Millstone & Roche 2 - (The Case of Pure Blue Murder) - Chapter 7
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All Rights Reserved © 2021, Rick Haydn Horst Formerly known as Rick Heathen
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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The Case of Pure Blue Murder: a Millstone & Roche Investigation, By Rick Haydn Horst
CHAPTER SEVEN
[Millstone's Sources]
Closed or not, the Gerhardt Last case was a mystery, and I'm not good at leaving things unfinished; it nags me until I act on my curiosity and my need for intellectual closure. It seems that I just gotta know.
Edgerton called Max and me to the precinct; the forensic techs had information to share, and Tucker contacted us about his attending Bartholomew Beausoleil's memorial that evening at Edgerton's request.
"So, you have a bone to pick with me," said Edgerton.
On the 3rd floor of the precinct, I had invited him into an interview room away from the ears of anyone else.
"Not a bone," I said, "I just need to set some professional boundaries; I'm not angry with you. I agreed to consult for the police on a trial basis, and I signed the contract on behalf of the agency. Tucker may be your boyfriend, but he is my employee. If you had asked him to go in your stead to the memorial service of your Aunt Marjorie that would be one thing, but it's for an active case. If you need him for something, talk to me first."
"You're right," he said, "but as it's just a fact-finding mission, I figured it wasn't a big deal, and since we had teamed up-"
"We have teamed up, and I trust you, especially because I know you care about him, but I want to be kept in the loop by the police detective we're working with, not by Tucker. He doesn't have the experience, and for work-related tasks, I'm responsible for him."
"I see what you're getting at. I overstepped, and I apologize. That won't happen again. So, have you a problem with him going?"
"I agree that someone needs to go. I know of no one else who could do it, and apparently, neither do you. But I hope you realize that once he gets down there, apart from whatever hardline phones they may have, he's cut off from the outside."
"That's my biggest concern," he said. "He knows he's not going there to catch a killer, just to be our eyes and ears at a memorial service, that's all."
"I know you wouldn't want to put him in harm's way, but what if someone there did kill Barty?"
"Let's see what the pathologist has to say about that. So, has he your approval to go?"
"Reluctantly, yes."
In the lab just down the hall, both Max and Albert awaited us, and we met the lead forensic specialists on the case, a man named Stefon Hankston who preferred everyone to call him Hank. Another tech was there, a young man named Leo. He sat on a stool off to the side. On two tables lay all the evidence, and the moment we had our introductions, Hank got right to it.
"On the table to your left, we have the evidence from the Beausoleil crime scene. When it comes to fingerprints, nearly all the print evidence is useless due to the volume found at the scene, especially on the cabinet that contained the kits for vampire slaying. The problem is, we have no way to know how old they are. And since the cabinet doors use spring and magnet catches, someone could easily open them without a finger. However, while the surface of the wine case itself is textured and useless for prints, we found one set of prints on a wine bottle inside, and it had a match in the system. They belong to Javier Acuna, locally known as Iota. He was arrested for a minor drug offense a few years ago, but surprisingly, nothing since."
"We have a BOLO out on Iota now," said Albert.
"When it comes to DNA evidence, we found some on the wet towel, it also matches that of Acuna. The towel being damp helps to place him within the timeframe. We found no other corroborating DNA evidence, but I have heard that the pathologist has taken semen samples from the body, so hopefully, that has produced a result.
"The shoe prints Mr. Millstone found on the floor are critical to your investigation," said Hank. "They came from the rubber sole found on a pair of Gucci Ace sneakers with the Gucci knight on the bottom. Those are probably about $700 a pair; a dealer could certainly afford them. The importance of those prints has to do with their location and that they indicate timing. I've looked at the evidence myself at the scene, and I concur with Mr. Millstone's assessment. The chemical profile matches the minerals found in their tap water and contains traces of an expensive tea tree shower gel used by the deceased. I agree that---given the evidence---it appears that whoever stood at the case at that moment, most likely had nothing to do with the stake through the victim's heart. Acuna's fingerprint evidence on the bottle is compelling, but like with the other fingerprints throughout the room, it only says the person touched it, not when. If you can find that Acuna owns the shoes that left the prints when the floor was wet, it would place him at the time of the victim's fall, especially if they contain any traces that match the water on the floor.
"Apart from the victim's blood on both the stake and mallet used at the scene, it contains no other traces or any usable prints. UV light shows us where the hand held the hammer and stake by the absence of blood particles in those locations, but not the person's sex based on hand size; that part is inconclusive. However, if Acuna's hands are bigger it could help to rule him out."
"How easily could someone hammer a stake into a body?" asked Edgerton. "Could a woman do it?"
"The stake is made of hawthorn, a small grain wood that's harder than most oaks, and it's sharpened to a fine point like a pencil, so penetrating the body wouldn't be too difficult, and the mallet is interesting in that the maker weighted it with bronze, so it's heavy enough for its intended purpose, but not so heavy a woman couldn't effectively use it.
"The Marsh crime scene turned up nothing that wasn't the victim's, not even a hair. Even the victim's suitcase, messenger bag, and clipboard had only the victim's prints on them. The interior doorknob was wiped, and the outside had only some unrecognizable smudges. The body of both victims are a different matter, you'll need to speak to the pathologist for that. When it comes to Marsh personally, I'm going to let Mr. Hill, our newest addition to our team, fill you in on that. He's been pouring over his personal effects."
When he stood from his seat, his fidgety body language told me he'd either had too much caffeine or felt extremely uncomfortable talking to our group. "I'm Leon Hill, but you can call me Leo, everyone does. I have a bachelor's in forensic science and one in psychology, and I've recently decided to begin working toward becoming a forensic psychologist. I've studied Marsh, and while there's plenty more to know about him, at first blush, I would say that he was a narcissist, a manipulator, and an opportunist. It's like he lived two or three different lives. His phone has two phone numbers to help keep two sets of people separate from one another. In one life, he likes to give people the impression of being an excessively devout and virulently anti-gay right-wing Christian. If you play it right, people will hand you money to be that. All the contacts from that life, he connected to one of the phone numbers, and most have a Christian cross emoji next to their names. In texts with one contact, named Mary Halpert, which carries both a cross and a heart, he told of how his boss was making him take a shipment to Franklin, which he referred to as a den of vipers, and how he hadn't wanted to leave her but chose to view it as god testing his faith, and that if Daniel could endure the lion's den, and if the three young men from Judah could make it through Nebuchadnezzar's fiery furnace by the grace of god, then he could make it overnight in Sodom. Mary must have found that pretty inspiring by her reply. And she ended the conversation with trust in God and everything will be fine' and signed off with I love you' which included two exclamation points.
"However, he lived another life in wild contrast---which uses the other phone number and wink emojis next to the associated contacts. In this one, he's a hedonistic gay man who texted one friend named Patrick---within a few minutes of texting Mary---that he was excited about a last-minute trip. His boss was sending him to Franklin where he absolutely intended to, and I quote, `suck some big cock and get his booty fucked all night.' Patrick recommended The Three Cocks cruise bar to him, but instead, he set up some time with a popular male escort here, known to all of Franklin PD by the name Billy Club."
"Billy Club!" said Albert who started to laugh. "Oh man, fuckin' Gary Inman."
"Who's Gary Inman?" asked Max.
"Gary Inman," said Edgerton who began to mimic a slow and leisurely southern drawl with a tendency to drop his R's, "is a former beat cop and former member of the Minotaur who's a handsome, charmin', smooth-talkin' young man from Charleston, South Carolina. Well, once he got here, he realized he could make a lot-a money off what his mama and daddy gave him."
"Don't tell me," I said, "his nickname at the Minotaur was Billy Club."
"Bingo!" he said in his usual voice. "He's a cop who carries a Billy club at work, but also, at about 8 inches soft, his cock's fatter on the end but thinner at the base. It hangs off him like a club, and Billy's just a southern-sounding name. We tend to make fun of Gary because he left the department to become a male escort, but he's actually done really well for himself off tourist dollars and guys just here for the weekend."---he turned to Leo---"Did Marsh meet up with Billy?"
"It doesn't say," said Leo, "but he was supposed to come to his room at 2 o'clock last night, apparently, Billy had only that slot available."
"When we get done here," said Edgerton to Albert, "get someone to pick Gary up. What else can his phone tell us?"
"This is where things get serious. Related to his Christian life, and that associated phone number, he uses various icons next to a couple of names, but he has one labeled only as Blackbird' with the three monkey emojis representing see, hear, and speak no evil---although one could use an alternative interpretation of those emojis, see', hear', and say' nothing, alluding to a level of secrecy, perhaps. It's also the only one in his contact list with no name. He has no texts with Blackbird, but he received several calls from them before coming to Franklin. I have checked the number. It originates in New York. As best I can tell, it's someone who works for Drozdov, the Russian parent company that owns DiSCo the shipping company. Drozdov is also a Russian surname that means `Blackbird', and that company has close ties to the Bratva, the Russian mob. So, it's a good bet that he's working for the Bratva in some capacity."
"Holy shit," said Albert.
"Maybe, they discovered he was playing both sides of the fence and killed him," said Max.
"The Bratva isn't exactly known for being gay friendly," I said, "but they could have killed him anywhere, why trust him to deliver over a million dollars in Ecstasy, and then kill him here? No...I don't like it. We're missing something."
"Maybe they killed him because he fucked up the delivery," said Albert.
"As the simplest explanation," said Edgerton, "that's not beyond the realms of possibility, but I agree with Millstone; there's something we don't know. But this new development reminds me. After our conversation with Dante at the Belcaro, it gave me a question I needed to ask the owner of the motel. I learned from him that not only had DiSCo booked the room for Marsh on July 8th, but they requested room number 20. And despite having delivered to the Belcaro in the past, he says that the company hadn't booked rooms at the motel for their drivers before."
"They requested room 20...," I said.
"Why would they do that?" asked Albert.
"Maybe," said Max, "DiSCo had previously booked rooms at some complete dump, and the other driver scoped out The Placid Motel because it lay so close to where he made his delivery and wanted room 20 because it only has one neighbor."
Edgerton's brow furrowed, and he shook his head. "Max is right. It sounds suspicious but could have any number of completely innocent explanations. I will point out though Max that Marsh is dead, so we must take everything into consideration, like the fact that the room lies at the end of the row. Also, it's easily accessible from the alley between the motel and the cell service provider next door. I think that it puts weight on their specific request for room 20 at that motel. Why would they do that, if not for the killer to know where to find him?"
"You think it was a hit?" I asked him.
"Maybe," he said, "let's leave the possibility open."---he turned to Leo---"Do you have anything else?"
"Not connected to that, but the van's radio was synced to Marsh's phone. His phone had a couple of gospel albums, but a lot of music popular with the LGBT community, and an audiobook of the entire Bible. He also had a well-worn copy of a King James Study Bible in his suitcase that has sections tabbed and color-coded, verses highlighted, and notes written in the wide margins. The thing is, the Bible wasn't originally his. An inscription tells that it was gifted to a woman named Julia, and the handwriting inside it and on the tabs was by a woman. So, it's probably for the sake of appearances that he has it. So far, that's all I have."
"Keep searching for more connections among his contacts," said Edgerton. "And I want to tell you, you're doing a damn good job. I am so pleased to have you with us." He shook Leo's hand and Leo left for the room farther back into the lab. "Okay, Hank, what can you tell us about these pills?"
"The table to your right holds the evidence from the case of Blue Murder from the Belcaro nightclub. Apart from the bottle you guys touched, the rest are squeaky clean. The bottles have a weight discrepancy from the ones found at The Crypt, however, both cases with the bottles inside them weigh the same. The case maker used a polymer with an air cavity to make them more substantial, but that cavity in the Belcaro case contains a mixture of sand and foam to make up the weight difference between the two cases. It's clear they recycled this entire thing from a genuine case of Blue Murder wine, and that's why it looks so good. They even reused the same wax, but the labels are well-made forgeries, and of course, there's the unusual 2000 vintage year, which I suspect isn't a year because each bottle contains 2000 pills.
"When it comes to the pills themselves, I'm impressed. This isn't the typical crappy-made street Ecstasy full of who-knows-what. They made these so well, you would think they came from a professional pharmaceutical company. Each pill contains only one active ingredient, exactly 100 milligrams of pharmaceutical-grade Methylenedioxymethamephetamine, also known as MDMA or Ecstasy. Apart from that, it has common pill ingredients used in professionally made pills, a binder to hold the pill together, a disintegrant to make it fall apart in the stomach (common for pharmaceuticals, unusual for MDMA), Blue #1 for coloring (often used in candy making), a coating to make it easier to swallow, and they even threw in a little vitamin C as a preservative. These are the Cadillac of Mollies. Marketed to the right people, you could easily get 60 or 70 bucks a pop on these. There are 2000 pills per bottle and 12 bottles. So, for the entire case, you're looking at 24 thousand pills of pure Blue Murder, valued somewhere between 1.44 million to 1.68 million dollars. And that, folks, is all I have for now."
"Great work, Hank," said Edgerton.
"So," said Max, "now that we know the Bratva is involved, do we still think that Bennet might have killed Marsh?"
"Well, to answer that," I said, "let's look at the scene at The Crypt first. We pretty much know what went on there, the important parts dealing with Iota, anyway. He may have had a hand in Beausoleil hitting his head, but not in the staking. Beausoleil fell at about 4 o'clock and was knocked unconscious. Iota checked the case, didn't find what he was looking for, and he left. Marsh's death between 1 and 3 o'clock is different. The perpetrator beat and strangled him."
"He was angry," said Albert.
"Yes," I said, pointing to Albert, "and let's not assume we have any clue as to why they did that. Tucker saw Iota at the Belcaro at about midnight and had inquired about some Ecstasy being sold before we arrived. Is that really a coincidence? Think about it. Let's suggest---as we suspect--- that the pills were supposed to go to Bennet in Boxly. Either Prego Imports or DiSCo are in on shipping the pills, or someone who works for either company made a switch, possibly for the Bratva. Bennet never got his shipment, he will have contacted whoever sent them, and if they hadn't already known, they would find out and tell him where the other two cases went. So, Bennet wouldn't need to send people to a bunch of different clubs to look for them, just to the Belcaro and The Crypt, and apparently, he chose Iota for the job.
"That makes sense," said Edgerton.
"If that's true," said Albert, "then no one would need to see Marsh over the pills."
"Exactly," I said. "It doesn't mean they didn't, but I think it significantly alters the chances that they did."
"So, we may be looking at an unknown motive," said Edgerton. Something drew his attention from the corner of his eye, and we all turned toward the figure who had entered the room, a slender man with graying hair in his mid-forties wearing a fitted black button-up and heather gray jeans stood with his hands behind his back. Edgerton addressed him, "Hello, Lieutenant Holland."
"I apologize for interrupting," he said. "I wish to speak to Officer Sawyer. Front and center, please."
Albert moved to the lieutenant and stood before him at attention.
"You've worked hard for this day, and I can tell you studied under Detective Sergeant Edgerton because you only missed one question on the test, and given your answer to that one, I think you misread the question. Due to the circumstances, this couldn't wait until Monday with everyone around, but...Officer Albert Jay Sawyer, I hereby promote you to detective." He handed Albert a blue box with his new detective badge in it and simultaneously shook his hand. "Congratulations, Detective Sawyer." Everyone gave Albert the customary applause he deserved. Holland turned to all of us. "Well, I hate to promote and leave, but it is my day off, after all. Mr. Millstone, would you walk with me, please?"
I gave Max a quick kiss, said, "I'll be back," and left with the lieutenant.
As we strolled along the empty corridor, I sensed Holland was a self-possessed man. With his head held high and spine erect, he kept his hands behind his back in thought, and he spoke in a calm, deliberate manner. "Detective Sawyer told me about the footprints you found at The Crypt. Everyone else saw a haze on the floor, but you saw a pattern; I'm impressed. Edgerton made a good choice in wanting you to consult. Your plan helped to catch Bo Pecker, and today you prevented us from chasing down an empty rabbit hole. I look forward to seeing what else you can do."
"I always do my best, lieutenant, but I'm not a magician; I haven't the ability to pull a rabbit out of my hat every time I take the stage."
"I wouldn't expect you to. Sometimes, the evidence just isn't there, but I hadn't asked you here to give you a sense of my expectations. I want to talk to you about our little personnel problem in the department. Having made Sawyer a detective has filled one of our empty slots, but no one else is remotely ready for the badge, and they won't be for quite a while."
"Couldn't you just transfer someone from another city?"
He stopped in the corridor and turned to me. "This is Franklin. No detectives vie for the dubious privilege to work here. By the time a cop makes detective, they become even more protective of their reputations, and they fear working here would stain their record. The last request came from Detective Edgerton from Dallas seven years ago, so we usually promote from within. Beat and traffic cops come and go, but detectives are at a premium.
"I saw that handsome man of yours back there, and unlike Mr. Nevil before you, you're one of us. You belong here, but sometimes new arrivals find life in Franklin a little too overwhelming for them, and they move away. So, I need to hear this from you. You will stay, won't you?"
His question caught me off guard for some reason. We had spoken of topics related to work, but suddenly it felt personal, not in an unacceptable way, just something I hadn't expected. "A few weeks ago, when Max and I arrived, I hadn't known myself, especially when it comes to being `one of us' as you put it; it's all new to me, but I can't imagine living anywhere except in Franklin with Max. So, I'm not leaving, but what does the department's personnel problems have to do with me?"
"I have that last slot to fill."
"You can't just make me a police detective like you did Albert," I said.
"No, you would have to be a cop, but for the moment, we have your consultations on a trial basis. I would like to make it permanent, more involved, and just consider the slot filled. Is that agreeable to you?"
"I enjoy helping the police department, but I do have an agency to run."
"Naturally, we would take into account your private business for when you have cases, and as for that, acting as our consultant---on retainer, as it were---would unofficially come with several informational perks which could come in quite handy for you."
"That's a generous, if not entirely legal, offer," I said.
"I'm merely bending the rules for the greater good, and I believe you could do the department a lot of good."
"I would be a fool to turn that down, but I would insist on two things. One, make the contract with the agency, not just me. I want Max and Tucker in on this because I need them. And two, the contract must come with a termination clause. If either one of us is unhappy with the arrangement, at any point, if one of us backs out, the other needs to accept that."
"Mr. Roche has medical training and knowledge from which we could benefit, and as for Mr. MacEach, he has--- shall we say---`skills' that have garnered considerable admiration within the department, so we would accept your terms. Have we a deal?" He held out his hand for me to shake, and I did. "Good," he said. "I'll have a contract written up this next week. For now, I need to get back to my husband." He backed away a little, readying to go, and as he did so, I noted that his eyes scanned me, and he nodded his head a little. "Yes...it's been a productive day." He turned and left.
My colleagues had left the forensics lab.
"We're headed to the conference room," Edgerton said to me.
Apparently, he had received a text that both the inquiries and autopsies were complete. Besides the conference table, the wall of the room held a monitor with the pathologist on the screen. I discovered later that the pathology lab was several blocks away attached to the city morgue. Joey Dvorak from the Minotaur set up the secure internet link to the lab when he worked for the city.
Once Albert entered the room and joined us at the conference table, he said to Edgerton, "I have Hernandez out looking for Gary Inman."
Edgerton nodded and directed his attention to the monitor. "We're all here doctor, what have you for us?"
"Let me begin with Marsh since his death is pretty straightforward. He had eaten a modest meal of fast food a couple of hours before his death. He had residue of the glue left behind from duct tape over his mouth, none was found at the scene, so presumably, the perpetrator took it with him. Using his fists, the perpetrator had beaten Marsh bodily and then strangled him to death.
"As for Beausoleil, last evening, he had drunk some wine and had sex with at least six different men, according to the DNA profiles of semen samples taken from the body. Most of those profiles were from unknown individuals, but one came from Javier Acuna. I understand he is a person of interest. Beausoleil's skin, including the bottoms of his feet, had the remains of dried well water and body wash containing tea tree oil. Minor contusions on his face may indicate that, at some point, someone grabbed him by the face with an open palm and pushed him hard enough to cause some bruising. When it comes to the head wound, he suffered a skull fracture, that, on closer inspection, is consistent with a forceful impact onto the granite floor. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the evidence suggests his head hit the floor first followed by the rest of his body. The impact was that significant. It caused an intracranial hemorrhage. Surprisingly, he lay slowly dying for two hours. Evidence suggests that his vital signs were seriously suppressed by that point, his heart barely beating, when someone drove a stake through his heart, which explains why we found such little blood from the wound."
"I'm a little iffy on some details, doctor," said Edgerton. "Which one killed him?"
"They both did...in their own way. The fall started a dying process from which he might have recovered, had he received immediate medical attention, but he hadn't. After two hours, he couldn't survive the injury. He had a significant amount of brain damage. The stake through the heart just finished him off."
"Okay," said Edgerton. "You know that I trust your expertise, so tell me, in your professional medical opinion, what do you think of what you've seen?"
"I appreciate that, detective," said the doctor. "While the injury in the fall could be viewed as accidental and the not calling for medical help as inexcusable, when it comes to the staking, you'll have to discover the answers on your own. It's too ambiguous. By the wound alone, I could never tell if malice lay in the heart of the one who staked him."
At that moment, Edgerton and I stared at one another, both of us thinking of Tucker. When the possibility existed that the staking happened postmortem, agreeing to his attending the memorial service seemed less dangerous, but that had changed, and so had my level of reluctance in agreeing to it. In the end, it would all come back to who would go to the service if he didn't, and we needed someone to go. Unlike with the housewarming, if Tucker went, he would be cut off from any assistance and probably in the company of a killer. Which I figured, given the opportunity, he would try to find; he seemed so eager to show me that he could do the job at the agency and that I could rely on him. I knew Tucker was a resourceful and surprising man, and he would want me to trust him. We decided to inform Tucker of the situation and allow him to make his own decision. Part of me hoped Tucker would back out, but he and Wade had a strong attachment to one another, and I think if Wade had asked Tucker to skydive, he wouldn't have hesitated to jump.
Please send questions, comments, or complaints to RickHaydnHorst@gmail.com. I would enjoy reading what you have to say. I ask for patience, I'm writing this as I go, like I did the first novel, and it's going to take time. Keep checking back!