Dying for Justice (15 page)

Evans tried not to jump to conclusions about him, tempting as it was. “I’d like to ask you about your brother, Gary Bekker.” She grabbed her recorder from her bag, held it up for Doug’s consent, and clicked it on.

“Did he do that to you?” Doug asked, sounding more curious than concerned.

“Does Gary have a history of assaulting women?” She used Bekker’s first name as a courtesy to his brother.

Doug gave her an odd look. “Not exactly. But I hear he’s in jail on assault charges and here you are looking assaulted.”

“Did you ever see him hit his ex-wife, Gina Stahl?”

“Nope, but I heard him threaten to kill her.”

Excellent. More corroboration.
“When was that?” Sweat pooled in her armpits and Evans wanted to get out of the sun, but she didn’t want to break the flow of information.

“The first time was at a backyard barbeque at their house. Gary had too much to drink and Gina tried to cut him off. They got into a fight and he threatened to kill her. She left him shortly after.”

“Were there other threats?”

“One night Gary and I were drinking at the Keg. He started talking about the guy Gina was dating and how he’d like to dump them both in the river.”

“Can we go inside and narrow down the dates? I’d also like get his verbatim statements, if you can remember.”

As soon as they stepped into the trailer, Evans understood why Doug had been sitting outside. Stuff was piled everywhere. Stacks of newspapers and magazines filled the space under the coffee table and lined up against the walls. Laundry covered the couch, and open plastic bags full of empty food packages were stuffed in every crevice. The room smelled like a giant recycling bin. Evans fought the urge to run outside.
Jesus!
Gary Bekker was a predator and Doug Bekker was a hoarder. Had their parents been brother and sister?

“I know. It’s a little overwhelming, but I’m getting help.” Doug gestured for her to come into the kitchen.

Evans told herself it would only take five minutes. She’d been inside homes that were more disgusting. At least Doug had no animals or dirty diapers. He pushed a massive pile of mail to one side of the kitchen table and Evans reluctantly took a seat.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“No.”

“You can relax. There’s no garbage in here, so it may be cluttered but it’s sanitary.”

Who was he kidding?
“What was the date of that family barbeque when Gary threatened Gina?”

“It was late summer, probably September, the year before Gina went into the coma. So 2008.”

“What about the time at the tavern? What was the date of that threat?”

“That was July 7, 2009. I remember because it was my birthday. That’s why Gary was having a beer with me.”

Evans jotted down the dates. “Do you and Gary get along?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you have a grudge against him? Is that why you’re talking to me?” She had to ask. This was too easy.

“He has serious issues and I can see no reason to lie for him.”

“Was he a delinquent when he was teenager?”

Doug laughed. “He was a Boy Scout. Being a cop and having control over people is what ruined him. The power made him mean.”

“What do you think happened to Gina?”

Doug shook his head. “I really don’t know. She was always kinda moody, so I wasn’t too surprised to hear she tried to commit suicide. Yet here you are implying Gary tried to kill her. And that doesn’t surprise me too much either.”

“Did Gary talk to you about the women he had sex with? Other than his wife?”

“Sometimes he bragged about getting all the pussy he wanted, but the truth is, I don’t see him that often.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t have much in common.”

“What do you do for a living?” Evans thought she knew the answer, but she wanted to see if it made him uncomfortable.

“I’m disabled. I hurt my back logging when I was twenty-seven and I have chronic pain.” He showed no sign of embarrassment.

“Does Gary have a current wife or girlfriend?”

“He dated a young girl for a while after Gina, but I don’t think he’s had anybody serious since. He was crushed when Gina left him.”

The idea of Bekker as a wounded soul was hard to swallow. “Does Gary have access to Demerol?”

“He might. He has chronic pain from an old football injury and I know he takes something for it.”

“Does he inject it?” It was the easiest way to get drugs into an unconscious person.

“I don’t know.”

“Has Gary ever been diagnosed with a mental illness?”

Doug gave her a hurt look. “I know Gary is troubled but he’s not crazy. He has a good side, you know.”

“Yeah? Tell me.”

“Gary was married once before Gina. They had a boy with Down syndrome and Gary ended up raising him after his wife died. He does yearly fundraisers for the Special Olympics and he’s really good with the kids.”

Evans would have hated Bekker a little less if her head didn’t still hurt from where the bastard had smacked her with a baton. Still, the information was interesting. “Would you testify in court about his threats to Gina?”

“Not if I could avoid it.”

Chapter 18

Wednesday, September 8, 1:12 p.m.

On the drive into town from Durkin’s cabin, Jackson checked his watch. It was after one and he’d missed his opportunity for lunch with either Kera or Katie. He stopped at Taco Bell, bought a burrito at the drive-up window, then parked at the back of the lot. He called Kera between bites.

Her hushed tone told him she was at the clinic. “Hey, Jackson. Nice of you to call.”

What had he missed?
“I’m sorry. You know what it’s like when I’m on a new case.”

“I do.” She paused, then softened her tone. “How’s your day going?”

“I’m having lunch in a parking lot. I thought if I talked to you while I was here it wouldn’t seem as pathetic.”

Kera chuckled. “That depends on what you’re eating.”

“A burrito.”

“You’re at Taco Bell, aren’t you?” She laughed again. “You know their beef is sixty percent filler, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s cheap, fast, and salty, so it’s working for me today.”

“How’s your investigation coming?” Kera asked. He heard a voice in the background, then a door close.

“I have a lead, but I need a subpoena to get his DNA and I’m not optimistic.”

“But you have a lead. That’s terrific.” She was no longer whispering. “What’s his connection to your parents?”

“He’s a loan shark and my idiot brother borrowed money from him.”

“Have you talked to Derrick?”

“Yes, and he lied to me. I’m going over there again now to confront him.”

Kera paused. “Try to be reasonable, maybe even empathetic. He’s your brother.”

“He’s an unreliable source of information in this investigation.”

Kera changed the subject. “How is Evans doing?”

Jackson had called Kera from the hospital the night before to let her know he wasn’t coming over. Maybe that was why she was irritated with him. “Evans is a little beat up but she seems fine. Lammers wouldn’t let her into the interrogation room with Bekker this morning.” He laughed. “I think the boss was afraid for Bekker.”

“Rightfully so. I’ve got to get back to my patients. Will I see you tonight?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call you. I love you.”

Jackson hung up, feeling guilty for leaving Kera hanging about his schedule. He pushed his lunch sack to the floor and started the car.
What had Kera meant by ‘rightfully so’?
Did she feel threatened by Evans?

Not likely. Kera was the most secure and rational person he’d ever known. Jackson pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Derrick’s house. On Hilyard, the traffic seemed to crawl and he made aggressive lane changes to stay ahead of it. Despite Kera’s caution to be reasonable, Jackson was still furious. Derrick hadn’t told him the truth about the amount of the loan. What else had he lied about?

He didn’t bother calling because Derrick never answered. His brother’s car was in the driveway, as usual. Jackson jogged up the walkway, pounded on the door twice, then waited sixty seconds. Just as he reached for the knob, the door swung open.

“I knew it was you. I could tell by the angry knock.” Derrick had shaved and looked ready to go out.

“We need to talk.”

“It has to be fast. I have an interview this afternoon.”

The news pleased him but he couldn’t be distracted by it. Jackson stepped into the foyer, forcing Derrick to move back. “If you stick to the truth, this conversation shouldn’t take long.”

“Here we go again.” His brother rolled his eyes.

Jackson cut through the kitchen to reach the dining room table, noticing that Derrick had cleaned up a little. “I talked to Ray Durkin yesterday. He says he loaned you ten grand and you only paid back six. Why did you lie to me?”

“Because I was embarrassed by the whole thing and six thousand sounds less foolish than ten thousand.” Derrick reluctantly sat across from him. “I’m sorry, Wade, but you were blaming me for their deaths and that was hard to take.”

You brought a killer into their lives!
Jackson found the will to keep the thought to himself. “When Durkin threatened you, what did he say?”

“He said he would break my fingers. At the time, I was still working out in the warehouse so it would have meant lost wages.”

“Durkin called here from Lucky Numbers two days before the murders. I’m sure Mom answered the phone because Dad never did. I think he pressured her for the money.”

Derrick was silent.

“You knew! What did that scumbag say to Mom?” Jackson shouted, his cheeks burning.

“You’re making too much of this.” Derrick’s hands were on the table and they were shaking.

“What did he threaten her with?”

“Durkin told Mom he would hurt
me
if he didn’t get his money in twenty-four hours. Naturally, that upset her and she called me.”

“And?”

“She said she couldn’t get her hands on any more money without bringing Dad into it. I told her not to do that. I couldn’t let Dad know I’d screwed up again.” Derrick glanced over at the fridge, like a man longing for a beer. “I told Mom not to worry, that I would get the money somewhere else.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t have time! Mom and Dad were murdered the next day and I was devastated. Mom was my best friend.”

“How did you plan to pay off the additional money?”

“I sold my car and started driving Dad’s Buick.”

Jackson remembered that soon after the funeral, Derrick had claimed his car was stolen. “You lied to me about your car.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Derrick pushed his hands through his new haircut. “I never wanted you to know about the loan.”

Jackson wasn’t in a forgiving mood. “Ray Durkin drives the same blue sedan that he owned back in 2000. Mr. Grayson saw a blue sedan parked outside the house the day of the murders. I think Durkin came here looking for cash and ended up killing Mom and Dad.”

“Oh, christ.” Derrick covered his face.

The remorse was a breakthrough but it didn’t change anything. “What kind of gun did Durkin own?”

“I never saw him with a gun or heard him talk about owning one.”

“But he came here with a weapon and shot our parents. I’d sure like to know what he did with it afterward. Any ideas?”

“I don’t think he brought a gun.” Derrick stared at his hands, still shaking.

“Why not? What do you know?”

“I think they were killed with Dad’s Jennings.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dad kept a handgun for self-protection, but it wasn’t registered, which is why he never told you about it. It disappeared after that day and I always assumed it was the murder weapon.”

Jackson was stunned. “Did you tell this to the investigators?”

“No. They arrested Hector Vargas, he confessed, and I didn’t think it mattered who owned the gun.”

Jackson slammed his hand on the table before he could stop himself. “Of course it matters! It’s about motive. If the killer didn’t come here with his own weapon, then the murders may not have been premeditated.” He stood and fought for control. “Goddammit, how I can solve this crime without the right information? What else have you not told me?”

“There isn’t anything else.”

They stared at each other in silence. Finally Derrick said, “I don’t know if this is important, but right before the murders, Mom was really upset about something in the news. I heard her mumbling that she couldn’t let it happen again. I asked her what was going on and she wouldn’t tell me.”

His brother glanced at the clock. “I have to go.” Derrick stood and waited for Jackson to do the same. “Listen, Wade,” his brother continued, “I made some mistakes back then and I tried to hide them from you and Dad. I also had some bad breaks too. But I got it together after that. I worked hard and I got promoted. I settled down and got married. I really tried to be someone you would respect.”

Jackson nodded but he wasn’t listening.
What had his mother tried to stop that might have cost her life?

On the drive back to the department, he made a difficult call. Sophie Speranza picked up right away. “Jackson. Good to hear from you. This must be important.”

“I need a favor.”

“You name it. I’m all over it.”

She wasn’t just being nice. He would owe her something in return. “I need you to look back through old newspaper stories to September, 2000. Specifically, the week before September 23. I’m looking for anything a middle-aged woman might react to emotionally.”

“That’s a little vague. Can you tell me why? I could be more effective in my search.”

“This is confidential. You can’t write about it.”

“Okay.”

“My parents were murdered on September 23, 2000. I just learned that my mother was upset about something in the news right before they were shot. She said something about not letting it happen again.”

Sophie made a sympathetic noise. “I’m sorry for your loss and I’m glad to help.” Voices in the background spoke to Sophie and she was gone for a moment. “Sorry. I’m with Gina Stahl in the care center right now. She’s getting reading to go home.”

“Is Detective Evans there?”

“No, but she’ll be back soon to escort Gina home. I’ll start your search in the microfiche first thing in the morning.”

Jackson stopped at a traffic light and pressed speed dial #7. He knew using a cell phone while driving could be dangerous, but if he didn’t multitask, he’d never get his job done. Jasmine Parker didn’t pick up so he left her a message: “It’s Jackson. Please compare the fingerprints from the double homicide back in 2000 to an ex-con named Ray Durkin. I hope to have DNA for you soon.”

On the way up to his desk, Jackson tried to visualize the murders from a new perspective. Someone, probably Durkin, had come to the house and threatened his mother, or maybe both his parents. In fear, his father had pulled out his handgun, but the assailant had taken it away and shot them both. His father had died first, maybe during a struggle for the weapon, accounting for the bruises. Yet even if his father’s death had not been deliberate, the bastard had then executed his mother with a bullet to her brain.

Grief and anger threatened to overwhelm him. Jackson suppressed his emotions and played the scene again. The killer brought his own weapon, but didn’t use it because his father had surprised him by pulling a gun. Why had the perp taken the murder weapon from the house? Were his prints on it? Had he not worn gloves? Was it simply easier to carry the gun out and throw it away rather than spend a few seconds wiping it down?

Jackson opened a form on his computer and began to write a subpoena for Ray Durkin’s DNA. As he keyed in his rationale, he realized how little circumstantial evidence he had. Derrick’s testimony about Durkin’s threats would help. He’d have to try Judge Cranston and play on his sympathy.

As he crossed the underground parking area, heading for his city-issued Impala, Jackson suddenly stopped. He drove an unmarked dark blue sedan and so did every other detective in the department. Bekker had said he first thought the homicides were professional hits, committed by someone who practiced at a shooting range. Good god. Had an officer of the law murdered his parents? It made no sense and Jackson didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility.

Once inside his car, he froze again.
Did Bekker commit the murders himself?
If he did, it would explain why the investigation was so sloppy and why he’d pressured Vargas so ruthlessly to confess. Jackson used his cell phone to call the reporter again.

“Hey, Sophie. When you search the September 2000 newspapers, pull stories that involve police officers.”

“This sounds juicy. You will give me an exclusive at some point, correct?”

“When I can.”

“Does it involve Gary Bekker?”

Surprised again by her ability to make connections, Jackson hesitated. “Why do you ask about Bekker?”

“I spent the afternoon listening to Gina, his ex-wife. So I know what he’s capable of.”

“This is a completely different case.”

“I’m headed back to the office now. I’ll try to get to the microfilm this afternoon if I can.”

“Please print everything and fax it to me.”

“Of course. Thanks for trusting me with this.”

Jackson could visualize her pixie face grinning, maybe even smirking. “I didn’t say I trusted you, but thanks for your help.”

Judge Cranston was not available, so Jackson reluctantly entered the office of Marlee Volcansek. He’d seen her once at home with her hair down and snug-fitting clothes and that’s how he visualized her now. The fact that she was attractive didn’t make her any easier to persuade. She was liberal and protective of an individual’s rights.

“Detective Jackson,” she said, looking up. “I’d ask how you’ve been, but I read the news. We’ve had a lot of homicides this year.”

“We passed our annual record and it’s only September.”

“What can I do for you?”

“I’m investigating a double homicide from the year 2000. The wrong man was convicted, but I have a good lead on the right suspect and I need you to sign this subpoena for his DNA.”

She scowled and took off her glasses. “What case was that? And who presided over the trial?”

“The Jackson murders. Hector Vargas confessed and entered a plea. Judge Ramusson was in court that day.”

“The Jacksons are your relatives?”

“My parents.”

“I’m disappointed to hear that justice was not served in our courts.” She held out her hand. “Let me read your subpoena.”

Jackson handed it over and held his breath.

Volcansek read quickly, then asked, “Ray Durkin is currently a law-abiding citizen?”

“As far as I know.”

“This is weak, Jackson. You’re basing your supposition on a threatening phone call and a matching vehicle description.” She drummed her fingers on the desk. “I’m going to sign it anyway, because if it were up to me, every convicted felon would have his or her DNA processed and logged into the system. It would save all of us a lot of work and prevent countless crimes.”

A wave of relief washed over him. “Thank you. Everyone in law enforcement feels the same.”

“Good luck with your investigation.” She handed him the signed paperwork.