Secret Relations, page 22
part #3 of Finn O'Brien Series
"Don't you look like the cat who ate the canary," he said as he hung up his jacket. "Did you get something from the printers?"
"Samples are being overnighted. I've got a bunch of customer lists faxed. I'm waiting for two more," she said. "But looky here."
"Where did you get this?" Finn asked as he moved the Xerox of Grady's thief for a better look.
Cori filled him in and then said:
"Sure this picture looks like all the rest of them. I'd say whoever is showing an interest in these young men has a type."
"But this one was making his money the old fashioned way, so we may be just wishing there's a connection to the day laborers."
"Then I think we should find out. Let's talk to Grady's collar."
Cori picked up the pictures. Finn stood back to let her pass.
"What's the man's name?"
"Adolph," Cori said as she went into the hall.
"Like…" Finn began.
"Nope…" Cori said. "Oh, and you're coming to dinner tonight with Morrow and Lapinski."
"Life can be so good, Cori."
"Don't I know it, O'Brien."
"Adolph Fritz Wilhelm, III."
Cori read from the rap sheet Grady had pulled. She tilted her head this way and then that as if she were gravely considering his list of transgressions. She flipped the first page, looked at the second and then flipped back to the first page as she took the chair across from Adolph. Finn lounged against the wall.
"No relations to the Wilhelm family," Adolph said, picking at his head, antsy in the silence.
Cori said, "Good to know."
She didn't bother asking which Wilhelm family he was referring to since she couldn't bring one to mind that had any prominence. Nor could she find anything on Adolph's sheet that would lead her to believe that he could mastermind the disappearance of a handful of strong, young, healthy men, nor did he have the psychotic demeanor of an insane killer.
"Mr. Wilhelm—"
"Adolph. Yep, Adolph will do the trick."
Cori slid the picture of the jewelry he had tried to hock across the table.
"You were arrested for trying to sell stolen goods. Are these the items you were attempting to sell?"
"Yes. Yes, they are. But I didn't steal those pretties. Nope. Found 'em. Free and clear. I told the officers that but they cuffed me anyway. They took me in even though I'd done nothing wrong. Finders keepers. Possession is nine tenths of the law. Everybody knows that." Adolph shot Finn a grin. "Are you the muscle? I bet you're the muscle. I think she's the bad cop so who's going to be the good cop? Oh, maybe you're the good cop until I act up, then you're the muscle."
"Sure, there's only good cops here, Adolph," Finn said, charmed by the scruffy gentleman.
If Adolph were three feet shorter and had been found sitting under a shamrock, Finn would have believed him to be a leprechaun. The marvelous mischievous glint in his eye, the cropped hair, the country-gentleman-gone-to-seed attire and the bright certainty that whatever was to come could be wiggled out of endeared him to Finn. Satisfied that he had made his mark with the big man, Adolph attended to Cori with all seriousness. His hands were clasped on the table, his lips were pulled tight together, and his eyes were on her as she picked up where she left off.
"Adolph, you found stolen goods so you couldn't keep them."
"How was I to know that?"
Cori lifted her shoulder.
"Maybe you really didn't find them. Maybe you were working with the person who stole them."
Adolph guffawed, "Well, that's just the silliest. I don't work."
"What do you do?"
"I just…am. Yes, I just am."
"And where have you been doing all this?" Cori asked.
"Here and there," Adolph answered.
"How about most recently," she insisted.
"I was up in the mountains. You know, local."
"Big Bear?" Cori asked.
He shook his head. "No, lower."
"Crestline?" she asked.
He shook his head again and waved both arms over his head to indicate east.
"Adolph." She crossed her arms on the table. "Do you know where you were?"
"Not exactly. Not the name or anything. But I know I was pretty near the freeway."
"Adolph?" Finn called. "Is that where you found this jewelry? In the mountains?"
"Yes, I did find the jewelry there."
"When was this?"
"Yesterday? The day before?"
"It's not for us to tell you," Finn said. "Why don't you tell us exactly where you found the jewelry?"
"In the ground. Yes, I found it in the ground."
"Can anyone corroborate that?" Cori asked.
"What's that?" Adolph answered.
"Can anyone vouch for you?" Finn clarified.
"Well, maybe," Adolph said.
"Who would that be?"
"The guy who gave me a ride. He could. But I don't know where to find him," Adolph said.
"If he was with you when you found the jewelry we only need his name. We'll find him and he can say that he saw you find it."
"I don't know his name." He saw the skepticism and bounced around his chair trying to convince them. "I don't. Well, I know his first name but, there's no way you can find him with that. His name's John and he was sleeping when I found the jewelry."
"Okay, cool your jets," Cori said. "Why don't you tell us where you found it. Was it just laying on the ground?"
Adolph shook his head.
"Did you find it under a rock?" Finn asked.
Adolph's head shook and shook and he said, "Nothat'ssillynothat'ssilly."
Finn pushed himself off the wall and came to sit on the edge of the table right near Adolph. The man looked so small now, like a weird little doll with his bizarre two-tone hair, his pitiful clothing, and his bad teeth. Finn lowered his voice.
"Perhaps you found all those pretty things in a man's pocket, Adolph. Perhaps a Mexican man who had been in possession of them? Am I getting warm, Adolph?"
Cori sat back and put her pen to her lips. She saw what she had expected to see and Finn saw it too. Adolph's color rose. He giggled. His head swung between the two of them as he lied through his teeth.
"That would be robbery and I didn't rob nobody. Not a living soul. I swear." Adolph held his fingers in the Boy Scout sign and smiled and jiggled his shoulders – and then he started to sweat. Finn and Cori were not amused, disarmed or put off task by his antics. It was Finn who leaned into him as if he were sharing a confidence.
"We're not talking about a living soul, Adolph. You see, we know who took that jewelry and we are thinking you killed him for it."
"Killed! Killed!" he was out of his chair when Finn's big hand landed on his shoulder and pushed him down.
"We have a whole lot of reasons to believe that man is dead," Cori chimed in. "And, since there isn't anybody to tell us different—"
"But I told you. John was there. I didn't kill anybody. Okayokayyeshe'sdeadandI foundallthatstuffon—"
Adolph ran his mouth like a motorboat and Cori was thankful she was sitting far enough away that the spray didn't reach her. Unfortunately, he ran out of gas pretty darn quick. His brain had kicked in and he was starting to understand that he could be in a whole lot of trouble.
"Oh, no. I didn't kill nobody and you can't say I did. You ain't got nothing. You book me for possession and I'll be out in two weeks. You go do that because there is no way you can hang me with murder. No way, huh-huh."
Cori put the picture of the boyfriend in front of Adolph. The man looked at it for a long while. He started to get up. Finn's hand was on his shoulder again.
"Adolph, I think you'll be wanting to tell us everything about what happened in those mountains. If you do that now, things will go easier for you. Because you see, my friend, there are a few more we'll be looking at you for."
"More what?" Adolph asked.
"More murders. A man has been killing off these young Hispanic men. Picking them up off the corners and killing them. Burying them in strange places around the county. Places like those mountains you say you were in. And, Adolph, we think it's a man who travels around. Yes, travels about and picks them up and takes them to these places and then kills them. You travel, Adolph."
"But I don't have a car."
"Maybe you just meet up with these people," Finn suggested.
Cori took over.
"Now, Adolph, we know the man in the picture robbed the woman of the jewelry but he's gone missing, so the logical conclusion is that you probably killed him."
"And maybe," Finn said, "you buried him up there in the mountains. Is that what you did? Steal the jewelry that he stole first, killed him, buried him and thought no one would be the wiser?"
Adolph snapped his eyes up and away from the picture. He looked right at Cori. They stared at one another for a minute and then Adolph shook his finger and spoke like a normal human being.
"You guys are guessing. I mean, how are you going to prove that something happened to him if you can't find him? Answer me that, will you? Got you, don't I?"
"Ah, Adolph, I wouldn't challenge the lady," Finn said. "Best thing would just be to tell us exactly where you 'found' the jewelry or, if you relieved this gentleman of it, where exactly you did that. Because if you don't tell us, Detective Anderson there will be booking you for murder."
Adolph crossed his arms and said, "You got nothing."
"Detective Anderson?"
Finn looked at Cori as he slid off the table. Cori got up and left the room. Adolph watched after her.
"Whereshegoingwhereshegoingwhereshegoing?"
He kept it up until the door opened again. When Cori came back she was wearing disposable gloves and had Adolph's pack. She put the pack on the table, unzipped it and, when she found what she wanted, she put it on the table in front of Adolph. His mouth fell open as he stared at the shirt, stiff with dried blood.
"Cut yourself shaving, Adolph?"
CHAPTER 25
"Potluck tonight, boys."
Cori put a platter of cold fried chicken on the table. Next came a bowl of coleslaw and a basket of bread. Amber followed with a tub of pre-made mashed potatoes in a plastic container and grocery store gravy. Cori surveyed the small table as she announced. "And we've got ice cream for desert."
Detective Morrow, Thomas Lapinski and Finn O'Brien were seated in the space that the real estate agent had said was a dinning room. In reality it was a no-man's land of square footage between the kitchen and the living room.
"'Tis a feast," Finn said as Cori took her seat.
"You should see me when I put my mind to it," Cori laughed even as she realized that one chair was empty. She looked over her shoulder. "Amber, honey, come on out. Time to eat."
When Amber didn't appear, Finn started to get up to fetch her but Cori waved him down.
"I got it."
Cori put her napkin on the table and disappeared into the kitchen. The men filled their plates and made small talk, none of them envious of the position she was in.
"It's a feast for me," Finn said.
"It's been a long while since I've had fried food," Detective Morrow noted. "I tend to prefer eggs and yogurt. Vegetables. I do like a good steak now and again. Sometimes I add a bit of honey to the yogurt."
"It's a wonder no woman has snagged you, Morrow," Thomas said as he reached for the potatoes.
"Thank you, Mr. Lapinski," Morrow answered. "The joke is not lost, but there was never a chance I would be snagged by anything. I was destined to be a perpetual bachelor. Still I can appreciate the draw of matrimony. There are exceptional women in this world."
"Kind of you to say so, Morrow." Cori was back but she was alone. She took her chair and put her napkin on her lap. "Amber doesn't want Tucker to get all excited with the company or she'll never get him to sleep. They'll eat in the kitchen."
The men nodded and fell silent, all fully aware of the strain the two women were under. Cori took a drumstick from the platter, a spoonful of potatoes and a deep breath.
"Okay, enough of that. We're not going to do her any good moanin' like a cow needs milking, so let's figure out how we can do some good."
"Have you ever noticed that, when the three of you are together, it means something really bad has happened," Thomas said.
"Mr. Lapinski, I think you were involved in the Little Ethiopia matter before I was, so that makes your point moot."
"That just might be, Morrow, but this time I can't do you any good. You don't have a picture I can track through my facial recognition software. The guy you've got says he knows a guy who killed a guy and the killer's name is John." Thomas stripped the meat off the chicken leg he was eating and waved the bone. "An incredible unique moniker, I might add. The man in custody doesn't know where John lives. He knows he drives a white truck and he's holding out to tell you where all this took place until you cut him a deal. You don't even know whose blood is on that shirt and, if it's not your guy's, then he's right. You've got nothing. Is that about it?"
"'Tis." Finn motioned for the potatoes.
"But that's why you're here," Cori said. "I wouldn't have popped for dinner if I didn't think the four of us could make something out of nothing. Come on, this guy's the best lead we've got. The only lead."
"While I certainly appreciate this fine meal and your incredible company, I am like the proverbial third wheel folks," Lapinski said. "And, I really don't see how you are going to find a man who's preying on day labor unless you're planning to put a cop on every corner."
"We know he's taken two from the same corner," Cori said.
"And the first time you get close he's going to bolt because he can find those folks in any city in the country," Lapinski argued.
"Does that mean we shouldn't try, Thomas?" Finn put aside his fork.
"No, of course not. But I can see your captain's point. You could spend every waking hour on this and come up with nothing. He doesn't want your billable hours going down a black hole. No return on his investment, you know?"
"And so we do this on our own time while we negotiate with Adolph," Finn said.
"It is an intriguing problem," Detective Morrow said.
"Okay, if Morrow's in then I'm in." Thomas pushed his plate away.
"Let's look at what we do know," Finn said. "We know the killer has a ritual. Shallow graves, some kind of card under the hands, bodies laid out all nice. We've got the victim in Baldwin Hills that we've seen with our own eyes. One other man who arguably was taken out in the same manner and buried but not identified. Palmdale has reported one in the same circumstance, and then we have Father Patrick telling us of the killings in Mexico. Counting Mexico, this seems to go back about three years."
Thomas held up a finger. "It seems to me that the ritual indicates the killer knew his victims. Isn't that the general consensus? That when care is taken there is a personal relationship?"
"That's a general rule of thumb, Mr. Lapinski," Morrow answered. "I don't think it applies here."
"According to the people we talked to in Richland Farms, the men who saw the victims say they didn't seem to be singled out. In the course of any given day people needing workers drive up, point to someone, and the job is accepted," Finn said. "Usually that person is dropped at the same corner but, in this case, they never came back. Add to that, the incidents are spread across Southern California. Even the location in Mexico was literally across the border from San Diego. So it's Palmdale, San Diego and now here."
"Which suggests what?" Thomas challenged them.
"That the man we're looking for travels? A truck driver?" Cori offered.
They had all finished dinner and Amber came to pick up the plates even though Cori told her to leave them. Finn knew the girl needed something to do to keep herself from jumping out of her skin, and soon her comings and goings were forgotten as they talked.
"I'm not thinking so," Finn said. "The bodies are scattered. If it were a trucker I would think we'd be finding them tossed off the freeways or at rest stops where there's easy access. And what cause would he have to come into the city? Finding an isolated place in the city takes time. A truck driver is on a schedule."
Cori reached for an envelope on the credenza. She opened it and distributed Xeroxes as she told them what they were looking at.
"We've identified the printer who manufactures the paper put in the Baldwin Hills grave. That company makes religious cards: Mass cards, condolence cards, saint cards—"
"Holy cards," Finn interrupted. "Those are sort of like religious trading cards. They are often given out to school children for being good or they are available at Mass on the individual saint's holy day."
"We believe they are the smaller, two sided ones," Cori went on. "There appears to be a watermark embedded in those that we think we can match with our piece."
"It looks like a Eucharistic symbol," Finn said. "They'll be sending samples over to the lab for confirmation. So might it be that we're looking for a priest."
"I like that idea," Morrow said as he scanned the information. "Priests are transferred to different parishes quite often. As we know, the Church has had it's share of criminal problems of late."
"The collar would be great cover. These men would trust him," Cori added, warming to her theory. "So he's a priest psycho and he gets the urge, drives to the corners – who wouldn't get in the truck with a guy in a collar? – and off they go. But when the deed is done he feels so guilty that he defaults to his training, buries them and blesses them. Or, maybe he's not psycho. Maybe he has these urges, but he really is a man of god and there's some underlying reason for taking them out."
"And that would be?" Finn asked.
"Maybe he's saving them from earthly pain and sending them to their reward."
Morrow stepped in. "We could narrow a search to parishes in a five mile radius of the victim's last known place of work and find out how many Father John's there are."
"Or just radiate from where Adolph says the man dropped him. There can't be more than one or two Catholic churches in that area," Finn suggested. "But it's not feeling right. We have the shirt this man gave Adolph. It's a normal shirt and Adolph mentioned no collar."
