Sorrow's Anthem

“He told me he was,” I said. “And I believed him. Still do.”

“It’s a hell of a thing to suggest. You’re talking about two cops, LP. You know what you’re going to get started with this?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

“I don’t know a thing about Padgett, but I’ve been around Larry Rabold more than a few times. Seems like a nice guy. Solid cop, too.”

“Run the plate number,” I said. “See if I’m wrong.”

After a long pause, he turned away from me and logged on to his computer. Private investigators in Ohio have access to the motor vehicle bureau’s database, and it isn’t hard to run a license number. He was busy for a few minutes and then looked up.

“The Jeep is registered to Jack Padgett.”

We sat and looked at each other.

He groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “Shit, Lincoln.”

All I could do was agree.

The first thing I wanted to see was a copy of the officer’s incident report from the botched arrest of Ed Gradduk. Such reports aren’t public record, not the details at least, but that’s the advantage of having worked with the police department. We could always find some old friend who was willing to help out with the minor stuff. Well, Joe could, at least. I had my contacts at the department, sure, but Joe was a legend. He had friends with the police he hadn’t even met yet.

He made a few calls and got a promise that the report was on its way. When he’d hung up, he lifted a newspaper off the desk and held it in the air. “You read Amy’s article yet?”

“No.”

I’d almost forgotten about Amy’s discovery, thanks to my preoccupation with Padgett and Rabold. Now I took the paper reluctantly. A glance at the front-page, above-the-fold headline was almost enough to make me put it down: MURDER SUSPECT WAS UNWANTED PRESENCE IN VICTIM’S LIFE.

I read the article, then folded it so the front page was hidden and stuffed it in the garbage can.

I couldn’t call it editorializing, because it wasn’t. All Amy had done was take her quotes and lay them out there: Gradduk allegedly had an unpleasant exchange with Sentalar at a bar; Gradduk apparently made numerous calls to her office and residence; Sentalar’s law partner, a guy named David Russo, said the dead woman had viewed Gradduk as a nuisance and seemed at times to be afraid of him. Amy had written what she’d been told, and I supposed the television news stations were cursing her for beating them on the story. That didn’t make it any easier for me to read.

“What do you think?” Joe said.

“I think it’s bullshit.”

“Has to be some fact to it, LP. Has to be.”

“Sure, there might be some fact to it, but without explanation or context the readers are going to take one look and make a snap judgment that Ed was some sort of stalker.”

Joe smiled wanly. “And that’s Amy’s fault?”

“I didn’t say it was her fault.”

“But you’re thinking it.”

I stood up and walked over to the fax machine, checked the display to make sure it was on. No sign of the incident report yet.

“You know she couldn’t have enjoyed writing it about your old friend,” he said. “But it’s her job.”

“She talk to you?”

“No. I’m just seeing your reaction and warning you to take a step back. You’re from a police and PI background, LP. You build an investigation one day at a time, then produce your result. Amy doesn’t have that luxury. When she has a productive day of investigation, she has to slam it into the next day’s paper, or she’s considered a professional failure.”

“But it makes him look—,” I began, and Joe interrupted with a snort.

“It makes him look bad? Makes him look like something he wasn’t? Spreads misconceptions, encourages unfounded gossip? No shit, Lincoln. Welcome to the world of the media. You’d think you’d never encountered it before.”

“I’ve encountered it.”

“Exactly. So think about that and then ask yourself if you’d be this mad if it hadn’t been Amy breaking the story.”

The fax machine ground to life then, sucking a blank page from the feed tray and pumping it through. I grabbed it as it came out and saw a Cleveland Police Department cover sheet. This would be the incident report.

It was seven pages long, and I ran it through the copier before I read it, so Joe and I could take a look simultaneously. The incident report had been written by Sergeant Jack Padgett the morning after Ed’s death. It began with the tip.

On the afternoon of August 12, at approximately 3:45 P.M., I received a phone call on my cell phone. The number is one I frequently distribute to witnesses, informants, and others who could be of assistance to police business. The caller identified himself as Jerome Huggins of the Liquor Locker on Train Avenue. Mr. Huggins asked me if I was familiar with a fire on Train Avenue. He said the fire had occurred the previous day. I told him that I knew about it. He then told me he believed his security camera had captured information that would be of value to the police. Mr. Huggins chose to call me because I had previously worked with him on a robbery that had occurred in his business a few years earlier. I told Mr. Huggins that I would stop by to look at his film.

Upon arriving at the Liquor Locker, I was shown to a small television monitor by Mr. Huggins. He then played the portion of tape that he found relevant. Some of this tape showed the fire, other segments showed a white male entering and leaving the vacant house shortly before the fire began. In one segment the man’s vehicle was visible. I asked Mr. Huggins if he thought the man in the tape was familiar, and he said he did. He identified the male as someone from the neighborhood. He suggested the man’s first name was Ed, but he could not recall the last name. I obtained the license plate number from a careful study of the tape. I then called in to dispatch and asked them to run the plate match. They informed me that the plate was registered to an Edward Gradduk. I then asked Mr. Huggins if he believed this individual could be the man he identified on the tape, and he told me that he believed that to be true. At this point myself and Officer Rabold took the surveillance tape to be entered as police evidence and went to locate the suspect, Edward Gradduk. At this point myself and Officer Rabold believed we had probable cause to suggest that Mr. Gradduk had trespassed on private property shortly before a criminal act of arson was committed at that property.

“‘A criminal act of arson,’ he says.” I looked at Joe, who just grunted and continued reading. I dropped my eyes back to the paper.

Dispatch informed me that Edward Gradduk’s home address was on Clark Avenue. Together with Officer Rabold, I proceeded to this address in order to determine if the suspect was home. His vehicle, a Ford sedan, was found to be in the driveway ofthe residence. Officer Rabold requested that he remain outside to watch the house in case Gradduk tried to leave from the back, and I approved. I myself entered the house with permission of an older white female who identified herselfas the mother of Edward Gradduk. We stood in the kitchen and waited for Edward Gradduk to come down the steps. He came down at his mother’s request and seemed immediately to resent me being in the house. I told him that I wanted to speak with him about a fire on Train Avenue and asked if he would be willing to come to the police station for questioning. At this point the mother grew hostile, shouting at me and insisting that I leave. Edward Gradduk told me he wanted to call an attorney. I said he could call an attorney to meet him at the police station but that I would be taking him into custody as a suspect in an arson and homicide investigation. It was at this point that Edward Gradduk struck me in the face with his right fist and exited the residence through the front door. Officer Rabold had been watching the rear of the property and did not see Edward Gradduk leave.

The report went on to describe the arrival of backup, the delegation of duties in the search for Gradduk, and the medical condition of Padgett, whose nose turned out not to be broken, just bloodied. There was a mention of