Deadly Judgment (Detective Sarah Spillman Mystery Series Book 5) Read online

  “Alaska?” Ernie said.

  “Isn’t AK Arkansas?” Pack asked.

  “No, that’s AR,” Spats said.

  “Guys, please,” I said. “Can we do the postal trivia another day?”

  “AK 47?” This from another detective.

  Ernie glanced around the room. “Anybody hear that mentioned?”

  Several headshakes, “No,” from a few others.

  “I don’t know if Nakamura mentioning that is significant or not, but keep your ears open.” I finished with my visit to Viet Café the night before. “I’d like to know what Nakamura meant by ‘there were three of us.’ I don’t know if he meant another judge, or a friend he and McCleary knew?” I shrugged. “Anybody hearing of a connection between McCleary and Nakamura?” Everyone shook their heads. “We have two different MOs, and it would appear from the star-shaped wound on Nakamura’s temple that the killer shot him from close range. And we know obviously that McCleary’s killer was within arm’s length. So, if there’s a third target, the killer may want to be close to that victim, too.”

  Rizzo spoke up. “It’s something we need to be aware of. We’ve sent out a memo to the courts warning judges to be careful, and there’s heightened security at all the courthouses.” He raised his eyebrows. “We have a lot of judges who are on edge.”

  “At this point,” I went on, “I don’t know if we’re dealing with one killer or two.”

  “I find it hard to believe we had two judges, both murdered within twenty-four hours of each other, by two separate killers,” Pack said.

  “I do, too,” I said. “But we can’t dismiss anything right now.”

  He nodded. “Oh, I know.”

  “If it’s one killer, why was he or she after both judges?” Hernandez asked.

  Ernie set his pencil down. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  I held up a hand. “I’ve been looking at Felix Robinson’s connection to Judge McCleary, but so far I don’t see a connection to Judge Nakamura. One theory: if Robinson had someone kill McCleary, would Robinson also have had Nakamura killed just to throw us off.”

  “I don’t know,” Pack said.

  I frowned. “It’s just a theory. I’m working on that angle. We need to find out if the two men had anything in common, something that would point us to a killer.” I looked at Hernandez. “Were you able to get Nakamura’s phone recs?”

  He nodded. “Late last night. I’ll get the techs to run a scan and compare Nakamura’s calls to McCleary’s to see if they contacted each other, or if they both contacted another common person.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing so far. I’m going to follow up with some of the people that Nakamura called.”

  “Good, keep on that. And see if any of Nakamura’s family or friends, or staff, knows anything about Olivia Hartnell or Victor Marko.”

  “Not so far,” Hernandez said. “But I’ll keep checking.”

  I looked around the room. “Anything from forensics on the notes both judges received? Any fingerprints, DNA?”

  Everyone shook their heads. “They didn’t find any prints,” Hernandez said.

  “What about any forensic evidence from either house?” I asked.

  “Everything from McCleary’s house is what we expect,” Ernie said. “His fingerprints, his wife’s, the kids. Just McCleary’s prints on the baseball bat.”

  Hernandez nodded. “Nothing from Nakamura’s house, either.”

  I turned to Pack. “Anything on Zack Newberry, Nakamura’s law clerk?”

  “No,” he said. “I left a couple of messages yesterday, and I’ll be trying him today as well. And we’ll keep checking his home as well.”

  “I don’t like that he’s not returning calls,” I said. “It looks suspicious.” Pack nodded. I looked at Spats. “How are things going at the courthouses?”

  He laced his fingers together and stretched his arms. “Really slow. It’s a hell of a lot of cases to go through. So far, we can’t find anything in common between the two judges’ trials, or with their staffs.”

  “We’re continuing to talk to people who associated with Nakamura,” Hernandez said. “So far, it’s leading nowhere.”

  “Gotcha.” I pointed at Ernie. “Any more on McCleary’s end?”

  He shook his head. “I’m with Hernandez, no new leads at the moment. I did talk to the McCleary’s cleaning woman, and she didn’t know anything. I want to talk to McCleary’s staff again, see if we missed anything.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “I’ll follow up on Olivia Hartnell’s alibi, and Spats, can you break away from the courthouse work to check on Victor Marko’s alibi for Monday night? Interview his Auto Zone co-workers to see what they say, and the hostess, Tammy, at the Easy Bar. That’s where Marko said he went after work. I want to know what’s going on with that guy. He’s not telling me the truth; about what, I’m not sure. He’s dirty, though.”

  Spats nodded. “I’ll let you know what I find out. He sounds like an interesting fellow.”

  “Yeah, but be careful.”

  I wrapped up, and tipped my head at Rizzo. He thanked me and addressed everyone.

  “I don’t have to tell you all how much pressure there is on these investigations. The press is also keen to find out anything. I’ll be handling that side of things, so if you see any reporters, please, no comment.” This received a round of nods. “Let me know if you need anything from me.” He smiled grimly and headed to his office.

  “Okay.” I glanced at everyone. “If something comes up, anything unusual, get in touch with me. Otherwise we’ll debrief in the morning.”

  I thanked them all, and everyone headed out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I couldn’t even take a breath before my phone rang. It was Diane.

  “Hey, how’re you?” I asked.

  “Good.” She got right to the point. “Hey, a colleague invited me to the Nuggets game Saturday night. A suite. Aaron and the boys are going, and I thought maybe you and Harry would like to join us?”

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “What is it?” She heard something in my voice.

  I hesitated, then told her about what was going on between Harry and me. “Do you think he was going to propose?”

  “Come on, Sarah, you’re a detective. What do you think?”

  “I think I blew it.”

  “Uh-huh. So what’re you going to do?”

  I thought about that. “I need to make it up to Harry, somehow. I have one idea, but I’m not sure if it’s the best move.”

  “I’m sure whatever you do, it will be the right thing. Harry’s a special guy, and you’re not so bad yourself.”

  It was the nicest thing she’d ever said to me. I thanked her for the invite, and we worked out the details for Saturday night. She had to go, so I ended that call, then tried Morgan Stith, Olivia Hartnell’s friend who Olivia had said was with her and her daughter Monday night at the Columbine Library reading club. Morgan had not returned my call from yesterday, and she didn’t answer now. This time, I didn’t leave a message. Instead, I looked up the library. It opened at nine. I had verified earlier that there indeed was such a reading club, and that last Monday’s had featured “Matilda” by Roald Dahl. I gulped the last of my coffee and hurried downstairs. I popped my head into Tara’s office, and she pulled out her earbuds and held up a hand when she saw me.

  “I’m still working on McCleary’s laptop,” she said. “And that detective from Sub-station 4, Hernandez, asked me to work with his tech to compare McCleary’s info to his murder vic, what’s his name? Nakamura?” She held up her hands. “I’m not seeing where the two judges emailed each other, or that they both emailed another common person. Right now, I don’t see anything in common between the two, but I’ll keep looking.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She slowly shook her head. “I’ve not had such a push to get something done in a while. But when you’re a judge, that changes thin
gs.”

  “Yeah, when somebody goes after the judiciary, that’s a bigger issue altogether. I can understand the pressure, but I agree, it does elevate the stress levels. Rizzo’s watching this one closely, and I know he has Follett breathing down his neck.”

  “Yeah, true.” She eyed me. “You look tired.”

  “What a nice compliment.” She laughed, and I rolled my eyes, then said, “You know how it goes, the first forty-eight hours of an investigation are the most important. If we don’t get a break soon, I’m worried our killer may get away.”

  “I’ll do what I can from my end, and if I find anything I think you should know about, I’ll give you a call ASAP.”

  “Great. Your mom still doing okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I saw her last night. She’s feeling good, and she was cracking jokes.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “She even gave me a hard time about my music. I told her I’d take her to an old people’s concert this summer. You know, something from the ’90s.”

  “The ’90s is ‘old music.’ Ouch.”

  She laughed, a good sound. I thanked her and left.

  Columbine Library is near Bowles Crossing, a large mall, and traffic was easing up as I took Santa Fe to Bowles Avenue, then went west. Right at nine, I parked in a lot that faced Clement Park, several acres with soccer fields, a reservoir, and on a nearby hill, a memorial to the shooting victims at Columbine High School. I walked into the library, feeling a hushed ambiance present in all libraries. A librarian was helping a woman with two small children at the front desk. I stood in a queue, and when the woman left, I walked up. The librarian smiled, saw that I was law enforcement, and hesitated.

  “How my help you?” She kept her voice low.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions about your Monday night reading club,” I said. I showed her my badge and explained I was working a murder investigation.

  “Oh, I see.” She hesitated, then seemed to think it was okay to talk to me. “Oh yes, that’s every Monday night during the school year. It’s for grade-school kids. Are you interested in bringing someone?”

  No one was waiting behind me, so I took my time, put a hand on the counter casually. “How many people usually attend the reading night?”

  She pursed her lips. “Gosh, it varies, depending on the evening.”

  “Do you have regular attendees?”

  “Yes. There are three or four mothers and one father who attend almost every Monday night. They really seem to enjoy it, and their kids have gotten to know each other.”

  “Would one of the women be Olivia Hartnell?” I described her.

  “Olivia,” she said. “Yes, she’s one of them. A woman with long dark hair, and her daughter looks almost like her, the same dark hair and eyes.”

  I nodded. “Were Olivia and her daughter here last Monday night?”

  She nodded again. “Yes. I saw her come in right before I left.” She turned and glanced down the counter to a woman in a dark blouse, and said, “Felicia, wasn’t Olivia here the other night, at the reading club?”

  Felicia looked up from the computer. “Uh-huh. They had a really good time. When they left at the end of the meeting, I heard Olivia say something to her friend about how much they were enjoying the book they’re reading.”

  “Do you know her friend’s name?” I asked.

  “Morgan, I think. I don’t know her last name, sorry. She comes with her daughter, too,” Felicia said.

  I nodded. “The reading club is from 6 to 7:30?”

  “Yes,” Felicia said.

  “Did Olivia stay after that?” I asked.

  The first woman shook her head. “No, the library closes at that time, so she would’ve had to leave.”

  “I see,” I said.

  I thanked the women for their time and left. So far, Olivia Hartnell’s alibi stood up. I tried her friend, Morgan Stith, one more time, and this time she picked up.

  “Ms. Stith?” I said. “This is Detective Spillman.”

  “I’m sorry. Olivia told me you’d be calling, and I got your message, I just haven’t had a chance to call you back. She said you wanted to know if she was at the library the other night, and she was.”

  “Yes, I just confirmed that with the librarians.”

  Her tone was high and disapproving. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but Olivia is a good friend. She says you think something’s going on with her brother, but she’s only trying to support him.” She may have disapproved of my questions, but apparently she was also quite chatty, and I took advantage of it.

  “How long have you known Olivia?”

  “A few years now. Our daughters are in school together, and we like to go to the reading club at the library.”

  “How often do Olivia and her daughter go?” I asked.

  “They’re there all the time, and my daughter and I go almost every Monday, too. Truthfully, it’s like a play date for us, except that our daughters are reading more than playing around. Although, if the weather’s nice, after the club we’ll go to the park for a little while. While the girls play, Olivia and I get a chance to talk. This last year has been stressful for her, with everything that happened to her brother.”

  “What did she tell you about him?” I said as I walked through the parking lot to my car.

  “Mostly that she can’t believe he had to go to trial, and that she can’t believe he’s in prison. I asked her once whether he’d done what they said, whether he was a drug dealer, and she really didn’t answer that. She’s pretty loyal to him, I can tell you that. Maybe even idolizes him. I met him a few times, and he seemed nice enough. He’s helped her out a lot, from what I can tell.”

  “Would she help him out?”

  “She’ll do whatever she can. I think if she could get him out of prison, she would. She’s already been to the prison to visit him, and they’ve talked over the phone.”

  I kept my voice even. “About what?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice filled with exasperation. “The point I’m trying to make is that she’ll help Felix, just like he would with her.” She suddenly seemed to realize, and maybe worry, about how much she’d said. “I think I’m talking too much. You gotta understand, Olivia wouldn’t do anything wrong. Just because she cares about her brother, that’s not wrong.”

  “No.” I didn’t say more, but I wondered how much Morgan really knew about Olivia.

  “I hope I’ve helped,” she said.

  I unlocked my car door and got in. “More than you realize.” I thanked her and ended the call.

  Olivia seemed to have an alibi for Monday night, but based on her own behavior when I’d talked to her, and now with talking to Morgan Stith, my gut said Olivia had something to do with the threatening notes that Judge McCleary had received. I couldn’t figure out, though, why she would send a note to Nakamura, if she did. And had she just sent the notes, or had she hired somebody to actually kill the judges?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As I put my keys in the ignition, my phone rang.

  “Speelmahn,” he said. The phone hissed; he was driving. “I just left Auto Zone. I talked to a few of Victor Marko’s co-workers, and he came in at nine and was indeed working until six Monday evening. According to all the employees who were there, Marko only left to get dinner, but he went with one of the guys to a Burger King across the street. I checked there as well, talked to the manager who worked that day, and he knows Marko, says he comes in a lot and that he was there Monday.” The phone crackled, then became clearer. “I got hold of the hostess at the Easy Bar, too. She gave me the name of the hostess, Tammy, that Marko said he talked to. She confirmed it. He was there watching the Monday night football game.”

  “So basically Marko has an air-tight alibi.”

  “For Monday, anyway.”

  I picked up my coffee cup from the console and tried for a sip, then realized it was empty. I silently cursed. “I’m going to follow up with Victor’s
girlfriend to see if he was with her Tuesday morning, Nakamura’s probable time of death.” I thought quickly. “There’s something with him and Olivia, and maybe Felix. I just can’t seem to find what.”

  “Sounds good. I’m headed to the federal courthouse now to help dig through the records of the judge’s previous trials. The team needs all the help they can get. I’ll let you know what we find.”

  My phone buzzed and I glanced at the screen. “Hey, it’s Ernie. Let me get this.”

  “Talk to you later.”

  I swiped over to Ernie. “What’s up?”

  “I was chatting with McCleary’s law clerk, and she made an interesting comment.” He couldn’t contain his excitement.

  “What’s that?”

  “She said that about a week ago, McCleary came into the office, and he was not in a good mood. She made a point of that, how he was really grouchy.” I heard voices echoing in the background. “She asked him what was going on, and he said he was out late the night before, and told her it was nothing. She felt brushed off, not something he usually did. At the time, she thought maybe it had something to do with the after-effects of the Robinson trial. Now, she isn’t so sure. I asked her why she didn’t say something before, and she said she’d been so shocked by his death that it slipped her mind.”

  “Yeah, that happens.” I pondered that. “What night was he out late?”

  “Wednesday night.”

  “That’s the night he plays poker.”

  “She asked him about that, and he said he’d gone out to eat. She wondered whether he was hung over, and kind of teased him about that, and he said he’d met someone for dinner.”

  “Did she say anything more about Felix Robinson?”

  “Just that she thought the trial was stressful on him, especially near the end.”

  “Maybe because he’d been threatened.”