Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) (24 page)

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“I agree, no coincidence,” Martin said, “Keller must have provided Fowler with a suitable murder weapon—he didn’t want Fowler going into a gun shop and buying a Glock. And, Fowler wouldn’t have called attention to himself by going into a gun shop
after
the murder to buy another one. Where else could the Glock Holly found have come from? No, it might be gone by now, but that was the Faulk murder weapon in his nightstand.”

She stood. “Can you get Eddy up here now, so we can discuss our strategy? We don’t dare make a move until we definitely know we can take Fowler down on the first try. How soon can we pick up Fowler? You’re going to get a search warrant ready, right?”

“Settle down, okay?” The state attorney reached for the phone. “We need to work on the proper sequence of questions. We don’t need an actual confession at this time, just enough probable cause to get a search warrant. We’ll discuss all that with Eddy.”

“We have one shot at him,” Martin said. “So we’d better have a plan and it better work.”

A
t 1:30 p.m. the next day, Mel, Sandy and Martin were looking through the observation window into the interrogation room—watching and listening to Detective Eddy Jaworski and the suspect, Bruce Fowler. The interrogation room at the Park Beach, Florida police station wasn’t just some room that happened to become available. It was a carefully designed 8 by 10 foot room located in a quiet area of the building away from the hustling parade of uniformed personnel.

The windowless room contained three ordinary, armless wood chairs and a small metal table bolted to the floor. Fowler, wearing a blue short-sleeved sport shirt and jeans, sat at the table located near the rear wall. The detective sat to the right of the suspect with an unobstructed view of his arms and legs to make possible the reading of his body language. A file folder and notepad were positioned on the detective’s lap. The earphone in his ear permitted those in the observation room to give him suggestions if needed. The third chair in the room was for an observer or the suspect’s attorney and in this case was empty. The two-way mirror, through which he was being watched, was on the far wall in front of the suspect, and placed high enough so the suspect could not see his reflection when seated. The two video cameras were hidden. The physical layout of the room was designed to make the suspect uncomfortable and maximize his sense of powerlessness, leaving him with the general feeling of wanting out of there as soon as possible.

The detective’s initial conversation was intended to establish rapport. Jaworski had plenty in his bag of tricks yet seldom raised his voice. In the case of Fowler, he skipped the normally nonthreatening introductory questions, such as where do you live and what work do you do; harmless questions designed to loosen up the suspect. Because, as Jaworski, Mel and Sandy had discussed the previous day, they did not want Fowler thinking about his landlord-employer, Grant Keller. If Fowler suspected this interview had anything to do with the murder he’d been hired to commit, he’d clam up, request an attorney and likely be released to go home. And then he’d have time to get rid of the gun before a search warrant could be implemented.

After several minutes of unimportant conversation to get him talking, the detective abruptly asked, “What time did Holly Davies arrive at your apartment?”

After recovering from obvious surprise, Fowler said, “Is that what this is about?”

“What time?”

“Don’t remember. She accusing me of something?”

Not a good start. Jaworski was disappointed with that answer. Fowler had not been told why he was being questioned, and they had hoped, when he heard Holly’s name, he’d feel enough guilt about his rough episode with her in his apartment, that he’d deny she was there—but he hadn’t lied. They needed to catch him in lying, so that when he denied he had a gun, his obvious pattern of deceit would be sufficient cause for a search warrant. It was still early.

The detective continued, “Holly says, she didn’t resist at all the first time, and I’m okay with that, you know. You two going at it—no problem. None of my business. You’re here because of the second time. You see, Bruce, forcing her to have sex the second time is why you’re here.”

“Never had sex with her at all. So, I never forced her to do nothing.”

His denying
any
sex at all was a problem. The hospital report had failed to prove any sexual activity. The detective would need to lie to trap Bruce at the proper time. “She says you forced her to have sex the second time. Look at me Bruce. What was that all about?”

“She’s lying.”

“Says she got dressed and came out of the bathroom.”

Fowler stiffened in the chair and didn’t answer.

“That’s when you told her to get undressed again. Like you ordered her.”

“Never happened.”

“She says that’s when you pulled out a gun and forced her.”

“Told you, she’s lying.”

“You never pulled out a gun, how did you force her to have sex?”

“Never forced her to do anything.”

“You mean you didn’t need to force her?” The detective moved his chair up closer to the table. “You know, if we thought you two just had another go at it, then you wouldn’t be here. Any sensible guy would have helped himself since it was right there. That’s normal—none of our business. You have a gun?”

“No way.”

“Never had a gun in your apartment?”

“Already said, no.”

“Holly says she saw a gun. So what’s with the gun? When did you flash the gun, when she first came in?”

“You’re doing it aren’t you? Trying to get me. I can see right through all your shit. No sex—no first time—no second time. Now let me out of here.”

It was time for the detective to come out with a lie. “Well, you see, Bruce, that gives you several problems because Holly spent the next morning being examined for sexual activity, and the tests prove it was you. No big deal, about that. She admits she went to your place to have sex, and she admits the first time she was cool with it. Says, she carefully undressed and folded her dress and put it on a chair. Does that sound about right?”

Bruce turned away from the detective.

“Let me get this straight. This pretty girl went there to have sex with you, and she gets undressed. Are we okay so far Bruce? Bruce look at me.”

“You’re lying about all of this.”

“No, I’m okay with all of it. This pretty girl went there to have sex with you, and she gets undressed. Okay? The problem is afterwards she wanted to go home, and you forced her to stay. She’s yelling, no, and you didn’t stop. Either you’re lying or she’s lying—and she’s the one with bruises on her body.”

Bruce raised his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Never happened.”

“Now, you expect me to believe you invited her up there and that pretty girl undresses and is smiling at you—and what? Nothing? Help me out here, Bruce. I’d like to close this file right now and we could both go home. But what do I put down? She’s smiling and you fell asleep, your zipper stuck, you tell me. You don’t like women—you couldn’t get it up, what?”

Bruce brought his eyebrows down and pursed his lips.

“Come on, Bruce, you’ve got to help me out. You’ve got some explaining to do about what happened after that gun came out.”

His eyes darted over and he stared at the detective. “That dumb bitch is flat out lying about the second time. She really liked it that first time, said how totally amazing I was. I didn’t touch her after that. She might have stumbled or something going out. There’s no gun at all. You’ve got to believe me. She’s the one who’s lying. Can I go now?”

“So you
did
have sex the first time.” He said it quietly. The scheme had worked. Fowler had lied about no sex at all and then admitted to the first time. That was another lie. He had already lied about not having a gun, and they have a witness, Holly, who says he does. Plus, if a .45 were fired in his apartment, there would be evidence somewhere. They probably had all they needed for the search warrant. He still wanted to get something incriminating on the attempted rape, in case the gun wasn’t found. He went on, “You shouldn’t lie to me, Bruce. Okay, we’re still cool and I believe you. Well, I guess that does it.” Jaworski ran his finger down the file paper in front of him. “Oh, here’s something. Why
didn’t
you want to have sex again?”

“I don’t know!”

“Hello, she’s there! The evening had just started. Most guys would be thinking more than once—like maybe all night. You just couldn’t handle it again, is that it?” The detective stopped talking for a full minute. “Holly went up there to be with you assuming you’d no doubt have sex. Didn’t I tell you that? So, was it you who didn’t want to make it happen again? Maybe you just weren’t good to go again—hey, that can happen. She wants it and you want it, and you’ve already told me there was no second time. Or maybe it was her, she didn’t want to. Oh, that’s right. You told me she wanted to go home after the first go around.”

Bruce looked confused. “She had to get home, or something.” His head was drooping down, and he was slumped in the chair.

“Well, damn, that’s a woman for you. So, you wanted it and she refused. Is that what we’re getting to?”

No response for a minute. Then, “Am I under arrest?”

“No, Bruce.”

“I want a lawyer.”

“Okay, no problem, but first we’ll take a little ride.”

If Fowler had been able to see through the mirror in front of him, he’d have seen three people high-fiveing. They probably didn’t have enough for the attempted rape charge, but they had enough for a warrant.

State Attorney Melvin Shapiro had the search warrant prepared in advance. And Detective Sergeant Edwin Jaworski had his team on standby. By 3:45 p.m. that afternoon, a search warrant was issued.

Immediately upon leaving the judge’s chambers, Shapiro called Sandy, who was in Martin’s office with Martin and Nigel waiting for the news. It was good. The judge had signed the warrant, and Jaworski’s team was on the move.

The joy of having the warrant implemented was short lived. The three continued sitting in Martin’s office filling the next hour with small talk to avoid focusing on the possibility of failure. Until Martin said, “Situations such as this quickly separate the pessimists from the optimists. Will the gun be there or not? And if it is there, will it be the murder weapon?”

“I’m optimistic,” she said. “If the murder weapon is found in Fowler’s apartment, then Keller is a goner and this case is all wrapped up. I have to be optimistic because right now I can’t think of a Plan B.”

Martin said, “I agree.”

“That’s not surprising,” Nigel said. “I notice it takes quite a bit to make you disagreeable.”

Martin smiled at him. “Well, which are you?”

Nigel shuffled around before answering. “Although I should play nice and agree, I must admit that I’m pessimistic about a gun being found. I reserve the right to explain later.”

“At least we all agree that waiting is painful,” Martin observed.

Nigel said, “I can see how the successful interrogation was accomplished. At first Fowler says he didn’t touch Holly, then Jaworski lies and tells him Holly claims there was a second time and the second time was rape. Faced with that false evidence, Fowler then changes his story and admits to the first time, thereby destroying his credibility. I get that part. However, I’m bothered by the idea that the police are permitted to lie to get a confession.”

Martin explained, “It goes back to an established theory that an innocent person would never confess to a crime they didn’t commit, even if confronted by false evidence. Therefore, it’s considered a legitimate interrogation technique to trap a guilty person with false evidence and not a violation of rights to lie to an innocent person.”

Nigel shrugged, meaning he supposed it made sense.

There was no further word until just before 6:00 p.m., when Shapiro called again, “Not good news, Sandy.” He went on for some time explaining, before ending with, “I’m so sorry.”

“I
didn’t expect the gun to be found in his apartment,” Nigel was saying.

“Wait, Nigel, I’ll move closer so you can kick me,” Sandy said. “Okay, okay, Fowler was smarter than I thought and ditched the gun.”

“We all knew it wasn’t a certainty,” Martin said, coming to her defense. “If that’s what you’re getting at, Nigel.”

The server placed a second round of drinks on the table and picked up the empties.

“No, you had him pegged correctly,” Nigel said, “and I agree he was too dumb to get rid of the murder weapon—at least at first. But that was earlier. He foolishly kept the gun around and indeed, it was the murder weapon that Holly accidentally fired. After he fought with her, and she fired the gun, I believe that was the point he got spooked enough to come to his senses. He considered that a close call—and finally tossed the gun only a day or two before the search warrant was issued. You guys did everything right—it was worth a try.”

“If she fired that gun, where’s the slug?” Martin asked. “What did Mel say about that?”

She explained, “They found evidence a bullet went in and back out of the mattress. After passing through, it must have lodged in some object by the bed such as a book or stack of magazines—something Fowler then threw away, perhaps unknowingly. There’s no proving when that mattress was damaged—might have been years before. Anyway, no slug was found, so no comparison can be made with the bullet that hit Charlene.”

“So now we’re left with nothing. I’m so far down right now, everything looks like up,” she said. “If I die in the middle of this Bloody Mary, will you finish it for me?”

Martin nodded. “Your drink looks good, Nigel, what is it?”

“I asked for a Bacardi Breezer—my favorite in the UK. The bartender shook her pretty head and said she’d try to fake it. I told her never mind and asked for something Floridian. She fixed up this Margarita special for me.”

“Did I order this second Bloody Mary?” she asked. “This feels too much like a celebration. I know Mel now thinks Fowler wasn’t the hitman, and Keller had nothing to do with it. If that’s not bad enough, Eddy still doesn’t seem all that warm and friendly with me.” She wagged a finger at Nigel, “And don’t you say anything.”

Martin said, “Keller has contacts in the police department and undoubtedly has heard about what happened. If there’s any evidence or paper trail left behind, he is busy destroying it as we speak. And probably thinking that Julia is more of a threat to him than ever.”

“There are two more murders waiting to happen,” Nigel said. “Keller won’t let either Bruce Fowler or Julia Bardner walk around with what they know. My guess is this time he’ll do it all himself. Julia’s body will be found—an unfortunate suicide. Fowler will strangely disappear. And you might also be at risk, Sandy, since Julia told you everything.”

“Enough of feeling sorry for ourselves,” she said. “What now? I’ve thought all along it would be tough to connect Keller directly to the murder. First, we have to somehow connect Fowler to the murder, and then worry about connecting Fowler to Keller.”

“So where do we start?” Nigel asked.

Martin said, “Well, Fowler had to be paid. We could look for money he received and try to trace the source. We think Keller obtained the gun, but Fowler might have practiced with it, perhaps at the gun range. Maybe he talked to someone out at the gun range. Maybe he went in a gun shop to buy cleaning supplies for a Glock. Angles such as that might give us a start.”

“Following the money might not work,” she said. “Keller no doubt has several bank accounts with large amounts going in and out constantly. Fowler does have a new pickup truck. I guess that’s something. But him having sudden money is purely circumstantial and doesn’t connect him with either the murder or Keller. That gun itself is now at the bottom of the Intracoastal. We are not in a good situation, and we’re still without any help from the police.”

Her phone rang, Mel Shapiro said, “You okay? I understand you are unbelievably disappointed. If the murder weapon had been found, Keller would be a goner. Fowler certainly would have turned on him.”

“It was our big chance,” she said. “Even though all of this was officially about an attempted rape charge, Keller must now suspect we’re on to him about the murder. After all this, are you any more inclined to help me go after Keller?”

“I’m not aware of any new evidence. As much as I’d love to nail him, I don’t see where anything has changed. I realize you want to keep going after him, but why don’t you put the case out of your mind and take it easy for a couple days. Maybe we can find something to do together. I’ll give you a call later. Okay?”

Nigel had been thinking. “If I were Fowler, I’d be totally shook right now. First, Jaworski does a job on him in that interrogation room, then he’s sitting nervously around police headquarters for a couple of hours wondering what the hell is going on, while they get the warrant. Next, he’s in a squad car going God knows where, and suddenly he realizes they’re taking him to his own apartment! Then he watches the cops bust in, tear his place apart, find a hoard of stuff he doesn’t want found and rip his mattress apart. It’s hours before he gets out of those cuffs and they let him go. He has to be a basket case right now.”

Martin said, “You’re right. And by now, Keller has heard about it and wishes he’d hired a professional from Chicago to do the dirty work.”

She stared at Nigel for a moment, frowning in thought, and then her face brightened. She gave him a thumbs up and pushed away her untouched drink. “Nigel do you still have that text from Holly on your smartphone, with the address of Fowler?”

“What are you doing?” Martin asked.

“I’m crawling out on a limb. Nigel, access the white pages on your phone and get the number of the occupant of #12 in that apartment building. I talked to the guy, his name is Gene something.” She waited while Nigel’s thumbs went waltzing around the screen.

After a moment. “His name is Eugene Vaulter. Want his number?”

“Call him, please.”

After another moment. “Mr. Vaulter? Can you hold please for Sandy Reid... well, it’s nice you would hold on forever, but that won’t be necessary, sir. She’s right here.”

She took the phone from Nigel. “Hello Gene, I understand you had some excitement in your building today... yeah, we sent the cops after him. We’re about to solve your undesirable neighbor problem for good. Is it possible for you to check and tell me if Fowler is home right now… oh, out the rear window you can see his pickup? Good. Thanks. We’ll chat some time and I’ll explain it all. Bye.”

She winked at both men as she took out her own phone and dialed. “Hello, Julie, Sandy. I was worried about you… you haven’t been home. You ever make it to the Georgia mountains? No, you’re still at the lodge… How did I know about the lodge? Well, I guess you told me… No? Whatever. I have some interesting news for you. Someone just told me the police located the hitman Keller used to kill Charlene… I don’t care if you believe me. Yeah, was some handyman. Someone said the police just searched his apartment. He admitted Grant paid him to shoot you and he shot Charlene by mistake. Says he wants a lawyer. It’s still confidential and might just be a rumor, so don’t pass it around. But you may never see Grant in street clothes again. Just thought you might like to know. Take care of yourself. Gotta run.”

She got up, walked over to Nigel and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“What’s that for?” the surprised young man said.

“You’re pretty good at this cops and robbers game.” She turned toward the door. “Come on, let’s all take a ride over to Bruce Fowler’s place. I’m going to give him some good advice.”