Michael McGarrity: Death Song

Kerney laughed. “I’ll be glad to oblige. How long do you think it will be before Culley can talk face-to-face with a lawyer?”

“With the way the roads are, I doubt anybody’s going to be willing to make the trip out here from town until late tomorrow morning. Why do you ask?”

“I’d hate to see him go into the general population if there’s a chance that his lawyer can get out here sooner rather than later.”

Larranaga raised an eyebrow. Kerney wanted Culley kept overnight in a holding cell, which came handsomely equipped with a concrete slab to sleep on, a washbasin, a crapper, and a glaringly bright ceiling light that was never turned off. It was unorthodox treatment to say the least, but certainly well deserved for a scumbag who had five murder counts against him, including two cops.

“Has Culley made his phone call?” Sid asked.

“Not yet. He’ll be processed and dressed out first.”

“Once he does make that call, I certainly wouldn’t want him to be denied quick access to legal counsel,” Sid said. “I’ll ask the shift supervisor to keep him in the holding cell until his lawyer arrives.”

“Excellent. Also, I need a search warrant to draw a blood sample from Culley, so the lab can determine whether or not he was the father of Denise Riley’s unborn child.”

“The fetus has been preserved?”

“It has.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Sal said.

“Have you made a decision on Clifford Talbott?”

“I’m ruling it a justified homicide. Kirt Latimer will cut him loose tomorrow.”

“Would you mind if I told him he’s off the hook?” Kerney asked.

“You know him personally, right?” Sid stood and stuck an arm into a coat sleeve.

“I know him casually, but he strikes me as a good man.”

“Go ahead and tell him. I’ll have Kirt give his wife a call so she can arrange to pick him up. I’d like you and all your principal investigators to meet with me in my office at eight A.M., so we can go over everything we’ve got so far.”

“That’s not a problem.”

Larranaga gave Kerney a sad shake of his head. “It’s not going to be the same without you, Kerney.”

Kerney got to his feet and slapped Larranaga on the back. “Now, don’t go and get all teary-eyed on me, Sid.”

Sid faked a sniffle and wiped away an imaginary tear. “I’ll see you in the morning, Chief.”

Kerney nodded, gathered up his paperwork, and dropped the booking forms off to the correctional officer at the intake station. Before he asked for Clifford Talbott to be brought to an interview room to meet with him, Kerney stopped by the holding cell to tell Culley that he’d be spending the night lying on a cold slab, which was exactly where he belonged.

After advising a very relieved Clifford Talbott that he would not be prosecuted for the shooting death of Brian Riley, Kerney returned to the Culley residence. During his absence, Clayton, Ramona, and Matt Chacon had executed the search warrant and called in Don Mielke, several of his S.O. investigators, and three city detectives to help collect evidence.

In the kitchen, which had been designated as the evidence collection area, Kerney looked over what had already been discovered. An empty battered briefcase with traces of soil on it, most likely from the well house, sat on the kitchen table. Next to it were a number of gold coins in clear plastic sleeves, and passports from the United Kingdom, Canada, and Belize bearing Denise Riley’s photograph and the names of Diane Plumley, Debra Stokes, and Dorothy Travis—the aliases used by Denise that had been uncovered by Claire Paley, the questioned document expert.

Kerney gave the gold coins a careful once-over. Some were Krugerrands, and according to the Brisbane P.D. coin heist case file, none of the stolen Edgerton coins had been Krugerrands. He asked the young sheriff’s investigator who’d been assigned the responsibility of receiving, logging, and guarding evidence if the Krugerrands had been found with the other coins.

The cop consulted the form on his clipboard and nodded affirmatively.

Also on the table was a Beretta over/under twenty-gauge shotgun with gold engraving and a high-grade walnut stock worth at least six to eight thousand dollars. Kerney wondered if it had been the weapon used to kill Deputy Riley.

“Have other guns been found?” he asked.

“Not yet, Chief,” the investigator said. “But that sweet Beretta twenty-gauge you’re looking at showed up as stolen from a gun heist in Montreal, Canada, over twelve years ago. Twenty-three sporting weapons and rare antique rifles were taken out of a private residence while the owners were vacationing in Mexico. Total value of the haul at the time of the burglary was 1.2 million in Canadian dollars. Major Mielke has requested a copy of the case file from the Montreal police.”

“Do we have any indication that Culley may be connected to the robbery?”

“Not yet, but Detective Chacon is working on it.”

“Well, if Culley did pull the heist, I can understand why he kept the shotgun,” Kerney said. “It’s a beauty. Is there any evidence the gun has been recently used?”

The cop shook his head. “It’s been thoroughly cleaned and oiled, but Sergeant Istee says it wasn’t used to kill Deputy Riley.”

“Why does he say that?”

“Because a twelve-gauge was used in that shooting.”

On the countertop next to the sink was a pair of men’s lightweight hiking boots with a tread that matched the shoe impression Clayton had found on the trail to the well house. There was soil embedded in the heel which a forensic geologist might be able to match to the soil at the well house. The size label stitched inside the tongue showed that the books were indeed a size eight narrow.

Next to the hiking boots was an closed accordion document file. Kerney asked the young S.O. investigator what was inside.

“Financial papers, Chief. Sergeant Pino said she would have a detective go through them after the house search is completed.”

Kerney looked at what had been gathered so far. It was all good, damning circumstantial evidence, but hardly the stuff an ironclad multiple murder conviction was made of. In his head, he could hear Sid Larranaga saying the same thing at the meeting tomorrow morning.

Clayton entered the kitchen carrying a Glock 9mm handgun in a clear plastic bag.

“Is that the same caliber used in the Robocker-Connors homicides?” Kerney asked hopefully.

“Negative.” Clayton handed the weapon to the young officer, who began logging it in as evidence. “According to the autopsy reports, the bullets that killed Robocker and Officer Connors came from a thirty-eight. Probably a throwaway. Did Culley confess or make a statement?”

“He said he wanted a lawyer and clammed up. The DA has asked to meet with us tomorrow morning, and he’ll be waiting to hear that we’ve got hard evidence he can use to guarantee a conviction.”

“I’d like that too, but so far it isn’t happening. I called Detective Armijo at APD and gave him information about Culley’s vehicle. He’s gathering video from the surveillance cameras at Robocker’s apartment complex and a nearby traffic camera used to catch drivers who run red lights. Hopefully, we’ll be able to put Culley in his vehicle at or near the crime scene.”

“What did Proctor Whitley have to say?”

“Whitley’s gay, Culley’s bi, and Denise Riley, who was also bi, was Culley’s lover. Whitley swears he didn’t know Denise was pregnant. He did say that Culley went out of town to attend some insurance training seminars just before and after Deputy Riley’s murder and the double homicide in Albuquerque. We still don’t know if he’s an accomplice in Culley’s past crimes or involved in any of the homicides.”