BLUE BLOOD RUNS COLD (A Michael Ross Novel Book 1) Page 12

  Billy's eyebrows rose. “Hey, Mikey, something got into you? You're acting all polite all of the sudden. You drink some funny water, or what?”

  “Nope, no funny water. Just thought I'd like to hear your opinion a bit more often. A lot of these cases we do, I've been keeping you in the dark. I just got to thinking maybe that's not such a good thing. You know, with Julie, I was used to always being the lead every time. Maybe that's not how you and I should operate.”

  “You say this after six months of working with me? Well, it's not like the way we've been doing things is all that bad. We've got the highest solve rate in the county. Our cases have the third-highest conviction rate in the county. You know that's why you've never been promoted beyond detective, right? You're a victim of your own success. You get to be an all-star at your position, and before you know it, the manager thinks he'd better keep you there so you can do what you do.”

  Michael wanted to reply, but before he could, the president emerged from somewhere with papers in hand. The smell of flowers returned with her. She said, “Here you are, gentlemen, the addresses and phone numbers you've requested. Would you mind if I made a copy of the warrant you're carrying?”

  Neither detective knew whether anyone outside of the court and the officers who served the warrant could be in possession of one. Michael said, “You can request a copy of the warrant from the county courthouse at Carlisle when I deliver it there Monday morning. You just need the identifier at the top of the page here.”

  Lorraine went further back into the mansion, then returned with a piece of scrap paper and a pen. She wrote down the warrant's identifier number on the page in big round numbers. She held it up and said, “This is the one, right?”

  Michael said, “That's correct. But you'll want to keep that paper handy, because I've got another warrant that I want to serve you.”

  A look of genuine consternation crossed her face. She threw the paper onto the glass coffee table in front of her and said, “Something else? What could you possibly want?”

  Michael handed over the second warrant. He let her read it, watching her carefully while her lips moved. She had the same look of indignant frustration on her face when she handed back the warrant. She said, “It says here you want to inspect the personal belongings of Shannon Moore including, but not limited to, anything that may be found in her dorm room? Correct?”

  “That's correct.”

  She read over the order one more time, then said, “I don't know if this is legally enforceable. The language that's used here, it leaves room for interpretation. If you have no objection, I'd like to call an attorney to look this document over.”

  “You're within your rights to do so, but I'll tell you now what I'll tell him when he arrives: the judge's signature makes it legally enforceable.”

  She said, “All right, if you say so.” Then, she left the living room for the kitchen where she picked up the phone and dialed a number.

  Billy nudged Michael in the ribs and said, “Hey, you think she'll file an injunction?”

  “An injunction against a search and seizure order that doesn't involve any property belonging to her? Even if she did, the judge would throw it out. The Moore family would have to file one for it to be given consideration.”

  Billy crossed his legs as he leaned back against the couch. He said, “Yeah, I know that, too. But some lawyers, they don't know the first thing about the law. Or they pretend they don't, hoping that the judge will grant a new precedent he shouldn't.”

  Michael did not reply. He had been through that scenario too many times to count. He tried to relax while he waited for the lawyer to come.

  4

  The lawyer that came to the president's residence turned out to be a woman, instead of a man. She strode through the door as if she owned the building and sat next to Lorraine without being invited to do so. She had blond shoulder-length hair, a white blouse with a black jacket and black trousers. She wore flats, a trend that Michael saw more and more as women rejected the painful heels they had to walk in and instead chose comfortable shoes without spikes protruding from the heels. She wore a gold Timex watch and a wedding band on a long slender finger. She pulled out a tissue from her pocket to wipe the rain off her glasses. When she put them on, she looked as though she owned a large corporation. She was young, in her late twenties, with no traces of the age lines so prominent on Lorraine's face. The lawyer carried with her a large leather business bag with pouches on all sides and zippers everywhere. Though the carry-all was full to bursting, she had not let it slow her down.

  She said, “Good afternoon, gentlemen, my name is Caitlin Phillips, attorney at law. I understand from my client that you have served her a warrant which instructs her to let you search a young girl's dorm room, for, as I understand it, a police flashlight that you presume has gone missing?”

  Michael said, “That's correct, ma'am. The coroner estimates the time of death of Officer Kevin Bailey to be between the hours of 2 and 3 a.m. Saturday morning. Presuming this is correct, it stands to reason that he would have been patrolling campus with a flashlight in his possession. Even if he could be assured that the lights around campus worked perfectly, he would likely have chosen to bring it with him out of habit.”

  The lawyer collected herself for a moment, which only made her look more businesslike. She said, “As it happens, Detective, I have a passing familiarity with the events that took place on campus yesterday. My understanding is that Officer Bailey was involved in an altercation with a student named Shannon Moore. The officer gave a statement to the effect that he had found it necessary to subdue the student with force. He thought he saw her reaching for a knife. Whether Officer Bailey imagined that part, or whether Miss Moore did have a knife on her person will likely remain undetermined. Now, this being the case, what reason would Mr. Bailey have to come to campus in the middle of the night after working here during the day?”

  Billy said, “We don't know. That's the truth of it. He's not telling nothing no more. So we have to try and piece together what happened, including what led him to come here. Now if it turns out we find the flashlight in the dorm or among the girl's possessions, then we'll have it tested for fingerprints. If it turns out she handled it, well, you know how the saying goes.”

  “Indeed I do, Detective. I suppose you're not going to tell me why a person with Miss Moore's injuries chose not to seek help from a medical care practitioner at the time of her injury?”

  Billy shrugged both of his big shoulders. He said, “That's part of an ongoing investigation. I can't speak about that with you at this time.”

  Caitilin Phillips picked up the warrant and read it through. She took enough time doing so that Michael thought she had a stack of papers in front of her, rather than a single sheet. When she finally put it down, Michael let out the breath he'd been holding.

  She said, “President Clifton, I've read the document, and I'm prepared to tell you how things stand.”

  Lorraine picked up the warrant herself and held it before her eyes while she said, “Go ahead.”

  “The warrant directs Detectives Michael Ross and William McGee to search the property of one Shannon Moore for evidence pertaining to the murder of Officer Kevin Bailey, which is estimated to have taken place late Friday night into Saturday morning. Should you find anything incriminating of any kind among Miss Moore's possessions, you are directed to confiscate it at once as evidence in your investigation. Is that correct?”

  Michael said, “Yes, ma'am, it is.”

  “In that case, Lorraine, it is fruitless to file an injunction against this warrant. You do not own any of the property specified for search and seizure. The property is not located on your living premises, nor on any building, plot of land, or in any vehicle you may own. Because of this, any injunction you may choose to file will be rejected by the court.”

  Michael tried his best to restrain his mirth. He had a feeling that Shippensburg University had just incurred a legal expense that
would not have been necessary if only Lorraine had asked him directly. While he knew it was cruel to find humor in someone else's mistakes, he could not help himself. He let out a chuckle, one that drew the attention of both the lawyer and the university president.

  The lawyer said, “I'm sorry, do you find something amusing, Detective?”

  Michael said, “No, excuse me. I was remembering something from a television show. I apologize if I've given offense.”

  The president stood up. She said, “Well regardless, gentlemen, it seems the best course of action is simply to leave you to your work. I've kept you here long enough. Time you found out who killed one of our university's finest.”

  Though Michael had often heard the word finest used in conjunction with police officers, he wondered if that word applied to an officer who deliberately injured a young woman for no good reason at all.

  5

  During her tenure as a student, Shannon had lived in three different residence halls. She had first lived in Ravney Hall, the oldest, by virtue of having been placed there without her consent. Then she had moved into the Rossmoyne Hall, the newest building on campus until the gymnasium was constructed. There she had lived for two years until both her roommates had graduated. Unwilling to move in with strangers, and unable to find anyone willing to move out of their current spaces, she had been forced into a traditional dorm, one without an exercise center, elevators, or air conditioning. That was McCleary Hall, a tall five-story building with a small parking lot in which three maintenance vehicles had parked.

  Billy found a spot as close as he could to the building. By then, the rain had let up, only falling in small occasional drops. Michael let his partner walk in front while they ascended a winding sidewalk. They passed two young trees that had been borne down by the weight of heavy snow so that they stood at angle. A scattering of rock salt had been placed on the sidewalks sometime during the afternoon, though Michael could not recall seeing any in the morning.

  They came before a glass door beside which had been placed a card scanner. Billy tried opening the door, but found it locked. He knocked on the door with a big fist. Inside, a student sitting behind a desk looked up from her perusal of a group of papers lying before her. Billy motioned for her come and open the door, but she sat frozen in place, unsure what to do. A young woman with curlers in her hair, a toothbrush poking out of her mouth, and pink flip-flops on her feet came to the door, then pushed it open long enough for Billy to grab it and enter.

  Billy said, “Thank you.”

  The woman waved a hand in the air as she walked away, saying nothing.

  They walked up to the desk. The attendant, wide-eyed, said, “Um, how can I help you?”

  Billy held up his gold shield. He said, “We're with the police. We'd like to see your duty officer, please.”

  “Oh, you mean the on-call RA? Let me see who's on duty this weekend.” She pulled a sheet of paper off of a clipboard next to her station. She read it, then said, “You're looking for Mindy Chen. She's in room 122.”

  Michael knew that the warrant specified only a search of Shannon's room. It did not allow him or his partner to wander about the residence hall looking for whatever they wanted. Though he'd known other officers who would have done exactly that, he had also known prosecutors who had later complained that the evidence they expected to have in a trial had been thrown out because it had not been gathered with probable cause present. Though defense attorneys often found it difficult to get any evidence thrown out at all, it happened nonetheless. When it did, the officers who gathered the evidence got called out on the carpet to explain what they had been doing snatching up another person's property at random. Even the presence of an officer in a place where he wasn't supposed to be could be used to suggest that evidence had been gathered improperly.

  Billy said, “Excuse me, could you call her here?”

  The desk assistant pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. She said, “Mindy, this is Gail at the front desk. The police just showed up. They say they want to talk to you. Yeah...okay. Gotcha. I'll tell them.” She laid the phone down on the papers in front of her and said, “She'll be here in a minute.”

  “Hey thanks. You've been a great help.”

  Gail said nothing to this. She merely looked at the detectives before her, so alien in a place where young people with backpacks were the norm.

  Michael stepped away from a desk to stand in front of a pay telephone that charged seventy-five cents for a call. Billy rubbed the back of his neck. He said, “That felt good. I like being in the lead. I can see why you do it. Being in charge, you know? Kind of an aphrodisiac.”

  Michael hadn't thought about his actions in that way before. He did not know if he had been dragged along by an addiction to be the first, to be the best, to always be at the fore. He put the subject away for another time, one when he could reflect on his own choices without having a case dominate all his thoughts.

  He said, “You might be right. But even if we didn't have that conversation before, I would still want you to the lead the search here.”

  Billy looked away while a young man wearing boxer shorts and carrying a table tennis racket passed by. Once the resident disappeared into the dorm's basement, Billy said, “You mean because I know what the flashlight looks like?”

  “Sure, you've handled one before, haven't you?”

  “Yeah, the chief showed me his. He had number one.”

  Michael thought for a moment. He said, “Did you inspect all of the flashlights at the station?”

  Billy held up a hand. He said, “Hey, I know what you're gonna say. You don't have to say it. The chief told me an inventory is taken of all personnel items at the end of each night shift. They keep a log book. The chief showed it to me. Number eight flashlight was missing.”

  “I think I'd still like to have a look for myself.”

  “You mean, you think the flashlight has been at the station all along? Hiding in plain sight?”

  “I would have been willing to take the chief at his word until I heard about the drop in Carlisle. Now I think we have to assume that someone at the station here is up to something. Maybe Shannon knew or saw something she shouldn't have known or seen. Maybe that's what the hit list was, people who had seen too much and might cause trouble later on.”

  “So then, let's recap what we have. First, a student dies from a roof collapse. That's only related to the case because it made Moore angry enough to shout at the university president. With that many students in one place, the university called for two police officers to supervise the scene. One of them tackles Moore and sprays her in the face. Was that retaliation for something she'd done? A warning to keep quiet? Or was he trying to drive her out because she knew too much?”

  Michael leaned against the wall, thinking. He said, “If we need to go back to the hospital to ask after her personal belongings, you can ask her that yourself. The more layers I peel away from this case, the more I wish I had turned down your offer this morning.”

  “You don't want the money? Not that you ever spend it. Why did you accept it, anyway?”

  Michael grinned. “Because I like driving on early Saturday mornings. Everyone is sleeping off their Friday night parties. No one's out on the road.”

  “What, that's it? Just for that, and nothing else? You're not interested in the money, or the case itself? You serious?”

  “Now that I've been working the case today, I do want to get to the bottom of all this. There's something rotten in Shippensburg. I don't know what, but I want to find it. I get paid well enough, I suppose. It's just, what do I really need that I don't already have? I have a roof over my head, I have enough clothes to wear, I have enough food to eat, I have central heating and central air, and I can go out to eat whenever I want. What more could I want out of life than that?”

  Billy shook his head. A low, rumbling laugh escaped from his throat. He said, “You always were an odd duck. You never have gone on vacation except when s
omeone strongly suggests that you take one.”

  Michael laughed as well. He said, “That doesn't happen as often as it used to. Guess they really do think of me as indispensable.”

  “Hey, question for you. How do you put up with all the stress and nonsense that goes on at the station? Half the time, I can't stand it, crammed into that little space they gave me to work. I hardly even have enough leg room there, and now they're talking about reducing the desk size even further to fit more officers in. How do you stand it?”

  Michael leaned in close. He said, “I'll tell you a secret. Everyone has an ego. Some more than others. All you have to do is remember that everyone thinks they're the center of the universe. Anything that goes against that notion, well, it's gonna cause friction. The trick is, don't criticize anyone unless you know you're absolutely right. Most of the time, you'll only bring grief upon yourself for speaking your mind.”

  Billy looked away. He said, “Oh man, tactfulness. My wife told me about that. Well, she tells me a lot. Not my strong suit.”

  At that moment, when Michael had been about to offer words of encouragement, a short Asian woman appeared before them. She had shiny, jet-black hair which she had pulled back into a ponytail. She stood less than five feet tall. Though Billy dwarfed her, she took no notice. She said, “Hi there. You're the police officers?”

  Billy said, “Yes, ma'am, we are.”

  The woman extended her hand. She said, “Hi, I'm Mindy Chen. I'm the resident assistant on duty for the weekend. How can I help you today?”

  Billy shook the woman's hand with care, as though afraid he would break her hand with too strong a grip. He held out the search warrant and said, “We're here to search the premises belonging to Shannon Moore as authorized by this court order.”

  Mindy's eyes went wide. She said, “Oh dear, did she do something? What's wrong?”

  “I'm afraid I can't discuss that now. Could you show us to her room, please?”

  “Oh sure, it's on the fifth floor. Follow me.”