"Someone is obviously framing me! I had nothing to do with this!" Charles shouted.
"Come on, Charles. Who would frame you?" Lloyd asked.
"Probably my bitch ex-wife!"
"Charles, that doesn't make any sense."
"Maybe it was Ralph Walker, someone is setting me up!"
"James, if you've got nothing to hide then answer the questions. Did you know Abigail Thompson?"
"I never knew her until she turned up dead."
"How about Rachel Walker?"
"I didn't know her either."
"So, why did you call them repeatedly?"
"I'm telling you, that number isn't mine."
"Alright, I'll play your game, James. Let's say the number isn't yours. Why would somebody write your name on the Rolodex card next to the number?"
"How should I know that? I told you already, somebody is setting me up!"
"So, you're not going to cooperate with us then?"
"Cooperate with you? I'm just as lost in all of this as you are!"
"James, where were you on the nights of the murders?"
"I was home, I think. I don't remember exactly where I was. That was over a year ago now."
"Can you see from our perspective how this doesn't look so good for you? Just tell us what you know."
"I told you already, I didn't know that bitch Abigail Thompson and I damn sure didn't know Rachel Walker."
"Alright, so that's the way that we're playing it. We're going to get a warrant for your house. Anything you want to tell us before we do so?"
"Bite me. Whatever happened to officer loyalty?" Charles said.
Lloyd led Charles out of the room and escorted him into a holding cell.
"We got this cell just for you!" Hanson said.
"This cell might be for me, but this middle finger is for all of you," Charles said, holding up his middle finger.
When we finally got our warrant, Parker and I made our way with Hanson and Lloyd to Officer James Charles's home address to collect his belongings and look for anything that could be deemed suspicious.
Officer Charles lived alone since the divorce. His wife had taken their two kids along with half of his money and all his dignity. So, Charles could only afford a small, one-bedroom apartment on Maple Street. Charles' apartment was interesting to say the least.
From the outside, the apartment building was nice enough. It was an old brick building which had withstood most of the decay around it. The inside, however, was a different story.
He had one lone, ripped couch in his living room with an old stained coffee table directly in front of it. Pornographic magazines littered the table. He had a small television across from the couch.
His kitchen wasn't much less depressing. His refrigerator was completely empty save for a bottle of ketchup and an expired bottle of mustard and his freezer was home to two frozen steaks. His sink was piled high with used dishes.
The bathroom was pretty much as you'd expect. Our investigation progressed to his bedroom.
The sheets were awry on his bed, there was a nightstand with a lamp adjacent to it, covered in dust. If slovenliness was a crime, he'd be doing 25 to life. His room had one small closet and in it were his police uniforms, some very wrinkled collared shirts, and a safe.
"Grab the safe." Lloyd said. "There's got to be something of value in there."
So, we picked up the safe, threw it in the back of our patrol car and returned to the station. Meanwhile, Charles remained in the interrogation room, clearly irate.
When we arrived, the Chief told us they had called Finley in to handle any forensic evidence we uncovered. Lloyd hoisted the safe up onto one of the desks as Finley slowly strolled into the building.
"What have we got here?" he asked when he finally got to us.
"This was all we could find," Lloyd said hoisting the safe onto the table.
Finley stared at it for a moment. Then took a long sip of his coffee.
Parker was tapping his foot behind us in anticipation.
"Do we have a crowbar?" Finley finally asked.
Hanson left and grabbed the toolbox from the locker room and pulled out a crowbar. It took us about 5 minutes to finally pry the thing open. It took over 4 minutes for us to argue about how to open a safe with a crowbar, and about 30 seconds to open it, but when we did, all that it contained was a single notebook. The Chief grabbed the notebook and flipped through the pages.
"What the hell is all of this? It's just a bunch of numbers," he said.
He threw the ledger on the table and the rest of us gathered around it to try to decipher its cryptic message. There were a bunch of dates and dollar amounts below them.
"What do we have here?" Parker asked to Finley. "Did we find his tax returns?"
Finley shrugged.
"Maybe we show it to him and pretend we know what it is, get him to explain it to us," Lloyd said.
"It's worth a shot," the Chief said.
"What if it's nothing?" Parker asked.
"There's a reason he's kept it in that safe."
"What if it's not even related to the case?" Parker asked.
"That's what we're going to find out, Officer," the Chief said, growing annoyed. "Lloyd, I want you and Hanson in there together on this one."
Hanson and Lloyd had worked with Officer Charles for over 15 years now. They'd seen him grow from a promising, hot-shot rookie to a bitter middle-aged man.
As I watched him through the mirror, he no longer just seemed like the bitter, misogynist, over-the-hill cop. He was now a whole different animal altogether. He was hiding something.
"We found your ledger." Hanson said throwing the notebook onto the table in front of Charles.
Charles looked slightly puzzled by this discovery.
"So, you did," he said.
"It's not looking good for you," Lloyd said.
A sly smile suddenly came across Charles's face.
"You've got no idea what that is," he said.
"We know enough, James," Lloyd said.
Charles started laughing.
"You've got nothing!" he exclaimed.
"We've got your name next to a telephone number that called both victims on numerous occasions!" Hanson said.
"That's circumstantial at best!" Charles responded. "Anybody could have written any name that they wanted next to that number. Even if Abigail Thompson did write it, what good is the word of a lying whore against a decorated cop? Hell, she could have even written your name! Then we could see how well you would be doing in this hot seat."
"So, Abigail Thompson is a lying whore now, is she?" Lloyd asked.
"Listen," Charles began with surprising sincerity. "I'm not saying that all women are lying whores, but every time I come across a lying whore, it happens to be a woman."
He burst out laughing.
"It's just a matter of time before we find out what this ledger is for," Lloyd said.
"Good luck. I've got nothing to do with this case," said Charles.
"So that's your story?" Lloyd asked.
"That's it!" Charles said, still smiling.
Hanson grabbed the notebook off the table and the two detectives left Charles in hysterics behind them.
"Smarter than he looks," Parker said to me.
"What now?" Hanson asked.
"We've got to figure out what the notebook means. Finley, get this down to the guys in forensics, see if they can come up with anything," the Chief said and then turned to Parker and me. "I want you two to glean anything you can from Officer Clearwater. The two of them spend more time together than anyone. Hanson and Lloyd, I want you two to focus on background for Charles, see if there's anything that we missed or anything more we can find out."
Clearwater was out on a call, so Parker and I waited for him in an interrogation room. As Parker sat at the table, reviewing his notes and mumbling to himself, I stood up and walked around. This was going to be my first actual interrogation. It was much different on the other side of the mirror.
I looked around at the concrete prison around me and thick, iron bars that blocked out a lot of the light. I turned toward the mirror and stared into it. I couldn't help but think about Rachel Walker and Abigail Thompson and how the two had become entangled in the same web. These two different women, leading very different lives had both ended up in the same place, on a slab at the morgue in a police station. As I stared, searching for answers in the mirror, all I could see was myself staring back at me.
Clearwater was very aware of his partner's circumstances. However, he remained by his side, protesting his innocence. Clearwater was not the brightest crayon in the box, but nobody could question his loyalty. When he arrived back at the station, he was led into the interrogation room and took a seat across from us. Officer Daniel Clearwater was a big boy. He was about 300 lbs. of doughnut and he was constantly sweating, even now in January.
"Daniel, I'm sure you know that we have to ask you some questions about James," Parker started.
"James didn't do anything. He's a good guy and he's always had my back."
"It's noble of you to have his back too."
"Don't patronize me, Parker."
"Alright," Parker said, realizing the nice guy routine wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Daniel, did you ever see your partner acting suspiciously?"
"Never. He's a model officer. Always chasing down leads."
Parker flipped through the folder in front of him.
"See that's interesting of you to say, because his recent arrest record doesn't reflect that," Parker said, holding up a sheet of paper. The sheet of paper may as well have been blank.
"That's just because a few of his leads never panned out."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You know, his leads."
"Yes, I know what leads are. What do you mean they never panned out?"
"He got tips from some informants that never turned into anything concrete."
"Who were these informants?" I asked.
"That's confidential."
"Did you ever see any of these informants?" I asked.
"Well, no. I had to wait in the car. James said that they would get spooked if there were two of us there. The meetings had to be private."
"Where did they meet?" Parker asked.
"Over at the Super Motel on River Street."
"Did James ever tell you what these people revealed to him at these meetings?"
"No, he just said that there was more that he needed to follow up on."
"When was the last time that he had one of these meetings?" I asked.
"I think it was like a week ago?"
"How long did the meetings usually last for?" Parker asked.
"Not long, maybe ten minutes at the most. Some were much shorter."
Parker paused for a moment looking over Officer Daniel Clearwater. The sweat was beading down his neck.
"Do you think that James ever met Rachel Walker or Abigail Thompson?" Parker finally asked.
"If he did, I'm sure that he would have mentioned it."
"Do you think there's anything else we should know about Officer James Charles?" Parker asked.
"James is a great cop, and you've got the wrong guy. There must be some mistake. Somebody is setting him up!" he pleaded.
"Alright, Daniel. Thanks for your help," Parker said.
Daniel Clearwater stared at Parker for moment before finally standing up and leaving the room. Parker and I followed behind him. The Chief stopped us at the door.
"You two held your own in there and now we've at least got something else to follow up on."
I could see the Chief's face start to contort.
"Good work in there," he forced out.
"Did Charles ever tell you about these meetings?" Parker asked.
"This is the first that I've heard of them." the Chief said. "It's not impossible that he could have just been following up on leads, but something definitely seems off. I want you two to take a ride over to the Super Motel and see what you can find out."
We hopped into the old Honda Accord and Parker turned the key in the ignition.
The engine stalled.
Parker sighed.
He quickly turned the key again, revved the engine and threw the car in reverse. Then, he threw the car in drive and floored the gas pedal. The car spurted forward but then accelerated gradually.
"Getting good at that," Parker mumbled to himself.
As we drove down Main Street on our way to the Super Motel on River Street, a light snow had begun to fall. All I could think about was how everything seemed so peaceful and quiet outside while inside I was filled with turmoil. Thoughts of Rachel Walker and Abigail Thompson crashed together in my mind. They were one in the same, but still very different. I pictured Rachel Walker staring up at the sky and all I could think about was the secrets that she was keeping from me. When I pictured Abigail Thompson, her secrets were beginning to appear much clearer.
We pulled up to the stoplight at the intersection right in front of the Super Motel. The electric sign flashed with the words, "Cleaners Wanted." I noticed out of the driver side window a raggedy old homeless man in a black hoodie holding a cardboard sign. He placed the sign on the ground, turned his attention to our car and rapped on the window.
"Got any change?" he asked.
I tried to get a look at his face, but he was looking down and the hood covered him. All I could make out was his thick gray beard.
Parker flashed his badge.
"Beat it," he said.
The old homeless man smiled.
"God bless you," he said.
"Yeah, yeah," replied Parker, brushing him off.
The old homeless man turned and began to walk away from the corner. I watched him walk down to the next street corner and then turn to look back at us.
I could have sworn I saw him flash a smile at us again and I thought I noticed a long scar down the one side of his face. I blinked and rubbed my eyes and he was gone.
We got out the car and approached the check-in booth across the parking lot from the rooms.
"You two looking for a room?" the man behind the window asked. He had a crooked nametag that read, "Carl".
"Not exactly," Parker said flashing his badge. "We'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Make it snappy," he said.
"Have you ever rented a room to this man?" Parker said, showing him a picture of Officer James Charles.
"Now that's privileged information," Carl answered.
"How is that privileged information?" Parker asked.
"I plead the Fifth."
"So, you're a lawyer too? You must be doing this part-time then."
"I know my rights!"
"Then you know that you are withholding evidence right now."
"Evidence? For what?"
"Just answer the question. Do you know this man?"
Parker held up the picture again.
"What's in it for me?" Carl smiled, revealing a nice set of gold teeth.
Parker reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, then slid him a 10-dollar bill.
"Yeah, he's a regular. What's this about?"
"Did you know he was a cop?"
"It really doesn't matter to me what he is, as long as he's got cash," Carl said, holding the bill up to the light.
"Who did he come here with?"
"Usually seen him with women mostly."
"Women? As in more than one?"
"A couple of 'em, I guess."
Carl was still closely examining the bill under light.
"The same women?"
"Maybe a few times. I don't keep track of that stuff."
"Can you tell me when the last time he was here was?"
"Probably," Carl said, putting the bill closer and then farther away from his face while squinting one eye.
"Jesus, man," Parker said. "It's not fake, can you tell me when the last time was, he was here?"
Carl glared at Parker and scowled.
"Let me take a peek at my ledger here," he said, hoisting a large black book onto the counter in front of him and flipping through it. "Hmm...yep here he is, we have a Mr. Hugh Jass."
"Mr. Hugh Jass?" Parker repeated out loud. "Oh, that's real cute. When was he here?
"Looks like the 28th of December."
"The 28th of December?" Parker repeated, writing in his notepad.
"Maybe the 29th," Carl decided.
He turned the book upside down to look at it and then turned it back the other way. Parker stopped writing in his pad.
"Does it say who he was here with?"
"Nope, he's the only one that signed the check-in."
Parker put his hand on his neck and rolled his head back in frustration. He stopped suddenly and focused his gaze upward.
"Is that a security camera?" he asked.
"You wouldn't believe the amount of people that try to stick this place up."
Parker looked at the decaying motel buildings. The only thing super about this place was that it was still standing.
"I think you'd be surprised at what I would believe. Do you keep all of the footage?" Parker asked.
"Only for about a week, then we routinely go through and delete all of it," Carl said definitively.
Today was January 6th, the footage was gone.
"Shoot," began Parker. "Can I see what you've got anyways?"
Carl turned the TV monitor to the window and pulled out a trunk of VHS tapes. Parker grabbed one out and handed it to Carl.
"Can you play this back for us?" he asked.
Carl took the VHS and placed one into the VCR. The time stamp at the bottom of the screen read 3/14/99.
"I thought you said you routinely deleted these?"
"Yep," Carl said, watching the footage.
"Every week?"
"Yep," Carl said again.
"These are from last March."
"Yep."
"It's January."
"Yep."
"Alright. Thanks for your help, Carl. We're going to need all of these tapes," Parker said.
"Carl? I'm not Carl." he said.
Parker gave him a puzzled look.
"Just give us the tapes," he said.
Carl handed the trunk through the window and we headed back to the station.
♠ ♠ ♠
When we arrived back at the station, Hanson, Lloyd and the Chief were huddled around Hanson's desk. We put the trunk of VHS tapes on Parker's desk and went to see what the commotion was about.
"James knew Rachel Walker," Hanson said.
"What are you talking about?" Parker asked as we approached the desk.
"They knew each other, and he lied about it!" Hanson said.
"James Charles, Ralph Walker and Rachel Walker all graduated from Little Falls Central High School in 1983. They were in the same class, they knew each other," the Chief said.
"So, he lied to cover something up?" Parker asked.
"That's what it looks like," the Chief said with a sigh. "How did you two make out?"
"We've got at least 9 months, maybe more, of VHS surveillance tapes from the Super Motel."
"Good, we can start sifting through those, see what we can find."
Just then, Clearwater entered the room.
"How can you all believe James would do something like this?" he asked. "For God's sake we went to the man's wedding!"
We all stood silent while Clearwater fumed in front of us.
"I'm not sure, Clearwater," the Chief finally broke the silence. "But he's hiding something from us. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and go home, you're too emotionally invested in this."
He put a comforting hand on Clearwater's shoulder, but Clearwater smacked his hand away and brushed past him. He grabbed his coat off his desk chair and left the station.
We all stood there, uncomfortably avoiding eye contact with the Chief.
The Chief cleared his throat and then glanced over at the trunk of VHS tapes on the table.
"Looks like we've got a long night ahead of us," he said.
"Yep," Hanson said awkwardly.
While Charles was making himself home in his holding cell for the night and we settled into our temporary prison as well. None of us were going anywhere that night.
"This is ridiculous, let me out!" he yelled. "What are you doing out there anyways?"
"Watching your greatest hits." Hanson responded.
As we started sifting through the tapes, we were able to find the one marked December 28th, 1999. It had been 6 hours and still there was no sign of Charles at the motel. It was 4 am before we saw him arrive at the motel on the day in question.
"There he is!" Lloyd shouted.
Parker had dozed off but shot up and was now on high alert, glaring at the TV screen.
"Come on, show us the girl," Hanson pleaded to the screen. A dark-haired woman appeared behind Charles in the background of the image but quickly walked out of the frame. However, she returned once again but she was too far to make out a face distinctively.
"Walk a little closer," Lloyd pleaded.
Charles took the key from the attendant behind the window and turned away. He walked up to the woman and placed his arm around her waist and the two began to head toward the stairs to the second story of the motel.
"Dammit!" Hanson exclaimed slamming his fist down on the desk.
"Wait, he's turning around!" Parker shouted.
He was right. Charles had stopped dead in his tracks and turned around.
The attendant must have yelled something to him because he turned and made his way back to the window with the mystery woman in his arm right next to him. We were all on the edge of our seats, noses to the screen.
When they got to the window, there they were, clear as day.
"Bingo," Hanson said and hit the pause button on the VCR.
There, on the screen, was Officer James Charles standing next to Abigail Thompson, the Queen of Spades.
♠ ♠ ♠
"Why don't we pick this up from scratch?" Lloyd asked. It was 9 am when we brought Charles back into the interrogation room.
"She was an informant, that's it," Charles said. He was obviously much less cocky than he was acting before.
"From this picture you two seem to be getting pretty cozy."
Lloyd pointed to the still image on the TV screen which had been wheeled into the interrogation room. Charles' arm was around her, but Abigail Thompson didn't look too pleased about the whole arrangement.
"Sometimes you have to play their game to get what you want. You should know that."
"This looks like it's all a part of your game, Mr. Hugh Jass. Abigail Thompson doesn't look like she wants to play!"
Charles sat silently.
"Why did you tell us you didn't know them, when quite obviously you did know them?" Lloyd asked.
"I was protecting my source," Charles tried.
"Come on, Charles."
"I didn't think it was important!"
"If it wasn't important, we wouldn't have asked you the question in the first place," said Hanson.
"We'll start from the beginning," said Lloyd. "What was your relationship with Rachel Walker?"
"I knew her from high school. Lost touch after that."
"You know we have the tapes, James. It's just a matter of time before we find a tape with her on it, then what is your story going to look like?"
"I told you, I only knew her from high school."
"Now that you've had plenty of time to think about it, where were you on the night of September 25th, 1998?"
"I was at home."
"Can anybody confirm your whereabouts?"
"Nope!"
As the Chief, Parker and I all watched the interrogation from behind the mirror, Finley had returned from the forensics lab with the notebook in hand.
"It's a ledger of some kind," he said.
"Well yeah, we figured that. But what does it mean?" the Chief asked.
Finley tried to take a sip of his coffee, but the Chief slapped it out of his hands.
Finley was shocked.
"What does it mean?" the Chief repeated.
"These are transactions and payments, and these are the dates they took place," Finley said pointing to numbers on the page.
"So, what is the significance of it?" the Chief asked.
"The numbers here don't add up. It looks like somebody was skimming money off the top and fudging the numbers to hide it." Finley stated.
I don't think I'd ever seen Finley make a statement with such urgency.
We stood there, thinking for a moment. It was almost like we were a collective mind.
Finally, the Chief's eyes widened as if he had come to a sudden realization.
"Like they were embezzling money?" the Chief asked.
"Exactly," said Finley.
"Abigail Thompson was embezzling money." Parker said.
The Chief looked down at the ledger and back up at Charles in the interrogation room. He rapped on the mirror.
"Sit tight," Hanson said and he and Lloyd stood up and left the room.
"I think we were just about to get somewhere, what's this about?" Lloyd asked.
"The ledger," the Chief said. "Charles knew that Abigail Thompson was embezzling money."
Lloyd grabbed the ledger, shocked and glanced back at Charles in the interrogation room.
"I think we've got him; this is withholding evidence at the very least," Hanson said. The two of them made their way back into the room and threw the ledger, once again, onto the table.
"This routine again?" Charles asked.
"We know about your scheme," Lloyd said.
"What are you talking about?" Charles asked.
"Come on, Charles! The embezzlement! Are you going to come clean about anything here?"
Charles suddenly grew quiet.
"Were you in on it too? Did you kill her to shut her up?!" Lloyd asked.
"I was following up a tip on that, I didn't know anything about it," Charles said.
"It looks to us like you did know something about it. Withholding evidence, lying to impede an investigation, embezzlement, the charges are starting to stack up here, James. Do you want to add murder to that list?"
"I didn't kill her."
"Well it certainly looks suspicious. Tell us what you know. We've got enough evidence here. We've got a connection between the two of you, you lied to cover up knowing her which probably won't look good in front of a jury, and now we've got motive too."
"You know," Hanson started. "I believe this is still a death penalty state. I think that two gruesome murders would surely constitute the death penalty."
You could almost see the smoke coming from Charles head as he furiously thought of an escape route.
"What can you offer me?" Charles asked.
"Your cooperation will go a long way," Lloyd said.
"That's crap and you know it. I need something in return."
Lloyd stood up and began to collect his papers.
"Alright, Charles. I'm sorry you couldn't be of more help to us. This will look really good on the front page of tomorrow's paper," Hanson smiled at him.
Hanson stood up and the two of them started walking toward the door.
"It was Brad and Abigail that were in on it!" Charles shouted. "I had nothing to do with it!"
Lloyd turned around slowly to face Charles.
"Brad was in on it?"
"I never killed her! Somebody tipped me off that they were embezzling money and I used it as leverage against her."
"Leverage against her in what way?" Lloyd asked.
"We slept together," Charles admitted, defeated.
"So, you blackmailed her?"
"It wasn't blackmailing!" Charles pleaded.
"It's the actual definition of blackmail, Charles!" Hanson said.
"It was a mutual agreement."
"Doesn't sound like a mutual agreement to me, James. She's dead," Lloyd stated.
"I swear I didn't do it."
"How does Rachel Walker fit into this?" Lloyd asked.
"No way, that's completely different. You can't pin that on me!"
"How is that different, Charles? They're both dead and you placed frequent calls to both! Are you telling me that was a coincidence? Did you blackmail her too?"
"I need some assurances here, Ron. I can't go to prison."
"Tell me what you know, James, and I'll do my best. You know that my word is good."
Charles sighed and began reluctantly.
"Rachel was having an affair. I saw her lip locked with a guy outside of a bar in Salem."
"Who was the man?"
"I only saw him in passing. I never got a good look at him, but I knew it wasn't Ralph."
"When was this?"
"I don't know, maybe a few months before she was killed. I don't remember."
"So, you used that against her? Tell me the truth."
"Yes. I confronted her. Said I would bring it to Ralph. She said if it didn't kill him then he would definitely kill her."
"And then what?" Lloyd pressed.
"We would meet up at the motel, that's why I would call both. But I didn't have a reason to kill either of them."
"Sounds like you could have easily wanted to shut both up. Maybe they got tired of the charade, wanted to turn you in?" Hanson offered.
"It wasn't like that!" Charles shouted.
"What do you know about the Salem Strangler leak to the press?" Lloyd asked.
Charles sat there defeated.
"I did it," he finally said.
"What did you get out of it?"
Charles sighed.
"$25," he finally said.
"Was it worth it?" Lloyd asked.
Charles didn't answer but sat there motionless.
"James, James, James. What have you gotten yourself involved in?" Lloyd asked.
Officer James Charles sat there in the interrogation room, completely humiliated and disgraced. Fifteen years of "dedicated" police work, all leading up to this moment. They say you either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain.
Lloyd and Hanson exited the room, but Charles remained there. He stared at the empty desk in front of him. I'm not even sure if he was blinking.
The Chief had suspected that Charles had been the leak for a while now, but he never had any evidence against him, until now.
I thought about the encounter that Charles and I had at 93 Ontario St. It had almost faded from my mind. The figure had mentioned nonchalantly that Charles was the one that had given him the information about the Queen of Diamonds. I almost thought he was joking at the time.
"Do you think that was everything he knew?" the Chief asked solemnly.
"I think so," Lloyd said.
"Right under our nose the whole time," said Hanson.
"What now?" asked Parker.
"Looks like we've got to bring back Brad Miller," the Chief said.
"Better bring your track shoes," said Hanson.
"What about Rachel Walker's affair?" Parker asked.
"Keep an ear out but I think that's a dead end," the Chief said. "We tried looking into it before but came up with nothing."
"What if it's critical to the case?" Parker asked.
"We're working on it, Parker," the Chief snapped. "We have minimal resources here and now we're down two cops. We need to use our resources proficiently and follow the most pertinent leads to the case. We can't go chasing after some love affair from a year ago. Now, you two go bring me Brad Miller."
We left the station and headed, once again, to Anderson & Partners law offices.
"What's the plan this time?" I asked.
"We're going to have to sneak up on him from behind and grab him," Parker joked.
"And if that doesn't work?"
"Then plan B."
"What's plan B?"
"Shoot him," he tapped the gun on his hip and laughed.
I looked back at him with a straight face as we pulled the car up to the building.
"Just in the leg, come on," Parker said.
We hopped out of the car and walked in the familiar front door of the building. Déjà vu. Sylvia, the new receptionist, with dark hair and pale features sat at the reception desk filing her nails and chewing gum without looking up.
Parker cleared his throat.
"Errum. Hello?" he said.
"Yes, how can I help you?"
"We're here to see Brad Miller."
"Mr. Miller is in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?"
Parker flashed his badge.
Sylvia didn't look up.
Parker cleared his throat again.
"We've got a 10:30 with Brad Miller."
Sylvia looked up and rolled her eyes before reaching for her phone and paging Brad Miller. She told him that two men were here to see him for his 10:30 appointment. Then she got up and walked to the bathroom without another word.
"What's with the flashing the badge?" I asked.
"It makes me look important," Parker said.
Just then, Brad Miller appeared on the staircase and a look of recognition came over his face.
"Mr. Miller," Parker began. "We'd like you-."
Brad Miller immediately took off running up the stairs.
"What is it with this guy?!" Parker said and we took off after him. At least this time he wasn't heading toward the street. Brad Miller ran up the four flights of stairs and through the exit door to the roof.
"Brad! Stop!" Parker yelled at him when we emerged onto the rooftop. "There's nowhere else to go!"
Brad ran right up to the ledge almost fell off. He took one look down then looked across to the adjacent building probably 15 feet away and took a few steps back. He looked like he was trying to get a running start before attempting to jump.
Just before he took off, Parker grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down to the ground.
"Not today, friend," he said.
We cuffed him again and threw him in the back of the squad car.
"Brad, what the hell man? You were really going to jump," Parker said, slightly winded on the ride back to the station.
"Probably," he said nonchalantly.
"Why can't you just come with us? You know that you won't get very far. What would have been your plan if you made it across that building?"
"I guess I hadn't thought that out yet."
"Did you run track in high school? Jesus, man."
We arrived back at the station and threw Brad into an interrogation room.
"Chief, let us take this one," Parker said. "I think we've built up a good rapport with this guy, I really think we can get something out of him."
Hanson scoffed.
The Chief looked disapproving at first but eventually relented.
"This time stick to the script, Parker," the Chief pleaded.
This would be our first interrogation of an actual suspect, and a big one at that.
"Are you sure about that?" Hanson asked.
"Come on, Chief. We're ready for this one."
The Chief had another moment of hesitation before finally deciding.
"You've done good bringing him in. He's all yours. But so, help me God, Parker..."
Then Parker turned to me.
"We'll give him the old razzle dazzle, good cop/bad cop routine."
Hanson put his palm to his forehead.
♠ ♠ ♠
"Alright Mr. Miller," Parker began. "Enough games, you're going to talk!"
"Talk about what?"
"About Abigail Thompson!"
"I already told you everything about Abby."
"You failed to mention that you were involved in her little scheme!"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't play coy with me, Brad! I know all about you and Abigail! Now talk!" Parker shouted.
Parker then stood up and glared down at him angrily. Then looked away and walked to the window. He rubbed the iron bars softly.
"Of course, you know! I told you the last time I was here about everything!" Brad yelled back.
"My partner over there, he's an animal," I said aside to Brad. That was the line that Parker told me to use.
We heard a knock on the window and Parker walked over to the door and opened it. I could make out a few whispers from out in the hall.
"What the hell are you doing in there?" the Chief asked.
"Trust me," Parker said and closed the door. "We've got a witness now, Brad, willing to testify against you. We've also got your ledger."
Parker whipped around and threw the ledger onto the desk.
"So, what happened, Brad? Was she going to expose you, so you killed her? Was that it?" Parker questioned.
Brad Miller looked overwhelmed.
"I-I-I didn't kill her." he was finally able to get out.
"Well it's not looking great for you right now, Brad. I'd say you're booking a one-way ticket to death row. You had a great reason to want to see her dead. If I remember correctly, you were pretty upset the last time you were seen with her. You almost punched through a wall if my memory serves."
"I told you that was because she wouldn't sleep with me."
"See, now your story isn't adding up. You're the head of finance at Anderson & Partners. If it's your scheme, why do you need her, the receptionist, to go in on it with you? What exactly does she bring to the table? Everyone who knew her said she wasn't very smart or reliable."
You could almost see the smoke coming out of Brad Miller's ears and the gears turning in his head.
"This ledger is pretty indicting! I'm sure it won't be hard to match this writing to a sample of yours. You're going down for embezzlement either way," Parker continued. "Should we put murder 1 on the docket as well?"
"Alright!" Brad Miller shouted. "So, we were sleeping together! But I didn't kill her!"
"Then what really happened that night, Brad?"
"Abby was out getting drinks with some friends and I ran into her at Mickey's Tavern. We started talking and she said that she was getting cold feet. She said that she felt guilty because we were stealing money from Mr. Anderson. She told me that she was going to confess everything to him. I tried to talk some sense into her, and I convinced her to at least give me a few days to sort this thing out. She was alive when I left that alleyway and then I never saw her again."
"So, you left her in the alleyway and where did you go?"
"Like I said before, I went straight home."
"So, you're telling me she was going to blow the lid off your little scheme, and you were just going to let her go? Uh-uh, Brad. I'm not buying it."
"I swear! I went straight home, ask my wife!"
"We already know she confirmed your alibi," Parker said.
"Then you know I didn't do it!" Brad pleaded.
Parker stared him down for a moment.
"Alright, Brad," Parker decided. "We'll go with your version of things, for now. Was there anything else that you wanted to confess while you were here? Anything that's been eating away at you?"
Brad Miller slumped back in his chair and remained silent.
Parker started to pack away the ledger and papers that he had.
"You take it easy, Brad."
Parker and I stood up and left the room. When the door closed behind him, a huge smile came across Parker's face.
"Great job in there, Parker," the Chief said, patting his back.
"That was really a class A interrogation," Lloyd said.
"Looks like you've been paying attention to me after all." said Hanson.
The pats on the back and congratulations didn't last long. They soon ended abruptly when we turned the corner outside of the interrogation room hallway. There, in the holding cell directly in front of us was Officer James Charles, hanging from the holding cell bars with a belt around his neck.