Mind Switch (36 page)

The Miata, his favorite car of all time, was demolished. The Buick had creased the entire side of the little car, pushing in the driver’s door almost to the passenger seat. The front wheel had been twisted to a 45 degree angle. Fred almost cried, not because of his near death experience, but because his beloved car of fourteen years was now gone forever.

One of the patrolmen on duty had left the house just after he heard the sound of crushing metal. In a moment he was next to Fred. Fred asked, “Did you see who was driving?

“No, I’m sorry. I never even saw the accident, I just heard the noise.”

Then he looked at Fred’s car. “Too bad,” he said “But it was getting old anyway.”

Fred could have punched him. But then he noticed tire tracks on the street and he recalled that as the car was pulling away, the rear tires of the Buick were spinning. Fred realized that dated the car, as contemporary models have front wheel drive. He would have to check it out; but to the best of his recollection Buick had stopped making rear wheel drives during the 80’s. He directed that a photo be made of the tire tread left on the pavement in case they could locate the vehicle.

Fred got a ride home from one of the cops at the scene. The first words out of his mouth as he entered his house and greeted Maureen were, “My damn car is gone.”

She said, “Was it stolen?”

He said, “No, some bastard hit it. It’s been totaled.” Fred decided that there was no value in also telling her that someone had also tried to kill him, at any rate to him that paled in comparison to the loss of his beloved car.

Maureen said, “Well, at least you weren’t hurt; and the car was getting old anyway.”

Fred thought that his poor Miata was getting no respect.

He told Maureen about the suicide at the Flynn home, but asserted that, in his opinion, it had been no suicide. “It’s just too much of a coincidence,” he added. He also said he was sure that somehow Ford was involved.

Maureen said, “I don’t think so.”

Fred said, “What do you mean?”

“Well, based on what you told me, there’s no doubt that Ford was involved with the jewelry thefts. But there’s no reason to believe he had been involved with the murders. I believe you’ve become so obsessed with Ford that you’re neglecting to look elsewhere.” Then she added, “Sometimes the answer is right before your eyes.”

He was startled by her remark. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m not exactly sure what I mean either, but think about it, other than the fact that Ford was Schultz’s hypnotist, what other connection is there between him and AU?”

“Well, for one, Schultz’s secretary or receptionist, whatever she is, told me Ford had recently tried to visit two division heads. Those were the two division heads that have been killed. Maureen, I don’t know what the exact link is; but just because I don’t understand all the details yet, doesn’t mean a connection doesn’t exist.” Then something hit Fred which he had totally overlooked.

“I have to go somewhere right now,” Fred said. “Let me borrow your car and I’ll be right back.”

Fred raced back to the Flynn house. One policeman was still there, he acknowledged Fred as he came through the door. The policeman had the rope in his hands that Mr. Flynn had used to hang himself. He was about to take it to police headquarters for forensic testing.

Fred said, “Let me see that rope.”

“Sure, but it’s just a plain rope as I see it. There won’t be any evidence obtained from it.”

Fred took the rope into the kitchen, where the grieving widow and her daughter were having a cup of tea. Fred said, “I really hate to bother you again, Mrs. Flynn, but I have to ask you where this rope came from.”

Mrs. Flynn’s daughter, wrought with emotion and exasperated with the never ending prying questions of the police, cried out, “That’s entirely enough, Lieutenant; you have bothered my mother enough!”

Fred ignored the daughter and said, “Please Mrs. Flynn, answer me, it’s extremely important!”

“I don’t know, Lieutenant, I never saw that rope before today.”

“Mrs. Flynn, the rope has been cut, notice one end is frayed and it appears to have been sliced at just the right length to . . . .”
 

Fred did not finish his sentence, fearing what he was about to say would elicit more emotion. “There should be another segment somewhere. The rope looks like the type used on boats. Did you or your husband do any boating?”

“No.”

“Is it possible your husband owned the rope and kept it in the garage or some other place, where you wouldn’t have noticed it?”

“No, we have a small house as you can clearly see. If my husband purchased that rope, I would know about it. And we don’t have room for much storage, no basement, not even a garage. All of Michael’s tools are kept in the laundry area. I just did the wash late yesterday afternoon, and there was no rope there. And Michael never left the house after I did the laundry, so he couldn’t have bought it later. I’m sure he didn’t have that rope in this house or I would have known.”

“Mrs. Flynn, I think you’re right. Now I must ask a delicate question. Did you touch the rope after you found your husband this morning?”

“Yes, as I told you, I cut it to get my husband down. Other than that I didn’t touch it. I knew he was dead and could not be resuscitated. My God, his eyes were wide open and . . . oh, God,” she stated sobbing.

“I understand, Mrs. Flynn. I’m so sorry; I know how difficult this is for you. But I have to ask a couple of more questions—Mrs. Flynn, did you put any perfume on this morning?”

“No, of course not, I’ve been too upset.”

Fred directed the same question to her daughter and as expected, he received the same response.

“Do you have an early morning paper delivered to your door, Mrs. Flynn?”

“Yes, Jason, who lives down the street, delivers the paper on his bicycle early each morning.”

“How early does he arrive?”

“It’s usually between 5:30 and 6 a.m.. He completes his rounds before he goes to school.”

“Would he be home from school now?”

“Yes, I think today was a half day for some reason. He lives in the brown stucco place four houses down, on this side of the street. Lieutenant, I really don’t see what this has to do with anything. Michael is dead and that’s all that means anything to me.”

“I understand, Mrs. Flynn and I’m sorry to have bothered you. But please realize that it’s my duty to investigate all mysterious deaths.”

“I don’t see how you could frame this as mysterious; as much as I hate to admit it, my husband killed himself. I don’t know why, perhaps I never will.”

“Mrs. Flynn, I don’t think your husband killed himself. It’s going to be difficult, but I’m going to try to prove that. When I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”

On the way out, Fred told the policeman on duty that he would be taking the rope with him but would drop it off at forensics within the hour. Fred did not like to take evidence away from the crime scene, since if he ultimately found the suspect and there was a trial, the defense could always say the evidence had been tampered with. Fred was keenly aware of the effectiveness of the defense in the O.J. trial which used the lack of a properly documented evidence trail to insinuate that the police may have contaminated or altered critical evidence in their favor.

Fred walked four houses down to the delivery boy’s house. He knocked on the door and a small boy with a yellow shock of hair perfectly parted down the middle, opened it. Showing the boy his badge, Fred asked, “Are you Jason?”

“Yes, sir, but I didn’t do anything.”

“I know that, son, but I need you to help me with my police work. Did you deliver the paper this morning to the Flynn house?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ok, now think about this carefully before you answer. Did you see anyone outside that house when you delivered the paper?”

“Oh that’s easy; I did see someone on their porch. I was delivering my papers across the street and I hadn’t reached their house yet. I never see anyone up at the time I deliver the paper except old Mr. Eagan who walks his dog. He hates kids and he doesn’t buy my paper, so I just try to avoid him. Anyway, I saw this person on their porch and I thought he was going to ring the bell but he didn’t. He just put something down on their porch and left.”

“Did you see what it was?”

“Not at the time, but I was curious. I usually throw the paper on their porch from the sidewalk because Mr. Flynn complains if it’s on the lawn. This time I walked the paper to the porch and looked at what the man had delivered. It was a yellow rope. I thought that was a strange present to give to someone, especially that early in the morning.”

“Did you see the face of the person who left it?”

“No, he was too far away.”

“If he was too far away, how did you know it was a man?”

“I guess because he was dressed like a man.”

* * *

When Fred arrived home, he explained to Maureen what had happened.

She said, “Fred, how did you know to check out the rope?”

“I honestly don’t know, but from my experience as a cop, people don’t hang themselves unless it is the only option available to them. You often hear about it in prisons, but prisoners usually can’t avail themselves of any other life ending product or substance. I found when I interviewed Mr. Flynn at his company, that he was very deliberative and contemplative. In my judgment he would have used some fast acting painless substance to end his life. Hanging is neither without pain nor foolproof.”

Maureen replied, “But he could have become depressed quickly and all he had to kill himself with, which was available in the house was a rope.”

“Yes that’s true, but the rope had been cut at the perfect length to insure that his legs did not reach the floor. Either he would have cut the rope in the den this morning just before he killed himself or at some earlier period. If he had cut the rope this morning, we would have found the rest of it as well as the tools he used. Why would someone have cut the rope and then put the knife or scissors back before they hung themselves? There’s an absolute limit to everyone’s neatness. According to his wife, he had not been depressed; so why would he have cut it earlier in contemplation of suicide? Beyond that, I had some very strong intuition to check out his suicide more carefully. Actually, it was more of a voice in my inner mind than intuition.”

“Okay, but now, where do you go from here?”

“I recognized the rope; it’s a generic type that is sold in virtually any hardware store. Ropes are made of either natural fibers or an artificial substance such as plastic. Plastic is the best medium for hanging yourself since it does not bunch up, the slippery surface insures it does its job. It could have been bought anywhere in the Sarasota area, so I’m not going to waste time going down that route. I guess for the moment I’m satisfied that it wasn’t a suicide. And if it was a murder, it now marks the third division director who has been systematically eliminated.”

Maureen had been listening intently. “This is starting to sound more and more like the “Ten Little Indians” murder mystery.”

“Yes, to an extent, except that in that story the protagonist and all the victims were in a remote area far from civilization and help. In this case they were neither isolated nor ever far from help.

“One other thing,” said Fred, “I want you to smell this rope. I noted the slightest trace of either perfume or after shave lotion on it, and your olfactory senses are much more sensitive than mine; what do you think?”

“Oh, it’s definitely perfume. It’s Chanel No 5.”

“Wow, you amaze me, that with all the brands on the market, you could pick the single one that is on that rope!”

“It’s not that amazing, Fred. In fact, you should have recognized it yourself. After all, I’ve been wearing that fragrance for years!”

Chapter 62

Fred took a quick trip to Schultz’s house without calling or interacting with Mrs. Schultz first. He didn’t look forward to another confrontation with her, but he had to talk to Schultz. Mrs. Schultz reluctantly allowed Fred entry while imposing strict deadlines on his departure time.

Schultz was in bed. He looked much worse than he did the last time Fred had visited. Fred thought the magnitude of Schultz’s illness seems to transcend the face injury he experienced. Fred felt that Schultz was not recovering, but getting progressively worse.

“How are you, George?” Fred cheerfully asked, while disguising his true reaction to Schultz’s deteriorating medical state.

 
It was obvious to Fred that Schultz enjoyed seeing him again. Fred assumed that, with Schultz’s wife exercising her guard authority over her husband, few visitors had been allowed in. So Fred was a welcome exception.

“Well, for a man that has had major shrapnel damage from a falling light fixture, I’m not too bad. What’s up, Fred?”

Fred had to conceal a smile. The two of them had started out as extreme enemies with conflicting agendas; now a true friendship had formed between them. “Did you know that Michael Flynn was found hung this morning?”

“My God, no! He was perhaps the most upbeat employee we have. It can’t be true!”