The Tipsy Gull, page 22
part #1 of Danny Barbosa Series
“Yeah, more than one. I have a Bachelor of Science in Molecular Biology and he taught a lot of the MCB classes.”
“One particular class, MCB400, was a lab.” McKenzie looked up from her notes. “You were enrolled in that class during the fall 2015 semester. From what DeVries said, you guys pretty much worked on your own. He was present but doing his own thing. Do you know what he was working on?” McKenzie asked.
“Not firsthand knowledge, but rumor had it he was trying to alter different poisons into an anesthesia.” Claire shrugged her shoulders. “He was always so secretive, but it’s like everyone knew what he was doing and had been for years.”
“Do you recall hearing that someone broke into his lab and stole his research?” Ben asked.
“Again, just rumors. I remember hearing talk from the other students that he made the whole break-in up because the University was coming down on him for using school funding without any results to show from it.”
Ben nodded while jotting notes. “He also had bugs from Central America in his lab, and he reported several of those were taken. Do you know anything about that?”
“Yeah, Choresine beetles. Fascinating creatures. They were a luminescent blue and contained a poison,” Claire said.
“You know a lot about them.” McKenzie raised her brow.
“Well, yeah, I’m a biologist. I know too much about all nerdy, creepy things.” Claire laughed. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you recall any students showing a particular interest in them?” Stone asked.
Claire looked away. “I don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
McKenzie said. “Ms. Tomaz, I can assure you anything you say to us would be kept anonymous. This theft is important.”
Claire rubbed her face and looked down. Then she nodded and said. “There was one girl who used to come to class early, like myself. She used to go the terrarium where he kept the bugs and talk to them.”
“She talked to them?” Ben asked.
“Yeah, like one would a regular pet, or a baby. She’d say things like ‘You poor babies are all locked up here so far from home’, and ‘Don’t crawl on top of each other, play nicely’. When I heard they’d been stolen, I thought to myself, my moneys on her.”
“Do you remember her name?” Ben leaned forward.
“Uh, it’s been a year. I know it started with an M, like Mica or something. She was a tall blonde. Kind of snobby.” Sorry, Mila, better they focus on you than me.
Ben and Sharon exchanged glances before continuing the questions. McKenzie asked. “There’s a white pick-up in your assigned stall. Is that yours?”
“No, I don’t have a car. My neighbors have two, so I let them use my stall for their truck.”
Ben angled his head and looked past her into the kitchen. “You own a cat?”
Shit. I removed the food bowl and litter box, didn’t I? Claire’s skin crawled. She resisted turning around and tried to pass it off with a joke. “No, why? Did the thief use a cat during the break-in?”
McKenzie narrowed her eyes. “We’ll ask the questions, Miss Tomaz.”
“Oh, sorry, Officer.”
“It’s Detective.”
Ben swept his arm across the room. “Claire, would it be okay if we looked around your apartment?”
“You mean to see if the stolen items are here?” Claire smiled.
“Yeah, something like that,” Ben said.
“I’m sure you had nothing to do with this,” McKenzie said. “But this is how we operate, crossing out potential suspects and narrowing the pool so to speak.”
Claire stood and crossed her arms. “Suspect? Your partner said this is routine. Now you’re calling me a suspect. Maybe I better have an attorney present.”
“Claire, first off you’re within your right to have an attorney present,” Ben said. “But I’m not going to mislead you. If you were a suspect, we would have advised you of your Miranda rights before questioning you. Right now, we’re interviewing everybody to see if anybody might know something.
“My partner did say ‘potential’ suspect and I apologize for the verbiage used. We’re cops, Claire, we talk different than civilians. Don’t take it personal, okay? You’re not a suspect per se, in the way you’re thinking.”
Claire snorted. “Now you have me worried and I didn’t even do anything.”
“Then we have your consent to look around, Miss Tomaz?” McKenzie stood.
Claire lifted her hands up. “I guess. I have nothing to hide.”
Claire stayed on the recliner while they searched. McKenzie went into the bathroom then the kitchen. Ben finished one bedroom and headed to the second one.
“Would you like some water, Detective Sloan?”
“It’s Stone. Thanks, but I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Claire went through a mental list. She was sure she’d moved everything incriminating.
McKenzie called out from the kitchen. “Miss Tomaz, I thought you didn’t have a cat?”
Fuck! Sassy’s food? “I don’t, why?” Claire’s heart raced. She needed a lie and a good one.
McKenzie walked out of the kitchen with a can of Friskies in her hand. “There’s a cabinet full of this. Who’s it for then?”
“That was Precious’s food, my Persian cat, but she got hit by a car last year.” Claire’s bottom lip trembled. “I’ve been meaning to get another one, so I haven’t thrown it out. But I haven’t been able to get myself to replace her.”
Hot tears flowed down Claire’s cheek, and she stared at the floor. “You know what I mean?”
“Yeah I do.” McKenzie smiled and put her arm on Claire’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m a cat person too. I understand completely.”
Claire wiped the tears and murmured thanks.
Their search complete, Ben turned to Claire and thanked her for her co-operation. She nodded and walked the detectives out, locking the door behind them. Claire fell back into a kitchen chair. Her eyes looked up and she let out a huge breath. She had borrowed the neighbor’s truck and moved everything incriminating to a small storage shed she’d rented. The detectives were looking for a Hispanic woman, a tall blond, a black teen, a red head, or a plain looking woman, who drove a red car, and had a Siamese cat. She knew forensics would have detected hair from Sassy at the crime scenes. They didn’t find any of those, so she was confident they’d eliminate her as a suspect. Claire breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the fridge. She sat down and unmuted the television.
Stone and McKenzie sat in their unit. Ben drew a line through Claire’s. “Seventeen down, four to go. You want to call it a day, or hit another one?”
“Not so fast, Stone.” McKenzie smiled. “Can I see that?”
He handed her the list of students from DeVries’ class. McKenzie took a pen and re-wrote Claire’s name.
Ben’s eyebrow went up. “What’d I miss?”
“For starters, people with Persian cats don’t normally let them run around outside, especially those living in apartments.” McKenzie reached under her shirt and pulled out a can of salmon-flavored Friskies cat food. “Secondly, the shelf life on these doesn’t expire for another six months. If she bought them over a year ago, they’d be expired by now.”
Ben smiled. “Very good, Sharon. Let’s get the license plate off that truck in her stall too. She said it belongs to a neighbor.”
“Already got it.” Sharon held up her notebook and winked.
They discussed her reference to Mica and decided Claire had been talking about Mila Jenson—a five-ten, blonde hair, blue eyed student—who matched the physical description of Naomi. Ben grabbed a hi-liter and ran it through Claire and Mila’s names on his list of students. There were four students that were worth taking a second look at.
CHAPTER 28
A couple of detectives passed Danny’s office talking about their plans for the weekend. Danny continued to do paperwork. Sergeant Smith walked by, keys in hand, mumbling, “See you guys on Monday.”
Danny acknowledged him, then ran his fingers through his hair, tapping his foot. He turned to Scott. “We have to interview Jake tonight. We can’t take a chance of something happening to him in custody.”
Scott glanced up and shrugged, before continuing his paperwork.
Danny pulled Scott’s pen out of his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t think we’re on the same page. I’ll back you one-hundred percent and I think you know that.” Scott leaned back in his chair. “But you don’t care about the counterfeiting ring, do you? You’re still trying to catch her.”
“You don’t get it. There is no ring. It’s Jake and that’s it.” Danny looked up and waited until a couple detectives walked past their open office. “The ID the San Diego Slayer used to get into Moonshine Flats looked authentic, like Cory’s. If there’s a chance this guy made the ID, then he might know something. We have to follow up on that.”
“And then what?”
“If we get any leads from him, we’ll turn it over to Homicide, okay?”
“Next time be up front about it.” Scott held his hands out. “That’s all I’m asking. We’re partners and need to be on the same page.”
Danny tossed Scott’s pen back to him and nodded his head. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”
The deputy escorted the detectives to an interview room where Jake Maris, garbed in an orange jumpsuit waited. Danny pulled a folder out of his briefcase and browsed through it. He peered at Jake over the top of the folder, shook his head and sighed, then continued reading. When he was done, he tried to get a read on the suspect. He couldn’t. “This is Detective Shelton with Special Investigations and I’m Detective Barbosa with Homicide.”
Jake flinched.
“First off, we know Jake’s not your real name. Booking will send your prints in, and by Monday, we’ll know who you are. In the meantime, you’re not eligible for bail since you provided a fake ID for yourself.”
“Detective Shelton, read him his rights, please.”
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. …” When Scott finished, he asked. “Do you understand these rights I’ve just read to you?”
“Yea, yea, I’ve been through this before.” Jake chewed on his lip.
“Having these rights in mind are you willing to answer some questions,” Scott asked the final Miranda question.
“Yes,” Jake said.
“Tomorrow we’ll serve a search warrant on your home and confiscate all your forgery making equipment.” Scott let out his breath. “You had a marked fifty-dollar bill in your possession when they booked you. You’ll be booked for one count of attempted counterfeiting, resisting arrest, and possession of an illegal weapon.”
Jake’s shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the table. “I don’t want to go back to prison.”
“Okay, then tell us your real name. I feel stupid calling you Jake Maris considering he’s been dead for a couple years,” Danny said.
The skateboarder nodded and took a deep breath. “My name’s James Weddle.”
“Weddle, like the Charger’s former safety?” Danny asked.
“Yeah, no relation though. You can call me Jimmy.”
Danny nodded. “Here’s the deal, Jimmy. We believe you made a counterfeit ID for a specific person. You cooperate and give us everything you can, and we can drop all charges you have pending.”
Jimmy perked in his seat. “Drop my charges? Heck, yeah. What do you want to know?”
“You made an ID for the San Diego Slayer. Can you tell–”
Jimmy’s eyes widened. “What? I don't know her. I don't know anything. Shit, maybe I do need a lawyer.”
“Calm down, Jimmy, I'm trying to tell you that you can help us, and we’ll help you, do you understand?”
Jimmy shook his head. “I think I need a lawyer.”
The air went out of the room. Luckily, Danny had discussed a plan B with Scott. He tapped Scott’s leg under the table. Scott stood. “Okay, you have that right. In the meantime, we’ll put you back in general population and a public defender will contact you after the weekend.”
“That’s not a good idea, Detective.” Danny motioned Scott to sit back down.
Scott tapped his fingers on the table. “Why’s that.”
“The Slayer got to the last witness we had in custody. Mike Peterson was shanked and died the day before he could help us.”
Weddle’s eyes bulged. “I heard about that. Uh, you must protect me. I don’t want to go to GP.”
“I don’t blame you. We’ll have the booking office re-assign you to protective custody instead of general population.” Scott looked at his watch. “It’s Friday. I’m headed out.”
“Hold on.” Danny steepled his hands in front of his face. “Peterson was in PC and they still got to him.”
“What? No. You can’t leave me in there,” Weddle’s voice rose to a panic, “she’ll have me killed, like the other guy. Please, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Don’t put me back in there.”
“What do you think?” Scott asked Danny.
“He already lawyered up, so we can’t question him.” Danny stood. “I just hope they do a better job protecting Jimmy here, than that last guy. Jeez, you should have seen all the blood on the floor after they did a number on him.”
Sweat trickled down the side of Weddle’s face. “I don’t need a lawyer. Can I take that back? Maybe sign something?”
Danny glanced at Scott and shrugged. Scott said, “Technically, he said, ‘I think I need a lawyer’.”
Jimmy nodded emphatically. “You’re right. I was just musing out loud. Now that I think about it, I don’t need one.”
Danny smiled to himself. That had been too easy. Not to mention, he had the choice to waive that right for an attorney, even after he had asked for one. He sat back down and after a long pause said. “Here’s what I can do.”
Danny called the District Attorney’s office after seven that evening. After identifying himself, he briefed the attorney, Jules Harriet, on their situation, and Harriet agreed to meet them.
The detectives sat with Harriet in an empty conference room at the county jail. The Deputy DA stood a couple of inches taller than Danny and had a hawk-like nose. He wore designer glasses and sported a five o’clock shadow.
“It’s a petty case to be honest. The guy makes fake ID’s so twenty-year old’s can get into bars to have a drink with their buddies,” Scott said.
“I should be in there when you question him.” Harriet rubbed his chin. “Is he saying what information he has?”
Danny shook his head. “He won’t say a word without something in writing first. But we’re pretty sure he sold the San Diego Slayer a counterfeit ID in the name of Naomi.”
“I think its best we wait until Monday.” Harriet looked at his watch. “It’s already late, and I have plans tonight.”
“If you could sign something real fast, we can interview him. If it pans out, we’ll contact you to hustle back here,” Danny said. “Imagine the boost to your career if you play a part in catching The San Diego Slayer.”
Harriet’s face lit up. “I guess I could do that.”
Worry lines etched Jimmy’s face. He licked his lips. “It’s about time. Can you guys get me out of here now?”
Danny opened his briefcase. “This here’s a signed document from the District Attorney’s office, indicating all charges from today’s arrest will be dismissed if you co-operate and help in identifying the San Diego Slayer.”
The legalities out of the way, Danny showed Weddle a composite drawing of Naomi and he confirmed he sold her an ID. They asked numerous questions and Danny documented the answers on his legal pad.
“How tall was she?” Danny asked.
“Five-nine and a half.”
“That’s pretty specific. Did you measure her?” Scott asked.
“No, I’m good at estimating people’s height and weight. It helps in the counterfeits I create.”
“How tall am I?” Danny stood.
Weddle rose from his chair and narrowed his eyes. “You’re six-four.”
Scott stood up, too. “And me?”
“Five-eleven and a half.”
Danny looked at Scott who nodded.
“What color were her eyes?” Danny asked.
“Blue.”
Danny jotted more down. “Did you notice a vehicle?”
“Not the first time, but the second time when she picked up the ID, I followed her.”
Danny raised an eyebrow.
“I mean just to get a license plate.” Weddle squirmed in his chair and scratched his arm. “She was hot, and I thought about looking her up.”
Goosebumps rose on the back of Danny’s neck. “You got the plate?”
“No, she drove off too fast in a red 2-door sports car. It was an import, but I didn’t recognize the make. She had a personalized plate. The first letter looked like an O or a D, but I couldn’t make out the rest, it was too far away.”
Danny deflated.
“Could you tell how many characters there were in the plate?” Scott asked.
“It looked long, so maybe seven.”
Next, Danny showed Weddle a composite drawing of Carmelita, but he didn’t recall creating an ID for her. Danny described the suspect from the Motel 6 slaying. Now that he wasn’t homicide, he didn’t have access to the sketch.
“He sounds familiar. If I remember right, we made the first exchange, but he never showed up on the second date.” Weddle shrugged. “That happens sometimes. I’ve got a dozen ID’s in my file that were never collected.
Danny completed the paperwork to have Jimmy released from custody and the detectives escorted him home to retrieve the photo Naomi had provided. Weddle lived at Market Street Square on Third Avenue. Despite the cooler night air, a few kids still swam in the pool and tried to splash Jimmy as the three of them passed by the outer gate.
Inside the apartment, Danny and Scott sat at the kitchen table while Weddle laid out the passport sized photo of Naomi along with the counterfeit California Identification card for Sammy Wallace.
