Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-one

After watching the news, I turned to Kate. “I believe this calls for a celebration. I recommend we adjourn to a local restaurant of your choice. My only requirement is that the menu has to have an assortment of good beer. Since I didn’t get the chance to gamble today, I figure I’m entitled to spend some time on another vice. And besides, I’m buying.”

“Sounds good to me. I too have one stipulation. This outing cannot be classified as a date, since I refuse to date inside the police fraternity.”

“That’s okay with me. Call it anything you’d like. I can’t be out late anyway. I’ve got another engagement later in the evening with a beautiful young blonde.”

“Oh, really,” said Kate. “Let me think. This gorgeous blonde you referred to wouldn’t happen to be an eight-year-old living in Park City, would she?”

“Boy, you’re a quick study. I’ve been living like a Trappist monk since the divorce. But I’m not complaining. I figure between Sara and Aunt June, a guy couldn’t do any better.”

For the next two hours, Kate and I settled in at the Uintah Brew Pub on Salt Lake’s west side. Kate ordered a Cobb salad and a glass of Merlot. I stuck with Uintah Pale Ale and a plate of cold shrimp.

We kept the conversation light, searching for common interests, but mostly filled in blanks from our past. I was relieved when the alcohol started to take effect. The conversation became more relaxed. I’d been out of the singles scene for a long time, and until now, I hadn’t had much interest in the opposite sex. A divorce would do that for you.

Away from work, Kate McConnell was fun to be with. She smiled easily and often, and had a great sense of humor. She was smart, attractive, and outgoing—a dangerous combination. Toward the end of our evening, the verbal “getting to know you” had given way to periods of silence when our eyes locked until one of us became uncomfortable and looked away.

Later, as we parted, Kate took my hand and pulled me close. She nestled her body next to mine and held the hug for a period that seemed longer than normal. I kissed her on the cheek and walked away.

***

The aroma of Aunt June’s fresh banana bread met me as I entered the house. It was the best, and she’d baked it for as long as I could remember.

Aunt June was immersed in one of her romance novels when I found her tucked comfortably under a quilt in the family room. She read romance novels by the bushel. I thought this might be a good time to mention my recent encounter with Baxter Shaw. I wondered if she might have an interest in meeting him. She warmed to the idea rather quickly, so I decided to arrange an introduction as soon as I could find the time.

“I wasn’t sure what time you were going to be home, but I made a fresh pot of decaf about an hour ago. You might need to pop it in the microwave for a few seconds. There’s also some warm banana bread in the oven.”

“You’re going to turn me into a fat guy if you keep baking all these goodies.”

“What are old aunts good for if not to keep the house smelling yummy with homemade treats? And if you want some, you’d better get a move on it. Sara’s waiting upstairs in her bedroom, and you promised to read her a full chapter of
Harry Potter
before bedtime. I think she finished her homework. You might want to go over her spelling words with her.”

Sara had become a voracious reader. Her weekly allowance was tied to how much she read and how little TV she watched. Soon I was going to need a second job just to keep up with her growing allowance. The kid had a savings account I was starting to envy.

We went over her homework assignments and got her ready for bed. We settled in the family room for an evening with
Harry Potter
. Some nights she read to me, and other times I read to her. This time it was my turn. She didn’t make it through a whole chapter before falling asleep. I carried her upstairs and tucked her into bed, but not before I promised to take her and a friend on a Saturday adventure to Hogle Zoo.

Chapter Twenty-two

Early the next morning, I was in my office at the state penitentiary, knee-deep in neglected paperwork that had been accumulating in my absence. I also had Burnham at my door with two new cases involving employee misconduct. In one of them, a supervisor discovered a female corrections officer in a social worker’s office engaged in oral sex with a male inmate. The other case involved a civilian employee who worked in the prison culinary and was caught smuggling marijuana into the institution. To his credit, Burnham had not only managed to provide valuable assistance on the Vogue investigation, but had also kept the SIB functioning properly in my absence.

In recent months, Terry had become a workaholic and I was beginning to worry about him. Laura, his wife of thirty-three years, had died a year ago from complications resulting from a lifelong battle with diabetes. Instead of slowing down or taking a leave of absence, Burnham was trying to cope by working sixty-hour weeks, and then self-medicating during his off-duty time with too much Johnny Walker Black.

***

By late morning, I had begun to feel that I might get caught up by day’s end if I could avoid serious interruptions. However, my good fortune didn’t last. The office phone rang. It was Kate.

“Good morning, Lt. McConnell. I’d like to believe you’re calling to tell me what a marvelous time you had last night and that we should do it again soon, but somehow, I doubt that.”

“I did have a great time last night, thank you very much. And yes, I think we should get together again. But you’re right, that’s not why I called.”

“Okay. You’ve got my undivided attention. What’s up?”

“I just got off the phone with the State Medical Examiner’s Office. They’ve completed the autopsy on Watts. They’ve concluded that his death was a homicide, not a suicide. And apparently, they’ve got the forensic evidence to back it up.”

“Whoa! That does change things a bit, doesn’t it?” I said. “Have you said anything about this to His Eminence, Hyrum Locke?”

“Not yet. I’d rather sit down with the ME and go over the forensic evidence first. Chief Corey was notified, and he’s on his way in right now. The ME has set a meeting for this afternoon at one-thirty. Can you make it?”

“Sure, I’ll be there. I’ll bet Corey damn near had a stroke when he heard the news. That makes this a whole lot more complicated.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“The jurisdiction actually belongs to the Wendover Police Department. I doubt if they have the expertise or resources to effectively handle a sophisticated murder investigation. Who’s going to provide the assistance? And is Corey savvy enough to recognize that he needs help? And here’s one for you: What incentive will the brass have for allowing you to continue working the case, assuming Corey wants help in the first place? Both our departments seem more than happy with the current resolution of this thing. Why rock the boat? Why put this whole mess back on the front page of every major newspaper in the West?”

“It’s going to end up back under the media spotlight whether anybody likes it or not, and I think the brass will want to see this through, regardless of the adverse publicity that might come with it,” said Kate.

“Well, maybe, but remember that both our departments want this case to go away for a myriad of reasons beyond media scrutiny. The victim’s family, Richard Vogue in particular, scares the hell out of the honorable mayor, and to a lesser extent, both our bosses.”

I went on, “Put yourself in the place of Richard Vogue. You just find out that the man who killed your son was himself the victim of a murder, elaborately staged to look like a suicide. What would you think about that?”

“If I were Richard Vogue, I’d be thinking that the authorities may have correctly identified my son’s murderer, but they failed to uncover the real motive for his death and the identity of the person or persons who conspired to have him killed. I’d also be thinking that the investigation is only half-finished until the police discover who is behind all of this. And I wouldn’t have any reason to believe that my son was anything other than a Boy Scout, unless someone told me otherwise.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And you make a very intriguing point. What if someone does sit down with papa Vogue and tells him about Sue Ann Winkler, the Satin & Lace Club, and Levi’s porn collection, including the one he starred in. He then has a very interesting problem. He can apply pressure to snuff the investigation in the name of protecting his late son’s reputation, or he can insist on a full, open investigation, and let the chips fall where they may. An interesting dilemma, don’t you think?”

“For sure. I don’t know about you, but I intend to use everything at my disposal to stay on this investigation. The job is only half done,” said Kate.

“Yeah, I’m with you on that. See you at the meeting this afternoon.”

Chapter Twenty-three

On my way to the State Medical Examiner’s Office, a couple of thoughts occurred to me.

I called Burnham on my cell. “Terry, I need you to do something for me as soon as possible. Call the prison and find out which caseworker was assigned to Watts during his last prison commitment. See if the caseworker’s file contains anything written by Watts. I have a hunch we’re going to need original handwriting samples.”

“I’ll do it,” said Burnham. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, there is one more thing. I’d like you to attend Vogue’s funeral with me. Find out when and where the funeral will be held. I think the family put everything on hold for a few days waiting for several relatives to arrive from out of state. I’ll bet it’s scheduled sometime in the next day or two.”

“I’ll check into it and let you know. Mind telling me though why you want us to attend?”

“Let’s just call it professional courtesy.”

“Okay. I’ll get back to you.”

***

The Utah State Medical Examiner’s Office was located on Salt Lake City’s east bench not far from the University of Utah. It commanded a strikingly beautiful view of the Salt Lake Valley. I parked my car under their covered parking terrace and was directed by a receptionist to a small conference room adjacent to the lobby. Kate and Walt Corey were waiting.

Within minutes, we were joined by Harold Voddel, who had performed the autopsies on both Levi Vogue and Charles Watts. He was joined by Doctor Frances Chandler-Soames, who had been the Chief Medical Examiner for the state of Utah longer than I’ve been employed by the Department of Corrections. Her reputation as a forensic pathologist was second to none.

Chandler-Soames was clear from the outset that she concurred with Voddel’s autopsy findings, ending any concerns we might have had about his relative inexperience.

“Mr. Watts died sometime between one and three a.m. from a single twenty-five caliber gunshot wound to the head. In all likelihood, the single shot produced death almost instantaneously,” said the young medical examiner. “We carefully removed the twenty-five caliber slug during the autopsy. It came out undamaged and is now available for ballistics testing. The stomach contained a partially digested dinner consumed some three to four hours prior to death. A blood sample revealed a small amount of alcohol in the victim’s system, but not enough to reach Utah’s .08 legal limit. The bullet entered behind the decedent’s left ear and was lodged in the lower jaw. There was no exit wound.”

In Utah, the state medical examiner not only determined the cause of death, but also whether a death was accidental, a suicide, or a criminal homicide. Voddel continued, “Two factors make it all but impossible for me to arrive at the conclusion that Mr. Watts shot himself. First, the downward trajectory of the bullet occurred at such an angle as to make it highly unlikely that it was self-inflicted. Gunshot suicides which occur with the entry wound behind the ear, while not uncommon, almost always show an upward trajectory of the bullet because that is the more natural body position. Second, the absence of powder burns or residue on the victim’s skin suggested that the fatal shot was fired from a likely distance of one to two feet. Taken together, Mr. Watts would have had to place his left hand and arm into an almost impossible position from which to discharge the weapon. And he couldn’t possibly have accomplished that unless the driver-side door or window was open. And they were both closed.”

“Harry Houdini couldn’t have made that move,” chimed Chandler-Soames, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “The likely scenario is that your shooter was standing outside the victim’s vehicle, slightly to the rear, and fired a single shot, that struck Mr. Watts behind his left ear at the downward angle. He probably never saw it coming.”

The room was silent as we absorbed what we had just heard. The only audible sound came from Walt Corey’s growling stomach. Finally, I broke the silence. “I’ve got Terry tracking down Watts’ former prison caseworker, who should be able to provide us with handwriting samples.”

“That’s good. If Watts’ death isn’t a suicide, then the note Walt found in the hotel room has to be a forgery,” said Kate. Turning to Corey, she said: “Chief, you’ve got some decisions to make. Do you plan to carry this homicide investigation forward on your own or seek outside assistance?”

For the first time since we arrived, Corey smiled. “I think we’ve got our homicide team sitting right here. Let’s cut to the chase. I’ve got a small department with limited resources in a town that rarely sees a murder. The few we do get are usually family disturbances that turn violent, and somebody ends up killing somebody. Pretty much open-and-shut cases. This isn’t one of those cut-and-dried domestic violence cases. We’re gonna need some help with this one.

“It also seems to tie directly into your ongoing investigation of the murder of that parole board member. You’ve still got work to do before you figure out who would go to all the trouble of killing the killer. I’d just like to know whose hairy ass I might need to kiss in order to keep the two of you working this case?”

I liked Corey when I first met him in Wendover a day earlier. I liked him even better now, and I think Kate did too. His analysis of our predicament suggested a guy who possessed a solid grasp of the factual situation as well as the political context in which we found ourselves. I wondered if our two departments would try to wash their hands of the investigation and dump it on a small, understaffed, rural police department. We were about to find out.