Tunnel Vision (28 page)

Unable to convince their trainee to move

someplace safer, even temporarily, Brodie and Nicholls left Maggie to continue scouring the files half an hour later. As Brodie settled into the passenger seat Nicholls glanced at her. “What’s up with you and Weston?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Brodie. I’m not blind. I see the way you look at each other. You fuckin’ her?”

“Yeah. I sneak over here every damn night and grab a fast roll in the hay right under the noses of a couple of our patrolmen, all while I’m trying to avoid the bruises and cracked ribs from her beating. Very hot stuff.”

“I’m serious, Brodie. When did she start calling you by your first name? Something no one else is allowed to do.”

“Look, Nicholls, you know I knew Maggie years ago. She used my first name back then.”

“Straight up. Are you fucking Weston?”

“No. Now drop it!”

MAGGIE’S DOCTOR CLEARED her to return to

duty the beginning of the following week, and she would be glad to get back. She could only take so much sitting around the house and the idea that her attacker might know where she lived hadn’t helped her sleep pattern much either. She had read the case files a half dozen times without a clue as to what she was looking for. Failing to find anything obvious, she began to concentrate on minor facts. It was easy to skip over small things trying to get the bigger picture. Propping her feet up on her coffee table, she flipped open the file on Cruz Garcia, whom they now believed had been the first victim. There wasn’t anything in the forensics reports that she didn’t already know. His wallet and keys had never been found and presumably were disposed of by the killer. Through Garcia’s cousin, his wife had described the wallet and it contents. The university had provided a list of keys Garcia carried with him while on the job, as well as their serial numbers. The university security office had changed all the locks involved, rendering the keys useless.

In the back of the file were pictures taken when Garcia’s various parts had been found. Among the pictures was the family photo she and Brodie had gotten from Garcia’s wife when they were still trying to identify him. Garcia, his wife and their children were dressed up. What was it the cousin had said?

The picture had been taken the previous Christmas before midnight mass, something like that. They were an attractive family, Maggie thought, as she looked at the picture. They were the picture of health and happiness. It was a shame some maniac had ruined all of that. She slid the picture back into the file and then pulled it out again.

THE NEXT MORNING, Maggie walked

purposefully into the squad room.

“What are you doing here?” Brodie asked. “The doc hasn’t released you for duty yet.”

Maggie slapped the picture of the Garcia family on the desk in front of her training officer. “Daryll Chambers killed Cruz Garcia and Elliott Brauner,”

she said flatly. “Son of a bitch was probably my attacker, too.”

“And how did you determine that?” Brodie asked, picking up the picture.

“Mrs. Garcia’s necklace,” Maggie
said as she pointed to the picture. “There was something familiar about it so I went to see Mrs. Garcia last night. The medallion on the necklace is Our Lady of Guadalupe. Mr. Garcia had the same medallion. The necklaces were wedding gifts and they always wore them.”

“So?” Brodie prompted.

“So Mr. Garcia broke his necklace a couple of times at work and finally decided to carry the medallion on his key ring, which is still missing. When I first interviewed Chambers about Brauner, I saw this exact medallion on his key ring. The day before I was attacked I spoke to Chambers and saw the medallion again and asked him about it. He said it had been a gift from his mother. He said she had picked it up in Costa Rica.”

“Could be true,” Brodie said. “Religious

medallions aren’t exactly a rarity among Hispanics and Our Lady of Guadalupe is probably the most popular religious figure in Mexico.”

“In Mexico,
not
Costa Rica. These two were handmade by Garcia’s brother who’s a silversmith
in
Mexico
and, according to the wife, were a one-of-akind matching set. I saw Mrs. Garcia’s necklace and the medallion is identical to the one Chambers had. I’m telling you, Royce, He’s our guy,” she said forcefully.

“Nicholls, do you have that report we just got in from NCIC?” Brodie asked.

“Yeah, and there was a similar incident at Clarkson University in Potsdam, New York. Janitor killed and keys taken. Perp never apprehended,” he answered.

“Chambers is from New York,” Brodie said.

“When I interviewed him he said so. Call that university and see if Mr. Chambers was a student there at the time their janitor was murdered,” she instructed. “How was that one killed?”

“Acid to the face,” Nicholls said.

“Charming,” she muttered.

Nicholls hung the phone up several minutes later and shrugged, “Daryll Chambers was never a student at Clarkson.”

“Shit,” Maggie said as she slammed her hand down on Brodie’s desk. “It has to be him! We need to see his university records. Wait, his girlfriend, I met her the same day I asked him about the medallion. She works in admissions at the university.”

Brodie stood up and slipped her jacket on.

“Nicholls, Maggie and I will be at the university. I’ll call if we find anything you can follow up on.”

Brodie backed her Camaro out of its parking space and shifted into drive. “You’re meant for this job, Maggie. Another hunch?” she smiled.

“More like an electrical shock. I was putting the file away when I noticed the picture and thought how sad it was for Mrs. Garcia and her kids. Then I noticed the necklace and remembered Daryll’s key ring. I commented about how beautiful it was and that must have spooked him into attacking me before I could put it together.”

“Guess we’ll have to have another chat with Mr. Chambers, too.”

“He’s supposed to be out of state for a job interview back east somewhere,” Maggie said as she looked out the side window. “Maybe the girlfriend will know when he’s supposed to return.”

“Depending on what we find out, I’ll have

Nicholls
get a search warrant for his home and work area in Roth’s office.”

The admissions office was open when they

arrived. A clerk at the reception desk announced,

“We’re not really open. It’s spring break, ya know.”

“Yeah,” Brodie said, holding her badge up to the woman. “We need to see the university file on Daryll Chambers, one of your graduate students.”

“It’ll take me a few minutes. I’m here alone today trying to catch up on some provisional admission paperwork.”

“We can wait.”

“Is Karen Dietrick working today?” Maggie asked.

“All of our student workers are off for the break,”

the woman said as she turned away from the counter.

“We’ll need to see her personnel records as well,”

Maggie said.

Brodie and Maggie cooled their heels for over twenty minutes before the woman re-appeared carrying two files. Chambers’ file contained transcripts for his undergraduate work, personal data sheet, letters of recommendation from previous professors and other pieces of ‘administrivia’.

“There’s nothing from Clarkson University,”

Brodie said. “According to his records, he did his undergrad at Boston College.”

“This can’t be right, Royce,” Maggie said as she looked over the paperwork. “I know he’s our killer.”

“Nothing in this folder helps prove that.”

“We need to talk to Karen Dietrick,” Maggie said. Flipping open Dietrick’s personnel file, Maggie jotted down the address. “Maybe she stayed in town over the break.”

Brodie closed the files and started to get up when Maggie stopped her. “Wait. Is there a permanent address for Daryll, a home of record, next of kin or anything like that in his file?”

Brodie reopened the file and found the original admission application. “There’s a Mildred Chambers in Potsdam, New York. Probably his mother,” she noted. Pulling her notebook from her jacket pocket, she wrote down the name and telephone number for Mrs. Chambers.

Smiling, Maggie said, “Potsdam. That’s where Clarkson University is.”

A grin Maggie remembered spread across Brodie’s face. It was almost feral-looking, as if she had her prey in her sights. “You’re right. He may not have gone to college there, but he damn sure lived in the town.”

“We need a little more to ask for a search warrant,” Brodie said as they left the Administration Building and walked to their car. “All we have right now is a bunch of conjecture and coincidences. We need something more tangible.”

“We need that medallion. My word that I saw it isn’t good enough.” Maggie said with a frown. Brodie noticed that she was looking a little deflated.

“Tired?” she asked.

“A little,” Maggie smiled. “This is the first exercise I’ve had in almost two weeks, if you want to call a hundred yard stroll exercise.”

“It takes some time to get back in the swing when you’ve been out for a while,” Brodie said as she turned the key in the ignition.

“Your leg still bother you?” Maggie asked, glancing at Brodie’s thigh.

“Only when I dance too much. You’ll be back in shape before you know it. Call Nicholls and have him contact Boston College. Let’s see if Mr. Chambers was really a student there. If he was, have them fax us a copy of his transcript.”

“Did you notice something in his file?” Maggie asked as she punched numbers into her cell phone.

“Maybe.” After Maggie finished her call, Brodie handed her notebook to Maggie and said, “Dial this number, then let me have the phone.”

“It’s ringing,” she said, handing the phone to her a few minutes later.

“Mildred Chambers, please,” Brodie said to a person at the other end of the line. Holding the phone with her shoulder, she took her notebook back from Maggie and set it on her thigh, pulling a pen from the sun visor.

“Hello? Mrs. Chambers? Ma’am, my name is

Regina Bruce. I’m the Director of Personnel for Southeastern Pharmaceuticals in Savannah, Georgia,”

she lied.

Maggie smiled and shook her head at the fake accent as Brodie continued. “I’m hoping you can assist me, Mrs. Chambers. Your son, Daryll, has applied for a position with our company and I haven’t been able to contact him in Texas.”

She listened for a moment. “I see. Well, ma’am, we’d be interested in scheduling an interview with him. Would it be possible for you to give me a little information. I’m on the road right now and don’t have his file with me at the moment. He did his undergraduate work at Clarkson University near your home, didn’t he?” She smiled and nodded as she looked over at Maggie after receiving the answer.

“We haven’t received a copy of his undergrad transcripts from them yet. I called their admissions office and they didn’t seem to have any record of him as a student.”

In response to whatever was being said, Brodie began scribbling down information. “Ah, that makes sense, ma’am. When did he do that? Guess he just got used to using your name. After all it has been a few years.” She laughed as she continued a congenial conversation with Chambers’ mother until she finally said, “You’ve been very helpful, Mrs. Chambers and I certainly appreciate it. Rest assured that we are extremely interested in Daryll. He’s exactly the person we’re looking for. We’ll keep trying his phone in Texas until we reach him. You have a good day now, ma’am.”

Punching the disconnect button to end the call, she handed the cell back to Maggie. “Call Nicholls and have him contact Clarkson again to see if they have a record for a Daryll Griffin, Jr., which they will. Have them fax us whatever they have on him and then contact the Potsdam Police Department for their file on the murder of one of the university janitors during that same time period.”

“He changed his name?”

“Took step-daddy’s name two or three years ago.”

“But all the paperwork at the university here lists him as Chambers,” Maggie said as she redialed Nicholls.

“I think the girlfriend can solve that mystery for us. Probably changed the name on incoming

transcripts and re-Xeroxed it over another student’s transcripts. I’m betting his undergrad grades weren’t good enough to get him into Podunk U., let alone our modest little university here. Tell Nicholls to get the paperwork started for another search warrant for the girlfriend’s address and workplace.”

As Maggie filled Nicholls in, Brodie suddenly felt deliriously happy. This was the best part of her job, putting the pieces of the puzzle together and squeezing the bad guy until he choked. When they walked into the squad room, Nicholls was looking over the faxes he had received and smiling, too.

“Good work, ladies,” he beamed. “The warrants will be ready by the time we get to the courthouse.”

“Did you fill Donaldson in?” Brodie asked.

“Yep, and needless to say he’s relieved the crimes have been solved,” Nicholls responded. “It seems that Chambers or Griffin or whatever you want to call him was a well below average student at Clarkson. In fact, I think you’ll find this part particularly interesting.”

He smiled as he handed Brodie the faxed transcript. Maggie looked over her shoulder as they both glanced over the document. “When was the janitor at Clarkson killed?” she asked.

“During Chambers’ senior year,” Nicholls said. “I called up there and talked to his old advisor who described him as a pain in the ass. Seems the only reason he graduated was a sudden burst of brilliance on his final exams.”

“Probably courtesy of the murdered janitor,”

Brodie frowned.

“The fax from the Potsdam PD should be coming in any time. I spoke to one of their detectives who also remembered Chambers. He said the packet on him was pretty thick and might take a while to be transmitted.”

“But they never considered him a suspect in the killing at the university there?” Maggie asked.

“Most of his shit was petty juvenile stuff plus a few more serious offenses involving dead pets in the area. His daddy was stinkin’ rich and most of it got swept under the proverbial rug. They can’t send us everything because some of it’s in a sealed juvie file. But, the detective gave me a phone number for a retired cop up there who tried unsuccessfully to nab Chambers for a lot.”