Terry Odell - Mapleton 03 - Deadly Puzzles (22 page)

In contrast to Jost
’s hesitation, Solomon tapped the door jamb twice and strode to Gordon’s desk, taking a seat. “You need something, Chief? Find any new puzzle pieces?”

“
No, unless this turns out to be a new puzzle, although I don’t think it’ll have many pieces. I need your opinion. Work related,” he added when Solomon’s brows waggled.

“
Sure. What’s up?”

“
You noticed anything different with Gaubatz lately?” Knowing Solomon would keep things confidential, Gordon related the discrepancy between Gaubatz’s report and Jost’s accounting. “This is the first time anyone’s complained about how he runs his shifts. I looked through all his reports for the last couple of days, and Jost’s is the only one with any negative comments.”

Solomon worked his lips in and out.
“I agree. Doesn’t sound like him, coming down on someone without at least hearing him out. You don’t think Jost is trying to get Gaubatz reprimanded, do you? Claiming he didn’t do what he was written up for, that Gaubatz isn’t following protocol by listening to both sides?”

Gordon recalled how Wardell had fooled him, but Gordon had known Jost for years, not hours, and he didn
’t think Jost could have faked the emotions behind his report. “For now, I believe Jost, and I also believe Gaubatz was following up on a citizen’s complaint, but you don’t write someone up based on that. Most people have no clue what we do all day.”

“
And the call was anonymous, so no way to follow up with the citizen,” Solomon said.

“
Correct. Gaubatz never spoke to whoever did the complaining. Merely took action as though it were true.” Gordon smacked his fingers on the desk. “Which is
not
the way I run this department. But before I call Gaubatz in here, I’d like something to back me up.”

Solomon nodded.
“You want me—totally discreetly, of course—to see if I can pick up any vibes. Be a spy, in other words. A snitch.”

“
Those weren’t the words I’d have chosen, but if there’s anything causing dissension in the ranks, I need to know it.”

“
You know, being ranking officer here—other than yourself, of course, but being your second in command—people don’t talk that much around me. Especially after I filled in for you.”

“
The break room doesn’t get quiet when you walk in, does it?” Gordon asked. “People don’t move out of your way and stand up straight when you enter a room, do they?”

Solomon widened his eyes, tilted his head back and forth.
“No, not yet. Guess I’m still closer to being one of the regular cops than you can be.”

“
Precisely.” Gordon wasn’t thrilled, but when he’d taken this job, it was as if a brick wall had been erected between Gordon the cop he used to be, and Gordon the chief he was now. There were still a few openings in the wall, but not many, and they weren’t very big.

“
Guess I’d better start doing your snooping.” Solomon gave a mock salute and marched away.

By now, it was almost lunchtime. He might as well delay his break until 2 when the security system at Daily Bread was being installed. There
’d be that lull between the lunch and dinner crowds. No, he thought. Although Angie had told him he was welcome to be there, he had a feeling this was one of those
woman
things, where they said something but expected you to know they meant something entirely different. At least he hoped it was. Angie had agreed to the installation in her apartment, and he’d let her deal with it directly.

Between the vending machine in the break room and his emergency stash, he found food enough to tide him over until dinner. As he munched a Power Bar, he went through all of Gaubatz
’s reports for the last week. Innocuous enough. Straightforward, lots of copspeak, but he hadn’t come down on any officers other than Jost. He buzzed Laurie and asked for the sergeant’s personnel jacket. Maybe there was a clue in there.

Laurie brought the folder, obviously curious, but didn
’t say anything. Although she had a finger on the pulse of the department, as his admin, people tended to be careful what they said around her. Asking for Gaubatz’s jacket probably tuned in her radar. If she heard anything, she’d let him know. Which, of course, was why people didn’t say much around her.

Gordon went through the file. Most of it was familiar, and the parts that weren
’t had no bearing on Gaubatz’s treatment of Jost. He set it aside. After he heard from Solomon, he’d talk to Gaubatz, and then see what he’d have to do.

Damn, he didn
’t like this part of the job. No matter what he’d do, someone would be unhappy.

But it beat budget spreadsheets, which was next on his to-do list. Shoving his puzzles aside, Gordon clicked open the budget files. At least he could
see
the spreadsheets now. His right eye wasn’t fully recovered from the CSR, but the difference was significant.

Jost
’s visit remained in Gordon’s thoughts, and he looked to see if he could expand the department’s family perks. Non-sworn female support staff had respectable maternity benefits. Sworn officers, not so much, and there was hardly anything allowed in the way of paternity leave. Gordon switched to the scheduling spreadsheets. Could he give Jost light duty for a couple of weeks? Give him more time at home with the new baby without jeopardizing his pay?

He sighed. Back to the budget. Without more money coming in, there was no way to add anything new without subtracting something already there. Everyone was overworked and underpaid. The city wanted bells and whistles for almost everything except the people who were protecting them. But Gordon refused to have his officers spend all their time watching parking meters expire, or ticket people going five miles over the speed limit.

His private line rang.
Angie
. Shit, how did it get to be four o’clock? He picked up.

“
You avoiding me?” Angie asked. “No coffee break, no lunch. And you didn’t supervise the security installation.”

“
Things got busy. How did the installation go? Everything set up the way you wanted?”

“
Yeah, we’ve got alarms and cameras up the wazoo downstairs, and I can watch from my place, too. Plus, new locks on the front and back doors. You want to come over later, see if it meets your standards? And I can give you a key.” She lowered her voice to pure seduction. “And the security code and password.”

He dropped his voice to a near-whisper.
“And I’ll give you the code for that present you gave me.”

“
Mmm. Sounds like a fair exchange,” she said. “Want me to fix you dinner?”

“
No need. I want to touch base with Mick Finnegan, so I’ll grab something there.”

“
Don’t eat dessert,” Angie said. “And try not to be too late.”

Gordon promised to try to get there around seven—how was that for vague?—and got to work. Grants. That was the only way he was going to get more money. A grant would not only get the department something it needed, like computers in vehicles, but it would free up the money they
’d been setting aside to pay for them.

He was on page eight of an application when Solomon popped in. Gordon rubbed his eyes.
“Aren’t you supposed to be home with your wife and kids?” Gordon asked. “Don’t you have a dog to feed?”

“
I thought you wanted me to keep you informed,” Solomon said, once again settling into the visitor’s chair as if it belonged to him. “I got some interesting hits from ViCAP.”

Gordon made sure he hit
“Save”—twice—before asking Solomon to fill him in.

“
Now, I’m not sure it’s relevant,” Solomon began, “but I fed in data from that pickup truck homicide. Checked into other sniper-like killings. Kept it loose, which meant I got way too many cases, but I started narrowing them down. Drivers, then pickup truck drivers—anything I could think of. But then I thought, why not look at the victims rather than the method of killing?”

Gordon checked the time—something he seemed to do a lot when Solomon was regaling him with his far-fetched notions of catching serial killers or finding mob members hiding out in Mapleton.
“And your point?”

Solomon tugged his ear.
“I’m not sure I have one—yet—but I’ve found a whole bunch of unsolveds where the victim was very much like our pickup driver.” He tossed a file folder on Gordon’s desk.

Gordon left the file where it was.
“He’s not
our
pickup driver. The accident wasn’t even in our county, remember. State Patrol is in charge.”

“
Yeah, I know. But I thought it was a different approach. Did you know that in the last three years, there have been thirteen possible homicides involving deadbeat husbands?”

“
Guess it depends on your definition of deadbeat,” Gordon said. “You think you’ve got a killer sniping at deadbeats?”

“
Not all of them were snipers. Three were killed with rifles. One of those looked like a hunting accident. Four with handguns, five might have been poisoned, one drowning.”

“
And you think they’re related? Why? What do you have to connect them other than the victims were deadbeats?” As crazy ideas went, this had to be Solomon’s craziest.

Solomon shrugged.
“I don’t know … not much. But what if there are people out there who think deadbeats should be done away with?”

“
I’m sure there are. But they don’t up and kill them. Are you trying to pin these down to a serial killer? Serial killers generally use the same method. You’ve got everything from shooting to poisoning. And from what you’ve said, many of the deaths looked like accidents.”

“
Yeah, but you know a lot of killers try to make their work look like anything but a homicide.”

“
I thought serial killers targeted people of the same sex, age, type. Did you get that much at least?” Gordon asked.

“
Well, all the victims were male, all had more than one ex-wife, and they were all between thirty and fifty.”

“
All white, like the pickup victim?”

“
No. Three African-American, two Latinos. The rest white.”

“
I don’t think it’ll fly. The pickup driver was also involved in a DUI and a suspect in a hit and run. Any of those could be a commonality instead of the deadbeat angle. No, you’ve got too many variables.” Gordon smiled. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be content with catching an ATM scammer.”

“
Yeah, it seemed like a good theory when I thought of it. But saying it out loud—not so much.” He snorted. “But wouldn’t it be cool if there was some sort of assassination ring and we figured it out?”

“
Frankly, I’d be happier if we could get computers for our units. Or better salaries for our staff, with better benefits. Don’t suppose you had time to check into the Gaubatz-Jost friction.”

“
Yeah, I did. But it’s not nearly as exciting.”

“
Gotta be more exciting than grant proposals.” Gordon put on his readers and grabbed a notepad. “What did you find out? Just the facts, please.”

“
Can’t be sure this is the trigger, but it fits. Four years ago, Gaubatz’s daughter had a baby. High risk pregnancy. It only lived three days. Last night would have been its birthday. And because of the complications, the daughter couldn’t have another kid. She’s Gaubatz’s only child. His one shot at grandparentage, as it were. My theory is that he resents Jost for having a baby that’s reminding him of what happened. A few months ago, or a few months from now, it wouldn’t have pushed Gaubatz’s buttons. I also think it’ll blow over, but that’s based on what I know from working with him.”

Gordon rolled that around for a bit.
“Could be. Going through an emotional time, jumped on the first target. And, knowing Gaubatz, he wasn’t going to back down and apologize once he’d taken a stand. I’ll talk to him.” Although he’d done it at least three times as he worked, because he didn’t trust the system, he hit “Save” once more on his grant proposal before shutting down his computer. He didn’t want to have to redo what progress he’d made when he came in tomorrow.

“
No more serial killer fantasies, okay, Solomon? Go home and kick back. If you do feel obligated to investigate something, we could use a lead on the burglary. I know it’s not as exciting as a serial killer, but it’s
our
case, and one we should be solving. Unless you want an off-duty beer at Finnegan’s.”

“
Nah, but thanks. You’re right.” Solomon checked his watch. “I should get home. Kids’ll be home from basketball practice by now.”

Gordon glanced at the file folder Solomon had left him. Printouts of case summaries. Shaking his head, Gordon shoved the folder into his inbox, then locked up and headed to Finnegan
’s, where he might be able to find something that actually pertained to a Mapleton investigation.

He cruised the parking lot first, checking for Ford Focuses and Subaru SUVs. None of the former, three of the latter. He called in the plates. Although why would anyone who
’d committed a burglary hang around? Unless the
had a thing for Angie
hypothesis held true. That could be pushing into stalker territory. While Gordon definitely didn’t wish a stalker on anyone, if someone was lurking, that could make him easier to catch.

He went inside, nodded to the men he knew at the bar. Leaving a few seats between them and himself, he sat and ordered a beer. The radio streamed country music, the air streamed the smell of beer and grease. Mick set the bottle and a glass in front of Gordon.
“You here to be sociable or are you working?”

“
Mostly unwinding.” But since he was looking for information, Gordon ordered a plate of Mick’s special wings. Never hurt to grease the skids. Besides, Mick’s wings were phenomenal.

Mick called in the order and stood in front of Gordon, washing glasses.
“So, what’s the working part?”

Gordon took a swig of his beer.
“Solomon said you remembered Avery Lambert coming in. He a regular?”

“
Wouldn’t call him that.” Mick set the clean glasses on the shelf. “Of course, there’s regular, and then there’s
regular
. Here’s the Finnegan’s rule of thumb. Once a month could be considered regular, but it wouldn’t make my list. Top of my list would be every day, or five nights a week. Next step down, three nights. Once a week is still on the list, more so if it’s the same night.” He dried his hands. “So, to answer your question, no, Avery Lambert is an occasional drop in.” Mick smiled. “Of course he still gets the exceptional Finnegan’s service, and if he’s consistent in his orders, I’ll know what he drinks, but he’s still new. His status could change. I’d give it a few more months.”

Mick and Solomon could be brothers separated at birth when it came to talking.

Gordon used the mirror above the bar to check out the rest of the room. Still early, things were quiet. He recognized most of the customers, although he couldn’t put names to all of them. Men in twos and threes sat at tables. A few male-female couples. No women sitting alone, which was the norm here. If women came in without men, it tended to be in groups of two or more. Then again, women tended to do a lot of things in groups, down to restroom visits. Gordon had never figured that one out.

In the far corner, a solitary man sat hunched over a beer, his face obscured by a Stetson pulled low over his forehead. Brown Carhartt jacket open over a plaid shirt. Dressed like over half the Colorado population. Full beard reddish-brown, with a moustache to match. With his head tilted downward, Gordon couldn
’t estimate his age. But if the man was hiding, he’d have taken a seat facing the back of the room.

“
The guy in the cowboy hat,” Gordon said. “He been here before?”

“
Can’t say that I recall,” Mick said. “But if we were busy, or if I was off, it’s possible. Someone else might know. Want me to ask?”

“
Not now,” Gordon said. “Has he been in here long?”

“
On his second Fat Tire. Running a tab, so he might be here a bit longer. I can have Clarice chat him up if you want. You think he’s trouble?”

“
I’m curious. You’ll make sure he’s not impaired before you let him drive away, of course.”

“
Of course.” Mick looked almost hurt that Gordon would bring it up.

“
You wouldn’t happen to know what he drives, would you?”

“
No, can’t see much of the parking lot from here. You asking to look at our video?”

Gordon figured it couldn
’t hurt. “You offering?”

“
How much do you want to see?”

“
From when that guy arrived?”

Mick tucked the towel into the waist of his apron.
“I’ll set it up.”

Mick disappeared into the back, and Clarice, one of the wait staff
, who also happened to be Mick’s sister-in-law, came from the kitchen carrying a cheeseburger platter. Gordon watched her set it in front of Carhartt Cowboy. Although he couldn’t hear what she said, he assumed it was the usual, “Can I get you anything else?” spiel, in an attempt, perhaps, to start a conversation. The man shook his head and took another sip of his beer before squirting ketchup onto his fries. Clarice hung there for a couple seconds, but it was clear the man wasn’t going to talk.

And there
’s nothing wrong with someone wanting a burger and a beer without engaging in conversation.

Clarice stopped by Gordon
’s stool. “He’s a quiet one. I can bring your wings into Mick’s office if you want to eat and watch.”

Gordon took a healthy swig of his beer and set the glass down.
“That would be fine.” He wandered to the end of the bar, hung a right, and into Mick’s office.

“
I’ve got it set up so you can see both cameras—parking lot and entrance. It’s cued to an hour ago,” Mick said. “I don’t think the guy’s been here that long.”

Gordon started with the parking lot. He pushed play, fast-forwarding through frames of nothing happening, pausing whenever a new car came into view. The camera didn
’t pick up the entire lot, but it caught people crossing to the walkway leading to the street.

One of the Subarus appeared shortly into the video. A mom and two kids got out. Not likely suspects. Gordon fast-forwarded again. A few pickups, a handful of SUVs—probably the most common vehicle type around here—a sedan or two. Finnegan
’s wasn’t the only place serviced by this lot, which meant Gordon couldn’t assume they were going to the pub. A Subaru SUV appeared. Gordon hit the pause button.

A man, alone, but not Carhartt Cowboy. Gordon watched him lock his car and stride toward the walkway. He wore a Broncos blue-and-orange parka and matching
knit cap. Gordon pegged him as one of the men he’d seen sitting at a group table. He never saw the third Subaru appear. He assumed it was out of range of the cameras. Had the driver known the placement of the cameras? Or had he simply taken any available space?

Clarice brought his wings. Gordon switched to the entry camera before diving in to the greasy, spicy, sauce-covered bits of heaven. He dipped a wing into the sauce, eating with one hand so he could use the other to control the video.

There!
Damn. Carhartt Cowboy entered through the front door, stopped, stomped his feet, and wiped them on the mat inside the door. Scuffed, muddy cowboy boots. Gordon got a quick glimpse of his face. Round, full cheeks. Bulbous nose above the moustache. The man tugged the brim of his hat down, rubbed his hands together, took off the gloves he was wearing and shoved them in his coat pockets. He must have parked on the street somewhere. No telling what he drove. Gordon didn’t think he could convince the Town Council to spring for CCTV cameras all over town. Not that he wanted them. But every now and then, it would be handy to know who was where, and when.

He finished the wing he was working on and went out the back exit from Mick
’s office, then hurried around the building to the street. The wide-angle lens showed enough to know that Carhartt Cowboy had approached from the left. Gordon scanned both sides of the street for Subarus and Ford Focuses.

Nothing on this block. No empty slots, so it
’s possible someone parked further up the street, but why, given a parking lot behind the buildings? Even if Carhartt belonged to the Subaru parked out of camera range, Gordon should have seen him walking across the lot to the walkway.

Gordon retraced his steps, and knocked on Finnegan
’s office door. Mick let him in. “Find what you needed?”

What Gordon had found were things that made his hairs prickle.
“Not exactly,” he said. “Is he still here?”

“
Yep. So far, he’s still on his second beer and eating a cheeseburger.” Mick grinned. “No onions, if that’s a clue. Unless he skips without paying, he’s like most of the folks passing through. We get guys like him all the time. Should I be looking for something? Shifty eyes? Furtive behavior?”

“
Nah. But if anyone joins him, let me know. And if he pays by credit card, a peek at the receipt wouldn’t hurt.”

“
Always willing to help our local police,” Mick said.

Gordon
’s phone sounded the siren ringtone that meant Dispatch was calling. “Hepler. You have something on those plates?”