The Strange Case of Detective Gunn by Maxwell Blue
The sun had been down for hours when a man walked behind a diner and took a drag from his last cigarette. He exhaled the smoke into a cloud that circled his head and dropped the butt onto the ground and then flattened it with the toe of his shoe. Cautiously he looked behind his shoulder as if someone had been watching him. Satisfied that he was alone he fumbled for his cell phone, his right hand had been slashed and it hurt whenever he tried to use it, so he let it hang loosely at his side. After he flipped the phone open he dialed a number and waited patiently for an answer.
Upon hearing “Hello” from a familiar voice he said, “I got the merchandise. Do you have the money?” He listened keenly and then grew into a rage. “No! The amount was twenty thousand. Do you think I would do all this for a penny less?” The man looked over his shoulder again. “No you can’t. Look - only worry about paying me. I am the only one that has got the stuff you need and I am willing to sell it to you for the right price. I know you plan on leaving town soon and I know you don’t want to go empty handed” Content with what he heard now he said, “I am glad to see that you can be reasonable, but the location is no good. Meet me at the Horizon Bookstore near the 101. I will be reading a magazine and wearing a red baseball cap in the periodical section. I will be expecting to see you there in an hour.”
The man closed his phone, pocketed it and walked towards the parking lot with a grin, despite the pain from his injured hand. A huge weight has been lifted off of him and there was even a spring in his step, be it ever so slight. Before he could make it to his car he heard a high roar from a powerful engine and that is when he saw it coming at him. Like the proverbial deer in the headlights he felt his legs freeze up on him and was unable to jump out of the way of an oncoming sports car.
* * * *
Detective Dani Ravenna, a no nonsense detective dressed in a navy blue blouse and charcoal pants, brushed her long raven hair out of her eyes and then adjusted her gun and badge at her side. She and Detective Rand Gunn, her partner, were on their way to a homicide at a home in Paradise Hills, Arizona. The police were called to the scene after a neighbor heard yelling coming from a home that he passed by on his mourning jog.
On her drive over Detective Ravenna was reminded that all the homes in Paradise Hills were nestled on acre lots and had well maintained landscapes. The home that they were investigating was no different, other than the four squad cars parked out in front it looked similar in its size and opulence as every other house on the block. An officer was stationed out front with a man in running shorts and a T-shirt.
“Detectives!” the officer said getting their attention, “This is Mr. Slawsky. He is the one that found the body.”
“I am Detective Ravenna and this is Detective Gunn,” Ravenna said as she gestured toward her partner wearing an off the rack dark suit with a flashy red tie.
“You can call me Fred.” Mr. Slawsky said. “And the body was still a man when you guys showed up. If you only got here sooner he might still be alive.”
“Do you know who lives at this address, Mr. Slawsky?” Raveena asked.
“No. I live five blocks from here. I usually jog far from home. I am getting in shape for the Boston Marathon. I intend to beat my previous time by at least four minutes.” Mr. Slawsky said.
“Compete every year do you?” asked Gunn
“Not every year.” Mr. Slawsky said “I participate in a number of marathons all around the country. I was in Boston three years ago. I have documentation and photos if you need proof for your investigation.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Slawsky” Ravenna said. “But did you see anyone leave the property while you were hearing these cries for help?”
“No one left, but I counted three vehicles drive by from the time that I heard the yelling to the point that you guys showed up. One was a truck full of gardeners, one was a delivery van and the third was a late model sports utility vehicle.” Mr. Slawsky said and after a moment’s thought added, “My staff is pretty much rudderless without me. How much longer do you need me to stick around?”
“Just one more question and then I can have this officer drive you home.” Ravenna said
“No need.” Mr. Slawsky said warming up with some stretches. “Just ask your question.”
“Besides his pleads for help was there anything else that he said?” Ravenna asked.
“No.” Mr. Slawsky said and after he rubbed the back of head with the palm of his right hand he continued to say. “He mostly yelled and screamed and when I knocked on the garage door he said ‘please help me’. That is when I called 911.”
Detective Gunn handed Mr. Slawsky his business card. “Thank you, Mr. Slawsky. If you can think of anything else please let us know.” Mr. Slawsky took the card and jogged away. “I guess it was a small miracle that anyone heard cries for help from the street. What is that - 150 feet from the victim to the street?”
“It would have been a miracle if the victim had lived and then we could have had the day off.” Ravenna said. “You know that I was planning to move into my new apartment today.”
“Was that today?” Gunn said with mock surprise. “I did say small miracle you know.”
Ravenna led the way into the garage and saw the lifeless body crushed against the windshield of a red sports car like a big mosquito. She has seen her share of blood and gore, but this scene was particularly gruesome. Whoever did this was more than garden variety cruel. This was a case of hit and run that the driver took home with them. Alone and in the dark of a garage the victim slowly died from his wounds with no chance of help. At least dying in the street there was a fair bet of a good Samaritan showing up.
“You think the owner of the car killed him?” Gunn asked.
“And the house.” Ravenna said. “Patricia Clark.”
“You think she is the killer?” Gunn asked.
“No. I am just saying that Patricia Clark owns both the house and the car.” Ravenna said
“I bet you have some questions you’d like to ask her.” Gunn said.
“I do” Ravenna said. “Did you find out where she works?”
“She’s a lawyer at Baxter, Kronenberg and Clark down in Phoenix.” Gunn said. “I’d really like to see you ask those questions.”
“You will.” Ravenna said.
“Hey, what do you put in hair to make it look so lustrous?” Gunn asked.
“Coconut oil.” Ravenna said confused “What kind of question is that? You should be more focused on the case and less so on hair products.”
“Sorry. I just had to know.” Gunn said cocking his head side to side. “The light catches you just so…”
“Let’s go!” Ravenna said.
* * * *
Burke Plaza was built during the building boom of the 1960s. It stood twenty-six stories high. Patricia Clark worked on the sixteenth floor. Ravenna decided not to call ahead. She was against the idea of giving any warning of their arrival which was why the receptionist, a young blond woman in a shapely blue dress, was annoyed by their unscheduled visit.
“You don’t have an appointment.” She said matter-of-factly.
“We’re with the police department. We don’t need to make appointments.” Gunn said.
“Is Patricia Clark here?” Ravenna asked.
The receptionist looked at both detectives square in the face a few seconds, as if to judge their intentions, before she responded. “Yes.”
“Then please go tell her that two detectives from the Paradise Hills Police Department need to speak to her.” Ravenna said.
The receptionist rushed off as fast as her two inch heels could carry her and a few moments later a much older woman followed her back. The receptionist looked worried and confused, but the other woman seemed relieved to see them.
“Are you Patricia Clark?” Gunn asked.
The older woman looked over toward detective Gun and said, “I am.” Then she turned to face Ravenna. “Did you find my car?”
“Did you report it missing?” Ravenna asked
“At about 8:30 last night.” Patricia said. “I remember the time because it was right after someone took my purse. It was probably the same son-of-a-bitch.”
“How did you get home last night?” Ravenna asked.
“I had a friend drop me off.” Patricia said.
“What is this friend’s name?” Gunn asked as she opened her notebook and readied a pen.
“Nicolas Hollande, but you are not going to be able to reach him. He is an airline pilot. He took a flight to Newark this morning.” And then Patricia reflected on what she just said. “What is this? What are you accusing me of? Why do you want to verify my whereabouts? It was my car that was stolen.”
“We found your car, Ms. Clark” Ravenna said
“All in one piece I hope.” Patricia said with a forced laugh.
“There was some damage to the front end.” Gunn said slightly amused.
“Did you hit someone with your car last night, Ms. Clark?” Asked Ravenna.
“What? No.” Patricia said “Why would you ask that?”
“We found your car at your home.” Gunn said roughly. “In your garage.”
“Well I didn’t park it there.” Patricia said. “Why would I report it missing if I had it parked in my own garage?”
“Because there was a bleeding and broken man dying attached to it.” Gunn said. “That’s why. Maybe you were trying to hide what you have done?”
“I didn’t hit anyone!” Patricia said. “You have to believe me.”
“This man that took your purse, can you describe him?” Ravenna asked.
“Brown hair with a scruffy beard. Average height. Average built.” Patricia said.
“We need you can come down to the police station and work with a stretch artist.” Gunn said.
“I can do that.” Patricia said “Just let me get my things.”
“First tell me more about this purse snatching. Where were you when it happened and did anyone witness it?” Ravenna said.
“I was waiting for Mr. Hollande at the Mustang Diner on 32nd street. I think the manager and a few customers saw it happen. Ask the manager. I think his name was Joe. I am not making this stuff up. These things really did take place.” Patricia said.
* * * *
The Mustang Diner was less like a diner and more like a bar and grill. It didn’t have a breakfast menu and opened its doors at 11:30AM. Country music played in the background, a rustic bar could be seen from the entrance way and cowboy paintings were decorating its walls. Joe Siew, the manager, greeted Detective Gunn and Detective Ravenna quickly upon them approaching the bar.
“What can I get you?” Bob Siew asked. “There is a special on our home brewed ale. We have it on tap.”
“I’m afraid not.” Gunn said showing his badge. “We’re here on official business.”
“Detectives from the Paradise Hills Police Department.” Ravenna said. “Do you remember this man?” Showing a photograph of the victim at the crime scene.
“He looks familiar, but I see a lot of people.” Bob Siew said lifting both his arms as if to point around to his surroundings. “It might not look like right now, but we get quite busy later in the day.”
“We have reason to believe that he was here last night between 8PM and 9PM.” Ravenna said.
“You know.” Joe Siew said slapping his right hand down on the bar with a thump. “I do recall him. He was upsetting a customer, a high class lady, with his smoking. This is a smoke free establishment. I had to ask him to leave.” Mr. Siew took another look at the photo. “He doesn’t look too good here.”
“That is because he’s dead.” Gunn said before leaving to answer his cell phone.
“Dead?” Mr. Siew said with shock.
“Besides yourself did anyone else have words with this man?” Ravenna asked.
“The woman who complained about the smoking. It got pretty heated before I intervened.” Mr. Siew said.
Ravenna showed Mr. Siew a photograph of Patricia Clark. “Is this the woman?”
“That’s the one.” Mr. Siew said.
“Do you know anything about someone stealing her handbag or her car?” Ravenna asked.
“She did claim that her purse and her car were stolen, but I didn’t see it happen.” Mr. Siew said.
“Did you see this man?” Ravenna said showing the stretch of the man who allegedly stole from Patricia Clark.
“I didn’t see him, but maybe one of my staff did.” Mr. Siew said. “If you leave that with me I could ask them when they come in to work in a couple of hours.”
“Here’s my card.” Ravenna said. “Let us know either way.” With her stock of questions depleted she went in search for her partner, who looked like he just discovered the recipe for cold fusion.
“While you were chewing the fat with the bartender over there I nailed down the victim’s name and place of employment.” Gunn said.
“Well don’t leave me dangling in the wind.” Ravenna said “Spill the beans”
“His name is Jim Messina.” Gunn said. “Get this, he didn’t have a record, but he did volunteer for the Scottsdale Public Library and therefore needed to be fingerprinted.”
“And where did he work?” Ravenna asked.
“Because that is where we’re going next.” Gunn said “St. Luke’s Hospital. He was an autopsy technician.”
* * * *
Detective Dani Ravenna and Detective Rand Gunn stopped for coffee before heading over to the hospital. They schedule some time with the Dr. Steven Tanner, the medical examiner that Jim Messina worked for. Dr. Tanner was in his office doing paper work when they arrive. Besides some medical degrees and a couple of painting on the wall the area was minimalist in a very clinical unfriendly sort of way and didn’t look as though it got many visitors from the outside. When an assistant got Dr. Tanner’s attention he stopped what he was doing and then looked down at his wristwatch as if he were planning to bill the detectives for his time. He wore a white lab coat with his name embroidered on it over a gray suit and a stylish gold tie. “Well you two are a long way from home. I was told you were from the Paradise Hills Police Department.”
“That is correct, Doctor.” Ravenna said stepping forward.
“We go wherever the crime takes us.” Gunn said plainly. “We were informed that Jim Messina worked for you.”
“Jim worked for me for six years.” Dr. Tanner said.
“Do you know of anyone who would harm him?” Ravenna asked.
“You mean kill him. No. Jim was a personable guy. Everyone here liked him. He was good friends with another tech, Gary Thompson, but it looked as though they had a falling out with him as of late.” Dr. Tanner said.
“Gary Thompson.” Ravenna said. “Is he working today?”
“No. He called in sick.” Dr. Tanner said. “He did seem perfectly well yesterday, I thought it odd that he would be ill today.”
“Have you seen this man?” Ravenna asked showing the sketch of the man that Patricia Clark described.
“That looks like Gary.” Dr. Tanner said.
“Does the staff have a place where they can keep their things?” Gunn asked.
“Down the hall there are some lockers.” Dr. Tanner said.
Detective Ravenna and Detective Gunn followed Dr. Tanner down the hall. Sure enough a row of metal lockers lined the wall. Names were written in black marker over masking tape. On the locker labeled “Jim” was a red smudge. Ravenna gave her partner a knowing look and he nodded his head.
“Looks like blood.” Gunn said. “But whose is it?”
“Do you know if anyone had an accident yesterday?” Ravenna asked.
“Not that I know of, but I did leave early.” Dr. Tanner said while watching Detective Gunn rifle through Jim Messina’s locker. “Don’t you need a warrant before you can do that?”
“I’m just waiting for something to pop on out on its own.” Gunn said producing a business card with some more blood attached to it. “Do you know an orthopedic surgeon by the name of Dr. Ratko Mladic?”
“I know of him. I heard that he is a brilliant surgeon.” Dr. Tanner said.
“Do you know if he works out of this hospital?” Ravenna asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Most surgeons operate out a number of hospitals.” Dr. Tanner said.
“You haven’t seen Dr. Ratko Mladic talking to either Jim Messina or Gary Thompson?” Gunn asked.
“I can’t say because I never met the man. I don’t know what he looks like.” Dr. Tanner said. “But if you want me to speculate there was someone who drives a red Audi that I have seen on occasion talking to Jim. Maybe Dr. Mladic drives a red Audi.”
* * * *
While Detective Gunn verified that Dr. Mladic did own a red Audi, Detective Ravenna called Dr. Mladic’s office to find his whereabouts and learned from the office manager that the doctor was leaving town for a medical conference in San Diego. It was a race against time to get there before the doctor’s flight departed. Even though Sky Harbor was international airport it was still busy for a Friday night. Traffic was built up outside and streams of people were racing by in their mad attempts to make it pass security and get onboard their planes. Long lines bottlenecked where the masses momentarily stopped to take off their shoes to be scanned. In the back of the line Detective Ravenna saw Gary Thompson handing a leather duffle bag to Dr. Mladic.
“Dr. Mladic! Mr. Thompson!” Shouted Ravenna. “We have some questions regarding the death of a Jim Messina.”
“You killed Jim?” Dr. Mladic asked in horror.
“Shut the hell up!” Gary yelled at the doctor. “Give me that” Taking back the bag and running up the line knocking people down along the way.
“Stop!” Detective Gunn called out “We are with the Paradise Hills Police Department.”
“Or you what!” Gary yelled back grabbing a young woman around her neck and pulled out an automatic pistol. Upon seeing the gun everyone in the crowd dropped to their knees.
“Put the weapon down, Mr. Thompson.” Ravenna said. “You don’t want to hurt anybody.”
“Maybe I do!” Gary said while he dragged the woman through the metal detector that blared when he entered it.
“Please let her go.” A nearby man called out. “That is my wife.”
“Stay down, sir.” Ravenna said. “Let us handle it.”
Approaching from behind Mr. Thompson a TSA worker took a laptop case and struck him over the head with it. A dazed Mr. Thompson released the woman who gladly fell to the floor and quickly crawled over to her husband. Recovering from the blow Mr. Thompson elbowed the TSA worker knocking him out and fled down the walkway conveyor. Ravenna and Gunn pursued him leaving the good doctor in their wake.
“Stop!” Ravenna called out.
“You’re not going to be able to fly out of here.” Gunn said “Don’t be stupid!”
Spinning around Mr. Thompson took a shot in Detective Gunn’s direction and at the same time Detective Ravenna took aim at center mass and delivered three shoots into Mr. Thompson chest. For a moment it looked as though Mr. Thompson was going to fire back, only he collapsed backward relinquishing his weapon and continued moving on the conveyor.
“What do you think is in the bag?” Gunn asked “I bet you anything that it is a small fortune in prescription drugs.”
Unstrapping the bag from Mr. Thompson’s shoulder Ravenna looked inside. “It definitely not drugs.”
“Surgically tools?” Gunn asked
“Bones.” Ravenna said.
“Bones?” Gunn said
Ravenna showed her partner what was inside the bag. “Human bones by the look of them and they all look deformed. Maybe Dr. Mladic can shed some light on this mess.”
The Detectives found Dr. Mladic where they left him. Ravenna figured he was either bravely waiting to face the music or he was just hoping to get back what he paid for.
“Dr. Mladic, how long have you been in the business of trafficking human body parts?” Ravenna asked.
“I use them in my talks,” Dr. Mladic explained “I pay a few thousand dollars a bone. How was I to know they would kill each other over the money?” |