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Authors: Barry Friedman
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Bragg wiped flecks of Danish muffin
icing from his mouth. “So what did you find out?”
Maharos was seated across from Bragg. He knew the
lieutenant liked to get to the bottom line with as little detail as possible.
“Fiala’s writing up his report now. The main thing is, they’ve got a collar in
their lock-up who’s the wrong guy. We’re waiting for the lab and autopsy
reports, but I’ve got a hunch whoever killed the guy in New Philly is the same
one who killed Horner.”
“What makes you think the guy they picked up is
the wrong one?”
Maharos related briefly their interrogation of
Roy Young. Bragg nodded idly. He said, “I’m going to have to take Fiala off the
case. We caught a jewelry store robbery where the owner was shot dead last
night. I’ve got Hassler on it and I need Frank to help him. You’ll have to work
on the Horner case alone.”
“Okay.”
“And Al, I’m getting some heat from the Bar
Association. They don’t like losing members. They want to know why we haven’t
figured it out yet.”
Maharos shrugged. “I’ll try harder.”
Karen Hennessy a civilian employee in Records,
held at arm’s length the request form Maharos handed her, as though it had
germs on it she might breathe. She said, “You want me to punch up all the
homicides in Ohio that occurred on the seventh of the month?”
Maharos said, “You read it right.”
“The seventh of each month?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Starting when?”
“You can start with last November.”
“Last November? This is June.”
“I know how to read a calendar.”
“And you want to know where each one occurred?”
He counted to five, slowly. Finally, “Why is it
every time I hand you a request you go through a major interrogation? It’s
written there in plain English.”
She put up her hands defensively. “Okay, okay.”
“I need it by tomorrow afternoon.”
As he walked out, he saw her reflection in the
glass part of the door, her tongue pointing at his departing back. Without
turning around, he said, “And put your tongue back in your mouth.”
He heard her mutter, “How does he do that?”
At his desk, Maharos read through the report from
the Stark County Sheriff’s Crime Lab.
Casts taken of footprints in Hamberger’s barn
were of two types. One matched the work shoes Hamberger had been wearing. The
other was from a size three Adidas gym shoe. The approximate weight of the
wearer was 125 to 130 pounds. A similar set of footprints was found near the
pickup truck where Hamberger’s body had been found.
A woman?
He read on. The back of the shovel found on the
floor of the barn was covered with blood that matched Hamberger’s. No, not
likely a woman. There were no latent fingerprints on the shovel. No prints?
Hamberger must have used the tool. The absence of any prints probably meant
that the handle had been wiped clean. It was used to bash in the victim’s face.
Why didn’t the killer simply shoot him rather than knock him out first and
shoot him later? Although he hadn’t gotten the autopsy findings yet, he’d be
willing to bet that Hamberger, like Horner, had suffered a cerebral concussion
before he had been shot dead.
Maharos pieced together the information. The bloody
shovel in the barn told him that Hamberger had been clobbered there. Blood in
the bed of the pickup where the body was discovered, indicated that the victim
had been driven, probably unconscious, to the dirt road where he was shot and
left to die. Why not finish him off in the barn?
The lab had found no latent prints anywhere in
the truck except those belonging to Hamberger.
The bullets had been sent to the Crime Lab from
the medical examiner. They were from a .25 caliber handgun, probably a Colt. Spent
shells found on the floor of the truck cab verified that the gun was an
automatic, which ejects its shells. The ballistics specialist found that the
bullets did not match those that had killed Horner, nor did they match any
others on
icing from his mouth. “So what did you find out?”
Maharos was seated across from Bragg. He knew the
lieutenant liked to get to the bottom line with as little detail as possible.
“Fiala’s writing up his report now. The main thing is, they’ve got a collar in
their lock-up who’s the wrong guy. We’re waiting for the lab and autopsy
reports, but I’ve got a hunch whoever killed the guy in New Philly is the same
one who killed Horner.”
“What makes you think the guy they picked up is
the wrong one?”
Maharos related briefly their interrogation of
Roy Young. Bragg nodded idly. He said, “I’m going to have to take Fiala off the
case. We caught a jewelry store robbery where the owner was shot dead last
night. I’ve got Hassler on it and I need Frank to help him. You’ll have to work
on the Horner case alone.”
“Okay.”
“And Al, I’m getting some heat from the Bar
Association. They don’t like losing members. They want to know why we haven’t
figured it out yet.”
Maharos shrugged. “I’ll try harder.”
Karen Hennessy a civilian employee in Records,
held at arm’s length the request form Maharos handed her, as though it had
germs on it she might breathe. She said, “You want me to punch up all the
homicides in Ohio that occurred on the seventh of the month?”
Maharos said, “You read it right.”
“The seventh of each month?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Starting when?”
“You can start with last November.”
“Last November? This is June.”
“I know how to read a calendar.”
“And you want to know where each one occurred?”
He counted to five, slowly. Finally, “Why is it
every time I hand you a request you go through a major interrogation? It’s
written there in plain English.”
She put up her hands defensively. “Okay, okay.”
“I need it by tomorrow afternoon.”
As he walked out, he saw her reflection in the
glass part of the door, her tongue pointing at his departing back. Without
turning around, he said, “And put your tongue back in your mouth.”
He heard her mutter, “How does he do that?”
At his desk, Maharos read through the report from
the Stark County Sheriff’s Crime Lab.
Casts taken of footprints in Hamberger’s barn
were of two types. One matched the work shoes Hamberger had been wearing. The
other was from a size three Adidas gym shoe. The approximate weight of the
wearer was 125 to 130 pounds. A similar set of footprints was found near the
pickup truck where Hamberger’s body had been found.
A woman?
He read on. The back of the shovel found on the
floor of the barn was covered with blood that matched Hamberger’s. No, not
likely a woman. There were no latent fingerprints on the shovel. No prints?
Hamberger must have used the tool. The absence of any prints probably meant
that the handle had been wiped clean. It was used to bash in the victim’s face.
Why didn’t the killer simply shoot him rather than knock him out first and
shoot him later? Although he hadn’t gotten the autopsy findings yet, he’d be
willing to bet that Hamberger, like Horner, had suffered a cerebral concussion
before he had been shot dead.
Maharos pieced together the information. The bloody
shovel in the barn told him that Hamberger had been clobbered there. Blood in
the bed of the pickup where the body was discovered, indicated that the victim
had been driven, probably unconscious, to the dirt road where he was shot and
left to die. Why not finish him off in the barn?
The lab had found no latent prints anywhere in
the truck except those belonging to Hamberger.
The bullets had been sent to the Crime Lab from
the medical examiner. They were from a .25 caliber handgun, probably a Colt. Spent
shells found on the floor of the truck cab verified that the gun was an
automatic, which ejects its shells. The ballistics specialist found that the
bullets did not match those that had killed Horner, nor did they match any
others on
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