Scent of Murder (20 page)

Rocky laid his head on Hallett's shoulder, exposing a spot on his neck he liked rubbed. It was cooler since the sun had gone down, and the Belgian Malinois breathed quietly and seemed content.

The real reason Hallett was sitting there was to hear the conversation between an agitated John Fusco and the perennially calm Helen Greene. As was her custom, the sergeant let the detective rant and rave for a full minute before she said anything. Hallett wanted to point out that the dead girl, assuming it was Tina Tictin, lived less than a mile from Arnold Ludner's residence, but Fusco beat him to it.

Even though they were a good distance from the crime scene, Fusco's loud voice carried over the field on the night air, and he didn't care one bit.

Fusco said, “Why can't we grill that asshole Ludner? He's a decent suspect and lives near the victim.”

Sergeant Greene held up one hand, saying, “First off, we haven't identified the person in the grave. Secondly, we've been talking to his attorney, who won't allow it. He's gone so far as to get a court order.”

“Why would he have to do that?”

Hallett caught Helen Greene glance in his direction. It could be argued that if Ludner was involved, this was Hallett's fault. On the other hand, if he hadn't acted the way he had two years ago, another girl could be dead in the field.

Fusco said, “There's got to be another way.”

“There is. Build a case against him.”

Then Fusco looked over at the homicide detectives scurrying around the crime scene and said, “On top of everything else we're gonna lose the case to them. They'll freeze us out of everything they do.”

“John, you need to calm down and dial it back a few notches. We all work together. Sergeant McAfee and I will decide what's going to happen.”

Hallett knew Fusco didn't like the idea that homicide was considered the top of the food chain. It was a specialty like anything else. If Fusco really wanted to work homicide, he could put in for it. Right now, it was just a personal, minor turf war with the surly detective.

Hallett saw the tall homicide sergeant stand from a crouch near the edge of the canal and casually stroll over to Sergeant Greene, casting a sideways glance at Fusco. The sergeant had an excellent reputation around the sheriff's office and didn't put up with the petty politics that Fusco was ranting about now. He didn't even look at the detective but focused on Sergeant Greene instead.

McAfee said, “Here's the scoop, Helen. We'll hold what we've got and leave a deputy here overnight to maintain the crime scene. In the morning we're going to use the good daylight to do this thing right. We called the Water Management District, who's gonna send someone out to seal off this canal and drop the water level about three feet by morning. That should make everything easier. Then we'll use a backhoe and come at this thing from the land side.”

Sergeant Greene gave him a smile and nod and said, “Thanks, Rick. I appreciate you keeping us in the loop.” She looked over at Fusco as if to emphasize the point that he was going out of his way to be informative and helpful.

Of course Fusco didn't acknowledge it.

As McAfee turned, he looked over at Darren and Brutus standing at the back of their Tahoe and called out, “You did a hell of a job.”

Hallett knew the comment was as much to annoy Fusco as it was to compliment Darren. He caught the sergeant looking over his shoulder to make sure the jab struck him.

*   *   *

Darren and Brutus had to take a moment by themselves away from the crush of people interested in excavating the body they had found. To Brutus it was just a game, and he had been rewarded with his favorite chew toy, a doll made out of rope. Darren thought the doll was a little creepy, but for some reason Brutus loved it. He never damaged the doll, just held it in his mouth without pressure.

They both sat on the ground next to Darren's Chevy Tahoe. The first thing he had done was make sure Brutus had enough to drink and got a snack. Now he was just spending a few mindless minutes, taking the burrs and twigs out of Brutus's coat.

He heard someone say, “You two doing okay?” When he looked up he was surprised to see Sergeant Greene approaching by herself. She plopped down next to them and groaned like an elderly woman who had been on her feet too long.

Darren didn't say anything as he continued to concentrate on Brutus. The dog, on the other hand, turned so he could stick his snout right in the sergeant's face as he wagged his tail incessantly. The rope doll dropped to the towel.

The sergeant said, “I don't think you realize what a big deal this is.” She waited, but Darren didn't say anything. “You made the whole sheriff's office look good, and the detective bureau in particular.”

Darren gave her a weak smile. He was too exhausted to do much else.

“What I'm trying to say is that I owe you and Brutus. If you ever need anything, anything at all, just give me a call and I'll take care of it, no questions asked. I never forget when someone helps me out like this.”

Darren was touched. It really meant something for a good cop to make a commitment like that. And it did open his eyes to the fact that he and Brutus had done something important today. It might've been because she was a really good sergeant or it might have just been chance, but Sergeant Greene had lifted his spirits with that short chat.

 

21

Tim Hallett spent some time trying to sort out his emotions. He was willing to bet it was the same reaction everyone else on the squad had. Brutus might have shined and possibly performed the greatest feat of any cadaver dog, but no one felt like celebrating. And no one was happy about leaving the body in the water overnight. He understood the homicide detectives' decision, and it made sense. Have a deputy maintain the crime scene overnight while the Florida Water Management District cuts off water to the canal and lowers the water level, and preserve more evidence when you excavate the body. It was pretty basic police work, but it was the kind of thing that ate at Hallett.

People often turned to police work as a profession because they had an innate sense of justice. Leaving a dead girl in a watery grave was the ultimate injustice, and it pissed Hallett off as he drove, with Rocky sitting halfway in his compartment but leaning his head and paws out onto the console of the Chevy Tahoe. Even Rocky seemed subdued. Hallett was tired, but without any interest in going home to bed. It was still relatively early. The one urge Hallett had was to visit his son, Josh. It was probably because he had been thinking about the woman that approached him last week about her missing daughter and the fact that they had probably just found her body. It made him thank God for the healthy, happy little boy that loved him more than anything in the world. At least that's what Josh told him when his mother wasn't around.

He thought about calling Crystal first but realized she might think it was too late and say no. He didn't want to explain the day to her. They bantered maliciously, but she wouldn't deny him access to Josh and would help if she knew the turmoil he was going through. He just didn't have it in him to talk about the events. Instead, he kept driving north on U.S. 441 knowing he was going to turn on Southern Boulevard and into the village of Royal Palm Beach. He was stopped at the light at Forest Hill when a panhandler standing on the median walked across the two empty turn lanes and rapped on the window of Hallett's unmarked county car.

The grizzled man, about fifty, lost his smile the instant he saw Hallett's uniform. Then his cloudy eyes caught sight of Rocky giving him a silent, warning stare. The man stepped away from the Tahoe and almost into the path of a Kia in the turn lane.

Hallett reached out quickly and grabbed the man by the arm, pulling him closer to his SUV. He said, “Whoa there. If you're gonna cross traffic lanes you probably need to sober up.”

The man was scared now and said, “I'm sorry, officer. I was just looking for a few bucks to eat.”

Hallett looked at the man's scarred face and thought of Ruben Vasquez's combat scars. “Were you in the service?”

The man nodded and mumbled, “Army.”

Hallett glanced at the clock in his dash, but the time didn't really matter. He popped the locks on the car and said, “Jump in and I'll take you wherever you want to eat.”

The man looked at him suspiciously and said, “This ain't some kind of trick, is it?”

“Not unless getting some food in you is a trick.”

“What about the pooch?”

“He's got enough food in him right now that he shouldn't be a problem. But don't do anything stupid. He snacks on guys like you.”

The homeless man caught the humor and hustled around to jump in the passenger side of the car.

Rocky whimpered slightly and backed into his compartment completely. Hallett caught a whiff of the man a moment later and wondered how the dog's sensitive olfactory system hadn't shut down completely. He tried not to wince when he said, “What do you feel like?”

“I feel like a loser, but I'd like to eat a thick, rare hamburger.”

Hallett smiled and made an illegal left to pull into the parking lot of a Ruby Tuesday's. He got no argument from Rocky when he told him to stay in the car and had to endure a couple of annoyed stares from the hostess and the waitress as she led them to their table.

The man said his name was Harold and his drinking and meth problems had kept him from working a steady job.

Watching him gobble down a hamburger, Hallett quietly waved the waitress over and ordered a second one for the man to take with him.

Harold said, “I was afraid you were going to arrest me.”

“Why would I arrest you?”

Harold shrugged and said, “I probably got all kinds of prescription pills on me. I figured your dog would alert.”

Hallett smiled and said, “First of all, don't admit to any crimes in front of me. It's the polite thing to do. Secondly, drug dogs don't alert on prescription pills because they aren't probable cause. You could have a prescription for them.”

“What about meth?”

Hallett sighed and said, “Harold, are you telling me you have meth on you right now?”

He hesitated and his eyes darted to his pockets. When he looked back at Hallett he said, “No, I'm just trying to figure it out for future reference.”

Hallett started to laugh and said, “My specific dog is not trained on meth. The chemicals are dangerous. Besides, I'm pretty sure your personal odor shield would keep any dog from coming close enough to alert on you.”

“That's been my plan all along.”

That line alone was worth the price of a couple of hamburgers.

*   *   *

Claire had a hard time getting a grip on her emotions as she sat in a booth at a Denny's with Smarty under the table and his head resting on the bench between her and John Fusco. One of the reasons she ate in this particular Denny's was that they let Smarty hide under the table without any comment. It was almost like the German Shepherd was acting as a chaperone, because he clearly was able to scare John Fusco to the other side of the booth.

She had picked at her eggs and ham, occasionally slipping a piece of ham to Smarty. She didn't just hand him a piece but placed it on his nose to reinforce his patience until she hummed the combination of notes that told him it was okay to move his head and catch the falling ham in his open mouth.

It was all just a ploy to keep her mind off the body she had just seen half-buried on the side of the canal as the professionals at the Palm Beach County Sheriff's Office worked efficiently and quietly to gather any evidence possible. She had seen plenty of bodies, but having lived with a poster of Tina Tictin around the office she felt like she knew the girl. There was still no guarantee that the body they found was actually Tina Tictin, but it was everyone's best guess based on the time she disappeared and the level of decomposition.

Claire decided she just wasn't hardened enough yet. Maybe that would come in time. She noticed Fusco was quiet, too.

She said, “Do you ever get used to stuff like that?”

“I hope not.” He took another sip of water as he stared straight ahead. “This is why I work so hard in crimes/persons. If we keep homicide out of it altogether, everyone wins.”

“Do you want homicide to stay out of it because of your career or it's what's right?”

Fusco shrugged and said, “Both.”

Claire appreciated this complex man and his honest answers. She could learn a lot from him.

*   *   *

Having a quick dinner with the homeless guy had thrown Tim Hallett off his schedule, but he knocked on the front door of his ex-girlfriend's house just the same. He had planned to rationally explain to her why he just needed to see Josh for a few minutes, even if he was asleep, then he'd be on his way. He didn't know what he could trade for this favor but hoped that Crystal wouldn't be pissed at the late hour and that she'd honor his request.

He was surprised to see her in a beautiful long dress when she jerked the door open. As he was about to apologize for intruding, she cut him off.

“Tim, what are you doing here?”

“I, um.”

She reached out and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into the house. “It doesn't matter. The restaurant wants me to work an exclusive party for some Hollywood execs, and my babysitter just canceled. Can you take Josh?”

His only question was, “When do I have to give him back?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

A smile spread across his face as his emotions from earlier in the evening evaporated in an instant. “You got a deal.”

Crystal pulled him into her for a hug and then kissed him on the lips. Something she hadn't done since he'd moved out.

He felt like he'd been given a shot of adrenaline. Her hands gently moved to cradle his face and her tongue slipped into his mouth. Her full lips locked tighter on his.