Kinsmen of the Dragons
Copyright© 2013 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 11: Asking Questions
Sam felt a hand touch his arm, a soft voice. “Maybe you made a mistake.”
He looked at Sue Ellen, shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve had bad days. I’ve had really bad days; I’ve even got drunk once or twice — but I wasn’t on the job. Never, ever, have I had a day like this.” His tone was savage, he jerked away and walked to the stakeout van, leaning against it.
He heard James from behind him. “You were right, the boy is stupid — he was still there, waiting for her. He hadn’t even thought to look to see what the delay was.”
Sam straightened, “And of course, you arrested him.”
“Child rape,” James said equitably.
Sam turned to look at his partner. “Tell me you didn’t send her to the hospital for an examination.”
James looked away. “Later. The lieutenant wants you and him to conduct her interview.”
“James, I thought of Amanda not much differently than you did. She was pretty; she was cute. God, James, I know it hurts! It hurt me too!”
“You have no idea,” James said, angry.
“Oh, sure, sure. I have no idea. But, James, I’m not stupid, and if you weren’t thinking with your father’s heart, you’d know what I’m talking about. This Amanda has done nothing criminal, James. The lieutenant’s going to talk to her and then cut her loose in less than a half hour.
“You go on about child rape and James, I’ll tell you true: I’ll not back you up.”
He looked like Sam had punched him in the gut. “Why? He’s been diddling her! That’s rape!”
“James, that girl is hot-headed and independent. Maybe you and I and society don’t think she should be allowed to make those choices just yet — but she disagrees. Once the river flows past, James, it’s gone forever; there’s no way to bring it back. Amanda’s gone, James. And if you push her, this girl will be gone down the same sewer as well.
“I saw the look on her face when you arrested her. Terror. Leave it at that, James. Leave it at that.”
“You think a guy like that can just fuck a kid and get away with it?”
Sam laughed, “James, I’m your friend; I always have been. You know what I’ve been doing all afternoon?”
James looked confused, but had the good grace to glance at the kiosk.
“Oh yeah, that. Mainly though, I’ve been trying to hide the hard on I have for the locksmith. God, James, I’ve never wanted a woman so much in my life.”
“And your point?” James said angrily.
“My point, James, is if we were to roll back the clock to when I was the same age as ol’ Stu Potter in the Corvette, I’d be twenty ... and Sue Ellen Godwin would be in diapers.”
James blinked, and then looked over at where the clean up of crime scene was still on going.
“James, you watched the locksmith today, just like I did. She did the job, James. Just like you did and just like I did. That makes her, in my eyes, the same age as us.”
“Ahead of the lieutenant,” James said.
For a moment Sam looked at him, and then they both laughed.
“James, for God’s sake, go easy on that girl. Let’s face it, our collective asses are grass. We never spotted the wholesaler and the perps got away. All we have to show for this investigation is a teenage girl who is connected on the fringes. We’re screwed.”
James sighed and agreed. “We are for sure screwed.”
They drove to the substation and since Amanda Feather was the only result they had to show for their day’s adventures, interviewing the girl took first precedence.
“You read her, her rights?” the lieutenant asked James.
James shook his head, “The arresting patrolman read her her rights. She said she wanted an attorney and she wanted to speak to her mother, so we went no further.”
“Sam and I,” the lieutenant said, jerking his thumb at Sam, “will conduct the interview. It will commence with once again reading her her rights. She will have a lawyer next to her. Her mother will be in the gallery watching.”
James nodded. The lieutenant glared at him. “And what charge would you suggest we are looking at?”
“Conveyance of stolen property,” James said without flinching. Also known as fencing stolen goods.
“So all we have to do is prove beyond a reasonable doubt that this fourteen year old had to have known the goods were stolen and she would have known that she was reselling them with criminal intent. Piece of cake, we can make that case easily, right?” the lieutenant sneered.
“The arrest isn’t going anywhere,” Sam agreed, “but we can start with that. More important — maybe she saw or noticed something. We have the phone cards from her purse; those didn’t get hit with Raid. Hopefully forensics will get something off them.”
“There has been entirely too much hoping and wishing concerning this case up until now,” the lieutenant spat the words, bitter and angry. “Do better.”
The girl’s lawyer was from Hargrove and Musgrave, one of the better criminal defense partnerships in the city. She was seated next to the lawyer when Sam, his lieutenant and the deputy prosecutor entered the room.
When they were all settled, Sam started asking the questions.
“Your name and address please, for the record?” Sam asked and the girl looked at the lawyer who nodded.
“Amanda Feather,” she said, followed by her address.
“Miss Feather, you have been detained in regards to a criminal action.” Sam read her her rights and asked if she understood them. She nodded and agreed verbally.
“You have an advocate with you,” Sam observed, confirming the obvious and again she nodded. “I cannot remind you too strongly that you should listen to what he has to say and do what you are told.” She could read from Sam’s tone what he hadn’t said: “For once in your life.”
“Where were you at 10:50 AM this morning?” Sam asked.
She looked at the attorney, who whispered in her ear and said, “At Sixteenth and Buckeye.”
“Sixteenth Street and Buckeye Road?” Sam elaborated, and she nodded. “Please say the word, Miss Feather. Yes or no.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” The single word question worked as it had so many times before. Change ups work for other things than baseball.
She conferred with her attorney; it was the attorney who then spoke. “Miss Feather wished to buy some prepaid phone cards.”
“We found fifty twenty dollar cards in your purse, Miss Feather,” Sam agreed. “A thousand dollars worth of phone cards. That’s quite a lot of long distance calling.”
Another conference. This was, Sam feared, going to take all night. “Miss Feather paid only two hundred and fifty dollars for the cards. There is a sign on the front of that kiosk, offering steep discounts on phone cards.”
Sam nodded. “And how did you get there, Miss Feather?”
She looked at Sam and shook her head. She didn’t bother looking at the attorney.
“Again, Miss Feather, you have to say the words.”
Her attorney answered for her. “My client refuses to answer on the basis of her Fifth Amendment rights not to incriminate herself.”
“Miss Feather, at the scene, somewhat after you were taken into custody, we also took into custody one Stewart Potter.”
She looked down, and Sam decided that it was time to let her in on the big secret.
“And who is Stewart Potter to you?” Sam asked.
“A friend,” the lawyer spoke instantly.
Aha! Sam thought to himself, you know about Potter, so maybe I’ll see you again shortly!
“A friend, is that right, Miss Feather?”
She met Sam’s eyes. “Yes.”
“Miss Feather, in true crime stories, the movies, books, right now I’d tell you we’ve talked to Mr. Potter and that he told us everything. That you sell your phone cards at school and at clubs and that you know that they are illegal.” Sam paused, watching her. She held Sam’s gaze, but her confidence had faded.
“Except of course, Mr. Potter has, since his arrest, stated his name and that he his nothing else to tell us. In fact, were I a betting man, I’d wager his biggest regret about being arrested is that he has no rank or serial number to give to his captors.”
She giggled. “That’s Stewart.”
Sam nodded. “Miss Feather, I personally consider that the odds that you are a harmless entrepreneur, as your mother has vociferously described your activities, as nil. You knew or strongly suspected that there was something wrong with the phone cards you were purchasing.
“Frankly, Amanda, we don’t give a rat’s ass about you.” The change in tack once again caught her off guard.
“We care about John Morgan Field and his buddy; those two we do care about. Answer a couple of questions and you can leave.
“First — did they ever mention another location where you could get such a good deal at? Second — did you ever see or hear them say anything about their source of supply of the phone cards? And of course, last but not least — did you see or hear anything else that might be of interest to us?”
She lifted her chin a bit, and the lawyer whispered in her ear. “That was three questions. Yes, no, no. Mondays and Wednesdays, I went to a place in Mesa. I’ll give you the address if you promise not to prosecute me for anything.”
The lawyer was talking heatedly into her ear and Amanda shrugged him off. “I just sold phone cards for a profit. There’s no crime in that.”
Sam laughed, “You should listen to your counselor, like I said earlier, Miss Feather. Why do you think we are here? We wanted very much to arrest Mr. Field and company. The policemen at the scene were there to do just that thing.”
Sam turned to the Assistant District Attorney who had been sitting quietly, watching things. “Sir, do we remand the subject to custody or release her? If the latter, on what terms?”
Sam was quite prepared for the girl to be cut loose. Instead the man from the prosecutor’s office turned to the other lawyer. “I have been instructed that, as a precaution, the young lady be continued in custody, at least overnight. The perps in this matter eluded custody; there is a possibility that they might feel vindictive towards the young lady. Further, the investigation is in very early stages and we wish to gather more information before proceeding further.”
The defense attorney spoke up. “We would assure proper protection for Miss Feather. She is clearly not a flight risk.”
The assistant DA shrugged and shook his head. “My instructions were quite clear, sir. The escape of the perps appears to District Attorney Ronald to represent a threat to the young woman’s safety. He has no desire to subject the city to the possibility of a lawsuit. In addition, we wish her to remain available if there are any other questions that we develop as a result of our ongoing investigation.”
“You understand,” the other attorney said, his voice tightly controlled, “that I’ll have a habeas corpus petition on file about ten minutes after I walk out the door?”
“Perhaps. But we will present evidence showing that two dangerous criminals escaped and evaded the police. It would not be beyond the realm of possibility that they might wish to silence Miss Feather permanently. Further, no judge is going to grant a habeas corpus petition six hours after someone was arrested.”
“She told you she doesn’t know anything!”
Pete Harkness looked down at his notes. “That’s indeed what she said, yes. However, I am skeptical. I think it’s safe to say that the police are also skeptical. I would feel more comfortable if we had more time to develop further information.”
He beckoned at Sam and the two men left the interrogation room. “The young man next,” the assistant DA said and Sam nodded. He’d already thought about how he’d run the interrogation and was quite ready to sit down with Stewart Potter.
Sure enough, the same defense attorney was sitting next to the young man. Sam went through the same routine to start an interrogation, and once he had Stewart Potter’s signature on the Miranda acknowledgment, leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head and yawned.
“Mr. Potter, no doubt you’ve read in books and seen police interrogations in the movies and on TV. Is that correct?”
The young man shrugged. “Mr. Potter, you need to verbalize an answer.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I could ask you, of course, what you were doing this morning. No doubt you’d tell me you were taking Miss Amanda Feather, a friend, shopping. You might or might not profess ignorance of her purchase of many phone cards, but even if you didn’t you’d shine me on with some story about how she was saving up money for some class trip to Disneyland or something.
“I could lie, in fact. It’s legal to lie to you — did you know that? I could tell you that she’s confessed and implicated you and that your best chance of avoiding jail is to rat her out and do a better job than she did ratting you out.”
Stewart Potter was twenty, Sam was sure. He was blonde and sported a crew cut, a medium-heavy build that hinted he might have been a football player somewhere along the line. He carried himself erectly and Sam was sure, thought of himself as a “warrior.”
“The fact is, Mr. Potter, one of the other detectives thinks you are sleeping with Miss Feather and thus you fall under the child rape statutes. Is that the case?”
The lawyer whispered in Potter’s ear, while Stewart looked Sam steadily in the eye. When the lawyer moved away, Stewart Potter spoke calmly. “Amanda is a friend of my family. A personal friend. The nature of our relationship is personal and I’m not willing to discuss it.”
Sam laughed. “If Bill Clinton would have said that about Monica, he would have saved everyone a lot of trouble.
“Mr. Potter, the fact is that we have no reason to hold you and since you were clearly not in a position to see what went on, you can offer us nothing of value. In a moment an officer will see that your personal possessions are returned and after that you’ll be free to go.
“I would like to make one comment. Miss Feather bought phone cards from two men. Those men escaped us earlier today. It is not outside the realm of possibility that those men might have some reason they don’t want your friend to talk to us. If that was the case, they might learn of your existence and use you as a means of access. Mr. Potter, when you leave here, please watch your ass!”
The lawyer spoke up. “That’s it?”
“Yes. One absolutely last thing, Mr. Potter. If you think you know something, don’t hesitate to contact us.” Sam slid a card across the table and the lawyer promptly intercepted it.
Sam stood up and held the interrogation room door open. “Best hurry, Mr. Potter — you don’t want the door to hit you in the ass on the way out.”
James sat quietly as Sam related the results of the interrogations to the lieutenant and the substation captain, with the Assistant District Attorney listening in as well. “When James was describing Potter to me,” Sam told them, “I thought the young man was a fool — except he’s not. He’s clever as a fox. He parked out of sight of the kiosk knowingly — I’m sure of it.
“He can’t testify as to anything the girl did there because he couldn’t see it. He didn’t flee because if he had, there would have been a reasonable suspicion of guilt.”
“And nothing from the girl?” Lieutenant Abbott asked.
“No, sir. There’s no reason they would have said anything of importance to the girl. They gave her an address of another ‘bargain’ kiosk in Mesa. That’s nothing, nothing at all. She was a frequent visitor but if we didn’t see anything, it’s not likely that she did either.”
Lieutenant Abbott nodded. “The warrants for the two men’s apartments will be here shortly. Sergeant Fredericks, you will take yourself and a five man SWAT team to Mustache’s place and search it. You have arrest warrants for Mustache and his wife, and a search warrant for their apartment.
“I’ll take Detective Holland and some others and we’ll go Fields’ place and search it. While I don’t think either perp will be there, be careful taking the door.
“The Feather girl is going to remain in custody overnight. I’m not entirely in agreement with Sergeant Fredericks’ premise — but it is certain the girl has had a bad day. I’m really sorry about that, but we need to get these guys!”
Sam mentally shook his head. They needed Swede and Mustache because the two of them had made fools of the police.
He went to his desk and put his usual weapon in a locked drawer, then started towards the locker room to put on his own party clothes.
He was stopped before he got there by Sue Ellen Godwin, the locksmith. “I hear you’re going to take the door at the perp’s house.”
“His apartment, yeah,” Sam told her.
“Those guys like gizmos. There could be a need for an EOD person there.”
Sam thought about it. “You’re saying we should call out the bomb squad?”
She laughed. “No, old man. We found no bombs, no lethal booby traps. We did find a number of devices that if they’d been applied to kill people, could have. You didn’t hang around the site. My old man and his crew went over it with a fine-tooth comb. The timers and release mechanisms? Top of the line. I asked the old man if I could have another hack at the door.”
“Why?” Sam asked.
She laughed. “Go figure. I start on the door and we get the ‘self destruct’ bullshit and then the lock goes. So, what do we look at? The kiosk. We never looked at that damn door again. I did. I kept looking at it and looking at it, wondering about it.”
“So?” Sam asked again, curious now.
“So, the door is a shell of 1040 gauge steel, over a titanium core. You could hit it with an RPG and the RPG would bounce off. The windows are ballistic glass. For all of that, I have no idea why. Someone didn’t want people going in there. Detective, we tore the place down, very nearly. All of the wall panels were built like the door.”
Sam looked at her. “You’re saying that this could be a trap?”
“I’m saying you’re going to want to have someone along who knows what a booby trap looks like, okay?”
“It’s not my call,” Sam told her sadly. “I’m just a lousy detective.”
She laughed. “I’m willing to bet you’re not a lousy detective. I’d say you’re just unlucky.”
“It’s still not my call.”
“Let me ride with you, okay? I’ll explain to your sergeant.”
Sam laughed. “Except he’s serving the other warrant. I’m with the lieutenant.”
“Were you ever in the army?”
Sam shook his head. “College, a BA degree in police science and onto the force.”
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