Terminal 9 (6 page)

Mac nodded. “He's probably right.”

“One more thing, Mac. A couple of the guys looked at each other kind of funny when I mentioned Mason's name. I tried to talk to them, but no dice. I got their names. If we need to, we can question them later.”

“Good work, Dana. We'll pay a visit to Mr. Mason tomorrow. We'll need to talk to him for the record, especially since the chief mentioned he had a little heartburn with our victim.”

Dana slipped her small notebook into her jacket pocket. “That's another thing I noticed. The chief is a little too friendly with the terminal management, if you ask me. Did you know he's only the acting chief?”

“Really?” Mac held out a bag for Kristen.

“Yep. The actual chief is at the FBI executive management class in Virginia. This Spalding guy is only filling in for the next few weeks.”

“Interesting,” Mac mumbled. “Wonder why the D.A. didn't mention that? For an acting chief, he sure knows how to throw his weight around. Where is he now?”

“Still up there with the terminal brass; said he'd catch us later.”

“Hey guys!” Kristen shouted. “Take a look at this.” The flash of her camera lit up the rear axle of the lead boxcar. “That is, if you're done with your break.”

Mac ignored the smart remark and walked with Dana to where Kristen was crouched down on one knee, peering under the car. “We're in luck,” she said with an odd enthusiasm. “Looks like the rest of the big pieces are under here.”

“Amazing what some people get excited about,” Mac teased.

“Bring me some more plastic bags, please, Mac. I think we can get the rest into two of those large ones.” Kristen handed the camera to Dana and then slipped her heavy rubber gloves back on before dragging the legs out from under the boxcar. “Dana, get some shots of this operation.”

“Sure thing.”

Kristen grunted. “I can't reach the arm. Mac, can you get to it?”

Mac unfolded one of the plastic body bags and spread it on the gravel to protect his clothes. He grabbed the frame rail with his left hand and stretched out enough to reach the index finger of the severed arm. Once he pulled it into the clear, he let Dana photograph it before sliding it into the bag Kristen held for him.

Several minutes later, satisfied that they had recovered the majority of the smaller remains, they returned to recover the torso.

“Hey, Mac,” the D.A. called from outside the crime-scene tape. “Got a minute? I'm about to head home.”

“Sure.”Turning back to Dana and Kristen, Mac asked, “You two think you can manage without me?”

“Well, sugah,” Kristen batted her eyes, drawling like a Southern belle, “I just don't know how we'all are gonna hold up without a man around.”

Dana chuckled.

Mac didn't appreciate Kristen's humor one bit. He left before the insults got any worse. Not that he blamed them. Picking body parts off a railroad track could get pretty intense. Mac walked to the periphery of the crime scene and ducked under the tape.

“Anything raising hairs?” Darren Volk asked Mac, but he kept his gaze on the women as they worked on getting the victim's remains into the large rubber body bag.

“Not so far,” Mac answered. “Evidence-wise, everything is pointing to an accident, but we'll go ahead and run the gambit. Hey, I heard Chief Spalding was filling in for the real chief of police while he's at the national academy.”

“Right. Spalding was the chief until a couple of years ago. The guy was born and raised in St. Helens and wasn't ready to leave the job. The city thought they needed someone on the outside. They hired George Potter to replace him, and Harry is still carrying a grudge. I got used to calling him Chief years ago and it stuck.” He frowned. “Why do you ask? Is there a problem?”

“No. No problem. My partner just got the impression he was pretty tight with the management here at the terminal.”

“She's right about that.” Darren frowned. “That's one of the reasons I wanted OSP to look into the death. Spalding has a lot of connections in this town—which is why he's no longer the chief. I'm sure Potter would agree with my decision.”

“I'm glad you called us in. We'll need to get a comprehensive interview with the guy driving the rig that hit our victim. I also want to interview the day shift foreman, this Dan Mason character. I hear he was less than amiable regarding our victim's visits to the yard. I don't know how receptive they'll be to interviews, though. Looks like corporate lawyers are on their way in.”

“Stop by my office in the morning. We'll cut some grand jury subpoenas for you to take along. If they refuse to talk, we'll subpoena them in for death inquiry testimony. That is, of course, unless we consider them suspects instead of material witnesses.”

“I appreciate that, but they're just persons of interest right now. I'll plan on meeting you at your office at nine, if that works for you.”

Darren nodded.

“I also want to get a warrant to search our victim's house for anything relevant to the investigation. I want to know why he was heading out of Dodge at night. That seems to break with his regular routine.”

“Sounds good. I'll see you in the a.m.” Darren hesitated. “Will you be releasing the scene tonight? The manager is anxious to get things rolling. This thing has put them behind.”

“Sorry,” Mac said. “There's no way I can release anything at this point. I'll need some officers to lock this area down. It's a crime scene until we prove otherwise.”

“Okay, I figured as much. I'll meet with the management and the local police to smooth things over.”

“Appreciate it.” Mac started to rejoin Kristen and Dana when a trooper from the wildlife division drove into the terminal, pulling up to the yellow crime-scene tape. Mac assisted him in gathering the wheelchair parts and sent him off to the Portland patrol office's evidence compound, where the chair would await transport to the OSP crime lab.

When he finally got back to Kristen and Dana, they had placed Clay's remains on the metal gurney and were loading it into the truck.

“You two ready?” Mac asked.

“No thanks to you.” Kristen covered her harsh tone with a half smile.

“I'm sorry. I had to go over a few things with the prosecutor and had to get the wheelchair squared away.”

“I was teasing,Mac,” Kristen said.

“I knew that.” He shook his head. “We'll secure the scene tonight and get a fresh start in the morning. Dana, you and I have a meeting with the D.A. at nine. We'll need to get going on the warrant for the home and gear up for some interviews here at the terminal. We also have to get with Clay's daughter; I'm sure she'll have a lot of questions.”

“I'll spend a little time with my new friend here.” Kristen patted the bag. “We'll try to get you some answers before noon. You can come in then.”

“Great, it's a date.” Mac stripped off his gloves and tossed them in the waste receptacle in Kristen's truck.

Kristen leaned toward him and whispered seductively, “Why, Mac. Are you asking me out?”

For once Mac didn't back off. He locked his gaze into hers. “What if I am?”

This time it was Kristen's turn to blush.

SIX

W
EDNESDAY MORNING AT 6:15, Mac balanced his large Starbucks coffee on his leather notebook cover as he fumbled with his keys to open the door to the detectives' office. Turning the key and pushing the door open with the same hand, Mac was surprised to find someone was already in the office. The lights were on and the coffeepot was simmering on the hot plate.

“Philly?” Mac called, wondering why the veteran detective hadn't left the door unlocked.

“Yello.” Philly popped his head out the door of his private office.

Lifting his cup in a salute, he said, “Morning, sunshine. Decide to get to work on time for a change?”

Ignoring the slam, Mac stepped partway into Philly's office.

“Sarge here yet?”

“Nope. He has court in Washington County today. Probably won't be in all day.”

“Has Kevin been in yet this morning?” Mac peered around the corner. “I thought he was scheduled back today.” His partner had been gone for the better part of a month after having surgery and beginning chemo.

Philly shook his head. “He's not coming in until this afternoon. Another chemo treatment this morning. I told him I'd pick him up and bring him to the office so his missus could get a break.”

Mac nodded. “What are you doing here so early?”

Philly shrugged, spilling a few drops from his cup onto the carpet on the way back to his desk. He rubbed his black wingtips over the drop on the carpet, massaging the liquid into the fibers along with the other stains. “Paperwork. What else?”

“You and Russ are up for the next call.” Mac folded his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “Dana and I got one last night to Columbia County.”

“Oh yeah? That's good. I've got a date with my barber this morning, just wanted to get some reports dictated before the phones start ringing off the hook.”

Mac settled his gaze on Philly's thinning hair. For a guy who seemed to let everything else go, Philly was very conscious of his hair and always had a comb in his pocket. In his early fifties, his heavy frame weighed well over two-fifty. He had a protruding stomach that always seemed to catch crumbs from the mega-portions of food he ate.

Mac had learned early on that, as far as Philly was concerned, appearances could be deceiving. Philly might be a little uncouth, but he was one of the best detectives in the department—right up there with Kevin Bledsoe. Many an offender had been fooled by Philly's sloppy outward appearance, and Philly played it to his advantage.

“What did you and Dana go out on?” Philly asked. His attention seemed more focused on the reports than on his question.

“A retired railroader got hit by a train out at a Western Pacific terminal near St. Helens. It will probably end up being an accident, but there are a few odd things that need to be looked in to.”

“Like what?” Philly took a sip from his coffee then leaned back in his squeaky chair, hands behind his head.

Not feeling entirely sure of himself, Mac was glad for the chance to talk to Philly about the case. “The guy was a worker at the rail yard for years and still enjoyed hanging out at the terminal. From what I've heard so far, he had a house and chunk of land next to the terminal that was worth a bundle. I haven't actually confirmed that yet. There was also a guy at the terminal who didn't care much for the old man.” Mac shrugged. “Like I said, there are some things I need to look at.”

“Need any help?”

“Not at this point. I'll let you know, though. I'm starting with a search warrant for the house. We're meeting the district attorney out at the courthouse this morning. I want to get started on the affidavit here on my laptop and finish it up with the prosecutor. I'll let you know if I run into any roadblocks.”

“Sounds good.” Philly went back to sipping his coffee and began dictating reports into his mini cassette recorder.

Hearing his phone ring, Mac headed for his desk, which was situated in one of the small cubicles in the detectives' office. He caught a glimpse of the empty chair at Kevin's desk as he walked past his open office door and felt an intense sadness.

“Detective McAllister,” Mac said as he hit the speaker button on the phone.

“Oh good, you're there.”

“Morning, Dana. What's up?”

“Just wondering if it was okay if you picked me up to go to the courthouse in Columbia County instead of meeting you at the office this morning. I told Jan I wouldn't be able to make lunch. She suggested getting together for coffee in St. John's, so she just picked me up at the OSP lot. I could make the meet on the way out west if that's okay with you. I'll be at The Java House on Vaughn.”

“Sure,” Mac said. “I'll just peck away on the warrant for a while and meet you there by 8:30.”

“Are you sure? I don't want to miss out on anything, but I've been trying to get some one-on-one time with Jan all week.”

“It'll be fine. You should go. Jan has a lot to offer.”

“Thanks, Mac. I'll see you out there.”

AT A FEW MINLTES TO NINE, Mac and Dana entered the stone World War II-era courthouse and jogged up the stairs to the second floor, where the county prosecutor's offices were housed. Mac pressed the buzzer to the heavy metal door leading into the office. Almost immediately, the receptionist unlocked the electric door.

“Hi, Mac,” the receptionist greeted the two detectives, smiling at Dana as they entered the office. “You must be Dana Bennett.”

“That's right.”

“Darren said you'd be coming. I'm Lila.” The women shook hands.

“Is Darren in?” Mac asked.

“He is. You know where his office is, Mac; go on back.”

“Thanks.” Mac led the way past her desk and down a long hallway to the third office on the right. “Knock, knock.” Mac pushed on the already open door.

“C'mon in, Mac. Good morning, Dana.” Darren stood up at his desk and gestured for them to have a seat in the two chairs facing him. “I've already briefed the grand jury. I need for you to give a quick testimony before the jury, and we'll cut some subpoenas for Clay's medical records and personal finance records so you don't have to write a warrant affidavit.”

“Good.” Mac appreciated the D.A.'s efficiency. “Is there a judge on the premises today? I have a warrant affidavit prepared for the house.” Mac set his briefcase on an empty chair, removed a file folder, and placed the packet on Darren's desk.

“I'll need the autopsy information and probably the lab work before the judge signs off on it, but it's a starting point. I'll review it this afternoon if I get the chance. I have trial all day.” Darren glanced at his watch. “If you're ready to give testimony before the grand jury begins hearing other cases, we can get subpoenas for financial companies today and get that medical information over to Dr. Thorpe.” Darren motioned toward the employee break room that doubled as a grand jury hearing room one week a month.