A Predetermined Course Of Events - Robert F. Clifton (phonics readers TXT) 📗

the stench Wallace called out, “Tillman Johnson!”

A toilet flushed then a man answered, “Who wants me?”

“Captain Wallace, Nautilus Beach Police.”

Tillman Johnson walked to the restroom door and standing before the two detectives said, “Yes sir, I'm Tillman Johnson”

“Mr. Johnson, I'm Captain Wallace. This is Sergeant O'Neil. We're with the Nautilus Beach Police we would like to ask you a few questions.”

“What about?” asked Johnson.

“We have information that you own a nineteen sixty eight Buick. Is that right?”

“Yes sir.”

“We would like to take a look at it.”

“Fine, but if this is about the accident and me not havin

insurance then I want you to know that I already got me a ticket for that.”

“No, Mr. Johnson that's what this is all about. Can we see your automobile sir?”

“Sure. It's out back behind the bar. Keep in mind that

I was in an accident and the front end is damaged.”

“How did the accident happen?”, asked O'Neil.

“Took my eyes off of the road and ran into the ass end of a Fed X truck.”

“When did this happen?,” asked Wallace.

“Two weeks ago, November the thirtieth.”

Wallace looked at O'Neil and shook his head. “You did say that the accident was investigated by our police department didn't you?”

“I said the man who investigated gave me a ticket for not having insurance.”

“Alright. Since we're here let's take a look at you car,” said Wallace.

The three men walked outside into the bright morning sunshine. After leaving the darkened barroom the sunlight hurt Wallace's eyes and he reached inside his blazer pocket and took his sunglasses out and placed them over his eyes.

Arriving in the rear yard of the bar Wallace watched as O'Neil knelt down and looked at right front wheel and tire of Tillman Johnson's Buick. He stood and said to Wallace, “This tire is a Bridgestone, not what we want.”

Wallace offered his hand and said, “Thank you for your co-operation Mr. Johnson. You have been very helpful.” After leaving Johnson and the Aristocrat Bar both men returned to headquarters.

“Well, how did it go?,” asked Woodson when the two investigators walked into the office.

“Zero, we struck out. It was the wrong make of the tire and the damage was done a couple of weeks ago,” Wallace answered.

“Now what?,” asked McKenzie.

“We keep digging,” said O'Neil.

“Well, I might have something. While you were out I got word that there is an abandoned Chevrolet on Fillmore Place. Not only was it abandoned but whoever ditched it set it on fire. The question is why was it torched? The city tows hundreds of abandoned vehicles every year. Yet, this automobile was burnt and left. Again why?,” asked Sergeant Woodson.

“I don't know. Take McKenzie and check it out,”said Wallace.

Twenty five minutes later Tom McKenzie parked the unmarked police car on Fillmore Place and across from where the burnt vehicle had been left on a vacant lot. “You're right Sarge. Whoever left this car here wanted to destroy it but why?”

“I don't know. The word is someone in the neighborhood was out here at about two AM saw the flames and pulled the fire alarm at the box on the corner. After the fire was extinguished the fire chief determined that the fire was set deliberately. Gasoline was used. Whoever did it took the container with them.”

“Alright, let's see what we can find,” said Tom.

McKenzie walked to the back of the Chevrolet, looked at and examined the rear of the car and said. “The rear license plate is missing.”

“So, is the front plate”, said Woodson.

“Let me take a look at the front tires,” said McKenzie as he walked towards Woodson.

“Fine. While you're doing that I'll look for the Vin number. Let's hope they forgot to remove or destroy it.”

Tom McKenzie knelt down on one knee and carefully examined first the right front tire and then the left front tire.

“Bingo!”, he said.

“Did you find something?”, asked Wood son.

“Yeah, a Firestone tire matching the description of the plaster cast made by Forensics. I'll call for a photographer to come out and photograph this.”

“While you're at it call the police garage and have then come out and remove the wheel with the tire. After photo's are taken we'll take the wheel and tire in as evidence,” said Woodson. “By the way, whoever abandoned this car made two mistakes, the tire which didn't burn and they left the Vin number. It's CHMBB 7083WD114221,” said the Sargent.

“Well, it should be easy to run the vin number and see who either owns it or has owned it,” said Tom.

Back at headquarters Woodson reported to Captain Wallace what they had found. “Excellent. It's about time we came up with something in this investigation. Both of you write and submit your reports and follow up with the photographs and the evidence number for the wheel and tire,” Wallace ordered.

The next afternoon Wallace parked the unmarked automobile assigned to him in Row B in the parking lot for the

Neptune Mall. He then sat patiently waiting for Bubba Stokes.

Fifteen minutes later Bubba pulled into the parking lot and after entering Row B parked his car and after shutting off the engine rolled down the driver said window. Wallace rolled down his window also.

“ Seems to me you owe me some scratch,” said Bubba.

“How do you figure that?”

“Word be you found the car.”

“If I did it wasn't the one you offered up.”

“ How do I know that?”

“ Because I said so.”

“Don't mean a damn thing.”

“ Look at it this way the car and guy you gave me was in an accident weeks after the murder occurred and the tire didn't match Therefore it wasn't the car at the crime scene.”

“ I want my money.”

“You get paid when you produce. So far you're running on empty.”

“Suppose I quit.”

“You can't.”

“The hell you say.”

“First of all you're too lazy to work. Instead you work the street picking up dribs and drabs of information then you try and sell that information to me and other police departments including the State Police. I wouldn't be surprised if you're also and informant for the F.B.I. However, that's

Immaterial. You see I've got you by the balls Bubba. Anytime you try to shake me down like right now or intimidate me I'll just put the word out on the street that you're a police informant. Guess what happens to you then in the hood?

No, you won't quit. It will be me that cuts you loose if and when I'm ready. Now, knock off the bullshit, get off of your ass and go and find information I can use.” Wallace rolled up the car window, started the engine and drove away. Five minutes later Wallace received a radio transmission telling him to see the Chief of Police immediately. Twenty minutes later Captain Wallace walked into the office of Chief Of Police, David Shields.

Wallace took a seat infront of the desk where Shields sat. “Welcome back. I hope you had a nice vacation,” Wallace said.

“It wasn't long enough. As soon as I returned I've been met with a delegation of people from the Black community wanting to know how much progress we're making in the Ethel Lamb homicide. They also want to know when we will make an arrest. Guess what? So so I,” Shields replied.

“ Well, as for progress we have some evidence. Not much mind you but still it's evidence.”

“Such as?”

“Latent prints, a hair sample, tire imprint at the crime scene and a small lead on a potential suspect with the name El or with a name beginning with L.”

“That's it?”

“Yes sir.”

“ That's not much.”

“I agree.”

“Alright stay on it. Do what you need to do as far as expenses go but try to keep it reasonable.”

“No problem.”

“By the way how is Sergeant Woodson working out?”

“She might have found the suspects car and the tire that matches the cast that was made at the crime scene. We're waiting for information she obtained from the vin number.”

“Good. Still, she's needed in Juvenile so hurry up, solve this case so I can send her back there and at the same time get the people of the community off of my back. I expect results and soon.”

“Yes sir.”

Upon reaching his office Wallace said, “Good you're all here so listen up. The Chief is on my ass expecting results. The more he becomes a sore ass to me the more I'll be climbing on yours. So, we're going to double down and get results.”

“I think we're doing the best we can under the circumstances,” said McKenzie.

“Is that right? Then give me the results of the fingerprints found on the murder weapon. Give me the results of the pubic hair found on the victim. And, while we're at it give me the results of the vin number found on the suspect vehicle.”

“In all fairness Captain when it comes to the hair and vin number we're dealing with the State of New Jersey which at this time is short of help due to the Christmas Holiday.

As for the latent prints we already know that no agency has a match so far,” said O'Neil.

“Carol comes back from vacation tomorrow. Sergeant Woodson. Myers will be assigned to you. I want the both of you to go into Ethel Lambs neighborhood and question the girls and young women there. See if anyone has made any advances to them. If so try and get a description of whoever approached them. Bill you and Tom go back to the mission and the city dump. Keep asking questions there. You might come up with something. Who knows?”

The next morning Edwina Woodson drove the unmarked police vehicle as she did she began a conversation with Detective Carol Myers. “So, where did you go on your vacation?” asked Woodson.

“Aruba”.

“Well by the looks of you you must have spent some time on the beach. You have a beautiful tan.”

“ I did actually. Most evenings I was in the casino.”

“Did you win?”

“No. Does anyone?”

“As I recall you were with Captain Wallace the day he was shot.”

“Yes I was.”

“How did that go down?”

“We were after a killer name Lionel Horton.

He was a crazed killer. We found him in Garwood Village. He decided to resist arrest rather than surrender. As a result he shot Captain Wallace twice. Once in the hip the other shot was into his abdomen.”

“Is that why he walks with a slight limp?”

“Yes, the bullet took off some of his hip bone.”

“Interesting. What happened to Horton?”

“I shot and killed him,” Myers answered.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

All The Pretty Girls

 

Sergeant Woodson drove down the sun-lighted Ocean Avenue, the main street of Nautilus Beach. The temperature was forty degrees. At ten o'clock in the morning many people were out shopping. The Salvation Army volunteers were out in force standing behind their red kettles and ringing bells they held in their hands and as usual most people passing by ignored them.

“Where are we going?,” asked Myers.

“The high school. I figure it would be the best place to start, considering Ethel Lamb was a teenager. There, if we get permission we can interview girls in home economics and gym classes. That way the girls will be all together.”

“Sounds good Sergeant.”

Twenty minutes later the two investigators sat in the office of the principal of Nautilus Beach High School, one Mr.

William Fedor. Looking at the two detectives he said, “So, as I understand it you want to enter the classes where only female students are attending,”

“That's correct. Right now we are looking for teenage girls that might have been approached or accosted and

if so hopefully they can give us a description of anyone who might have done so,” said Woodson.

“I see but you see this is very unusual. The thought of interrupting classes just for enabling the police to ascertain information or witnesses is not only out of the ordinary but I would say against the rules and regulations of the Board Of Education,” said Fedor.

“That may be Mr. Fedor. However, while you consider the rules of the Board of Education consider this.

Right now there is a killer in all probability walking the streets