Once Shadows Fall (16 page)

A
fter some discussion, it was decided they would take Beth’s personal car to attract less attention. Jack told her he had to call his housekeeper and ask her to feed and walk Marta. They agreed to meet in the parking lot.

Beth had the car running when he arrived. She glanced at him sideways as he got in and then pulled up to the exit, waiting for a gap to open in the stream of cars. Fortunately, rush hour was beginning to die down, but at the ramp to I-285, she had to wait again before sliding into the traffic. Jack quickly learned that she liked to drive fast. Worse, she insisted on looking at him when she spoke, which raised both his blood pressure and his anxiety level. Every once in a while, she would change lanes for no apparent reason. But having a partner meant trusting them, so he held his breath and remained hopeful they would arrive in one piece.

“Did you reach Mrs. Dougherty?” Beth asked.

“Yep. I also called my daughter. Her junior high class is in New York on a field trip.”

“New York? I used to go to the zoo when I was in middle school.”

“Different times,” Jack said. “I wanted to give her some tips.”

“Such as?”

“Where the best shopping is. Take the subway instead of cabs—with a friend, of course. Go for a ride on the Staten Island Ferry.”

“How’d it go?”

“Her mother already covered the shopping. The rest was accepted tolerantly. At least she managed to keep any annoyance out of her voice.”

“I knew everything there was to know at that age, too,” Beth said. “Is her summer visit still on?”

“Sure is,” Jack said.

“You must be excited.”

“Nervous. She has a number of friends in the neighborhood, which helps. Getting reacquainted after a gap’s always a little difficult.”

“Must be tough being separated,” Beth said.

“It is. What about you? Any family close by?”

“My folks and my brother live in Charlotte.”

From his conversations with Pappas, he knew Beth was divorced and she didn’t date cops. It was possible her decision also included consultants. While Jack was speculating on the subject, he noticed something on the back seat that caught his attention, a pair of men’s tennis shoes. Curiosity finally won out. “Your boyfriend forget his shoes?”

Beth glanced over her shoulder then back at the road. They were getting dangerously close to a car crawling along at the posted speed limit.

“Those are my brother’s.”

“He has big feet,” Jack blurted out. The comment sounded idiotic as soon as the words left his mouth. He fought the urge to pound his head on the dashboard.

“They’re a deterrent.”

“Against what?”

“Cops asking me out.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Only if I let it become one. It’s not a good idea to mix social with business. What about you?”

“I wasn’t mixing anything until you kidnapped me,” Jack said.

Beth smiled. “So there’s no one special in your life right now?”

“Just me and Marta,” Jack said.

“She’s beautiful, but not much of a conversationalist,” Beth said.

“You’d be surprised how well she makes her feelings known.”

“Most women do,” Beth said. “Speech isn’t necessarily a requirement.”

“So I’ve learned.”

“How does Morgan feel about you being single?”

“Like all kids, she wanted her mother and me to get back together in the beginning. She realizes that won’t happen now. Basically, she’s fine with it, but I think she’d like me to find someone.”

“Did she actually say that?”

“Not in so many words,” Jack said. “I think you’d like each other.”

“Why?” Beth asked.

Jack shrugged. “Well, you’re both intelligent. You both have a good sense of humor. The word
headstrong
also comes to mind. That sort of thing. Just a feeling.”

“Tell me more,” Beth said. “I’m all about feelings.”

“Uh . . . your exit’s coming up,” Jack said.

Beth took in a breath through her nostrils and let it out.

T
hey passed the next few miles listening to the radio and didn’t speak. Beth reviewed the exchange in her mind, something she had a tendency to do. For all Jack’s wit and charm—yes, he could be charming—there was a melancholy about him she sensed but didn’t understand. The way his brain worked fascinated her. The man could concentrate hard enough to light a match. But there was something beneath the surface she couldn’t put her finger on.

She was still thinking about this when they pulled into George Merkle’s neighborhood.

*

The house was a one-story ranch with a red shingle roof that looked like it had been built in the early fifties. Several of the shingles had recently been replaced with a color that didn’t quite match. More needed replacing.

In front of a two-car garage sat a lawn mower. Inside the garage was a white van. The lawn was about half finished. Merkle had either run out of gas or decided to take a break.

Once they exited the car, Beth asked if Jack was still carrying a gun.

“I gave Harrison back his revolver,” Jack said.

Beth rolled her eyes, opened the passenger door, and retrieved her backup weapon from the glove compartment.

“Didn’t they teach you anything in the FBI?” she asked.

“I didn’t think I’d be needing a gun today.”

“Jack.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I have an HK at home. I’ll bring it tomorrow. I promise.”

She almost smiled because he sounded like a chastised boy.

“It’s for your own good,” she said. “And mine, too. It’s also department policy.”

“Even for consultants?”

“Especially for consultants.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait and maybe put a tail on this man to see if his behavior is suspicious or erratic?” Jack asked.

“Everything fits, Jack. I want to look him in the face and gauge his reactions.”

At Merkle’s door, Beth knocked loudly and waited. A minute went by before they heard footsteps coming toward them from within. Both moved to opposite sides of the door as it opened. Merkle was in his mid-thirties with a clean-shaven head. He was not overly muscled but very solid looking. According to his driver’s license, he was six feet tall or about two inches shorter than Jack.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Merkle,” Beth said. “We’re from the Atlanta Police. May we come in and talk to you?”

“What about?”

“It would be better if we speak inside,” Beth said.

“Is something wrong?”

“Let’s talk about it indoors.”

Merkle looked from one to the other and then shrugged and stepped aside for them to enter.

Beth stayed where she was. “After you.”

Merkle turned and walked back to his living room. Jack and Beth followed and took seats across from him on the couch. He sat facing them in an armchair.

“Either of you want a drink?”

“No,” Beth said. “Thank you.”

Jack also declined.

“So what can I do for you?” Merkle asked.

“We’re investigating a series of murders and kidnappings. You may have heard about them on the news,” Beth said.

“No kidding?”

“We’re quite serious.”

“Actually, I haven’t. TV’s been on the blink. What’s this got to do with me?”

“Probably nothing,” Beth said. “We’ve had reports of a white van seen in the vicinity of the crimes and we’re trying to tie up some loose ends.”

“I own a white van,” Merkle said. “It’s out in the garage. You wanna take a look at it?”

“We do,” Beth said.

“There must be a million white vans around.”

“Not quite that many,” Beth said. “It turns out all the victims were also members of Parkwood, where you work.”

Surprise showed on Merkle’s face. “Oh man. Maybe I know them.”

Beth read him the names. Merkle listened and shook his head thoughtfully.

“Donna Camp and Jerome Haffner sound familiar,” he said. “I’m pretty sure they were in my intro fitness class. The other two don’t ring a bell.”

“Are you certain?” Beth asked. She glanced at Jack, whose attention seemed to be focused on a glass and drinking straw on the kitchen counter. Next to the glass were a tin can and a cigarette lighter.

“Pretty sure,” Merkle said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve got a good memory for my clients, you know?”

“That’s helpful,” Beth said. “Can you tell me where you were yesterday afternoon around five thirty?”

“At the club training.”

“According to the manager, you checked out at four o’clock.”

“Jesus Christ, lady. You brought my name up to the manager? I need this job.”

“Your name wasn’t mentioned. The club gave us copies of the time cards for everyone who works there.”

The explanation was not quite true, but it seemed to satisfy Merkle. He sat back in his chair. “I stayed to train on my own. I do that four times a week.”

“Do you smoke, Mr. Merkle?” Jack asked, speaking for the first time.

“What? No.”

Merkle followed his eyes to the kitchen counter and saw what Jack was looking at.

“My mountain bike has a flat. I was gonna put a patch on the tube. Once it’s in place, you seal it by burning off the cement around the edges.”

“Sure,” Jack said.

“Okay, so, if there’s nothing else, I need to get back out and finish my lawn. Follow me and I’ll take you out to the van.”

“We’ll get to that,” Beth said. “Would it be okay with you if we take a quick look around?”

“Why?”

“It’s just routine,” Beth said. “We’re trying to eliminate as many suspects as possible.”

Whenever a cop says it’s routine, it isn’t. Merkle, who’d been to jail, probably knew that, too. His demeanor had changed. He was nowhere as friendly as when they walked in. He was also having trouble maintaining eye contact, which she interpreted as a tell. Jack, she was certain, noticed it as well.

“You’re saying I’m a suspect?”

“Not at all,” Beth said. “We’re just trying to cover all the bases.”

“I guess it’s all right.”

They searched the kitchen, then the bathrooms, and finally the two bedrooms. Beth nudged Jack with her elbow and motioned to a brown wig on a manikin’s head sitting atop Merkle’s dresser. Jack nodded. It took a real effort to keep her excitement from showing. Eventually, they made their way to the garage. Both walked around the van and then stooped down to examine the front tires.

“See the wear pattern?” she whispered.

“Mm-hm.”

Merkle was still in the chair waiting for them when they returned.

“Everything good?” he asked.

“It looks that way,” Beth said. “Would you mind coming with us to the precinct? We’d like to run a couple of tests. It shouldn’t take more than a half hour.”

Merkle stood up. “How come?”

“Like I said, it’s just routine.”

“Why don’t you bullshit someone else, lady? I’ve been around, you know. I’m not answering any more of your questions. In fact, I’m gonna call my lawyer. I’d like you both to leave.”

“We can do that,” Beth said. “It’s your right to have a lawyer present.”

“That’s great. Have a nice day.”

“We can also take you in for questioning, which is our right. But we’re trying to do this the easy way and not embarrass you in front of your neighbors. There’s been a huge amount of publicity over this case.”

The color in Merkle’s face rose and he took a step toward Beth. “You threatening me?”

Beth held her ground. “It’s not a threat, Mr. Merkle. We’re asking you to cooperate.”

“And I’m asking you to leave. This is a bunch of crap. You’re not trying to help me. Cops always say that. I’ve never been to Jordan, and I had nothing to do with those people.”

There was a pause before Beth said, “I never mentioned Jordan, sir.”

Merkle realized he had just made a mistake. He looked at Jack and then at Beth. “For the last time, I’ve got nothing more to say. I want you both out of my fucking house now!”

With that he reached for Beth’s arm.

Suddenly, Jack Kale was there, stepping between them. He caught Merkle’s hand before it could make contact. The speed with which he moved surprised Beth and apparently Merkle.

One minute Merkle was standing, the next he seemed to do a cartwheel through the air and landed heavily on his back. He started to scramble to his feet.

“Freeze!” Beth said.

Her gun was pointed at his chest. Merkle did as he was told.

“I haven’t done anything. You got no right to come into my home and harass me like this.”

“You invited us in, remember?” Beth said. “Assaulting a police officer is a serious offense, George.”

“Assault? I never touched you! He’s the one who assaulted me. I’m pressing charges.” He looked at Jack. “You almost broke my wrist, man.”

“We’re not interested in arresting you,” Jack said. “And we’re not interested in the crack you were smoking, though your probation officer might be. Like Detective Sturgis said, we just came to talk with you.”

Merkle mulled this over. He then asked Beth, “Is that true?”

“It is,” Beth said, putting her gun away. “I’ll need to check you for weapons.”

Merkle said, “I don’t have any, and I wasn’t gonna hurt you, you know. I just get mad, is all.”

T
hey went directly to the medical examiner’s office, where a DNA sample was taken. Fingerprints weren’t necessary since Merkle was already in the system. Before they left, Beth had him sign a consent form allowing a technician from the crime lab to come out and examine his van. Paula Desoto was dispatched.

Merkle decided not to call his attorney after all. Following further questioning, he explained he was working at the time Jerome Haffner and Betsy Ann Tinsley were killed and had flown to Florida that night. Beth sent a text message to Dwayne Stafford asking him to confirm it and then went back to her desk with Jack to await the lab’s test results. After talking with the Parkwood’s corporate office, the manager agreed to send the time cards for that day as well. They confirmed Merkle was out of work the days he indicated.

“He still had time to drive to Jordan before going to the airport.”

“That wouldn’t match with the neighbors’ statements about seeing a black van the day after,” Jack said.

“I’m still not convinced,” Beth said. “He’s tall. He has the right eye color, assuming Donna Camp was correct. He owns a wig. Everything fits.”

“It’s possible,” Jack conceded. “But you may be overlooking—”

“You don’t believe he’s the one, right? I can tell that.”

“I’m keeping an open mind.”

“Me, too,” Beth said. “Can I ask you a question? At Merkle’s house, what was that thing you did?”

“What thing? Oh, you mean with his wrist? It’s called aikido.”

“I’ve never seen it before.”

“It’s a matter of using leverage and pressure against your opponent.”

“You know martial arts?”

“Not really,” Jack said. “I read a lot.”

Beth blinked. “You’re saying you got that out of a book?”

“Well, I practiced the move a few times when I was with the FBI, but basically, yeah. It’s pretty neat. I can show you if you like.”

Bemused, Beth shook her head and was about to ask another question when her cell phone buzzed.

“This is Detective Sturgis.”

A conversation followed in which Beth did most of the listening. If she responded at all, it was with one-word answers. She finally thanked the caller and disconnected.

“Bad news?” Jack asked.

“That was Paula Desoto, Ben’s assistant. The tires on Merkle’s van don’t match the prints we found at Lake Lanier. Neither do the hairs we recovered from Donna Camp.”

“What about color and coarseness?”

“Different from his toupee.”

“No help there,” Jack said.

“It appears that way,” Beth said.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, Dwayne Stafford entered the room and walked up to her desk.

“His alibi’s solid,” Stafford said. “Delta Airlines has him listed as a passenger on the 9:25 PM flight to Ft. Lauderdale the day Haffner and Tinsley were killed. He also used his credit card to buy a shirt at a place called Golf Galaxy in Pembroke Pines the next day. The airport has him checking in and out of long-term parking. Sorry.”

“Shit,” Beth said. “We’ll have to cut him loose.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Stafford said. “Oh, and Lieutenant Fancher wants to see you in her office before you leave.”

“And the hits just keep on coming,” Beth mumbled.