Bob Moats - Jim Richards 01-03- 3 for Murder Box Set (3 page)

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Well, a bit Greek to anyone who didn’t know how to look at a header but it told me a few things. The person who sent it called himself (or herself; I wasn’t sexist) “whipit,” a flashback to the days of DEVO. Or a bondage freak. It was sent from a place called Pompo Deli, I presume a cyber cafe using a mail program on their server for the web based gmail program through Google. Most likely a faked email setup for just this purpose. It might be hard to track down for me as I’m not a total computer geek, but I knew a bit of where to start.

One thing I noticed, the line: To: “Joyce Harper” [email protected] suggested that the person sending the mail had an address book set up since the email printed out the full name of Joyce Harper. I wanted to know who else was in that address book. If I could have only seen the email sent to Dee I might have been able to figure out more. I was sure the police had seen all this, too, and were probably at Pompo Deli right now asking questions. Then again, maybe not. Maybe they hadn’t had time to take the email back to their lab for examination.

My cell phone rang, and I answered, “Hello?”

“Richards, Trapper here, did you bring a cup of coffee to Joyce Harper’s office, or did she bring it?”

“Well, I hate coffee, and I didn’t bring it. I don’t even know if she drinks it. She had a bunch of stuff in her arms when she got there, but I didn’t see a coffee cup. Why?”

“She took a drink from a cup on her desk and started to convulse. We got an EMT wagon in, but it was too late. We think she was poisoned. Nobody else came into the office before I got here?”

“No, just her and me.”

“You need to come down to the station and make a statement. I don’t like people dying on my watch, and you seem to keep being around when it happens.”

“Yeah, I can come down. I’m not hiding anything. I’ve told you everything I know which is not much. I’m being sucked into this, too, you know.”

“Make sure you get there. I don’t want to have to chase you down.” His tone wasn’t friendly.

He hung up, and I put my computers to sleep again then headed out to the car after checking with Mom for any needs. I was starting to dislike the situation. I just knew I was going to end up a suspect. I hoped my name didn’t  make it to the papers. My mom wouldn’t like that.

*

Chapter Three

Trapper was pacing around Joyce Harper’s office, fuming. He looked at the two uniformed officers, Becker and Davis, standing there looking about as vacant as two men could look. The ME people had left with the body of Joyce Harper, and the office was quiet until Trapper exploded.

“How in the hell did a cup of poisoned coffee just materialize without anyone seeing it?”

One officer said, “Maybe it was the CSU guy who came to copy the email off the computer, Sarge.”

Trapper’s eyes glazed over. “Just when was there a CSU guy in here, Becker?”

“Right after I let Richards out the door. He came up and told me he was called to extract an email. You and Davis were in the back room with the vic.” Becker winced.

“One guy?” Trapper asked.

“Yeah, just one,” Becker replied.

“When was the last time you ever saw less than two CSU techs at the scene?”

“Well, now you mention it, I thought it was strange.”

Trapper’s eyes glazed again. “What was he carrying?”

“One of those cases they all carry, I guess.”

“Did you watch him?” Trapper now moved into Becker’s personal space, just short of nose to nose.

“No, I was watching you and Davis with the Harper woman. The CSU guy was done in just a couple of minutes, and I let him out.” Becker wanted to move back from Trapper, but the desk blocked him.

“Just enough time to leave a cup of spiked coffee and….” He paused, and his face went blank. “Shit,” he spit out, went to the computer, and sat at the desk. He looked at the mail program still up on the screen and made a couple of hits on the keyboard. “Shit! The email is gone! He left the coffee and deleted the email. I don’t believe this, right in front of us.”

Trapper picked up the desk phone and dialed a number. “Yeah, dispatch, this is Trapper. Was there a call for CSU to come to my location in the last couple of hours?…Yeah, OK. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “No one was sent here,” he said, speaking mostly to the air. “This was some real ballsy guy to waltz in and do what he did then skate out.”

He turned the chair toward Becker. “What did he look like?”

“About my height, dark hair under a CSU cap, tinted glasses. I could tell they were prescription since they made his eyes look huge. He had a mustache and a large nose.” Becker strained to remember.

“Glasses, mustache and a big nose, like those gag glasses, mustache and a big nose they sell in a novelty store?” Trapper said sarcastically.

“No, Sergeant, his were real.”

Trapper looked frustrated. He stood, walked to the door, turned and said, “You two wait here. Don’t touch anything until the real CSU shows up, check their IDs when they do, wait till they are done, then seal the place up. Can you do that?”

They both nodded, and Trapper stormed out.

Back at the police station, I was sitting on a hard wooden chair that was making my butt so sore I had to shift a lot to get comfortable. About three butt turns later Trapper showed up. He led me to his office.

“Well, Richards, you lucked out. It seems the killer dropped in to the Harper office and left a present while we all just stood around.” He wasn’t smiling as he briefly filled me in on the incident. “He left the coffee and deleted the email. We can’t even examine that now.”

I hesitated. “Um, I could help you on that. Before you got there I had Joyce copy the email to my flash drive.”

He stared at me and grumbled, “You suppressed evidence?!?”

“No, I copied evidence. It’s only suppressed if I didn’t tell you about it, which I’m doing now. You’re lucky I copied it.”

“Ok, I don’t care, just give me the flash drive!” he bellowed.

I thought this might happen so I had copied the email off to a blank SD card. I handed it to him.

“This is not a flash drive,” he observed.

“The email is on there. I moved it,” I lied. Joyce’s original email was now on my computer. “Oh, and Dee’s email to me is on there, too. I cooperate with my police.”

“Ok, fine. We got one up on the classmate killer now.” He looked hard at me. “I don’t approve that you did this, but thanks.”

“Are you calling him the classmate killer now?”

“Police have a way of naming perps so we are all on the same page.”

“Did anyone see the killer well enough to ID him?” I asked.

“We have a description, but I’m sure he was disguised. What I can’t figure is how he knew the routine and how he figured Harper would be the one to drink the coffee.”

“Where was it placed?” I asked.

“On the desk, next to her computer.”

“Joyce was so shook up, maybe she thought she brought it and needed the caffeine,” I theorized. “He must have known Joyce’s habits, and he was confident that after Joyce found the email she would have called the police. Your guys would have arrived and done what good cops do, so he waited and did his thing. I’m sure none of your people would have drunk from the cup. He was just thumbing his nose at everyone. Guy’s got guts.”

“It was planned. He couldn’t just get a CSU outfit at the last minute. This was calculated,” Trapper said in admiration of a bad deed.

“Dee Wittenfield’s murder wasn’t very spectacular. Where was the drama in that?” I wondered aloud. “She didn’t call the police so the killer had no show to put on. He just did her in to start the ball rolling, I guess.”

I thought more on it and said, “But Joyce said that Dee was warned not to call the police. Why would he do that if he wanted to play?”

“Maybe he figured she would call us after another threat. Maybe if she had called us, we would have been guarding her, and he would have slid in through the crapper window while she was in the shower and strangled her.” He went silent and focused his eyes past the walls.

I was almost speechless. “My God! Is that what happened??”

“You didn’t hear this.” He hesitated then leaned toward me. “I wasn’t there. It was a different crew assigned to the case, but after it happened they sent me and my people in to clean up.” He went quiet again. “The papers were not told this bit of info, just what we wanted them to know. Same with the Harper case. It will be known that she was found poisoned. I hope you are cooperative about the suppression of certain facts that are to be kept from the press.”

“What, that two woman were killed while the police was on guard?” I muttered.

“Just when I was getting to like you, Richards. Don’t upset me,” he growled.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m not involved with murder every day the way you guys are. The lives of two personal friends have been snuffed out, and I don’t know what to do about it.” I looked into his eyes and thought I saw a spark of understanding.

I was feeling tired. “Are you done with me? I missed my afternoon nap.” I gave him a fake grin.

“Yeah, get out of here, but don’t leave town.” He gave me a fake grin back.

Then we both stopped grinning.

I left his office and the station. Back to my car and out on the road, I was mystified by the events of the last two days. I had two friends go out in violence, and I wasn’t prepared for the drama. I got back to the house and into my room. I checked my email online. Thankfully no pleas for help.

I went out to the kitchen and made a light lunch. I never eat big meals which is why I can’t figure why I have such a big gut. OK, I guess it would be called a beer belly, and I am proud of it. Back to my room to eat, and then I crashed on the bed. I really feel miserable anymore if I don’t catch a nap in the afternoon. I hated it, but I hate feeling miserable more. I slept poorly until it was time to help Mom put Dad to bed and went back to my room.

Around 7 P.M. I thought about Buck. He wasn’t working tonight, but I just had to talk to someone so I called him at home.

Buck answered the phone by the third ring and must have checked his caller ID. “Hey Jimmy, solved the case yet?”

“No, and it got worse,” I replied then went over the details of the last two days. I swore him to secrecy about the suppressed info to the press.

“Wow, man. Must be hard to be in the thick of it,” he said, obviously impressed with my story. “I did read about your old girl friend in the paper today. Can’t believe he did it right when the cops were there. Guy’s got brass.”

“Yeah, well, I’m thinking this guy’s not done yet. He called Joyce the second classmate to die, like there will be more. I have to find out what Dee and Joyce had in common to make him put them on his list.”

“Where you gonna start?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I would like to be able to see the emails he sent to Dee, though.”