Detective (22 page)

"All the same, I'm required to
finish telling you, so please
listen."

When Andrews had concluded, Ainslie
added, "We don't usually do this, Ms.
Gomez, but I strongly recommend you
call your lawyer now."

178 Arthur Hoiley

"Why?"

"I'm not saying it will happen,
but someone might argue you didn't
have to shoot this man, that you'd
already protected yourself enough "

"That's bullshit!" Gomez shouted,
then abruptly stopped. "Well, I
guess I see what you're saying, even
though ''

"We're simply advising you to get a
lawyer."

"Look, I'm a working girl; I don't
need a lot of big lawyer bills.
Leave me alone for a while. I'll sit
here and think about it."

Ainslie asked Thurston quietly,
"Did you call for a state attorney?"

"Not yet."

"Get one here soon. We need a
decision on this."

Thurston nodded and reached for his
radio.

The ID crew had arrived and was
working quickly. The .22 Cal Rohn
pistol retrieved from Dulce Gomez
had been sealed in a plastic bag
after Thurston had noted the
weapon's serial number. He used the
apartment telephone, now cleared for
use, to talk with Police
Headquarters Communications. "I
would like a gun check, please." He
described the weapon and serial
number, then, responding to a
question, "Start with Dade County,
then go wider if you have to."
Communications had computer access
to gun registrations locally,
nationally, and, if need be, world-
wide.

Thurston waited silently, then was
suddenly alert. "No shit! Hey, give
me that again." He wrote swiftly in
a notebook. "Yeah, I got it all.
Thanks a lot."

He made another call, this time to
Miami Homicide; it lasted ten
minutes. Throughout, Thurston's
voice was low but excited.
Afterward, he signaled Ainslie and
Andrews. The trio huddled in a
corner of the apartment living room.

DETECTIVE 179

"You won't believe this," Thurston
said. "Remember an old case the
Isham murder? Year and a half ago?"

Ainslie said thoughtfully, "Yes, I
do. Victim was killed with a bullet
from his own gun, but the gun was
missing. It was Dion Jacobo's case.
Dion had a suspect but, without a
weapon, no proof. It's still
unsolved."

"Not anymore. We just found the
missing weapon."

"Hers?" Andrews gestured to Dulce
Gomez.

Thurston nodded, looking pleased.
''Communications identified the gun,
its original owner, everything. And
guess the name of Dion's suspect in
the Isham case."

It was Andrews who offered,
"Ortega?"

"You got it one Justo Ortega, the
idiot who gave a hot gun to his
girlfriend, Dulce. Anyway, I just
talked with Dion Jacobo. He knows
where Ortega is, and he's getting a
warrant to bring him in. With the
gun, Dion says, that case is now
solid."

"Win some, lose some," Ainslie
said. "Nice going, Charlie." He
pointed to the body of Quinones, now
covered with a sheet, still lying on
the apartment floor. "How do you
guys feel about bringing in the
girl?"

"Personally I'd hate to tangle with
her," Thurston said. "She's as tough
as old boots. Just the same, I
wouldn't want to see her charged
with killing Quinones. In my opinion
the creep asked for what he got."

Andrews added, "I go with that."

"I mostly agree with you," Ainslie
told them, "though we have to
remember that a karate expert's
hands and feet are considered deadly
weapons. That's why some black
belts which Gomez says she is are
registered with police. So
prosecutors might want to go for
manslaughter, proving negligence.
Anyway, we'll soon know." He nodded
toward the outer doorway, where a
short, doughty

180 Arthur Halley

woman in her mid-fifties had just
come in and was surveying the scene.

The newcomer, dressed casually in
a blue linen skirt and bright yellow
blouse, was Mattie Beason, an
assistant state attorney and a
favorite of Ainslie's. He respected
her consistent toughness in court in
support of good police work and
testimony, though she could be
cruelly severe with detectives prior
to trial if their preparation and
evidence were incomplete or sloppy.

Beason asked, "So what do we have?"

It was Thurston who laid out the
details: his and Andrews's
surveillance of Quinones, their
quarry's pursuit of Dulce Gomez, the
detectives' chase through the apart-
ments, and the death scene
discovered in apartment 421.

"Pretty slow in getting after him,
weren't you?" Typically, the
attorney put her finger on the
crucial flaw in Thurston's
statement.

He grimaced. "What else can I say
except yes?"

"That's honest, anyway. And,
fortunately for you, you won't be on
trial."

Andrews asked, "Will anybody?"

Ignoring the question, the
attorney glanced at Dulce Gomez,
still seated by herself, apparently
waiting for whatever would happen
next. Beason turned to Ainslie. "I
suppose you've weighed the karate
deadly weapon postulate."

"We were discussing it when you came
in."

"Always so thorough, Malcolm." She
turned, confronting Andrews. "Before
I answer your question, Detective,
answer this one. If we charge this
young woman with manslaughter in
view of her karate skills, what do
you see as being in her favor?"

"Okay, counselor." Andrews touched
off points on his fingers. "She has
a full-time job and attends night
school to get ahead good-citizen
stuff. She was minding her

DETECTIVE 181

own business when that scumbagwith an
assault and rape record stealthily
tailed her. He trespassed in the
apartment building and broke down the
door to her place when she was alone.
Then he came at her with his cock
hanging out and a lethal knife in his
hand. So what happened? She panicked
and, in defending herself, went maybe
legally too far. But tell all that
to a jury and not only will they
never convict, they'll fall over
themselves to acquit her."

The state attorney permitted
herself a smile. "Not bad, Detective.
Maybe you should study law." She
turned to Ainslie. "You concur?"

He nodded. "Makes sense to me."

"Sure does. So I have two words for
you, Malcolm. Forget it! For the
record excusable homicide."

One postscript followed the drama of
Carlos Quifiones's death.

A search of his tenement apartment
by police revealed he could not have
been the serial killer, since he had
been out of town when three of the
killings occurred and there was
nothing to connect him with the
others.

Thus, Quinones was the first to be
eliminated from the surveillance
suspect list.

Detective-Sergeant Teresa Dannelly
and Detective Jose Garcia did not
have murder to contend with during
their surveillance. It was the second
duty week, and they were observing
Alec Polite, a Haitian male living on
Northeast 65th Street in Miami's
Little Haiti.

Sergeant Dannelly, one of the
Robbery detectives assigned
temporarily to Homicide, was a tall,
thirty-fiveyear-old brunette with ten
years of service and considered

182 Arthur Halley

a resourceful supervisor. She was
sometimes known as "Big Mamma"
because of her large bosom, a
sobriquet she herself used
good-naturedly. Dannelly and Jose
Garcia of Homicide, usually called
"Pop," had known each other for
eight years and had worked together
before.

As for Alec Polite, his FIVO card
described him as a fervent
Bible-quoter who claimed to talk
with God. He was considered
aggressive and sometimes violent,
though he had no criminal record.
His home, a two-story concreteblock
house, was shared with four
families, including six or seven
children.

This was the first time during the
surveillance duty that Dannelly and
Garcia had been assigned to cover
Polite. Until now they had been
watching Edelberto Montoya, who had
made no suspicious moves.

Their vehicle was parked close to
the Northeast 65th Street house, and
to the frustration of both
detectives, it had already attracted
the attention of people on the
street as well as curiosity from
several children gathered alongside.

As their supposedly "undercover"
transport, Dannelly and Garcia had
drawn a fancy, bright blue GM Lumina
Minivan. The interior was crammed
with technical gear, including
cameras, telephones, sound
recorders, and stateof-the-art
transmitters and receivers, their
antennae hidden in the van's
paneling. The windows were tinted
black, so it was impossible for
anyone outside to see if the vehicle
was occupied. The minivan was
experimental and intended for
specialized missions, but no other
vehicles were available.

"For Christ's sake!" Garcia had
groaned when he first saw the
sparkling new Lumina and its
high-tech contents. "I love the
toys, but in Little Haiti we'll
stick out like shit on a wedding
cake."

DETECTIVE 183

Teresa Dannelly had laughed. "More
likely the other way around, Pop.
When I saw what we'd drawn, I tried
to get it changed, but today there's
nothing else. We take this or walk."

Now, at the surveillance site, even
more attention was being directed at
the Lumina as several people emerged
from the two-story house and
approached the bright blue vehicle.

"We're gonna have to take off,"
Garcia said. "This damn thing's like
a beacon."

"Let's try something first." On her
portable police radio Dannelly
selected a secure channel set up for
the surveillance operation, and
called, "Thirteen-twenty-one to sta-
tion."

At police headquarters a special
dispatcher took the call. "QSK."

"Send a zone car to 265 Northeast
Sixty-fifth Street. Instruct unit to
stay low-key, no lights or siren,
but disperse the small crowd
assembled near the building. Ignore
blue Lumina van parked nearby."

"QSL." And a moment later, "I am
dispatching unit three-two-four to
your location."

Two men who had come from the brick
house peered in the van windows but
obviously could see nothing.

Inside, Garcia whispered, "This is
crazy!"

Outside, a third man, gaunt and
balding, had joined the others.
Dannelly checked an identification
photo and announced, "That bald guy
is our suspect."

Garcia muttered, "Trouble is, he's
surveying us."

The first man who had reached the
van tried the door handle. When it
wouldn't open he reached into a
pocket and produced a heavy
screwdriver. His voice, muffled but
audible inside, said, "Ain't nobody
in there." All three

184 Arthur Halley

men outside were grouped around the
door; the children had moved back.

"I don't believe this," Garcia
said. "They're gonna break in."

"If they do, they're in for a
surprise." Dannelly had a hand on
her service revolver.

It could have become the ultimate
paradox if the man with the
screwdriver had not looked around to
make sure there were no witnesses.
What he saw was an approaching
police car.

Dannelly said triumphantly, "There's
my zone car."

Simultaneously, all three men
jumped back and moved away. The
newcomer whom Dannelly had
identified as their suspect, Alec
Polite, slipped while leaving, but
managed to support himself briefly
on the minivan's hood. Then he, too,
disappeared.

The police car stopped and two
officers got out and walked around.
As usual in Little Haiti when police
appeared, everyone scrambled in
different directions. One officer
glanced at the blue Lumina, then
looked away. Moments later the
police car left.

"Are we staying or going?" Garcia
asked.

"Tell you in a minute." Dannelly
used her radio to reach an emergency
number for direct contact with the
head of the special task force. When
Sergeant Malcolm Ainslie answered,
she told him, "It's Teresa Dannelly.
I have a question."

"Okay, Terry. Shoot. '

"At the first serial scene the
Royal Colonial didn't you have a
partial palm print, unidentified?"
Typically, Dannelly had taken the
trouble to read reports of the
serial cases ahead of her
surveillance duty.

"Yeah, and it still isn't matched."

"Well, we've got a palm print of
Alec Polite, I think.

DETECTIVE 185

It's on the outside of our van, and
it may rain here soon. If we drive
somewhere fast, can you arrange to
have it checked?"

"Sure can," Ainslie answered.
"Drive to the Impound Area and get
your van under cover. I'll have
someone from ID meet you."

"QSL. Thanks, Malcolm." Then, to
Jose Garcia, who was now seated
behind the Lumina's wheel, "Let's
get out of here!"

"Hooray for that."

The Miami Police Impound Area,
located under the I-95 Freeway near
Police Headquarters and protected by
a high steel fence, was where
vehicles seized by police in raids
especially drug raids were impounded
as evidence. On the way, Garcia
said, "That was smart of you to
think of the palm print. I didn't
see it happen. Was it a good one?"

"I'm pretty sure." Dannelly pointed
forward. "It's right about there."

At the Impound Area the detectives
were joined by Sylvia Walden. "I
took the partial palm print at the
Royal Colonial scene," she said. "I
understand you may have a match."

"Either that or we'll eliminate a
suspect." Dannelly led the way to
the parked Lumina and indicated the
area she had seen Alec Polite touch.
Walden produced her brushes and
powders and began work.

An hour later Malcolm Ainslie
received a phone call at Homicide
headquarters.