Read Online The Dead Detective by William Heffernan - Free Book Online
Authors: William Heffernan
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happen.”
“It’s a big case,” Harry said.
LeBaron grinned at him. “Harry, all your cases are big cases, and every time you have one you tell me the same thing.” He looked at Vicky. “You his new partner?”
“I am,” Vicky said.
“God help you.” LeBaron laughed and waved a hand at them. “So go canvass the neighborhood and let me do my work.”
Like Juan, the building super, most of the neighbors seemed unmoved by news of Darlene’s death. One woman even expressed relief that she was “finally out of the neighborhood,” and several others said they had kept a close eye on who visited Darlene’s apartment. According to the neighbors there had been a steady stream of men, but no one visitor who seemed to come more than the others. There was also an older man and woman, who neighbors had assumed were Darlene’s parents. Several emphasized that none of the visitors had been children, with one woman flatly stating that she would have called the police “if anyone under eighteen had gotten within ten feet of her front door.”
At an apartment directly across the small green from Darlene’s unit, a man in his mid-to late-seventies confessed to keeping an even closer eye on his notorious neighbor.
“I watched her good,” he explained with a clear element of pride in his voice. His name was Joshua Brown and he was short and slender, almost frail, with a white beard masking his chocolate-colored face. He was the kind of witness that Harry both loved and hated—someone with enough time on his hands to watch what was going on very closely, but who also might not live long enough to testify at a trial.
Brown grinned and nodded his head as he spoke. “Whenever she had a visitor I took my dog Junie for a walk,” he explained. “So’s I’d get a better idea of what was goin’ on.”
Harry looked past the man and saw an ancient tan mongrel sleeping on the floor next to a battered leather recliner. The dog had not stirred when they rang the doorbell, or even opened its eyes while he and Vicky interviewed the man. Harry smiled to himself, thinking how the old man must have dragged the dog out the front door every time he felt the need to spy on Darlene Beckett.
“You think you could identify the men who visited Ms. Beckett?” Harry asked.
“Kin do better than that,” Brown said. “I kin give you a list of the license plates on their cars, and the dates I saw them parked in her driveway.”
Harry was seldom shocked by what came out of a neighborhood canvass, but this time he was. “Why did you keep a list like that?” he asked.
“Figured somebody might need it if they turned out to be a bunch of perverts like she was,” Brown said.
When the door closed, he turned to Vicky and shrugged. “That old man just saved us a day or two of work.”
Vicky nodded absently, and then shook her head.
“What?” Harry asked.
“I just realized what a fishbowl that woman was living in.” She watched Harry’s eyes harden.
“Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for her,” he said. “If she was living in a fishbowl, it was one she made for herself.”
Harry went back to their car with the list of tag numbers and dates that Joshua Brown had given him and called in the plates. Since Darlene’s garage was empty he also asked for information on any vehicle registered to a Darlene Beckett at the north Tampa address. A short time later he had a description and plate number for a green 2004 Ford Taurus registered to Darlene Beckett, along with the names, addresses, and dates of birth of the owners of the vehicles on Joshua Brown’s carefully compiled list. He then placed a second call and ordered a check of wants and warrants on each of those persons, as well as a rundown on any criminal histories. He asked for the same for the building super. With a little luck—meaning the state computers wouldn’t go down—they should have all the information he had requested by the end of their shift.
“Where
“It’s a big case,” Harry said.
LeBaron grinned at him. “Harry, all your cases are big cases, and every time you have one you tell me the same thing.” He looked at Vicky. “You his new partner?”
“I am,” Vicky said.
“God help you.” LeBaron laughed and waved a hand at them. “So go canvass the neighborhood and let me do my work.”
Like Juan, the building super, most of the neighbors seemed unmoved by news of Darlene’s death. One woman even expressed relief that she was “finally out of the neighborhood,” and several others said they had kept a close eye on who visited Darlene’s apartment. According to the neighbors there had been a steady stream of men, but no one visitor who seemed to come more than the others. There was also an older man and woman, who neighbors had assumed were Darlene’s parents. Several emphasized that none of the visitors had been children, with one woman flatly stating that she would have called the police “if anyone under eighteen had gotten within ten feet of her front door.”
At an apartment directly across the small green from Darlene’s unit, a man in his mid-to late-seventies confessed to keeping an even closer eye on his notorious neighbor.
“I watched her good,” he explained with a clear element of pride in his voice. His name was Joshua Brown and he was short and slender, almost frail, with a white beard masking his chocolate-colored face. He was the kind of witness that Harry both loved and hated—someone with enough time on his hands to watch what was going on very closely, but who also might not live long enough to testify at a trial.
Brown grinned and nodded his head as he spoke. “Whenever she had a visitor I took my dog Junie for a walk,” he explained. “So’s I’d get a better idea of what was goin’ on.”
Harry looked past the man and saw an ancient tan mongrel sleeping on the floor next to a battered leather recliner. The dog had not stirred when they rang the doorbell, or even opened its eyes while he and Vicky interviewed the man. Harry smiled to himself, thinking how the old man must have dragged the dog out the front door every time he felt the need to spy on Darlene Beckett.
“You think you could identify the men who visited Ms. Beckett?” Harry asked.
“Kin do better than that,” Brown said. “I kin give you a list of the license plates on their cars, and the dates I saw them parked in her driveway.”
Harry was seldom shocked by what came out of a neighborhood canvass, but this time he was. “Why did you keep a list like that?” he asked.
“Figured somebody might need it if they turned out to be a bunch of perverts like she was,” Brown said.
When the door closed, he turned to Vicky and shrugged. “That old man just saved us a day or two of work.”
Vicky nodded absently, and then shook her head.
“What?” Harry asked.
“I just realized what a fishbowl that woman was living in.” She watched Harry’s eyes harden.
“Don’t waste your time feeling sorry for her,” he said. “If she was living in a fishbowl, it was one she made for herself.”
Harry went back to their car with the list of tag numbers and dates that Joshua Brown had given him and called in the plates. Since Darlene’s garage was empty he also asked for information on any vehicle registered to a Darlene Beckett at the north Tampa address. A short time later he had a description and plate number for a green 2004 Ford Taurus registered to Darlene Beckett, along with the names, addresses, and dates of birth of the owners of the vehicles on Joshua Brown’s carefully compiled list. He then placed a second call and ordered a check of wants and warrants on each of those persons, as well as a rundown on any criminal histories. He asked for the same for the building super. With a little luck—meaning the state computers wouldn’t go down—they should have all the information he had requested by the end of their shift.
“Where
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