Blood Brook by Robert F. Clifton (classic romance novels .TXT) 📖

what we have is the weapon until laboratory test can confirm it”, Wallace replied.

Stiles came walking back and went to the rear of the unmarked radio car. Opening the trunk with a spare pair of keys he removed a Stilson wrench, closed the trunk lid and walked back to the front door of the house. The other three men followed him. They stood and watched as Stiles adjusted the jaws of the wrench until it fit snugly over the imitation brass door knob. Then, with a twist the inexpensive interior of the lock gave way. Stiles then opened the door.

Once inside Mitchell and Moyer became mere spectators. The search and the warrant was to be executed by Captain Wallace. Mitchell and Moyer were present due to protocol and nothing more.

Volpe's home was small, but neat. It was a typical ranch type, one bedroom house. Stiles went into the bedroom. Wallace started in the kitchen. The first thing he noticed was the clean dishes stacked to dry in the wire dish drainer next to the sink. He saw the calendar hanging from a nail in the wall. He carefully removed it, looked at the present month, November and since there was nothing marked, he turned the pages back, starting with January, 1978. As he looked at each month he found what he was looking for, handwritten notes. For the month of February he found, dentist appointment written on February 9. He slowly

turned the pages. Written on March 26, Wallace found, easter, put flowers on graves. Wallace carried the calender into the living room. Seeing a small, triangular desk in one corner of the room he went to it then stood examining it with his eyes. He saw the pigeon holes that held papers and envelopes, a used large, green desk blotter with handwriting that appeared to have been done in ink. There was also, a telephone.

Wallace took a seat on the metal folding chair that had been placed in front of the desk. He then began emptying the pigeon holes, examining each paper or document. Most of what he found were bills, some paid some still requesting payment. What he found particularly interesting was a neat stack of paid telephone bills. Wallace removed one bill from the Bell Telephone envelope unfolded it and read the time, date, length of the calls made along with the numbers called. He took the complete stack.

Stiles came back into the living room. “Find anything?”, asked Wallace.

“I noticed an empty space in the clothes closet as if things had been taken off of the hangers”, Stiles replied.

“Bentley said that Volpe had called in sick. I think he's beginning to feel the heat. He's taken off”, Wallace suggested.

“Could be. Did you find anything Cap?”

“Enough. I have the samples we needed and some other things I want to look into. I also want this folding chair”.

“What for?”

“Volpe's fingerprints have to be all over it”.

Back at headquarters Wallace called Floyd Wilkerson who was with Bell Telephone Security. “Wally? Haven't heard from you in quite a spell. You must need something”. Said Floyd.

“I sure do. I have about a dozen telephone number I would like you to put with the correct names and addresses”, Wallace replied.

“Only a dozen? You're slipping. Alright that small amount I can take over the telephone. Let me have them”.

Wallace then slowly, so as to not make a mistake gave Wilkerson all of the telephone numbers called from Volpe's home telephone.

“ OK Wally, give me a couple of days and I'll get back to you”.

“Thanks Floyd, I really appreciate it”.

He no sooner hung up his telephone when it rang. He saw that it was an inside line so he pushed the blinking button and said, “Captain Wallace”.

“Captain, June Campo. I found two different sets of fingerprints on that tool you gave me. One set belongs to Abraham Volpe. We know that because they match those we found on the folding chair. The other set that we found we ran through our and the States system. They match and come back as belonging to Marcus Schiller”.

“Schiller? He's a small time punk, petty thief and heroin junky”.

“I don't know what he is, but his prints were on the tool”.

“Thanks June. Anything else?”

“Yes, the strands of hair found on the tool matches those that Detective Myers found on the two hairbrushes, one belonging to Shoemaker and the other to Timberlake”.

“It appears as though you might be on the witness stand for a long time”.

“Don't I know it”.

At ten o'clock the next morning Wallace received a telephone call from Floyd Wilkerson. “Wally, I have the information you wanted from the telephone numbers you gave me”, said Floyd.

“Hey, that's what I call, fast work”.

“Just remember that you owe me”.

“How much?”

“Nothing I was only kidding”.

“How about we meet for lunch today? You bring the information and I pick up the check”.

“You know you don't have to do that”.

“I know, but I like to sit down for a nice lunch once in a while instead of eating a greasy sandwich washed down with lukewarm coffee”.

“ Well, if you insist. Where should we meet?”

“As I recall you like a martini lunch”.

“Wrong, I like a martini before lunch”.

“OK, how about lunch at the Beachcomber?”

“Sounds good. What time. How about one? That way most of the lunch crowd will be gone and it will quiet enough for us to talk.”

“See you then”.

At twelve forty five PM Wallace saw Floyd Wilkerson seated at the bar in the Beachcomber Restaurant. Wilkerson picked up his drink and followed Wallace to a booth near the sidewalk side windows. When they were seated a waitress arrived, placed two menus on the table and asked Wallace if he would like a drink. He ordered a cup of coffee.

“So, here's your list of numbers and names”, said Wilkerson.

“Thanks again. How's business?”

“Most of my cases deal with coin theft from telephone booths”, said Floyd.

“Kids?”, asked Wallace.

“Kids, homeless, junkies, who knows? They do more damage to the equipment then what they get from the coin box”.

“It doesn't sound too exciting to me”.

“Believe me it isn't”.

“Are you ever sorry you left the police department?”

“Not really, particularly on cold winter nights. I remember walking the boardwalk beat midnight to eight in the morning, freezing my ass off. The sad thing is I was the only one out there. Even the thief's were smart enough to stay home in bed where it was nice and warm”.

Wallace laughed, “You got that right. Well, you got a nice, respectable position with the telephone company. The question is are you happy there”.

“Happy yes, bored, definitely yes”.

The waitress returned, took their lunch order and over corn

beef sandwiches the two men talked of the old days when they were patrolmen together.

Back at headquarters Wallace sat at his desk and read the information Floyd Wilkerson had given him. One thing stood out immediately, the number of calls made to the telephone registered to Marcus Schiller from Abraham Volpe. Wallace asked Frank Stiles to come into his office. When Stiles entered the Captain pointed t a chair. “Have a seat, this won't be long”, he said.

“What's up?”

“I want you and McKenna to pick up Marcus Schiller. He's usually in one of two places. At home in Garwood Village shooting up or at the clinic taking methadon. Pick him up and bring him in”.

“No problem, what's the charge?”

“The murder of Greta Shoemaker and Dorothy Timberlake”.

“Got it. Anything else?”

“No. While you two are doing that I'll talk to Gallagher. I need his co-operation for what I have in mind”.

“See you when we get back”, said Stiles leaving the office.

Wallace then dialed the number of the prosecutors office. This time he was lucky and Gallagher answered his call. “Captain? What can I do for you?”

“I thought you would like to know that we are about to make an arrest in the Shoemaker and Timberlake cases”.

“Excellent. Who are you arresting?'

“A small time thief and junkie. His name is Marcus Schiller”.

“Do you have enough evidence?”

“Enough for probable cause. His fingerprints are on the murder weapon”.

“Well, thanks for notifying me”.

“Wait, there's more”.

“What is it?”

“I want you to convince the court that Schiller is a flight risk. Either request no bail or bail high enough that it will be impossible for Schiller to raise it”

“I can do that. However, how do I convince the judge that the man is a flight risk?”

“The other suspect in this case, Abraham Volpe has already fled. He could be anywhere. As a matter of fact I'm about to declare him a fugitive”.

“Alright, that sounds reasonable. Let me know when you have this Schiller fellow in custody”.

“I will, thank you”.

Two hours later Wallace was called down to the interrogation room. When he walked in he saw Marcus Schiller sitting at the gray painted metal table. Schiller raised his head and looked at Wallace when the Captain entered the room.

“Hello Marcus. It's been a while. By the looks of you you're back on the shit again. Only, this time I'd say your doing it heavy”.

“I haven't seen you since you headed the vice squad”, Schiller responded.

“ That was some time ago Marcus. Now, I head the Major Crime Squad”.

“So why am I here?”, asked Schiller.

“You're here because two women were murdered”.

“What's that go to do with me?”

“Because you killed them”

“Bullshit!”

“Look, I'm not going to waste time playing games with you. Right now it's all cut and dry. I'm going to charge you, warn you of your rights and then, it's up to you how you want to play it.

“I've got nothing to say”.

Wallace walked over to Schiller and said, “Let me see your arms”.

Schiller raised one arm and unbuttoned the cuff of his shit sleeve. “I'm telling you I'm not using”, he said. After rolling up the sleeve he allowed Wallace to examine the arm.

“Just as a thought, track marks”, said Wallace.

“They're old marks and you know it”.

“Is that right?” Wallace, using his two thumbs squeezed what he thought to be a recent point of injection. When he did pus seeped out of the punctured skin along with some blood. “Here's how I'm going to deal with you Marcus. I'm now charging you with the murder of Greta Shoemaker and Dorothy Timberlake. When you get ready to talk to me, send word”.

“What's my bail?”

“No bail”

“Why?”

“You're considered a flight risk”.

“I want a lawyer”.

“You'll get one, but it will probably be one appointed by the court.

That might take some time”.

“So, I just sit on my ass in jail”.

“Yep, I'm afraid so. And, since you say you're not using you won't have to worry about getting the Jones while your in there”.

“Hey, I'm on the methadon treatment”.

“Not right now. Think about it Marcus. You've been through this before. First comes the sweating, then the nausea and vomiting. After that the pain begins in your muscles. The cramps start in your arms and legs, cramps so bad you can't stand or walk and the pain moves into your bones. You can't sleep and you begin to cry. You don't know why you are crying. But at times you can't stop. You get diarrhea. You get it so bad you either shit your pants or sit on the toilet in your cell for hours hoping that it will stop. Only, it doesn’t stop. And of course there's the fever, cold chills and runny nose. And, there's no heroin, no fix and at the same time, no methadon. Alright, Sergeant Stiles will book you. When you're ready to talk to me send word”, said Wallace as he walked out of the room.

Forty eight hours later Schiller began to perspire profusely . He knew what was coming next and he didn't want to go through it again. He remembered those times when he had withdrawals. One time it was in the prison hospital. That time he was so sick he wanted to die. He needed either the heroin or the methadon. Captain Wallace was the only one who could give him relief from what he knew was coming next. He yelled for the