The Slowest Death Read online

  “Whatever you think, Jack. I won’t ask how you plan to cut the attorney out of the conversation. Have you talked to the Task Force yet?” Franklin asked.

  “No. We went to Juvenile first to talk to the kids who found the body. We were only able to interview the girl. She didn’t see anything, but she confirmed that Zack stole Sonny’s things. We’re just getting to the Task Force office.”

  “Thanks for keeping me up to date, Jack. Do you need anything?”

  “Just one little thing, Captain,” Jack said.

  “Uh oh,” Franklin said.

  “I’m sure Angelina has other things to do with her business, but I want her to be able to work exclusively on this,” Jack said. “It’ll cost you.”

  Angelina Garcia was a computer genius. She started her career as the IT person for the Evansville Police Department, fixing glitches in the data systems that linked EPD to other law enforcement agencies in the state and federal database. She was working with the Vice Unit when she came to Jack’s attention. He was searching for a serial killer who was using nursery rhymes to select and kill children. She had proven herself invaluable in digging up information and using her connections with other agencies and in the cyber-world.

  After that case, Angelina had gotten engaged and had semi-retired from EPD and moved into her fiancé’s cabin on Patoka Lake. She was on a consulting basis with the Evansville Police Department and several other law enforcement agencies. Jack suspected she was also working for the federal government. He and Liddell had worked a human trafficking and murder case in Louisiana during the summer. Angelina had given them a hand with that and had ended up getting chummy with the FBI, ICE, DEA, and ATF.

  He’d asked Angelina recently if the Feds had offered her a job. She’d responded, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” She may have been kidding. Maybe not.

  “I think that can be done. Keep me informed,” Captain Franklin said.

  Jack promised, ended the call, and walked into the office. It was empty. Angry voices were coming from a room in the back. When Jack walked in, no one was sitting. The three detectives that made up Sonny’s team had surrounded Liddell.

  Jerry O’Toole, Bertha Claudel, and Ernestine Simpson were not happy with whatever Liddell had told them. Bertha and Ernestine, nicknamed Bert and Ernie for obvious reasons, stood with arms raised over their heads. Either they were declaring a field goal, or they were just declaring.

  The third member of the team, Jerry O’Toole, claimed he was Irish, but he spoke with a Southern drawl. Their faces were taut, lips tightly pressed together, and all eyes turned and targeted Jack when he came in the room.

  Jack took a chair and sat. Liddell eased his way out of the circle and followed Jack’s lead. Jack maintained eye contact with O’Toole, whose face was fire-engine red.

  “It’s damn effing time, Murphy!” O’Toole said.

  Jerry was a big man, a little taller than Jack, smaller than Bigfoot. If he wore a nametag, it could have said “Bouncer.” Jerry had worked in the detectives’ office before he was loaned out to the Feds. Jack remembered working a few cases with Jerry. Jerry would crush walnuts in his hand, pop the whole thing in his mouth and spit pieces of hull on the floor of the car. Jack liked Jerry. Respected his work. But there could be only one alpha dog in this room.

  “If you like, we can leave, Jerry,” Jack said. “You can talk directly with Chief Pope. Maybe he’ll put up with your shit.”

  Bert pushed Jerry into a chair. She and Ernie took seats on each side of Jerry. “Go ahead, Jack,” Ernie said and glared at Jerry.

  Jack pulled his chair closer and waited for the questions he knew were coming.

  Jerry again. “You ain’t got shit, have you? What about that little puke, Zack? I busted his daddy’s balls a couple of times for dope charges. I hope you’re at least busting Junior’s balls.”

  Liddell said, “That’s strange, Jerry. Zack told us you were his daddy.”

  Jerry sniggered and said, “The best part of that boy ran down his momma’s leg.”

  “This ain’t the time or place, gentlemen,” Ernie said. “Jerry, you want to shut your pie hole and let them fill us in?”

  And Jack did. They weren’t happy with the lack of information. They were hurting. Upset would be too soft of a term for the emotions they were telegraphing. “Going postal” came closer to describing the atmosphere in the room. He sympathized with them. They were a small team and had undoubtedly formed a strong bond. What you did to one, you did to all of them. But he had to keep this under control.

  “I’m working directly for the chief,” Jack said. “Pope said you three were not to go vigilante. You can still work the case from your end. I got you that much leeway from the brass. You get what information you can and pass it on to us. Do not step on our investigation. If you screw up, Sonny’s killer takes a walk.”

  “Not if he can’t walk,” O’Toole said. “You want us to read him Miranda rights? Maybe tuck him in?”

  Liddell said, “You know Miranda. She ain’t ever been right.”

  That got a snicker from everyone.

  “First question,” Jack said. “I need to know the last time Sonny was seen or talked to by any of you.” He surmised that Jerry was the one he needed to question. “Jerry?”

  “I saw him yesterday,” O’Toole said. “Maybe around seven. I was getting ready to leave for the night. Sonny came in and told me to get my ass home. I did.”

  “Can you be more precise on the time?”

  He thought and said, “It was close to seven-fifteen or seven-thirty. I remember because when I got home, my wife had put my dinner in the freezer. Said she’d cook for me again when hell freezes over.”

  “Was that unusual?” Jack asked.

  Ernie said, “Yeah. It’s unusual that his wife would cook at all.”

  Jerry gave her the finger and said, “Sonny was in a bad mood. That wasn’t unusual, but he seemed, I don’t know, agitated. Don’t go reading anything into that. Lots of things piss us off.”

  “Did he seem pissed off?” Jack asked.

  “What’s the difference between being pissed off and agitated?” Jerry asked. “This is just wasting time.”

  “You have somewhere else to be, Jerry?” Liddell asked. “Maybe something more important to do?”

  “Yeah,” Bert said. “Answer his questions, numbnuts.” To Jack she said, “I didn’t see Sonny last night or talk to him. He wasn’t in the office yesterday as far as I know. Did you talk to him, Ernie?” Bert asked.

  Ernie said she hadn’t.

  Jery said, “His demeanor was like when he was going to meet one of his asshole CIs. He acted like he needed to take a bath in holy water after talking to some of them.”

  Jack twirled his finger in the air for Jerry to get to the point.

  “Anyway, Sonny acted like he was going to see someone,” Jerry said.

  “Do you have any idea what he was working on? Who he was going to meet?” Jack asked.

  “We just wrapped up a big case,” Jerry said. “Five hundred thou and a couple kilos of heroin. All to Sonny’s credit. He’s got connections like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Jerry? Answer the question,” Ernie prodded.

  “Oh yeah. I have no idea who he was going to see, but now that I think about it, maybe it was someone new. He seemed more contemplative than usual.”

  Ernie jumped into the conversation. “Jerry, you don’t even know how to spell big words like that. Better stick to picture books.”

  “I was making a point,” Jerry said defensively. “Sonny didn’t share his contacts. Well, none of us really do unless we have to. But he was real paranoid about it. I didn’t know any of his CIs.” Jerry looked at Bert and Ernie, and they said they didn’t know any of them either.

  “That don’t mean nothing,” Bert said. “He was maki
ng all our big cases for us. If I was Superman I’d keep my identity secret too.”

  Jerry said, “When he took over the unit, he insisted we all carry a burner cell phone to avoid using the phones we’re issued. I thought that was a little extreme, but he was the boss.”

  “Any chance you have a number for that phone?” Jack asked.

  Ernie wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Jack. “There’re the numbers for the burner phones and official phones we all use. None of us use our personal phones unless it’s an emergency. But you won’t get anywhere calling Sonny’s. We’ve tried them all morning. They must be turned off. We have tracking software on all of them. Well, except the burners. We’re not getting a signal for his personal or issued phone. We don’t have any idea what his burner number is. He changed phones like most people change underwear. Well, except for Jerry.”

  Without having to ask, Jack knew why they’d been calling Sonny’s cell phones even after they knew he was killed. If someone had Sonny’s cell phone and it rang, it would be a gut reaction for the thief to answer it. If they couldn’t get a signal, the phones were most likely turned off or destroyed.

  “How do you log property?” Jack asked.

  “We keep all of our property seizures in a log, but it’s locked in Sonny’s desk,” Jerry said.

  “Money? Drugs? Everything?” Jack asked.

  “It includes all that down to the last molecule of drugs.”

  “Let me guess,” Jack said. “One of you—probably you, Jerry—broke into Sonny’s desk and checked the log?”

  “No one did. I swear, Jack,” Jerry said.

  That told Jack that they broke in but didn’t find anything. “I swear” was always the precursor to a lie.

  “Okay, let me ask you this. Was Sonny messing around with anyone? Did he have something going on the side?” Jack asked.

  Jerry answered with a question of his own. “What did Mindy tell you?”

  “She said she suspected something.”

  Jerry said, “Have you seen the rack on that woman? Sonny bought those for her. Anyone who would cheat on those puppies needs to have his head examined!”

  “I have to broach a subject with you, and I’m hoping you understand why I’m getting into this,” Jack said. “No. I really don’t care if you understand.”

  “Screw you too, Murphy,” Ernie said. “And the Cajun you rode in on.”

  “Hey, I haven’t said anything,” Liddell protested. “But, yeah, what Jack said.”

  “Have any of you known Sonny to carry large amounts of money?” Jack asked.

  Ernie answered. “We all have at one time or other. How much you talking?”

  “In the neighborhood of 100K,” Jack said.

  Jack took their silence to mean, no, they had never carried that kind of money around.

  Jack said, “I’m going to have Internal Affairs do an audit and—”

  Bert asked, “What are you implying?”

  “I’m not implying anything, Bert,” Jack said.

  “He’s not implying shit, Bert. You want to just come out and call me a thief, Jack?”

  Jack held up a hand. “I’m not calling you anything, Jerry. You don’t do your own audits now, right?”

  Bert turned away. Jerry reluctantly agreed. Ernie said, “What if he was working something really big and didn’t want us in on it?”

  “Would any of you do that? Do you really believe that’s possible?” Liddell asked. “You knew Sonny better than us.”

  Ernie said, “Okay, probably not. But even if he did have that kind of money on him, there’s still a chance he was doing something legitimate.”

  “From what I remember,” Jack said, “Internal Affairs does a random audit on all monies and seizures of drugs, vehicles and other property in possession of the EPD Narcotics unit. Since you’re part of a Federal Task Force, does Internal Affairs do yours? Or does the FBI do it?”

  “Agent Dave Carrell, DEA,” Ernie said. “Along with Sonny. There are two logs. One in the safe and like Jerry said—one locked in Sonny’s desk drawer.”

  Jack suspected a lot of money passed through the FDTF and there would have to be extreme measures taken to account for everything.

  “None of us has a key to his desk or the combination to the safe,” Bert said.

  “What do you want to find?” Jerry asked. “I heard you found forty grand on that little shit, Zack. Do you think Sonny stole that? Or do you think it was maybe one of us? Zack’s dad is into meth and heroin and anything you can shoot, snort or rub on your gums. Maybe he was offering Sonny some good info and turned on him. That’s just as possible as Sonny stealing.”

  “I didn’t say Sonny stole anything,” Jack said. “I wasn’t going to bring up the money until the audit was done but I need to know if he was working on something. Why he would have that kind of cash.”

  Bert said, “You said one hundred thousand, not forty.”

  “We don’t have an accurate count on the money yet,” Jack lied. The amount had slipped out. “But it’s at least forty.”

  “We can’t get in the safe. And it takes one of us with Sonny to get into the evidence room where the safe is.”

  “Could Sonny get in the safe or the property room without one of you?”

  “No,” Ernie said.

  “Yeah,” Bert said.

  “He wouldn’t,” Jerry said.

  “What about buy money?” Jack asked. Buy money is the cash kept on hand for narcotics officers to make small drug deals. Buy money is almost always recovered, but sometimes the loss is a necessary evil. You buy the little fish to dangle as bait in front of the whales.

  “We checked the ready cash—the buy money—and it’s all there. We only keep a thousand dollars in ready cash,” Bert said. “The last bust we made netted five hundred thousand plus. It’s locked in the safe.”

  “Do you know if the money is still there?” Jack asked.

  “That was eleven days ago. The money will still be there,” Jerry said.

  “And none of you have the combination to the safe?” Jack asked.

  Ernie gave them DEA Agent Allen’s phone number. “He’s the guy to call. He’s the only one besides Sonny that has the combination.”

  “What kind of plan is there to handle a situation like this? What if you couldn’t find Agent Allen? What would you do?” Jack asked.

  Ernie answered this one. “Agent Allen’s boss has the combination. There’s always a failsafe in case of shit like this.”

  Jerry added, “Push comes to shove, we’d blow the damn thing open.”

  Jack ignored the remark, and told them that under orders from the chief, they were not to get back in Sonny’s desk or try to get in the safe. Jack asked a few more questions, and left them with a promise to keep them in the loop.

  As they were going out the door, Jerry said, “When this investigation is over, all promises are null and void. The asshole that killed Sonny won’t need a lawyer.”

  “Jerry, don’t say something that can come back to bite you in the ass,” Jack cautioned. “I know how you feel, but keep it to yourself.”

  “Look who’s talking,” Ernie said. She and Jerry bumped knuckles.

  Jack and Liddell picked up their weapons and left the Federal Building. Double Dick came striding across the parking lot, spotted them and waved his arms to get their attention. They double-timed it to their car, got in, and Jack sped out onto Sycamore Street.

  “Think he wanted us?” Liddell asked.

  “Don’t care,” Jack answered.

  Chapter 11

  “I’ll be quiet as a mouse if we go by Donut Bank. The drive-thru window is okay by me,” Liddell said.

  “You drive, then,” Jack said, and pulled over.

  They went to the drive-thru of Donut Bank on First Avenue. Lidd
ell placed his order while Jack took a call from Detective Woehler.

  “Judge Knight signed the court order,” Woehler said. “I’m in no hurry and his ‘postate’ is still intact, so take your time getting back here.”

  Jack thanked him and hung up while Liddell paid for a box of donuts.

  Liddell stopped in the parking lot and took a chocolate long john from the box. “Want one?”

  Jack declined. “I’m surprised you don’t have diabetes.”

  “Yetis are immune to human diseases,” Liddell said, and pulled out onto First Avenue heading back downtown.

  Instead of trying to text with Angelina, Jack called and gave her the names of the members of Sonny’s team at the FDTF. He then called Sergeant Walker and asked if Sonny’s cell phone had been recovered. It hadn’t been. Not from the scene or from his truck. Jack called Jerry O’Toole.

  “I know you don’t have a number for Sonny’s burner cell phone, but I need you to get subpoenas for his personal and work cell phones, Jerry. And while you’re at it, can you get a subpoena for these numbers?” Jack gave him Mindy’s home phone and the phone numbers on Vincent Sullis’s business card. He didn’t ask for a call history for the desk phones in the Task Force office because they were on a trunk line to the Federal Building, and a nightmare to track down.

  “I’ve already put a subpoena in for our phones. I’ll add Mindy’s and the attorney’s phones to the subpoena.”

  “Thanks, Jerry,” Jack said and disconnected. “Hey, Bigfoot, can you chew with your mouth closed? I’m getting a sugar high from the secondhand breath.”

  “Donut interruptus,” Liddell said.

  “If you’re facetiously trying to compare withdrawal from donuts to the withdrawal method of coitus interruptus, I need to tell you it works for Planned Parenthood. The withdrawal method doesn’t hurt you. Maybe we should start weaning you off Donut Bank. You can wear one of those collars that give you an electrical shock every time you get near the place. Like Pavlov’s Bigfoot.”