On Deadly Ground (15 page)
Early the next morning, Deluca stopped at the Ranch Inn and Café for breakfast. The motel clerk recommended it as a local favorite. He was taking a calculated risk. While he might pick up valuable information in a local diner, he might also be noticed. This was a small town, a place where strangers stood out like drugstore cowboys at a pro rodeo bull-riding event.
He ordered coffee and breakfast. As he waited, he kept one ear open to the conversation around him while he perused the local paper, a rag called the
Kane County Citizen
. The paper's lead story was devoted to the continuing murder investigation. Deluca read it with interest. On the back page, in the Police Blotter section, he discovered that a local woman, Rebecca Eddins, reported a prowler around her home earlier in the week. The short piece provided no address for Eddins.
Could the prowler have been Ronnie Gadasky, stalking the woman in the photos? He intended to find out.
***
Books stopped at the local Gas 'N' Go for coffee and a copy of the
Kane County Citizen
on his way into the office. The lead story confirmed what Books had been afraid ofâthat Brian Call was leaking sensitive information about the investigation to the press. The front page headline read Murder Investigation StallsâWidow of Victim Pregnant. Books scanned the article. It mentioned that an anonymous source told the newspaper that Darby Greenbriar was pregnant and that her murdered husband, David, was not the father. The article went on to name Lance Clayburn as a suspect in the slaying and intimated that he and Darby were having an affair at the time of the murder.
Books hadn't been in his office long enough for his morning coffee to cool before he was summoned to Alexis Runyon's office. Charley Sutter was there holding a copy of the newspaper. He was angry. Runyon didn't look particularly happy either.
“Jesus, Books, why didn't you tell me?” asked Sutter.
“Tell you, what, Charley?”
Sutter waved the morning paper in his face. “Don't stonewall me, Books. Did you know?”
Books closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes.”
“Why wasn't I told the minute you discovered that Darby Greenbriar was pregnant and her late husband wasn't the father? Kind of an important piece of information, don't you think? And that's just the beginning of the shitstorm I found waiting for me when I walked into the office this morning.”
“Hold on, Charley, let me explain.”
“Go ahead, and it better be good.”
“I learned about the pregnancy yesterday from discussions with Darby and Lillian Greenbriar. It's true that I deliberately withheld it from you, but I did it for a reason. Somebody's been leaking information about our case from the beginning. And now I know that that somebody is Brian Call.”
“I don't believe it,” replied Sutter. “Call has my full confidence. He wouldn't do anything like that.”
“Well, he did. The reason I know is that Brian was the only person I told about Darby's pregnancy and David's sterility. Apparently, he couldn't wait to drop that information on the asshole that runs the local paper. I knew the leaks had to be coming from you or Call. I just took a guess that it was Call and baited the trap.”
Runyon, who had been listening attentively, said, “What do you think, Charley?”
He sighed. “Frankly, I find it hard to believe. Brian Call has given this community more than ten years of dedicated service. It doesn't make any sense.”
“Charley,” said Books. “How much do you really know about Brian Call?”
“I know he's done an excellent job in this department for over a decade. That's all I need to know.”
Books frowned. “Did you check him out thoroughly with Las Vegas P.D. before you hired him?”
“What the hell are you intimating, Books?”
“That maybe you don't know Brian Call quite as well as you think. Now, did you check him out or not?”
Sutter thought about it before replying. “I don't recall. I'd have to go into his personnel file and take a look.”
“Why don't you? Maybe it's time to contact Las Vegas P.D. and find out a little more about him.”
“But what's the point?” said Sutter. “Suppose he is leaking information. What's he trying to doâsabotage the investigation?”
“I don't know, Charley. But it's a question we need answered.”
“Maybe he's trying to ensure a certain outcome in the case,” said Runyon.
“What do you mean?” asked Sutter.
“She's suggesting that Call may want to do everything in his power to see that Lance Clayburn takes the fall for Greenbriar's murder.”
“That's nonsense,” replied Sutter. “Call probably does believe Clayburn committed the murder. As a matter of fact, so do I, because that's where the evidence points.”
“Unfortunately,” said Runyon, “what's going on with Call might turn out to be the least of our problems. Neil Eddins has been making phone calls to some people in high places, and there's bound to be fallout.”
“That's putting it mildly,” said Sutter.
Books said, “What's he saying?”
“Try an illegal search for starters,” said Sutter. “You know the kind I'm talking about, one where you enter someone's home without a warrant, and then get caught by the property owner. In this case, that would be Neil Eddins.”
“You mean the bunkhouse where McClain lives,” said Books.
“One and the same,” said the sheriff. “What the hell were you doing out there?”
“Following leads, Charley. I was trying to find McClain so I could ask him about the threats he'd made against the Greenbriars.”
“Nothing wrong with that. It's conducting a search of his home without a warrant and without permission that crosses the line, J.D. You might be able to get away with that in the big city, but this ain't the big city. That little stunt is going to end up in the newspaper, and it isn't going to make us look very good.”
Sutter was right and Books knew it. “I was wrong to do that, and I apologize for any embarrassment I may have caused the BLM or the Kane County Sheriff's Office.”
“Apology accepted,” said the sheriff, “but that might not be enough to get us through this. I've been summoned to a three o'clock meeting this afternoon with the commissioners in a closed-door session, and I know what's on their agenda. They're going to ask me to remove you from the investigation.”
“And what are you planning to tell them?”
“I hope I can tell them that Lance Clayburn is about to be arrested for the murder of David Greenbriar, and the case will be closed. You haven't forgotten our eleven o'clock meeting this morning with the prosecutor. If everything goes as expected, charges should be filed in the next day or two.”
“I haven't forgotten.”
“Good. And just so you know, J.D., Eddins is not only complaining about the alleged civil rights violation, but he intends to portray you publicly as some kind of loose cannon with an ugly temper. He'll cite as evidence your Denver history, as well as the two arrests you've made the past several days, both involving what he claims is the questionable use of force.”
“That's bogus and you know it. I used reasonable force when I arrested Lebeau and McClain. If they hadn't decided to put up a fight, force wouldn't have been necessary.”
“Hell, I know that J.D., but think how it looks,” said Sutter.
After Sutter left, Books stayed in Runyon's office. For a while, nobody spoke. Then Runyon said, “You don't think Clayburn did it, do you?”
“Nope, but I can't prove it. And there is the physical evidence. It's impossible to explain away. What would you like me to do, Alexis?”
“It's your decision, J.D. If you want to pull out of this thing, I understand. On the other hand, it might be interesting to see what you can find out about Brian Call. And what about that kid, Ronnie Gadasky? I wonder what he has to say.”
Books returned to his office and phoned Grant Weatherby in Las Vegas. He picked up immediately.
“I hate to keep pestering you, Grant, but I need some more help.”
“Not a problem. I needed to call you anyway. What's up?”
“Can you access personnel records from your department?”
“Depends on the reason and who's asking.”
Books told him about Brian Call's past employment as a corrections officer in the Las Vegas Metropolitan Detention Center.
“What kind of information do you want?” asked Weatherby.
“I'd like to know the conditions under which he left your department, and anything else that looks interesting.”
“How long ago did he work for us?”
“I'm not sure, but I think it's been twelve or thirteen years at least.”
“I'll see what I can find out and get back to you.”
“Thanks. You said you had something else for me.”
“I do. I talked to several people from the room service department at the Hard Rock, and nobody recalls seeing Lance Clayburn on Sunday.”
Books sighed. “It was a long shot anyway.”
“But that's not the end of the story,” said Weatherby. “The casino security staff was kind enough to search the floor tapes beginning at 12:01 A.M. Sunday morning. At 9:12 A.M., they found your boy playing the dollar slots.”
“How long was he in the casino?”
“The security cameras picked him up leaving the casino twenty minutes later.”
Books thanked him and they disconnected. Ten minutes later, Weatherby called back.
“That was fast.”
“Don't get too excited. I haven't got the information you requested, but I did learn one interesting thing. When I called personnel, I was told that any inquiry concerning Brian Call would have to be routed through the department's criminal intelligence division. I placed a call to a contact over there, but he hasn't gotten back to me yet.”
“What do you make of that?”
“It tells me Call probably separated from the department involuntarily. It also tells me he probably hung around with some bad boys. The intelligence division spends a lot of time tracking associations among a broad range of unsavory charactersâpimps, drug dealers, gamblers, and, of course, organized crime figures. I'll get back to you as soon as I have more.”
Deluca finished his breakfast and then drove a short distance to a convenience store with a pay phone out front. He used the phone book and tried to find a listing for Rebecca Eddins. There wasn't one, but there was a listing for R. Eddins in Kanab. Deluca figured if she was single and living alone, she might opt for a nonpublished number or drop her first name and use an initial instead.
He jotted the phone number and address on a napkin he'd taken from the restaurant. He dialed the number and waited. After several rings the call transferred into voice mail. A pleasant, female voice said, “You have reached Rebecca Eddins, please leave a message. If you are calling about possible legal services, please call my law office at (435)649-7200.”
Deluca hung up. He made a second call to the home of Ronnie Gadasky. “Is Ronnie there, please?”
“No, he ain't. Who's this?”
“My name is Elliott Sanders. I'm a reporter with the
Las Vegas Sun Times
. I'm here covering the Greenbriar murder, and I've been asked to do a story on Ronnie. Do you happen to know when he might return?”
“No, mister, I don'tâcan't imagine why you want to talk to Ronnie, anyway. He's dumber than a sack of horse poop.”
“To whom am I speaking?”
“George, George Gadasky. I'm his brother.”
“Okay, George,” said Deluca. “Would you happen to know where I might find Ronnie?”
There was a lengthy pause. “Depends. How bad you wanna find him?”
“I'm very anxious to talk with him. If you could take me to him, George, I'll make it worth your time.”
“How much?”
“How about a hundred bucks?”
“My time's worth more than that.”
“Well, how much would you like?”
“Oh, I'd have to have at least two hundred.”
“Consider it done. When can we leave?”
“Soon as I finish my chores. You wanna come out here?”
“No. Why don't I meet you someplace?”
“Okay. Do you know where the turnoff is to the old Paria movie set?”
Deluca almost choked. “Yes, I do. It's outside Kanab, off Highway 89, right?”
“That's it,” said George. “Meet me there this afternoon at one o'clock.”
“I'll be there.”
***
Books still had an hour until the eleven o'clock meeting with prosecuting attorney Virgil Bell, so he drove to the home of Ivan Gadasky, hoping Ronnie had returned since he last talked with the old man. Ivan wasn't there, but the three-legged lab was, and so was Ronnie's older brother, George.”
“Hey, J.D., how ya been?”
“Good, George. How about you? It's been a long time.”
“Damn straight. How about fifteen years.”
His math wasn't very good, but close enough. “About right.”
George invited him in. “What brings ya out this way, J.D.?”
“Maybe your dad didn't mention it, but I'm trying to find Ronnie.”
“You and everybody else.”
Books frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, some reporter called lookin for him. The flakey little bastard's become a real celebrity.”
“You mean that little weasel from the
Kane County Citizen
?”
“Mr. Christensen. No, it weren't him.”
“Who was it?”
George scratched his chin. “Said his name was Elliott somethin-or-other, Sanders, I think he said.”
“Did he say who he worked for?”
“Yeah. He mentioned some newspaper in Las Vegas.”
“The
Las Vegas Sun Times?”
“I think that was it,” said George.
“What did he want?”
“Said he wanted to interview Ronnie for some story he was doing about the murder.”
“What did you tell him?”
George lied. “Told him I got no idea where he's at.”
Books handed him a business card. “If you hear from Ronnie, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell him to call me. I really need to talk with him.”
George looked at the business card and said, “I'll do it, J.D.”
***
Books arrived ten minutes late for the meeting with prosecutor Virgil Bell. His office was located in an old brick home on the north end of Kanab that had been remodeled into a law office. A receptionist escorted him to a small conference room in the rear of the house that at one time had been a bedroom.
Seated at the conference table were Charley Sutter, Brian Call, and a short, pudgy man in his early forties with a receding hairline, a bad comb-over, and pasty, yellow skin that made him look like he was suffering from jaundice. Sutter made the introduction. Books could only shake his head in frustration at Sutter's decision to allow Call to attend the meeting. Clearly, Call was the source of leaks to the press, and to anybody else interested in hearing the local gossip. If Call's motive was to bias the local jury pool should Lance Clayburn be brought to trial, he was doing a good job of it.
Virgil Bell had Greenbriar's file opened on the table in front of him. “Well, gentlemen, I've completed my review of the file, and I believe I'm ready to make a decision.”
Glancing at Books, Bell continued. “I understand there is some disagreement about what course of action this office should take. Perhaps, Ranger Books, I could ask you to share your concerns about proceeding against the prime suspect in the case, Lance Clayburn.”
“You mean the only suspect,” said Sutter, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.
Books explained the timeline problem, but when pressed by Bell, he was forced to acknowledge the possibility that Clayburn could have returned to Kanab in time to have committed the murder.
When Books finished, Bell said, “Anything else?”
“Only that David Greenbriar was a lightning rod for controversy in this community. There were plenty of people who hated the man and everything he stood for.”
“So, do you have any other suspects?” Bell asked.
Books had walked into that one leading with his chin. “Nobody that I can make a case against, at least not at the moment.”
“The evidence seems more than convincing,” said Bell. “You've got physical evidenceâMr. Clayburns fingerprints found at the crime scene. Then you have Clayburn calling the EEWA office trying to locate the victim on the Friday before the murder. The investigation further established that Greenbriar was killed with a .30-06 rifle, a weapon Clayburn owns, but now, conveniently, he can't seem to find. Then you uncovered an extramarital affair between Clayburn and Darby Greenbriar. When you put it all together, it makes a pretty compelling case for a murder charge.”
Books couldn't deny it.
Sutter added. “Plus, we just learned that Darby is pregnant and that her late husband isn't the father.”
Bell frowned. “Who is?”
“Good question,” replied Sutter. “It'll probably turn out to be Lance Clayburn's kid, but at the moment, Darby insists that it's David's child.”
For the first time, Call spoke. “Greenbriar's ex-wife, Lillian, maintains that David was shootin' blanksâsays she's got medical documents that prove it.”
“Have you verified that?” asked Bell.
“Not yet,” said Sutter, “but we will.”
Looking directly at Books, Bell had one last question. “What do you see as the weaknesses in the case, assuming it goes to trial?”
“I'm no lawyer, but if I were defending the case,” said Books, “I'd hang my hat on reasonable doubt. We were able to place Clayburn in Las Vegas midmorning on Sunday. I'd argue that the likelihood of his returning to Kane County in time to commit this murder were slim to none. Don't forget, Clayburn had to get back to Kanab, but he also had the problem of how to find Greenbriar in the nearly two-million-acre Grand Staircase National Monument.”
Bell shrugged. “Frankly, we've got enough evidence linking Clayburn to the crime that we should be able to overcome the lack of opportunity defense, if that's what they decide to try.”
“You might be right,” replied Books. Looking directly at Call, he said, “I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to see a defense motion seeking a change of venue.”
“What makes you say that?” said Bell.
“Because somebody's been intentionally leaking information to anybody who'll listen. A good defense lawyer is going to want this trial moved to a different location, preferably to a large metropolitan area where there's at least a shot at getting an unbiased jury.”
Call's face suddenly reddened and his body stiffened.
Bell yawned, looking somewhere between indifferent and bored. “If it happens, it happens. No sense worrying about it unless it does.”
The meeting ended exactly the way Books figured it would. Bell would file a murder one charge against Clayburn with special circumstances. That would make him eligible for the death penalty if a jury convicted him of first-degree murder. Sheriff Sutter could make the arrest just as soon as a judge signed the warrant.
Books turned to Brian Call. “What about the polygraph exam for Clayburn?”
“The detective sergeant who handles lie detector tests for St. George P.D. has been on vacation,” said Call. “I managed to get it scheduled for Monday morning at ten o'clock. That's his first day back.”
“You probably ought to cancel the appointment. Once you arrest him, Clayburn'll be lawyered-up before you can blink. There won't be a poly once he's arrested.”
“Has he agreed to take the test?” Bell asked.
“He did.”
Bell turned to Sutter. “Your call, Charley. I don't care one way or the other, but Books has a point. Once you bust Clayburn, the poly is probably history.”
“I'd feel better with Clayburn in jail,” said Sutter. “We'll still make the poly available to him if he's willing to take it.”
Bell turned to Sutter. “Then it's decided. Somebody needs to go to work on the affidavit. Once you've got a draft of the probable cause statement, bring it to me and I'll look it over before it goes to the judge. In the meantime, I'll have my paralegal prepare the charging documents. I'll file the paperwork first thing Monday morning in district court.”
“Any problem if I schedule a news conference announcing the arrest?” asked Sutter. “That should get the press off my ass for a while.”
“Not a problem,” said Bell, “except I think it should be a joint press conference with both of us in attendance.”
Sutter agreed.