Scent of Murder (28 page)

Rocky appeared content lounging in his compartment when Hallett pulled into the sub shop near the headquarters building. It was a slightly rougher part of town, and he didn't want to make any of the patrons nervous by walking in with a fearsome-looking dog. It was bad enough wearing the black tactical vest over his black K-9 T-shirt with the image of a snarling dog and
PBSO
written on the sleeve.

As soon as he locked the doors and turned toward the sub shop, he was confronted by two men. It took a moment for him to realize it was the Ludner brothers.

The chubby one, Arnold Junior, said, “We gotta talk.”

Hallett noticed the absence of the third brother, the attorney. That gave him a pretty good idea this conversation was about to turn ugly. He said, “I guess you want me to kick your ass like I did your old man's.” He just needed a quick distraction to make his move.

*   *   *

Claire stretched her hamstring in the courtyard of the sheriff's office main headquarters. There was just something about the fresh air and sun filtering through the wispy clouds that pushed her out of the gym and into the empty public area. She was glad she'd skipped lunch to grab a workout. Tim Hallett constantly stressed the importance of physical fitness for a good K-9 officer. More than once, while following the progress of foot chases or searches by other K-9 officers on the radio, Claire had heard the phrase “I'm out of dog,” which meant the dog could no longer continue to search. Tim said that phrase was the biggest bunch of bullshit he'd ever heard. It was an easy excuse for an out-of-shape officer to use when he could no longer continue. It wasn't that dogs didn't get exhausted and have to rest, it was just that it didn't happen as often as the handler wearing out. With a heavy tactical vest, it was already difficult to keep pace with the dogs for long. Add to that an extra twenty to forty pounds of visceral fat and an out-of-shape K-9 officer could cut the effectiveness of his dog by 80 percent.

She sat down on one of the cement benches, which were vacant during all but the coolest months in Florida. Before she noticed anyone in the area she heard, “Hey, this is a nice surprise.” She looked up at John Fusco strolling toward her from the main building. He was dressed like the typical big-shot detective. He loved his suits and being seen as having good taste and professional clothes that matched the homicide detectives, who always felt that they had to dress to rival their serious assignment. The Palm Beach County Sheriff's Office's homicide unit was recognized as possibly the best homicide bureau in the Southeast. They had effectively worked everything from simple drug shootings to decades-old cold case homicides.

Claire said, “I was going to find you soon.”

“Why?”

“I heard that the homicide unit is about to prepare an affidavit and charge Arnold Ludner with Tina Tictin's death. They're going to try to charge him while he's still being held without bond for his scuffle with you.”

Fusco nodded his head. “No one told me, but it's a smart move. This way they can make a big splash in the media. Credit goes a long way toward getting you resources. Homicide wants to take credit for anything connected to this case, and I don't blame them.” He looked at Claire and said, “How'd you find out?”

She wasn't trying to be coy, but Claire said, “I can't reveal my sources.” She gave him a disarming shrug and smile.

“You sound like a detective already.”

“What's that mean?”

“You're gonna try to get into the D-bureau, right?”

She shook her head emphatically. “No. Not at all.”

“Why not?”

“I have Smarty. Together we can do things most cops only dream about.”

Fusco shook his head and said, “You don't want to be in patrol your whole career, do you?”

“Don't make it sound like a curse. Besides, I thought that we couldn't see each other if I was in the detective bureau. Is this your way of trying to avoid me?”

“Sorry, I just assumed you wanted to be a detective. I thought every cop did.”

“You need to come out of your bubble sometime and look around at the real world. You don't have to be a detective to contribute. I like K-9, especially CAT.” Claire could see how uncomfortable Fusco was and that he was trying to extricate himself from the conversation. She decided to help him out by saying, “I gotta finish up in the gym and take Smarty out for a run. I'll talk to you later.”

As she turned, she wasn't sure if he was relieved or sad she was leaving.

*   *   *

Hallett, facing the two pissed-off drug-dealing siblings, did the one thing that usually gave thugs pause. He smiled. Just a simple, genuine-looking smile. It was an old cop trick. A smile was infinitely more unsettling than a threat. A smile indicated that the cop was not concerned in any way about what was about to happen. It hid an unimaginable potential of possibilities behind a simple facade. And it unnerved anyone who had ever been in a street fight.

The brother closer to him, Arnold Junior, noticed the smile and did a quick scan of the area to see if there was an army of backup, then shuffled away from Hallett half a step, saying, “I didn't put the name with the face the day you stopped us. It wasn't until after we were arrested that my dad mentioned who you were.”

Hallett kept his smile as his right hand eased toward the pistol on his hip and his left hand moved up his tactical vest to the emergency release button that opened the door to Rocky's compartment. “How many stitches did it take to close up your arm after Rocky brought you down?”

“The doctor at the jail said it was mostly puncture wounds and didn't need any stitches, but it still hurts like hell.”

“Rocky and I won't charge you for the lesson you might use later in life.”

“We're not here to thank you. It's no worse than some of the lessons my dad laid on me over the years.”

“That's what I figured.” Now he was able to casually push the button on the electronic release, and the door right behind the two brothers clicked and swung open, leaving Rocky in the perfect position to jump out and land on the younger brother. Rocky stood there for a moment, emitting a menacing growl. “Looks like you boys brought fists to a dogfight.”

Arnold Junior said, “No, wait. We're not here to cause any trouble.”

The edge in his voice and look on his face made Hallett call out to Rocky,
“Stoppen. Zitten.”
It was Dutch for “stop, wait.” Rocky froze in position then sat obediently, but he kept his eyes tuned to the two subjects in front of him.

The chubby drug dealer stuttered, “You, you've got the wrong idea.”

Hallett said, “I think I have the right idea. My idea is to have Rocky here rip you a new asshole.” He looked at the other, more terrified brother and said, “You, I might just shoot.”

Arnold Junior held up his hands and said, “You got us all wrong. That's not why we're here.”

*   *   *

Rocky smelled the men before Tim knew they were there. He tried to signal Tim, but he turned around in time. Rocky recognized one of the men as a bad man he had run after and bitten. He scratched at the door, knowing he had to get out of this cage and help his friend Tim. These were bad men.

Tim started to communicate with the other men, and all Rocky could do was pace back and forth in the closed cage and growl, hoping to catch the men's attention and give Tim a chance to act. He needed to protect Tim, but once again Tim was being too easy on the bad men and not letting him do what he was supposed to do. Bite them.

He felt trapped and desperately wanted to be free. Free to bite.

Then he saw Tim bare his teeth the way he did when he was happy, but Rocky could tell he wasn't. Silly Tim. Why wouldn't Tim let him out to bite these bad men? Rocky would never understand humans.

After a short time of more human communication, the door popped open and Rocky was face-to-face with the bad men, and as they turned, he could smell their fear. This was easy.

Then Tim surprised him by saying,
“Stoppen. Zitten,”
which meant the game was over. He didn't understand. These were bad men right in front of him, and Tim didn't want him to bite them. Then he sensed the tension disappearing. He knew he had to stay alert until these men were gone, no matter what Tim said.

*   *   *

Hallett let Rocky's presence grab these two morons' attention.

Hallett said, “If you're gonna talk, you better talk fast, because both my dog and I are hungry.”

The drug dealer said, “Our dad is innocent.” Then he added, “Of this.”

“You have got to be kidding me. You really think that bullshit is gonna work on me? You remember my last face-to-face encounter with your father? I think you should talk to your smarter lawyer-brother next time you want to pull a stunt like this.”

“He's the one who said that you were actually a decent, honest guy who did what he had to do.”

That caught Hallett by surprise.

“My brother said you might actually have enough principles to listen to us. But he couldn't do it officially, and he didn't think you'd want to talk to him anyway.”

“You mean after he tried to get me fired from the sheriff's office?”

The drug dealer just nodded his head sheepishly. Then he said, “That doesn't change the fact that my dad has nothing to do with these kidnappings or that girl's death.” He paused a moment and looked into Hallet's eyes.

Hallett's gut feeling was this guy was sincere.

“My mom can't swear about my dad's whereabouts because she has mental issues. She's not even sure when he's at the house. We were afraid that Dad was aggravating the situation, so we brought him over to our place. He gets impatient and loud. I already told the detectives that Neil and I can verify he was at our house the two days the girls were attacked, but no one would listen to us.”

“Do you think you would seem credible to a cop?”

The drug dealer didn't answer. He just hung his head. “What about my brother Joe? Is he more credible?”

“No, he's less credible than you. He's a goddamn attorney. Most people would rather hang out with a scumbag drug dealer than with an attorney.”

Then Arnold Junior said, “My dad has a problem, there's no denying that. That's why we don't hold it against you. You might have saved his life as well as made the neighborhood safer. But it's different now. You can't believe how different he is.”

“What are you talking about?”

The drug dealer hesitated, finally saying, “He's taking medicine. Special medicine that helps him with his problem.”

“There's no cure for pedophiles.”

“This medicine is to chemically castrate him. He knew it was the only way. We've been trying to help him, too.”

“Wait. What?”

“He's taking Androcur, a French drug that's used on certain sex offenders. He's doing it on his own.”

“So you're telling me that he's taking a drug and between your meth-making shifts you guys are babysitting him. Does that sound about right?”

“We have been advised by our brother not to talk about our business with anyone. But if you can keep that separate, is there any way you could keep an open mind about our father? We'll do anything.”

“Go straight?”

“Almost anything. But I'm appealing to you as an ethical police officer and as a human being to consider what we've told you.”

Maybe this was the brother who should've been an attorney. He was very convincing.

Hallett didn't see anything he could do in this situation, but it still made him think.

 

33

Claire felt bad about the exchange in the courtyard as she sat in the detective bureau with John Fusco, who was obviously desperate to make his kidnapping case before homicide stole all of his thunder and charged Arnold Ludner with the murder of Tina Tictin. Technically, they were supposed to be working together, and command staff wouldn't be happy that Fusco struck out on his own, but the positive media attention would probably keep him from getting in too much trouble.

Fusco had explained to Claire that a true kidnapping case was very rare. An actual abduction for money, like she used to see on the old reruns of the FBI TV series with Efrem Zimbalist Jr., was extraordinarily unlikely.

This case was nothing but a series of dead ends. The rag they had recovered near Katie Ziegler had resulted in no positive hits in the CODIS DNA database. There was no other viable DNA evidence at this time. The imprint of the shoe would not be useful without something to compare it to. Neither Katie Ziegler nor the two earlier girls could identify the suspect from available photographs or pick Arnold Ludner out of a photographic lineup. The description from all three girls was virtually identical: The way the man surprised them and drove them to a secluded area indicated that it was absolutely the same creep each time. The fact that Arnold Ludner owned no vehicle himself fit the idea that the kidnapper used stolen vehicles.

Fusco said, “I don't like sitting at my desk, trying to work out these problems, but I got virtually no more leads on the kidnapping. The homicide unit is covering all the new leads developed from the recovery of Tina Tictin's body. No one has asked me to come along.”

“And you're too proud to beg.”

His pout was all the answer she needed.

Sergeant Greene came out of her office and eased down into the chair next to Fusco's desk.

The sergeant said, “Are you two working with homicide?”

“Not really. I want to build the kidnapping case.”

Sergeant Greene sighed and said, “You know, John, there's more to this job than winning.”

He gave her a wide grin and said, “But if
I
win,
everyone
wins. I may be considered the backup plan now, but we'll see who gets the recognition for Arnold Ludner's arrest.”