Scent of Murder (22 page)

Darren understood there were some politics going into the investigation. He'd caught on that homicide considered this part of their case, but Fusco wasn't going to give up that easy.

Fusco said, “I've been careful to cover myself in reports by mentioning Ludner's name here and there, but I never gave it the star billing. I don't want someone stealing our thunder.” He looked like one of Darren's professors lecturing the class. “These sorts of games between the different squads go on all the time. You don't get to be a detective without being at least a little devious. No one wants to have a case scooped out from under them. The media never catches on to these kinds of maneuvers, and in some police agencies, neither does command staff. We're lucky at the sheriff's office. Everyone on our command staff has worked investigations at one point in their career. They understand. If not, and if they looked into something like this and decided we were holding up a potential homicide case, I'd find myself pushing a green and white cruiser in western Boca Raton, writing tickets to residents for putting the trash out too early.”

Fusco had told Darren that by hosting the two probation officers in the sheriff's office's main conference room, he would have a home-field advantage. Fusco told Darren he was not finding his second encounter with probation officer Bill Slaton any more enjoyable than his first. In fact, it looked like being summoned into the sheriff's office had pissed off the portly probation officer.

Darren quickly realized it was the other probation officer who provided a key to John Fusco's investigation. The younger man was tall and dorky-looking and supervised one of Arnold Ludner's sons, who was still on probation for aggravated assault. Technically, Bill Slaton had nothing to do with this, but he had come along with the younger officer anyway.

The younger officer looked from Darren to Fusco and said, “He lives in a house in Fruity Acres with his brother. He's got about a year left on his sentence and hasn't really caused any problems.”

Fusco asked, “How often do you go by the house?”

“I saw him out there about six months ago.”

“Have you checked on him since then?”

“He came by the office once or twice.”

“Are you telling me he's on probation and you see him about as often as I see my dentist?”

Now Slaton cut in and said, “You got no idea what our caseloads are like and what we're expected to do. You'd be better off if you worried about doing your job instead of worrying about
us
doing your job.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I told you that Arnold Ludner could be a good suspect in your kidnapping case. Now that you're finally getting serious about him, you're using us to harass his sons.”

“All I'm trying to do is use all the resources available to solve a major crime. You think you could drop the attitude and jump on board?”

The younger probation officer said, “What do you need us to do?”

“You're allowed to search his house, aren't you?”

“Under certain circumstances. Why?” He was nervous and glanced over at his older co-worker for guidance. “I need a reason.”

“Like PC?”

“No, probable cause isn't the issue. By policy we need a reason to search a probationer's house. I'd also need another probation officer with me and a police officer to stand by in case there's trouble.”

Fusco raised his voice so much he ended up nearly shouting, “Screw policy. I got a dead girl on my hands and a killer who likes to kidnap young women.”

Bill Slaton kept calm and said, “We can help you, but we should wait a little while.”

“Wait for what?”

“Neither of the brothers are suspects, right?”

Fusco shook his head. “Our suspect is older than either of them.”

Slaton said, “Shouldn't we wait to see if Arnold Ludner will talk?”

“Thanks to his prick of a son, we haven't been able to talk to him. Christ, we haven't even seen him in a week. The boys are just a way to get to the father. Give us a chance to speak to them. In reality, we have no specific strong suspect.”

Slaton seemed to take this all in and shook his head, saying, “Yeah, we'll help. Maybe I can even talk to Ludner for you. I developed a decent rapport with him while he was on probation.”

It was these sorts of arguments that Darren still didn't understand completely. He always thought that probation officers should be on the side of the police. This probation officer didn't seem to care for the police at all. Or maybe it was just Fusco. Darren could understand that.

 

23

When Hallett was on patrol he was known for making vehicle stops—not just to write tickets or meet pretty women, but to find a reason to investigate a suspicious car and make a felony arrest. It was his skill in building cases after a vehicle stop that got him promoted to the detective bureau so quickly.

Once he was in the K-9 unit, he quickly learned that Rocky gave him one more valuable tool to develop probable cause. The dog could smell a seed of marijuana from ten feet away. No matter how many times Hallett's brother had showered, Rocky still sat down next to him in alert mode every time he walked in the room. Once he saw the Ludner boys' Toyota Highlander break a traffic law he could start to build probable cause by using Rocky and his own experience to articulate why he thought they were committing a crime. He already figured, based on their record, it would be some kind of drug possession.

The older neighborhood they lived in, west of the city of West Palm Beach, was called Fruity Acres. Each lot was a minimum of one acre, and some much larger. At one time most of the lots had citrus trees on them, which had resulted in the name of the area. The neighborhood had a true old-Florida feel to it, with rough roads, pine trees, and plenty of rednecks.

He stayed well behind the Highlander until Claire rolled into the area. The two men had stopped at a run-down auto parts store on Southern Boulevard, then turned back into their own neighborhood. Hallett finally saw them roll through a stop sign and waited while Claire got a block ahead of them. He flipped on the Tahoe's extensive police light system and was surprised to see them pull over quickly.

Before he even got out of the car with Rocky, Claire pulled around the corner and parked directly in front of the stopped Toyota SUV. Hallett waited twenty seconds before he started to get out of the Tahoe. The short wait tended to make people nervous as their imaginations worked overtime. He hadn't called the stop out on the radio. He knew there were no current warrants on either of the men, so the less anyone knew about him getting involved with Ludner's family, the better.

Hallett opened the rear door and hooked a six-foot lead on Rocky. He assessed the Toyota as he and Rocky slowly approached. It looked like it had driven the Baja 500, with dings and paint scratches but no major damage.

The window was rolling down as Hallett and Rocky came to a stop. Hallett was surprised the dog hadn't alerted yet. He let Rocky sniff from the rear hatchback all the way to the door. Still nothing.

Behind the wheel was the younger man, Neil Ludner, who snapped, “Why'd you stop me?” His time in prison had honed his shitty attitude.

Hallett stayed calm and professional. “You didn't come to a complete stop at the sign back there.” Hallett took the time to check out the two men in the interior of the SUV carefully. The other brother sat perfectly motionless with both of his hands on his lap. They'd been through this drill before and knew what drew attention from the police.

The driver said, “You're shitting me. It's a four-way stop. There's never any traffic back here.”

“It's still the law to stop at stop signs. It doesn't say anything about whether a car is coming or not.” He knew he had to play this by the book. “License and registration, please.”

While Hallett engaged the driver, Claire brought Smarty out along the rear and other side of the vehicle. He caught the slight shake of her head, indicating Smarty had been no more successful than Rocky in detecting any drugs.

Hallett leaned back down and said, “Would you guys mind stepping out of the vehicle, please?”

The driver said, “Do you have a reason for us to get out?”

Hallett calmly said, “For our safety and yours, sir.”

That was a hard reason to argue with, so both men got out of the car, steered clear of the two dogs on either side, and walked to the rear of the Highlander. Then the leaner brother, who had been driving, said, “What's this really all about?”

Hallett assessed the man, who was about thirty-three years old, and said, “Just waiting for the info on your license and registration and trying to figure out why you're in such a hurry.”

Neil seemed to catch on then. He looked directly at Hallett and said in a loud, clear voice, “Am I under arrest or am I free to go?”

Some shithead jailhouse lawyer had come up with that phrase years ago, and regular lawyers, who sometimes weren't even as good as the jailhouse attorneys, started to tell their clients to use it whenever they were stopped by the police. They somehow believed it was a magical phrase that would force the police to either make an arrest or let their client go free.

Hallett said, “You'll be free to go in just a minute, sir.” He couldn't believe how much he was enjoying this. Rocky moved back and forth across the car and passed the two men, knowing exactly what Hallett expected him to uncover. There was still no alert behavior from Rocky, but he would occasionally omit a low growl and stare at the two men with his ears back. The dog was as big a ham as Charlton Heston. This kind of acting could win him an Academy Award.

Hallett looked over at the other, heavyset brother and said, “What's your name, sir?”

This one was much cooler than his agitated sibling and panned his dark eyes over to Hallett, saying, “Arnold Ludner.”

Hallett realized this man looked just like his father. Even chronologically, he looked older than he was. But unlike his father, up close this one had a hardened, street look to him. He had moved a lot of dope and collected a lot of money over the years.

He looked back at Neil Ludner and said, “Where do you live? Is the address on your license good?”

“Of course it's good. It's a crime to not change your license information if you move.” He nodded his head down the street and said, “We live at the end and to the right. Why?”

Hallett had to think fast but managed, “You said you knew there was never any traffic at this four-way sign. I'm trying to figure out if I should cut you a break.”

Neil mumbled, “Maybe I'll cut you a break sometime in the future. then.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Now Neil Ludner knew he had caught his vague threat. He obviously liked the idea that the cops could be afraid of him. All he said was, “You don't want to know.”

Hallett didn't want this moron thinking he'd gotten into his head. So he made a veiled threat of his own. Leaning in closer to the man, Hallett let Rocky step up and issue a deep, guttural growl. Then Hallett said, “I bet you don't want to show me now, do you, tough guy?”

This time it was the other brother, Arnold Ludner, who said, “Are we under arrest or are we free to go?”

Hallett wanted no official record of the stop, so he stepped back and said, “Have a safe day.” He ached to call the mean-looking, heavier brother “Junior,” but that would tip off that he knew their father.

*   *   *

Junior was tired from a long day with a lot of hassles, but somehow just thinking about Michelle Swirsky energized him. Now he found himself sitting outside the community college in the late afternoon again waiting for her mother's Honda to roll to the curb and Michelle to bounce out from the Health Science Building. As he had predicted, he'd become fixated on only one possible target and recognized his window for action was closing quickly. He was hoping this would give him enough to dream about for months or possibly years to come. She certainly seemed to be the total package. Pretty, athletic, innocent, and only nineteen years old. He wasn't sure he could find another target this perfect even if he wanted to.

He saw the blue Honda pull to the curb at almost the same time as it had the day before. Once again, Michelle scurried out from the building, waving to her mother as she approached, then hopped in the backseat of the nondescript car. He assumed it was to change into her Publix uniform. But as he followed, the car turned onto Military Trail in the opposite direction of Publix.

Junior liked using his surveillance skills. His simple car blended into almost any neighborhood. He knew the two women had no idea he was directly behind them. He followed the blue Honda as it pulled into a strip mall on the east side of the busy highway and realized it was very close to her house.

As he tried to figure out what they were doing here, Michelle popped out the rear door, this time wearing a karate gi tied with a brown belt. What an impressive girl. She really was full of surprises.

Junior felt an erection while he fantasized about teaching her all the tricks he'd learned while she wore the gi top. This girl was so different, she might move him in an entirely new direction.

He decided to wait during her class. It was so close to her house she might even walk home alone. Junior debated trying to grab a car from one of the nearby lots just to be prepared.

 

24

Tim Hallett sat with his partners at a picnic bench in Okeeheelee Park, wolfing down a sub for dinner and watching the last of the day's joggers finish up their workouts, while the dogs alternated between lounging and roughhousing in the grass. It was good to leave them untethered for a while every day so they got used to being around each other. When they first met, Brutus was subjected to several snarls and angry snaps by the more powerful Belgian Malinois and German Shepherd, but he had earned their respect by not backing down. Hallett wondered if Rocky thought of Brutus as “cute,” too. God knows every human seemed to love Golden Retrievers. After so many training days where they all worked together, the dogs had formed a close bond just like their handlers.