M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

Jim was studying the mess and thinking out loud, “This is no ordinary burglary. Whoever did this was really angry or crazy—maybe both. Andy, could they have been looking for something? Maybe-maybe something that they thought belonged to Kelshaw?”

Andrew nodded… “That would be my guess and when they didn’t find it here, they went nuts and…” his sentence went unfinished.

Simultaneously, they said “Charlene!”

Jim said, “Come on, I think we should take a ride in my car.”

“Good idea!” Andrew agreed.

As they pulled up in front of the bungalow, Andrew spotted a dark sedan parked in front with two men inside. He said excitedly, “Look at that…someone is-”

“Stay cool,” Jim interrupted him. “That’s some of our guys,” He slowed the car and pulled along side. Telling Andy to lower his window, he called across to the driver of the unmarked sedan, “Everything under control?”

“All’s quiet,” the driver answered. “Ms. Thayer was still up when we got here. We didn’t make a big deal out of it, but she seemed glad we were here.”

“Okay, thanks,” Jim told them. He could see the relief on Andrew’s face.

“When did you decide to do that?” Andrew asked as they drove toward downtown Seattle.

“About the time I got your call—as I said there are still some big pieces of the puzzle missing, even with Tanner and Schultz out of the game. I wanted to be sure we had our bases covered. I figured you’d feel better if you knew that.”

“Thanks, Jim, I do feel better.”

It was late Sunday night and Monte was traveling Interstate 5 leaving the lights of Seattle behind. His destination at first would be California; he hadn’t thought beyond just getting away from Seattle before he had to report to Ramsey on Monday.

He hadn’t found anything that belonged to Kelshaw in Kincaid’s apartment and he needed to put as much distance between himself and Lyle Ramsey as possible, not to mention the Seattle Police Department.

He smiled to himself when he thought about Kincaid’s apartment. “He thinks he’s so damned smart,” he sneered. “I’d like to have seen his face when he got home. Surprise, Mr. Smart Guy! Ha, ha, the joke’s on you!” he laughed.

He thought about his wife, Dora, but decided she would do all right, she could always move in with her sister…, she would be okay. He patted the briefcase where he had stashed the money. He had the hundred thousand plus most of the thirty thousand from Jake and Leo. Dora would get help from the Department. He felt a twinge of guilt about taking all the cash and not even saying goodbye, but if she knew about Ramsey she would understand that he needed all the money to get away.

The traffic was moderately heavy on I-5 for a Sunday night and that made Monte nervous; it would be difficult for him to spot a tail.

But why would anyone be tailing him? He didn’t have to report to Ramsey until tomorrow and by that time he would be long gone. All the same he decided to exit at South Center and connect with the West Valley Highway that wound South through the Kent Valley.

That way he could keep an eye on the rear view mirror for anything suspicious.

Soon he was on the two lane highway and it was dark. Once he caught a glimpse of car lights behind him and he turned off on Russell Road that followed the Green River.

Once again he was alone. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle, “I don’t get a good feeling about this,” he told himself. “Maybe I should have stayed on the freeway. I’ll pick it up again this side of Tacoma as soon as I can.”

Suddenly there were car lights in his rear view mirror coming up fast. He could see flashing lights and he identified it as a police car; for a minute he panicked, but the car passed him and disappeared around a curve. He breathed a sigh of relief as he slowed down. The road was now paralleling the Green River on one side in a series of curves. Monte began humming to himself, soon he would be away and Ramsey would never find him—and if he could arrange to get out of the country, neither would the Seattle Police Department.

He rounded a curve in the road and hit his brakes. The police cruiser was parked crosswise in the road… a roadblock. “Damn it,” he swore. “Oh well, they should let me through.” He would flash his badge. “No one should be looking for me—not yet.” It was too soon. Still he preferred not to identify himself if he could help it. He couldn’t avoid the road block. He pulled over carefully onto the narrow shoulder. A low guard rail was all that prevented a car that got too close to the edge, from plunging down an embankment into the river. He needed to think.

Looking ahead at the police car Monte saw a man dressed in dark clothing outside leaning against the cruiser… then he caught the glint of a gun barrel pointed at him. “What the..?” This was the end of the road. Glass shattered, Monte’s head snapped back as the bullet entered his brain… his last word was incomplete, “Rams..!”

The police car pushed Monte’s car through the rail and down the embankment where it landed partially hidden, the front end in the river.

Monday, September 22, 1980

8:00 AM

When Jim arrived at the Department on Monday, there was an urgent message to call Carl Cramer in Property. He was about to place the call to Carl when another call came through from Len Phillips at Labor and Industries.

“Savalza” Jim answered quickly.

“Detective Jim Savalza? This is Len Phillips from Labor and Industries, I don’t know if you remember me, but we met a couple of years ago on an investigation of an accident on a bridge construction project.”

Jim thought a moment. “Oh yes, Len I do remember.”

“Are you still with homicide?” Len asked.

“Still here,” Jim told him. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Len explained, “On Friday I had a little run-in with a member of your department—a detective Monte Maxwell, know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.” Jim sighed, Monte again!

“Well, Maxwell told me he was heading up the investigation on the fatalities that occurred at the Rainier Tower, the two window washers that fell. We had a disagreement about how the cables on the scaffolding gave out. Maxwell insisted that the cables were worn and gave out as a result of fatigue. I, on the other hand, believe they were tampered with; in fact it is obvious that they have been cut in some fashion. Maxwell said that he was writing this up as an accident in his report to your Department Head; says the Captain will back him up.”

“I don’t see how I can be of help to you, Len; Detective Maxwell doesn’t work for me.”

“Look, Detective Savalza, I don’t want to put you on the spot, but I just want a second opinion. There’s something fishy going on—I can feel it. The wires in those cables had some help to come apart, and it should be obvious to Maxwell too. I’m asking you to come down to the warehouse and give me your opinion. We’ve impounded the scaffolding and, of course, our lab will x-ray the cables for fatigue. But if there is some doubt, I would appreciate anything you might be able to do before this turns into a bad situation between our departments.”

“Okay, Len, I have a couple of calls to take care of here and then I’ll come down. Where are you going to be?”

“I’m here at the State warehouse in Georgetown. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes, I’ve been there a couple of times… see you in an hour or so.”

Next, Jim called Carl in Property.

“Hey, Jim, something has me worried and I need to talk to somebody I can trust,” Carl said. “Can you stop by Property as soon as possible?”