Deadly Target (Detective Sarah Spillman Mystery Series Book 6) Page 19

  Ernie shrugged. “Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to me, either.”

  “I talked to Monica Walker.”

  “And?”

  Spats collected his thoughts. “She’s got an airtight alibi.” He relayed his conversation with her. “I talked to the security guy that was working last night, and he verified that she’d left the building a little before seven. She also sent me some surveillance video from her office. I’ll take a look at it tomorrow, but I’m sure it’ll also confirm her story.”

  “I didn’t picture her as a killer.”

  “Me, either.” Spats thought for a moment. “Sarah had an interesting thought, something I’ve been mulling over. Cody didn’t take a cigarette break at the same time every night. His shifts varied by day and time. And Sarah doesn’t walk along Severn regularly. The only victim who was at the same place at the same time each Monday was Nick Armistead.”

  Ernie nodded. “Oakley’s digging into the Armisteads more. Something doesn’t seem right with them. Rachel seems to be holding something back about Nick.”

  Spats sipped his drink. “Are we finally narrowing in on something that will lead to the killer?”

  “Could be.” Ernie yawned.

  “I still want to keep an eye on Shrimp, and continue to look at Cody’s association with him.”

  “Works for me.” Ernie sipped his drink. “Sarah’s thinking about the investigation, huh?”

  Spats grinned. “Trying to help from her hospital bed.” He shook his head with amusement. “That’s Sarah, isn’t it?”

  Ernie smiled. “Yeah, she’s pissed off.”

  “So am I.”

  Ernie nodded emphatically. “All of us.” He didn’t say anything for a second. “I checked with the detectives who’ve been comparing phone numbers and witnesses of the three victims. They’re not finding anything in common.”

  “Too bad.”

  Ernie pushed the bowl of peanuts away. “I need to get going, see my girls before they go to bed.”

  Spats stood up, pulled out his wallet, and gestured at Ernie. “This one’s on me.”

  Ernie thanked him, and the two of them walked out of the bar. Ernie left Spats in the parking lot and drove west to his house in Lakewood. He parked in the garage, and when he walked inside, both Zoe and Brooke were sitting at the kitchen table, school books open. He liked the fact that they didn’t always barricade themselves in their rooms. They got along well, and they liked to spend time with each other. He hoped it would stay that way.

  “Hey, Dad.” Zoe was his younger daughter, and she looked like Liz, the same blond hair and brown eyes. Zoe was on the shorter side, but she had an athlete’s build.

  “Hey, Zo.” Ernie walked over and kissed the top of her head. Then he looked at Brooke. She was older, taller than Zoe, with inquisitive brown eyes and long hair darker than her mother and sister. He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “How are you girls doing?”

  “Good. Doing math,” Zoe said. “Have to keep my grades up so I can keep playing basketball.” She recited the rule that Ernie and Liz had set for her.

  “Good thing you love basketball, and I have some leverage to keep you in line,” Ernie grinned.

  “Ha ha,” Zoe said.

  “Well, technically, it’s algebra for her, trig for me.” Brooke piped up. She was a math whiz, better than Ernie had ever been. “How was your day?” she asked. She was sixteen years old and sounded almost like an adult.

  “Not too bad,” he said. He went to the cupboard and got some water from the sink.

  “You always say it’s not bad,” Zoe observed.

  Ernie took a drink and looked at her, then smiled. “Yeah, it’s on a need-to-know basis.”

  Both girls rolled their eyes and groaned. That was their dad’s standard joke, kind of stale, and yet, it always made them smile. It also told them that he wasn’t going to go into any more detail about his work.

  “Where’s Mom?” he asked. “Oh, wait. Teachers’ conferences.”

  “Yeah, she called and said she was going to stop at the grocery store. She should be home pretty soon.”

  Ernie nodded. He took another sip of the water and put the glass in the dishwasher. “You girls don’t stay up too long, okay? I’m going to get some rest. I’ve got an early morning.”

  “Okay, Dad. I love you.” Zoe said as her pencil moved across the page.

  “Love you, Dad,” Brooke echoed.

  “I love you, too.” Ernie watched them for a moment, then turned and went into the bedroom. He was exhausted. He quickly undressed and crawled under the sheets. He was soon asleep, and he didn’t wake up until Liz slipped in beside him. She put an arm around his shoulder and kissed his ear.

  He stirred and murmured, “Hello.”

  “How are you, love?” she asked.

  “Doing okay.”

  “How’s Sarah?”

  “She’s doing all right, already trying to solve the case.”

  “That’s so good to hear.” She squeezed him. “Go to sleep.”

  He didn’t have to be told twice.

  Spats quietly let himself into the dark house. It wasn’t quite ten, but Trissa was already in bed. He tiptoed down the hall and eased open Demarcus’s door. He moved to the crib and looked down at Demarcus. His little boy was sleeping soundly, his little chest moving rhythmically. Spats reached down and touched his cheek.

  “Hey.”

  Spats turned to see Trissa in the doorway. She held a finger to her lips. Spats gave Demarcus one more look before backing out of the room.

  “Don’t you dare wake him,” Trissa murmured as he shut the door.

  He was about to protest when he saw the smile on her face.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

  “It happens.”

  He stood and looked at her. A sliver of light filtered into the hall from the bedroom and fell on her round face. She was beautiful, her black hair in a weave that fell around her shoulders. She blinked at him with dark eyes.

  “What?”

  He leaned in and kissed her. “I love you.”

  She put her arms around him. “Right back at you.”

  He tipped her head up. “No, I mean, I really love you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  She took his hand. “Baby, you got nothing to worry about. And you look tired. Come to bed.”

  Spats followed her into the bedroom.

  The man’s disposable cell phone rang, and he picked it up but didn’t say anything.

  “We have a problem,” the voice on the phone said.

  The man kept his voice even. “Oh?”

  “The threat did not work. Our mark is not doing what we thought. We’re going to have to do something different.”

  The man thought about that. Even killing wasn’t enough. He wondered what the next request would be. He didn’t have to wait long.

  “You will get the mark and bring her to us.”

  “That could prove difficult.”

  “We have faith in you,” the voice said. “I hope your discretion can be counted on again. There will be more exposure, and you must work with extreme caution.”

  “Nothing will lead back to you.”

  After a moment, the voice said, “Here’s what you need to do.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The next morning, Ernie met with all of the detectives who were working on the three shootings. Rizzo was there as well, and he explained that Chief Follett wouldn’t do another press conference that day.

  “First order of business,” Ernie said. “I heard from Jamison first thing this morning. They finished the autopsies on Cody Sheen and Nick Armistead. Both likely were shot with a .22, and neither one had drugs or alcohol in their systems.”

  “What I would expect,” Hackman said.

  “We have a piece of good news,” Ernie went on. “We got a hit on an SUV that was parked near where Sarah was shot. We were able to enhance the video and get a license plate number. The car belong
s to Enterprise, and we’ll be talking to the manager of the agency where the car was rented.”

  Lattimore stared at them all. “Are we finally on to something?”

  Several heads bobbed in agreement, then everyone gave their updates. Hackman had been coordinating interviews of Cody’s known associates. “Still not coming up with anything,” he said. “We talked to a guy named Rob Fekete, Cody’s co-worker. Rob’s name came up a couple of times as someone who might’ve had issues with Cody, but that seems to be a bust. Rob was buying drugs from Cody, and he was upset that Cody said he wouldn’t sell to him anymore. He has a solid alibi for the time Cody and the others were shot.”

  “Anything else?”

  “I’ve gathered together statements from people living around Charlie’s Restaurant. Nobody saw a dark SUV, and no one saw anything or anyone behind the abandoned café across the street around the time of Sheen’s shooting.”

  Ernie looked disappointed. “It was worth checking.” He turned to Spats. “What about Shrimp?”

  “He’s been dealing a lot from his place near the 7-11 on Colorado, but other than that, he hasn’t done anything else illegal, or unusual. I’m going to keep the surveillance on him for another twenty-four hours.”

  Ernie rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Oakley and I are turning our focus to Nick and Rachel Armistead.” He told them about Nick’s affair with Julie Novack, and also their feeling that Rachel was holding something back about her husband, despite her apparent oblivion about her husband’s affair.

  “I’m not finding anything suspicious with Julie Novack,” Oakley said. “I checked on her alibi, and she did get Chinese food, and she talked to her neighbor as well. And I talked to her husband, Kevin, last evening. He’s a nice guy, doesn’t seem to know about her affair with Nick. His alibi checks out, too. Just like Julie told us …” he glanced at Ernie, “Kevin worked late. Two co-workers verified that.”

  “That’s something.” Ernie looked at Lattimore. “Chad, you take over canvassing the neighborhood near Vibrant Strength and Fitness, where Nick was murdered. There has to be someone who saw the shooter, or his car. Keep Oakley in the loop.”

  Chad Lattimore – a man who wasted no words – nodded quietly.

  “And Daniel and Spats will be helping as Oakley looks further into the Armisteads. There’s still a lot of co-workers and friends to talk to.”

  Hackman nodded. “Will do.”

  “Finally, detectives have been looking for surveillance video on the routes between the crime scenes. It’s been a slog, and so far, there are too many SUV sightings in the area. If we can narrow it down to the exact car, we might be able to establish that we have one killer driving to three different places.”

  “Good luck with that,” Hackman said.

  “Right.” Ernie ignored the sarcasm and glanced around the room. “Any questions?” No one said anything. “All right, keep in touch.”

  With that, they left. Ernie asked for Oakley and Spats to stay behind. Once the other detectives left, the three men huddled around Ernie’s desk.

  “I was going to head over to talk to the rental car company,” Oakley said. “But I got a call from one of Rachel Armistead’s friends, and she’s available now. I’d really like to talk to her. And we need to find out more about Joe Smith, the name on the SUV rental.”

  “I’ll head over to the rental agency,” Ernie said. “I can let you both know what happens, and we can go from there.”

  Spats stood straight, stretched, and looked at Oakley. “You got the warrant for the credit card information on Joe Smith?”

  “Yeah. The techs are getting all the information they can from the credit card company,” Oakley said. He retrieved the warrant from his desk and handed it to Ernie.

  “I’ll check with Tara, see what she’s found out.” Spats was already heading out the door.

  “That sounds good,” Oakley said. His voice was upbeat, his Boston accent more pronounced. “I feel like we’re getting somewhere.”

  Ernie wasn’t quite so optimistic. “Let’s see what happens today.”

  Ernie walked into the Enterprise Car Rental on east Colfax Avenue. He had to wait while a tall black man behind the counter helped another couple, and when he completed their transaction, he went outside with them. Ernie paced the lobby impatiently, his edginess growing. The black man came back in and looked at Ernie with a smile.

  “Picking up a car today?” he asked pleasantly. He had wide shoulders and the build of an athlete.

  Ernie shook his head and showed him his badge. “I need to speak to the manager, please.”

  The man hesitated, but the smile remained. “That would be me. Jim Buchanan.”

  “Hi, Jim,” Ernie said. “Did anybody from your corporate office contact you that someone from the Denver Police Department would be stopping by?”

  Buchanan shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Is there a problem?”

  Ernie sidled up to the counter and leaned a hand on it. “No problem, I just need to talk to you about an investigation.”

  Buchanan relaxed a bit. “Sure, anything I can help with.”

  “Were you working Monday morning, around ten?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  Ernie consulted his notes. “You rented a dark SUV to a man named Joe Smith.”

  Buchanan nodded, but it wasn’t in affirmation. “Yes, we rent a lot of SUVs. I don’t recall that particular person. Let me pull up the record.” Buchanan moved around the counter to a computer and typed on the screen. Then he looked up at Ernie. “Yes, Joe Smith rented a black Chevrolet Suburban at 10:10 Monday morning. The SUV was returned before eight the next morning.”

  That matched the information Ernie had. “Did he use a credit card to pay?”

  “Yes, of course. We don’t rent cars for cash.”

  “Makes sense,” Ernie said. “What driver’s license info do you have for Smith?”

  Buchanan frowned. “I can’t give out that information.”

  Ernie was prepared, and he pulled the warrant from his pocket and handed it to Buchanan. “This should cover you.”

  Buchanan acted as if the paper was on fire. He barely held onto it as he read it. Then he quickly gave it back to Ernie and turned to the computer again.

  “Here’s Joe Smith’s driver’s license information. I can print it out for you.”

  “Great,” Ernie said.

  Buchanan worked on the computer for a moment, then went to a printer that had spat out a piece of paper. He handed it to Ernie.

  “A New York license, huh? So Joe Smith lives in the Bronx,” Ernie said softly.

  “That’s what it says.”

  “Did he sound like he was from the Bronx?”

  Buchanan shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t recall Joe Smith?”

  Buchanan shook his head. “I wish I could help you, but I don’t remember him.” A man in a suit walked in, and Buchanan smiled at him. “Be right with you.”

  Ernie glanced up to the corner near the ceiling and saw a camera. He pointed to it. “Do you have access to that surveillance video?”

  Buchanan glanced at the camera. “Yes, I do. It’s in my office. Let me get somebody to cover the desk.”

  He went through a side door and returned a moment later with a younger woman who came up to the counter. She glanced curiously at Ernie as she took over at the counter, and Buchanan gestured for Ernie to follow him. They walked past the counter and down a short hall into an office that had cheap travel posters hung on the walls. Buchanan sat behind a small desk and logged onto his computer. Ernie moved around the desk where he could look over Buchanan’s shoulder.

  “Here’s the surveillance video,” Buchanan said.

  In a moment, he had pulled up video from Monday morning, and he fast-forwarded it to the correct time. Ernie saw Buchanan’s back as he stood at the counter, and he saw the customer identified as Joe Smith. He seemed to be tall, with broad shoulders. He wore a blue baseball
cap with a logo that Ernie couldn’t identify. The man might’ve had blond or light gray hair, but Ernie couldn’t tell for sure. To his trained eye, it appeared that Smith was intentionally looking away from the camera as much as he could. He leaned an elbow on the counter, his back toward the camera, his face away.

  “Does that help?” Buchanan asked. “Like I said, I don’t remember much about him.” He pointed at the screen. “As you can see, another customer was waiting, and I’m sure I was busy trying to get Smith out the door. We don’t want our customers to have to wait long.”

  Ernie nodded. “Yes, I certainly understand that. Does anything at all stick out in your mind? Did Smith act nervous, was he in a hurry, fidgety, anything like that?”

  Buchanan shrugged. “Not that I recall.”

  “Do you remember an accent, or anything distinguishing about his face?”

  Buchanan shook his head again. “No, I don’t. I’m so sorry.”

  Ernie frowned. “It’s okay.” He thought for a second. “And the car was returned late Monday night?”

  “It was dropped off after we closed. We have a drop box outside.”

  “No one saw Smith return it?”

  He shook his head.

  “You have video outside the building that I can see?”

  “Sure.” Buchanan queued that up, and they watched it. A few cars were returned, and shortly after ten, a dark SUV pulled into the parking lot. A man in dark clothes, his hat pulled low, got out and dropped a key in the drop box. Then he walked out the parking lot and disappeared down the street.

  “That’s it,” Buchanan said.

  “Can you email the video?” Ernie asked.

  Buchanan nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Ernie moved back, and Buchanan got up and led him out to the main room. Ernie thanked Buchanan, left him his business card, and strolled out of the building.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Ernie had just gotten into his car when Oakley called.

  “We have a match,” Oakley said.

  “What’s that mean? On Smith?” Ernie put the key in the ignition, but waited to start the car.