The Fed Man (18 page)

Slowly he rose and retrieved his leather three-ring binder. It was time to add to his final message. After all, important people engaged in important missions should leave a message for posterity. He opened his book to the words he had recently written. After reading them a few times, he scratched them out and began anew:

The headache was returning. He closed his book and let it fall to the floor. Perhaps later he would be able to think about his next mission and about his message.

Marie could tell by the way the door was opened and slammed shut. And she could tell by the slow gait and loud striking of leather-soled boots on the tile floor that Pete had just entered the office. He was late for work and she just knew he was not happy. Pete was never late for work. She rose from her chair and scurried to the small room used as an employee lounge, where she poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee. She returned to her desk about the time Pete was approaching. With a huge smile on her face, she offered the deputy the steaming cup.

“Good afternoon, Deputy. I thought you might like a cup of fresh coffee.” When she saw his face, she asked, “Is something wrong, Pete? What’s going on? You look like you’ve been pulled through a wringer.”

He removed his Ducks Unlimited camo cap and ran his hand through his sparse hair before propping the cap on the back of his head. He placed both hands on the edge of Marie’s desk, leaned forward, and let his head drop for a second. After a loud sigh, he looked up at Marie and sighed again. “Marie, pardon my French,

but right now I’m somewhere between not worth a shit and who gives a damn. I’m sure you heard about the big accident on the freeway last night, correct?”

Marie nodded.

“Well, those two younguns the chief calls deputies were on duty, but they couldn’t handle it so they rousted my sorry, tired old butt out of bed. I was so pissed that I almost used the f-word.” Pointing the coffee mug toward her, he added, “And you know that’s not like me.” Then he sipped some coffee, grinned, and nodded at Marie.

“Lots of sirens, lots of lights, and lots of tragedy. I wonder if the young docs rousted out old Doc Allen to assist them. I think there were at least two fatalities. By the way, is the chief in yet? He was out there before me and was still there when I left.”

“He came in about eight this morning and has been holed up in his office since then. He’s only been out once for the bathroom and to get a cup of coffee. He didn’t say a word, but his look said don’t bother me. He’s been on the phone quite a bit. I hope he’ll be done soon because Mr. Briscoe and Mr. Stone are due here in half an hour to follow up on Monday’s meeting.” Raising her eyebrows and nodding at a file, she added, “I’ve got a lot of data since our last meeting that I think everyone will find quite interesting. Are Nube and Doc going to be here?”

Before she could answer, Naldie emerged from his office, holding his old golf cap in one hand and scratching his head with the other.

“Good afternoon, Deputy Mohr. Glad to see that you could make it in today.” Turning to Marie, he asked, “Is that coffee fresh, and do we have anything to eat around here?”

Smiling at her boss, Marie replied, “The coffee is fresh as of five minutes ago and I took the liberty of ordering something for you from Deke’s deli.” Hearing the door open, she turned and saw Cassie entering, carrying a bag from Deke’s. “Speaking of which, has just arrived.”

Naldie forced a small, grateful smile and said, “Thanks, Marie. You’re the greatest.” The smile vanished as he continued. “I’m getting a cup of coffee. Marie, you grab the bag from Cassie and any information you have regarding the cases we’re working on and Pete, you get your butt in here too.”

Pete threw his arms in the air and said to no one in particular, “What spider bit his butt?” Dropping his arms, he just shook his head and followed the chief into his office.

Pete and Marie took their usual chairs when they were in Naldie’s office. After tucking a napkin into his shirt, Naldie took a huge bite from his tuna melt sandwich. Holding it in one hand, he pointed from Marie to Pete and back again while rapidly chewing. After swallowing just enough so that he could speak, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Okay. We’ve got just a few minutes before the circus arrives and things get serious. Let’s take care of any housekeeping regarding anything else that this office is supposed to be looking after or into.” Looking at Marie, he asked, “Whatcha got?”

About fifteen minutes later they heard the door to the sheriff’s office open and some light banter. Marie quickly arose and went to meet their guests. Nube entered Naldie’s office first, followed by C. J., Doug, Doc, and Marie. After exchanging pleasantries and a decline by all to Marie’s offer for coffee, Naldie raised his hands, palms up, looked at the group, and said, “Well?”

Nube cleared his throat. Nodding to C. J. and Doug, he said, “Gentlemen, thank you for joining us again this afternoon.”

Always the affable one, C. J. spread his arms out and bowed slightly. “I assure you that the pleasure is ours. And the meter is ticking, right, Marie?”

Nodding ever so slightly, Marie answered, “You shall receive your just due, Mr. Stone.”

Nube interjected. “That being settled, let’s begin. Marie, would you please summarize the findings you mentioned at our last meeting?”

“Certainly, Nube.” After reiterating the previously reviewed information, she looked up from her notebook and said, “Gentlemen, I think you will find this interesting. But let me begin by telling you we are very fortunate to have this information this fast. For this, we can thank Nube’s boss. Supervisory Special Agent Corrales. She contacted the lab and established this as a high-priority homicide case and wanted all work on these cases expedited.” Nube smiled and scored one for the FBI and his boss. Just leave it to Corrales.

Licking her fingertip, Marie turned a few pages until she located the page she was searching for. “Let’s start with the fabric
found by Pete when he and Sam were investigating the second murder. The lab determined it to be polyester.”

Doug cleared his throat. “If I may interrupt, did the lab cross-check this piece of fabric with that found in conjunction with the first murder?”

C. J. chuckled while turning to his partner. “Douglas, why don’t you let the young lady finish. You always want the game to be over before the opening whistle is blown.” Turning to Marie and with his glasses in his hand, he waved his arm toward her. “You were saying, my dear.”

“Yes, the lab did cross-reference with the first case. The report states that the cross section of fibers from both pieces, which reveals the contour and pigment distribution, is conclusive for being manufacturer specific.” Briefly looking up at Naldie she added, “In layman’s terms that means they were made by the same company. The report goes on to say that how the color, which was identified as midnight gray, was applied and absorbed along the length of the fibers would indicate that they are the same fabric.”

Doug again interjected. “I think it’s important, and correct me if I’m wrong, C. J., that on the stand a fiber examiner would conclude that these two pieces of fabric could have originated, or are consistent with originating, from the same piece of clothing. But they will stop short of saying that they are definitely from the same article of clothing.”

Pointing at Briscoe, C. J. looked at the others and with a smile that spoke Southern charm, he added, “Y’all see why I love this brilliant man. He’s absolutely correct. However, I do believe what we
have is admissible because Federal Rule 402 states, in essence, that all relevant evidence is admissible. Now, what else do we have?”

“The sock in the throat of the second victim was a light green crew sock just like with the first victim,” Marie continued. “What’s really interesting is that the cold case investigators from the murders in Cedar Junction and Danburg told me that the socks used in those murders were also light green crew socks made by the same manufacturer of the socks in our murders. Furthermore, the application and the absorption of the color would indicate that they are essentially the same fabric.”

Pete raised his hand and said, “If I may. Marie told us the midnight gray polyester fabric is usually used to manufacture sweatshirts. Can we assume from this that the same sweatshirt was worn at the scene of both murders? And if so, it doesn’t prove that the same person wore that sweatshirt unless we can find it in his possession, correct?”

Doug looked at his partner and asked, “May I?”

With a sweep of his hand implying his partner had the floor, C. J. nodded his permission.

“I think you’re correct on both points,” Doug said. “But remember what C. J. said before. This seems, at first blush, to be relevant and, therefore, should be admissible and will help us build the case. With respect to the information Marie just gave us on the socks from the cold cases and from the latest victims, I think it is safe to imply that the socks are from the same lot. This would imply that the perpetrator purchased a package of socks some years ago
and has kept them at home to use as a means of committing a murder at any time he or she chooses. It would be interesting to have the lab check specifically for the perpetrator’s DNA in the socks. If they do not find any, then I would propose that using socks to suffocate his victims fits his modus operandi.” Looking at Marie, he nodded. “Please continue, Marie.”

“Thank you, Mr. Briscoe. The next report deals with the footprint molds made by Mr. Plooter at the scene where the second victim was found. The lab indicated the molds obtained were very good and from a size ten shoe, and the sole design is from a bootie or shoe cover usually worn in an operating room, and the small thread in the mold is also from a shoe cover. They have an additional note that they are still researching this in an attempt to identify the lot number.” Looking up from her notes, she asked, “Any questions or comments, or should I continue?”

Pete spoke up. “Perhaps this would be a good time to tell you what I learned in Winter Falls. I interviewed the owner of a beer joint named Foam and Suds. He recalled seeing a guy in his place the night before we found the second body. He said he was wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt pulled up so he couldn’t see his face. Bought some Bud and cherry-flavored sloe gin. He guessed his height at five foot ten and his weight at about 180 pounds. He didn’t get a look at the vehicle, though. When I was in the pit with Sam, we found a spot where the perp had been walking, presumably after he’d dumped the body. I say this because the stride was longer and the tracks shallower than they were close to where
we found the body. In any event, the stride length was thirty-two inches, which indicates a height of about seventy inches. So our perp is about five foot ten, weighs about 180, and wears a size ten shoe. At least we have something to go by. And, before I forget, the bartender told me something else. Before the perp left his joint, he said, ‘no worry,’ and it stuck with the bartender because he’d never heard it before. I think I’ve heard that phrase before, but I just can’t remember where.” Finished, he crossed his arms and slouched back in his chair.

Nube looked at the seasoned deputy, smiled, and said, “Good job, Pete. You’re right, at least we have the start of a physical profile. What else do you have for us, Marie?”

“Well, they said that the paint found on the entry door and the door to the evidence room at Dr. Anthony’s office was the same and is the type used on metal.” Holding her finger on her place in her notebook, she looked up and said, “So is it safe to assume that the same wrecking bar was used to damage both doors?”

Doug uncrossed and then recrossed his legs before replying. “We never like to assume, Marie. However, I think it would be safe to say that it appears that the same instrument was used on both doors.”

“Thanks. Pete had Jim Plooter mold a track he found in Art Schwartz’s driveway. It was an old Firestone FR380, which, according to the report, was a common tire used on 1988 Nissan pickups. The lab did a cast on the log we sent them and they obtained comparison microphotographs that showed matching patterns
of detail. With that information they were able to conclude that the axe used to impale the first victim was the same axe that was embedded in the log where the first victim’s body was discovered.”

“I think we would have to exhume the bodies,” C. J. said, “and look at bone injury to prove conclusively that the axe was actually used in both murders. But, again, I would think that we have enough to at least render this information admissible.” He looked at Doug, who nodded his agreement.

“I have one more piece of information for you.” She again looked to her notebook to insure accuracy in her report. “The fingerprint recovered at Dr. Anthony’s office belongs to a Darius Levinson.” Looking up, Marie said, “I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve never heard of a Darius Levinson. Have you, Chief? Or you, Pete?”

Both shook their heads.

“In any event, I did some research, and the fingerprint and name matches that of a Darius Levinson who has a juvenile record in St. Louis County. But I’m not sure if we can obtain any further information about this person.”

C. J. leaned forward and gave his famous Southern smile. “Allow me to address this issue,” he said. According to Minnesota statutes, and I believe the applicable statute here is 260B.171,” pausing, he looked at Doug, whose nod told C. J. he was correct, “the juvenile court keeps and maintains records on juvenile adjudications until the person reaches the age of twenty-eight. In essence, the statute states that the court will provide these records of
delinquency adjudications to a law enforcement agency, and here is where I think it will help us, if the court finds that providing these records serves public safety. Would you agree, Doug?”