”

“Nobody asked you to give up any names?”

“Well, yeah, that detective, Harry Doyle, did. Somebody gave him a copy of the church bulletin where my daddy was callin’ on everybody to keep an eye on Darlene, so he figures it was somebody from the church who killed her.” Bobby Joe was talking fast, his nerves kicking in. He wanted to say less, say as little as possible, but this man just made him too nervous. “My daddy came up with an idea. You see, Darlene once told me about this cop who was pressing her to put out, and how much he scared her, so Daddy thinks it would be good to lay that name on Doyle, even maybe on the sheriff himself, and ask why Doyle is investigating me and other good, God-fearing church people and nobody’s investigating this cop. He’s gonna have the church’s lawyer call him on it.”

“Who’s the cop?” the man asked.

“All I remember is that his name’s Nick, and that he’s a homicide detective.”

The man nodded slowly. “That’s very clever. Your daddy is a very smart man.” And he just bought you another day on this earth, he thought.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

H
arry arrived at the office at seven a.m.,
hoping to get a jump start on the day. As soon as he slipped behind his desk a message stared back at him, bringing a smile to his lips. It was from Jim Morgan asking for a meeting in the late afternoon and saying that he was headed out to check some leads and would meet up with Vicky in an hour. The time on the message was six-thirty a.m. He glanced across the room at Nick Benevuto’s empty desk. Benevuto would be in sometime later to slog through the paper shuffling he’d been assigned while on desk duty. He’d essentially become Diva Walsh’s assistant, although without a voice in who was assigned what cases. It was a humiliating assignment, performed each day under the eyes of his peers, a punishment police departments freely handed out to anyone who fell into disfavor.

He took some time to reconsider Benevuto as a suspect. Vicky and Jim were so certain he was good for the murder, and he certainly had motive and opportunity and had even tried to conceal his connection to the victim. But something about it didn’t speak to Harry. It was all too easy. If a homicide cop killed someone it shouldn’t be that easy to spot him. He knew exactly how the investigation would proceed; where the investigating detectives would look. And Nick was one of those investigating detectives, so hiding his involvement should have been a piece of cake.

The phone rang, breaking his train of thought.

“Harry, is that you?”

It was Jeanie, her voice filled with panic. Thoughts of her husband jumped into Harry’s mind. “Yeah, babe, what is it?”

“Somebody broke into the house, Harry. I woke up and found him going through your stuff, your police stuff, files and things.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. But he had a gun, Harry. He told me to get back in the bedroom or he’d kill me. When I turned to go, he hit me with it, knocked me kind of loopy.” She sobbed into the receiver.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Call 911. Tell them whose house it is. The Clearwater cops will get there fast.”

“I already did.”

“Okay, I’m on my way. I’m also calling my dad. His name’s Jocko. He only lives ten minutes away.”

“Please hurry, Harry. I’m scared.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes, maybe less.”

He ran into Pete Rourke on his way out and explained where he was going. Before he reached the parking lot he had already connected with his adoptive father. He hit the back door and sprinted through the parked cars. When he reached his own car he saw his twelve-year-old gangsta protégé coming toward him.

“Wassup, Doyle? Where you runnin’, or is somebody chasin’ your ass?”

“Get in the car,” Harry snapped. “I got a job for you.”

Rubio Martí jumped into the passenger seat as Harry slid behind the wheel. “This a payin’ job?” he asked.

“Is there any other kind?”

Rubio scratched his chin and grinned. “Well, for you, I might work for free. I’d prefer not to, but I might.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“What I gotta do?”

“I want you to stay with this lady friend of mine.” He quickly explained what had happened. “She’s a little shook up. I just want her to know there’s somebody watching her back.”

“She good lookin’?”

Harry shot him a look. Rubio grinned back at him.

“Hey, I was only wonderin’.”

When Harry arrived two Clearwater patrol units were parked in front of his house, along with Jocko’s ancient MGB, a car he loved almost as much as he loved Harry’s adoptive mother, Maria.

When he entered the house he found Maria seated on the sofa, holding Jeanie’s hand as the police questioned her. She had just met Jeanie and she was already mothering her.

“What took you so long,” Maria demanded as he approached them. It was typical of her. He had been ten miles farther away than she had, but she had expected him to get there ahead of her.

“Traffic,” he said.

Maria was a heavyset woman with warm, brown eyes that now offered up a disbelieving stare. “I came with your father; we had traffic too. You have a siren,” she added, “and flashing lights. Maybe you could use them.”

He nodded agreement, it was the only way around the verbal on-slaught. He squatted down in front of Jeanie, taking her other hand. “How are you?” he asked.

“I’ve just got a lump on my head.”

“It’s a bad lump,” Maria interjected. “I don’t know why you live in this crazy beach house. It’s not safe.”

Jocko sat next to his wife. “Maria, hush,” he said.

“Don’t hush me,” she snapped. “What I say is true.”

Harry smiled at Jeanie. “She thinks the only place that’s safe for me is in
her
house on the other side of the intracoastal.”

Jeanie held back her own smile. “You should listen to your mother.”

“See?” Maria agreed.

“Tell me what happened,” Harry said, ignoring her.

“I woke …” She glanced at Maria. “I was in the other room and I heard noise out here, and when I came out this man was going through your things … your police things … from the folder you keep here.”

Jocko caught Harry’s eye. Taking evidence home was against police procedure.

“It was mostly duplicates so I could work at home in the evenings,” he explained.

“Mostly?” Jocko asked.

“And some stuff I was still checking out; stuff that hadn’t become evidence yet.” Harry knew he was talking about a fine line, but bending procedure was something that had never been a problem for him. He stood and turned to the two Clearwater cops. “Let me look through what’s here and figure out what, if anything, this clown took. If you leave me a number I can call it in later for your report.” Harry glanced around the room, and then stepped into his small kitchen. “All the appliances seem to be here, so it doesn’t look like he got anything. Jeanie must have scared him off.”

“Yeah, well, the lady said he was wearing latex gloves, so I doubt we’re gonna find any prints,” the taller of the two cops said.

“It looks like it might be related to a case I’m working on, so if I want prints taken I’ll have my people do it,” Harry said.

“Good enough for us,” the Clearwater cop said. He handed Harry a card. “Just call in and let us know what’s missing … for our report. And when the lady feels up to it, you can arrange a time for her to look at our perp book, see if she can ID this guy.”

“You got it,” Harry said.

“Oh, by the way, the guy got in through your lanai. Cut the screen and came in through the sliding glass doors to the house. It doesn’t look like he had to force them.”

“Sometimes I forget to lock them,” Harry said.

“Bad idea,” the cop said. “Your mother’s right about this neighborhood. There’s a lot of creeps on the beach early in the morning. Some of them sleep out there at night.”

When the two officers left, Harry knelt back down in front of Jeanie. “You sure you feel okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay, tell me what this guy looked like.”

Jeanie thought about the question, something Harry always liked to see a witness do. “Well, he was tall, maybe an inch shorter than you, or maybe an inch taller. It was hard to tell.”

“But approximately my height.

“Yes.”

“What about weight?”

“He was slim, but strong looking; muscular, rather than flabby, you know what I mean?”

“Maybe a hundred and seventy-five, a hundred and eighty pounds?”

“I’m not good about weight with men, but that sounds about right.”

“Hair?”

“That was hard to tell. He had a bandana over his nose and mouth and a baseball hat pulled low over his eyes, but I feel like his hair was a light color, blond or sandy brown, something like that. But I couldn’t swear to it. I spent most of my time staring at his gun. It was a big, square one, just like the one you have.”

Harry nodded. “No facial features at all?”

Jeanie shook her head. “Just his eyes. They were blue, and I only remember that because they were very hard, very scary eyes, like he was maybe a little crazy or something. It seemed like he was outraged that I was here, that I was interrupting him. I know it sounds crazy, but it made me feel that he knew I didn’t belong here.” She glanced at Maria with a look of nervous regret.

Maria just patted her hand.

“The Clearwater cops said he was wearing latex gloves.”

“Yes. Just like the ones you have around here. Maybe he just took some of yours when he saw them.”

Harry nodded, his thoughts drifting to Bobby Joe Waldo, and then to Nick Benevuto. “Are you sure the guy was thin?” he asked.

“Yes.”

The door opened behind him and Rubio strutted in. He was dressed in an oversized Magic basketball shirt, baggy jeans falling off his butt that he held up with one hand, and a cockeyed Tampa Bay Rays baseball cap. Harry had told him to wait in his car until the Clearwater cops cleared the scene and left.

“Who the hell are you?” Jocko said.

Harry smiled at the boy. “This is Rubio. I hired him to be Jeanie’s bodyguard.”

“What?” Jeanie said.

“He’s good,” Harry said. “And I trust him. I want him to hang with you for a couple of days, or until I catch this clown.”

“You think this guy might come back looking for me?” Jeanie asked.

“No, I don’t,” Harry said honestly. “But I don’t want to take the chance.” He looked back over his shoulder. “Rubio, come here.”

Rubio swaggered toward them. “Wassup?”

Harry spent the next half hour going through the duplicate files he had at home. Nothing he could think of seemed to be missing, although he had a nagging feeling that something was. If so, he knew it would come to him later.

He left Jeanie and Rubio in the care of his mother, who had decided to take both of them home with her, “where it’s safe,” and “where I can make them a nice lunch.” She promptly ordered Jocko to take his MGB home and get their “real car,” so they all could fit inside.

Before leaving Jocko threw a glance a Rubio and offered to stay at the house with Harry.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Harry assured him. “This clown won’t risk coming back.”

“You got any idea who it was?” Jocko asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Harry said.

It was well past noon when Harry got back to the squad room, half the day wasted. Rourke called him into his office as soon as he noticed he was back.

“We got a problem,” he said, even before Harry had taken a seat. “But first, tell me how everything turned out at your house.”

Harry told him, assuring him there was no evidence at the house that shouldn’t have been there.

“You have any idea who did it?”

“Nothing solid right now,” Harry said, “just a hunch. What’s the problem?”

“The sheriff had a call from a lawyer named Walter Middlebrooks. I guess you know him. He represents that church you’re looking into.”

“And the head minister’s son, who’s my prime suspect right now. What did that weasel lawyer want from our great and glorious leader?”

Rourke gave him a warning look. “Seems like your boy, the minister’s kid, remembers Darlene talking about a cop who was pressuring her to put out. He also remembers that he was a homicide dick and that his first name was Nick. The lawyer says the kid withheld the information because he was afraid we’d set him up if he pointed a finger at one of our guys. So he wants to know why we’re pushing so hard on a kid minister, just because he may have strayed a bit, but we’re ignoring one of our own who was doing the same thing.”

“What did you tell the boss?” Harry asked.

“I told him the minister’s kid
and
our guy are both under investigation, and that I’d send him copies of the daily reports to back that up. I also told him Nick’s assigned to limited duty until the case is resolved, or at least his part in it is resolved.”

“What did he say?”

“He said to suspend him forthwith. He said it could be a suspension with pay, but he wanted him out of here before the shift ended.”

Harry looked over his shoulder and noticed that Nick’s desk was empty.

“I told him a half hour ago,” Rourke said. “He came in late this morning.” Rourke hesitated and gave Harry a look that said, late enough to have been at your house.

Harry nodded, but didn’t take the bait. “How’d he handle the suspension?”

“He was upset, but he knows my hands are tied.” Rourke drew a long breath and shook his head. “Harry, I don’t make him for this. And it’s not just because he’s a brother cop.”

“Neither do I. But there’s enough evidence pointing at him that we can’t ignore him, either.”

Rourke thought it over for several moments. “Who do you think broke into your house?”

“Bobby Joe Waldo,” Harry said. “The same minister’s kid that lawyer was yapping about. It was either him or somebody very close to him. But I can’t prove it. Not yet, anyway.”

“Why would he take a chance like that?”

“The same reason they’re trying to deflect attention toward Nick. He probably heard Nick’s name from Darlene. That part of it’s probably true. But he’s just using it; grasping at anything he can to take the pressure off. He knows I’m closing in on him. That’s why he broke in. He wants to see what I’ve got on him and he knows he can’t get in here. I think he was hoping to find exactly what he found, copies of reports that I was working on at home. Somebody was watching my house the other day and he took off when Jocko spotted him.”