Murder Casts the Ballot, page 4
The reporter stood her ground. “So you are going to follow up on Clint Taylor’s accusations?”
“We will explore that possibility, as well as more likely scenarios.”
“Do you think Matt Joyner’s too close to Jake Rand to be objective? Are you asking him to recuse himself from the investigation?” A man holding a voice recorder stood up. Matt didn’t recognize him either.
“Perhaps you’re not familiar with police work in a small town,” answered Rosen. “We know most of the people whose names come up during an investigation. It don’t keep us from doing our job.”
The reporter persisted. “How can the people know Joyner won’t cover up for Rand? Isn’t that what Taylor’s accusing him of doing in the past?”
Matt clenched his fists to keep from climbing over twenty rows of chairs to give the reporter an answer, but Rosen appeared unmoved. “I’m sure you don’t mean to disparage the professionalism of a fine detective.” He fixed his gaze on the reporter until he sat down. “I have every confidence in Detective Joyner’s integrity. However, since we are tragically shorthanded, I have requested the Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation lend us an investigator who will assist with this case.”
The room buzzed with excited voices, and a few heads turned to look at Matt, who kept his features composed in spite of the turmoil that was sweeping over him. The reporter who’d asked the question shot him a smug look and whispered something to the woman seated next to him. She laughed and glanced at Matt before whispering something back. While Rosen wrapped up his remarks, Matt slipped out of the room.
He waited in the hall in front of Captain Danning’s office. When he and Rosen appeared, the chief said something to Danning, then walked past with a curt nod of his head.
Danning opened the door. “Have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Suit yourself.” The captain sat down behind the desk and pulled out a folder. “I told the chief it wasn’t fair to blindside you with the DCI.”
“If he doesn’t trust me to do my job, I’ll turn in my badge right now.”
“This isn’t about you. This is a high-profile case. We’ve got to be absolutely above reproach.”
“I’ve always been above reproach.”
“Reality is one thing, Matt. Perception is something else.”
Matt gripped the back of the chair in front of him. “I never let my personal life cloud my professional judgment. The chief said it himself—you work in a small town, you end up busting guys you played against in junior high football.”
“If I didn’t believe in you, you’d be back in uniform.” Danning slammed his fist on the desk. “This isn’t about your precious ego.”
Matt clenched his jaw to keep it shut and stared out the window. He hated what the captain was saying even though somewhere, in the cooler side of his brain, he agreed. The two sides clashed, then he loosened his grip on the chair. “Who’s in charge of the investigation? Me or him?”
“Her.”
“Her?”
Danning pushed the folder across the desk. “Senior Criminal Investigator Demeter Galanos. She’s supposed to be the best.”
Matt reached for the folder and scanned the contents. He looked at Danning. “Take me off the case.”
“You got a problem reporting to a woman?”
“I’ve got a problem reporting to anybody who doesn’t know this town. We’ll be spinning our wheels chasing down leads anybody who knows anything about the people around here already knows aren’t leads at all.”
“That’s quite a sentence, partner. Want to run that by me again but this time in English?”
A woman was standing in the doorway, and she was a stunner. She had jet-black hair, cut short and tipped with gold. She was tall and wore the conservative dark blue suit that was practically a uniform for the DCI, but hers was tailored, highlighting all the right places. Matt wasn’t sure how she pulled it off, but the result was more professional than provocative.
“They don’t knock anymore in Cheyenne?” demanded Danning, closing the folder and tossing it in a drawer.
“Sheridan, actually.” She moved into the room. “Dropped what I was doing and drove down when Chief Rosen called me.” She held out her hand. “SCI Galanos. You must be Captain Danning.”
He ignored her hand. “This is Detective Matt Joyner. He’ll be heading up the Casper PD arm of the investigation.”
Galanos tilted her head and studied Danning. “We don’t have to be adversaries, Captain. I’m here to give you whatever assistance I can and offer you the full resources of the DCI.” She turned to Matt. “I’m not here to second-guess you or look over your shoulder, but I warn you, I’m not window dressing either. As far as I’m concerned, we’re partners. You all right with that, Detective?”
Matt looked at Danning, who shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s get moving then... partner.”
Chapter Four
“My condolences on your loss,” Galanos said as she and Matt settled into a small meeting room next to his office. “Tell me what you’ve got so far.”
“I’ve got the two shooters,” said Matt.
“The ones armed with only paintball guns?”
“It would have been easy in the chaos to shoot Morty—Detective Brugnick—then pass the gun off to someone who ran out of the auditorium.”
“Any way of knowing who all was at this clambake?”
“I’ve called the TV station. They had a crew there filming the debate for public access TV.”
“A commercial station donating labor for public access?”
Matt shrugged. “They’re going to make prints of any shots of the audience.”
Galanos put down the pen she had been using to take notes. “They’re willing to do this without a court order?”
“They haven’t said they wouldn’t. It’s not like they’re protecting confidential sources; these are people in a public place who were aware cameras were there.”
She nodded and picked up her pen. “Forgive me if I get a little cynical. Working too long in the state capital does that to a person.”
“I thought you came from Sheridan.”
“I did. My parents live outside of town. I was at their anniversary party when I got the call.”
“That’s the ‘everything’ you dropped to come down?”
It was her turn to shrug. “I never said it was work related.”
“Yeah.”
“What do paintball boys have to say for themselves?”
“Haven’t talked to them yet.”
He saw the pen pause and felt her eyes on him. “Lab give you the trajectory of the bullet?”
Matt winced. He hadn’t even thought to ask. “Let me call them.”
She put her pen down again. “Detective Joyner, Morty Brugnick was your partner, and nobody knows better than another cop what that means. You’re human. You’re gonna miss things. That’s why I’m here. To help you pick them up again.”
He look intently at her, debating whether or not to trust her, then flipped open his phone. One ring and Cam Elmwood, crew chief for the Casper PD crime lab, picked up. Matt put the call on speaker. “Cam, what can you tell us about the trajectory of the bullet?”
“I heard about your dish from the DCI. Nice work if you can get it, Matt my friend. Don’t let Kristy see her.”
“You’re on speaker, bonehead.”
There was a chuckle on the other end. “Sorry ’bout that, ma’am. We drag a few knuckles around here. No offense intended.”
“None taken. Are you able to project where the shooter was standing?”
“We can’t be as precise as we’d like, given that the bullet lodged in... the victim.” He paused for a moment, and Matt heard him clear his throat. “Given that, the best we can say is the bullet came from the vicinity of where the paintball shooters were standing.”
“That leaves a lot of ground,” noted Galanos.
“Sorry, best I can do. Check with the coroner.”
“Can you determine who the intended victim was?”
“I’ll e-mail a diagram to Matt. There were three people in the area. They coulda been shooting at any of them.”
“Three including Detective Brugnick?”
“Heck no. We weren’t counting Morty. We figured he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Thank you, Cam. I look forward to seeing the diagram.”
Matt flipped his phone shut and looked at Galanos. “Thought we were partners.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Only that we’d better get things settled before we start interviewing suspects. I’d like to get in a question or two.”
Galanos put down her pen and sat back in her chair. “You’re accustomed to calling the shots.”
“Anything wrong with that?”
“You’re the senior detective here in Casper. It might take a bit of getting used to, having an equal instead of a sidekick, but I suggest you adjust on your own time. We have a job to do, and I’m not planning to waste time soothing your ego.”
“Lady, you don’t have to bust my chops just to prove you’re as good as any man.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything, Detective. I’m trying to find out who killed your partner.”
“So am I.”
“Then let’s focus on that. I may step on your toes, but if I see an avenue of questioning, I plan on taking it.”
“Give me a chance to ask the questions first. If I miss something, you can jump in.”
“I’m not a hood ornament.”
“And I’m not a hick.”
She seemed to weigh her next words. “Point taken.”
“Partners?”
“Partners.”
The air hung thick between them, and Matt was the first to break the silence. “Let’s go talk to paintball boy number one. I’ll even give you the first whack at him.”
They headed to the holding cells in the basement, where the first suspect was being held. The other was still under guard at the hospital. “Kristy your wife?”
“What? Oh, Cam. Fiancée.”
“She the jealous type?”
Matt signed the visitor log and pushed it to Galanos. “She knows she’s got nothing to be jealous about.”
“Good. I’ve lost two partners because their wives didn’t appreciate them being out all hours with me, case or no case. I wouldn’t want to make trouble for you.”
They settled into the interview room, Galanos sitting at the table and Matt standing behind her, leaning against the wall. An officer brought the young man into the room, sat him down opposite Galanos, and positioned himself beside the door. The yellow jumpsuit made his already sallow skin look jaundiced. His hands were free but he wore leg irons around his ankles. His eyes darted around the room, narrowing when they found Matt and widening considerably at the sight of the female investigator.
Galanos pulled the youth’s rap sheet from her briefcase. “Demarco Rattoni?” The boy nodded. “Says here your friends call you Ratt?”
“What’s it to ya?”
“You’re from Orton.” She looked up at him. “Quite an impressive juvenile history you have. What made you think you could get away with shoplifting at the Orton store? There’s like, three aisles, and Granddaddy used to sit way up high so he could catch punks like you.”
“Crazy old man was asleep more than he weren’t. My bad luck bein’ the last one out the door.”
“I suppose he would be a fair bit older than he was last time I was out that way.”
“There ain’t nothin’ there.”
“Not since that store burned down.” Matt noticed a twitch in the boy’s cheek. “Wiped the place out, right down to the ground. That old man lived behind the store. Did you know?”
Ratt said nothing. Galanos sighed and went back to looking at the young man’s file. “Such a pity. He died trying to fight the fire. Arson, of course. That makes it homicide.”
She’s good, thought Matt. He hadn’t known about the fire, let alone connected the suspect’s innocuous juvenile record with anything so sinister. He wondered if Galanos thought Ratt had set the fire or if she were softening him up for the questions she was preparing to ask. Either way, the boy looked decidedly uncomfortable.
She closed the file and looked up brightly. “So tell me about paintballs. What made you decide to shoot up the debate?”
Her abrupt change of tone threw Ratt off guard. “That was something, wasn’t it? I better get an A after all this.”
“An A?”
“History of Vietnam. Sit-ins and stuff. People used to throw red paint on cops or politicians. For blood, you know?” He slumped back in his chair, and his eyes became unfocused. “Man, those were the days. Drugs, free love, stickin’ it to the man.”
“And you thought you’d stick it to the man with paintballs.”
“It was great.” He snorted. “All them people screaming and runnin’. It was wild.” He sat up again, glaring at Matt. “Then the cops come bustin’ in, shootin’ up the place. Real bullets! Yank never done nobody no harm.” He spat on the floor. “Pigs.”
Matt was glad Galanos was conducting this interview. She probably saved him from getting fired for punching the kid. Her voice was almost conspiratorial. “Whose idea was it to shoot the cop?”
“Shoot him? What the— You’re not gonna pin that on me, lady. Them cops shot their own guy.”
“Friendly fire?” It was a term a student of the Vietnam War should understand.
“That’s it. Or maybe they were ticked at him, I don’t know. All I know is, we didn’t shoot nobody. All we had was paintballs.”
“Pretty good shooting with those rifles.”
The boy seemed to relax again. “I’m okay.”
“Yank as good as shot as you?”
“Oh man, you should see him.” The boy sat up again, animated. Matt suppressed a smile. She was very good. “He could shoot the fleas off a fox at fifty paces.”
“Not you though?”
“Heck no. If I shot at a fox, he wouldn’t even break stride.”
“So you two were sitting around with nothing to do and decided, what the heck, let’s go shoot up the debate?”
“Sorta.”
“Yes?”
“Well, we...” There was a knock on the interview room door, and Matt signaled to the guard to answer.
“That’ll be enough questions for today, Matt.” A man walked into the room and stopped short when he saw Galanos. “My apologies, ma’am. You are?”
She stood and stretched out a hand to him. “Senior Criminal Investigator Galanos. And you?”
“Mr. Rattoni’s attorney. I assume you read him his rights?”
“He was Mirandized when he was arrested, Antelope.”
“Ah, Matt. Didn’t see you there. Would you clear the room so I can have a word with my client?”
“Come on, Galanos, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
Before they could close the door, Antelope put out a hand. “Might I ask what my client is being charged with?”
“Public nuisance, for now. You’ll have to check with the county attorney’s office to see what they want to add.”
“Public nuisance? Come on, that’s a misdemeanor. Bail him out. It was a stupid joke.”
Matt put his hands on the doorjamb to keep them off the attorney’s throat. “I don’t call it stupid when one of my men ends up dead.”
Antelope didn’t flinch. “My client had nothing to do with Brugnick’s death. He had a paintball rifle, Matt, not a real gun. Did you find gunshot residue on his hands or clothes?”
“Not being the shooter doesn’t let him out of a conspiracy charge if he knew it was going to happen. If he really had nothing to do with it, tell him to cooperate. If he’s clean, I’ll talk to the CA about dropping the charge.” Matt closed the door and caught up with Galanos, who was waiting for him at the desk, signing them both out.
“Think he’ll get the kid to talk?”
Matt shrugged. “Maybe. Yank might have shot Morty, but even without the residue test, I could have told you Ratt didn’t.”
“And you know this how?”
“Thought you didn’t want speculation based on my knowledge of the people involved.”
“Is it fact or opinion?”
“This one’s a fact.”
She leaned on the counter, watching him. “Okay, I’ll bite.”
“I had Ratt in hunter’s safety two months ago. You heard him admit he’d never hit a fox. Ratt couldn’t hit the side of a barn, let alone place a shot that would kill a policeman in body armor thirty feet away.”
“Except he wasn’t trying to kill Brugnick. Maybe it was a terrible shot that was aimed at someone else. What about Yank?”
“No residue on his clothes. The hospital cleaned him up for surgery before we could test his hands.”
“Let’s start with what kind of gun we’re talking about. Did they recover the bullet?”
“We’ll stop by the coroner’s office on our way to the hospital. Let me duck into my office first and print out the diagram from Cam.”
“Will he be available on a Sunday?”
“Cam?”
“The coroner. You have autopsies done in Colorado, don’t you? He might not be in his office.”
“He is a she, and she paged me ten minutes ago, so I expect she has news for us.”
“How did I miss Natrona electing a female coroner?”
Matt unlocked the drawer in his desk where he kept his service firearm and hooked the holster to his belt. “Good question. Let’s go.”
“What about that coffee?”
“You don’t want to drink the mud we have around here on weekends.”
GRACE STIRRED IN HER bed, and Emma put down the magazine she’d been trying to read. The oncologist had returned Jake’s call and reassured them Grace was probably overly tired. He encouraged them to bring her into his office on Monday, and he would see if there were anything he could do to help her regain her strength.
She moaned softly, and Emma moved to sit on the bed, placing her hand gently on the older woman’s arm. Grace moved restlessly, then seemed to calm. Her eyelids floated open, but as she looked around the room, her brows furrowed. The doctor had warned she might be disoriented when she awakened.
