Dead By Dawn (23 page)

“The man that was convicted has always said he didn’t do it,” Lindsay added.

“How many times have you heard that?” Charles said. “If you listen to the bleeding liberals on TV, everyone in prison is an innocent victim.”

“What about Bing Taylor? Do you think that Marty could have hired him to do this?” Lindsay asked.

Charles was silent again. “I always wondered about him disappearing about the same time. That Davis guy asked questions about him,” he said.

“Davis said that you complained about him to his superiors,” Lindsay commented.

“I did that.” Charles said. “My wife kept telling me that someone had to pay for this. She was convinced that ranch hand did it.”

“Any particular reason why?” Kragen asked.

“The drugs,” Charles answered.

“You agreed with her?” Kragen asked.

Charles paused and thought for a moment. “I was in such a daze, I think I went along with her,” he said. He rubbed his chin. “I was in a state of shock.”

“How do we prove any of this?” Jeremy said.

“That’s a good question,” Lindsay said.

Lindsay headed back to Los Angeles. On the drive down Interstate 5, she passed miles of barren farmland. She decided to call Cammie Kent to see if she had looked at Darla’s old papers.

Cammie answered and Lindsay identified herself. “Oh, I thought you would have called sooner,” Cammie said. “I cleaned out the stuff last week.”

“I didn’t think you would get to it so soon,” Lindsay said politely.

“Your visit was a reminder that it has been stored for too long,” Cammie said. “Listen, I didn’t find anything; mostly junk. But, I did talk to my sister’s old boyfriend.”

“The writer?” Lindsay asked.

“Yes.” Cammie said. “He reminded me of something I had forgotten about that might be important.”

“Tell me,” Lindsay said.

“My brother-in-law was quite a philanderer, as you know. He got another woman pregnant about the same time as Letty,” Cammie said.

“Oh geez, any idea who?”

“No, but I know that she was married. Darla knew who it was but kept her mouth shut until the divorce,” Cammie said. “Darla threatened to tell the woman’s husband if Marty didn’t take a settlement and disappear quietly.”

“Did she tell him who it was?” Lindsay asked excitedly.

“No, she wouldn’t tell him who it was,” Cammie said. “I’m sorry.”

Lindsay was disheartened when she hung up the phone. Why did Marty kill one mistress and her child and not the other? she thought.

***

Ray Kanagi called Lindsay when she was crossing the 118 Freeway to get home. “I got a hit on the prints on the paper bag from your crime scene,” he said.

“Tell me something I want to hear,” she said.

“I pulled the thumbprint from a Gerry Michaels in Las Vegas.”

Lindsay felt her stomach clench. “You are sure? Gerry Michaels?”

“I’m sure. It’s a match from his driver’s license,” he answered.

“Thanks Ray. I owe you one,” Lindsay said.

Back on the ranch, Detective Kragen arranged to have the car pulled up from the edge of the creek and towed to the evidence yard. He called Tony Diaz at the Highway Patrol. “I know this is a long shot, but I just had a car towed into impound that I want you to look over,” Kragen said.

“Is this about the Van Buren case?” Diaz asked with confusion.

“Yes, a red car that was at my crime scene in Shandon,” Kragen said.

“Is there paint transfer?” Diaz asked.

“I think so,” Kragen said.

“Did you run the license plates?” Diaz asked.

“No, there were none. I didn’t want to touch anything. I told the guys at the evidence lot to get the VIN number and report it to you to follow up,” Kragen responded.

“What makes you think this is the car?” Diaz asked.

“I can’t explain everything right now, but Marty Van Buren is a suspect in my case and the red car just stuck in my mind,” Kragen said. “It may turn out to be nothing.”

***

Lindsay was puzzled by the results of the fingerprint analysis. She called Steve Carver. “I submitted the pictures of the prints a while back and forgot about them.”

“This still doesn’t exonerate Barton Edmunds,” Magon said.

“Do you want me to interview him?” Lindsay asked.

“You can interview him in connection with your missing person’s case but not with my case,” Magon answered. “I have to make a decision here about pursuing this claim.”

“If there is an innocent man sitting in prison, you have an obligation to do it,” Lindsay said sternly.

“I am having the other evidence looked at by the lab,” he said. “I’m considering the request.”

“I’m going to talk to Jim Alberts and see if he knows anything about Gerry Michaels,” Lindsay said.

“We may have found Edmunds’ accomplices,” Magon said.

“We may have. We know there was more than one killer,” Lindsay said. “Kanagi got me the mug shot for Michaels, I’ll send it over to Alberts today.”

Alberts was waiting to visit his client at the Mule Deer State Prison. He wanted to give him the good news in person about the evidence being sent out to a lab for review. He was still in his hotel room. The evidence was scattered across the table. This case had become his obsession.

Lindsay called him. “I have some news about the fingerprint photo you sent me.”

“Any news is good news at this point,” Alberts said.

“Well, maybe not. I spoke with Magon earlier and he indicated that he thinks all of this new evidence reveals who your client’s accomplices were,” Lindsay said.

“The truth will come out. There were no accomplices. My client has maintained his innocence since day one.” Alberts said.

“You know they all say that,” Lindsay commented.

“Yes, I didn’t just fall off of the pumpkin truck,” he muttered.

“Anyway, the fingerprint that came back belongs to Gerry Michaels. He lives in Las Vegas.”

“That name has never come up in the investigation,” Albert said in a disappointed tone.

“Well, here’s the deal,” Lindsay said. “It came up before in something else that I was investigating.”

“Did it have to do with Davenport?” Alberts asked.

“It did,” she said. “I want to e-mail you the mug shot of this guy.”

“Can you do it now?” Alberts asked. “I’m seeing him in about an hour.”

“I just hit send. Let me know if you find anything.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Alberts said.

He hung up the phone and waited for his incoming mail. He opened the photo and peered at it carefully. He had never seen the guy before. It seemed like just another dead end. He pressed the print button on the keyboard. He would show it to Edmunds, but he didn’t have high hopes.

Charles Davenport had been walking around in a fog all day. He couldn’t get the conversation with Detective Kragen out of his head. He thought back to the time they had heard that Letty and the baby were missing. The police had questioned him. He didn’t know anything about it. The police had never mentioned that they thought Letty might be dead. Those were happy times back then. He and Elizabeth had been married for a couple of years and little Charlie had been and infant. Elizabeth had such a hard time with the boy at first. He was colicky and a handful for a first time mother.

He had no idea that Marty had anything to do with Letty until he started to hear rumors around town that she was pregnant. Letty had always despised Marty, so Charles had dismissed the rumors as fiction. His wife had insisted otherwise. She constantly reminded Charles that his high school sweetheart was a tramp. Charles had no idea why Elizabeth would say such things about Letty.

All of this was so long ago. He didn’t understand why it had become so important now. He wanted to confront Marty about it, but there was no point. Marty would never admit to any of it. That was just the way Marty was. Nothing was ever his fault.

Elizabeth called to him from the other room. “Are you going to tell me where you were all day yesterday?” she asked in an annoyed tone of voice.

She had been pestering him about where he went since he got home yesterday. Elizabeth appeared at the door of the study and glared at him, expecting him to answer.

“I went out to the ranch in Shandon to meet with Jeremy and look around,” he said finally.

“Why all of the secrecy?” she demanded.

“I met with the private investigator he hired and the detective that is working on the fire,” he said.

Elizabeth sat down on the couch and made herself comfortable. “Do they have any leads on the fire?”

“Yes, they do,” he said. “I have been asked not to talk about the case.”

“This is me Charles. You tell me everything,” she said.

Charles thought for a moment. “I think I need to stay out of this,” he started to make notes again at his desk. Elizabeth sat on the couch and watched him.

“Why won’t you tell me what happened?” she nagged again.

He looked up at her with a serious look on his face. “People around us are going to be in a great deal of trouble. I think it would be best for all of us if we stayed out of it as much as possible.”

Elizabeth stood up and ranted at him. “You have had your head in the sand for years Charles. It’s time you woke up and looked around.”

“I don’t know what you mean dear,” he said in a soothing voice.

“This whole thing with Jeremy and the private investigator. What do you think, she is going to suddenly dig up our granddaughter?” she yelled.

“No, our Kelly is dead,” he said sadly. “But, Jeremy is entitled to do as he wishes.”

“Oh, Jeremy is entitled to do as he wishes,” she mocked him angrily.

“I don’t understand why you are mad,” he said flatly.

“David is dead because you thought he was entitled to do as he pleased,” she shot back.

“No, David is dead because he knew something that he shouldn’t have known!” Charles shouted.

“That’s not true. He is dead because of his wife,” she said.

“That’s what Marty told us at the time. It’s not true,” he said.

“Now, you believe the police over your best friend?” she said.

“Marty has been more of a friend to you over the years than to me,” he said. It was out there. He had finally said what was bothering him all of these years.

Elizabeth glared at him, “Why are you doing this?”

“I am not doing anything,” he said.

“Why are you supporting Jeremy?” she asked.

“Because I never supported David the way I should have. I should have gone to the police the minute he showed me the letter from Dad,” he said.

“That letter was hogwash,” she spat.

“The police think that that letter was what got our son killed,” he said in a resigned tone. “The police think that Marty may have killed David and Shelly.”

“That’s not possible. The man who killed them is in jail,” she said.

“Maybe not,” he said and stormed out of the room.

Jim Alberts sat at the table in the dingy visitor’s room at the prison. Barton Edmunds was escorted in and sat across from him. They exchanged niceties and talked about how the case was going.

“The detective hasn’t given me an answer about the complaint. He did send some of the evidence to the lab to be analyzed,” Alberts said.

“How long is all of that going to take?” Edmunds asked.

“I don’t know.” Alberts said. He placed the photograph of Gerry Michaels on the table. “A P.I. working in another case came up with this. His name is Gerry.”

Edmunds pointed to the picture and interrupted him. “That’s Tim Herron.”

“The P.I. used to be a cop and sent the fingerprints on the bag of weed to the lab. This is who it came back to. His name is Gerry Michaels.”

“I am telling you that it is Tim Herron. He was at the ranch a few times with Bing Taylor before the murders,” Edmunds insisted.

“Okay. I’ll go back to the P.I. and let her know,” Alberts said.

“If this chick had the fingerprints run, what is the cop having analyzed?” Edmunds asked.

“The other footprints. He found a footprint on the neck of one of the victims. He thinks that the killer held her neck in place with his foot and shot her in the head,” Alberts said.