Of course I do. Which is why I have to find him first.
Murphy nodded. “Absolutely. You guys did a great job. Just don’t be surprised if your first suspect doesn’t pan out.”
“What about getting a search warrant for his house?” Calumet said.
“The city is under a mandatory evacuation order,” Murphy said. “Where are you going to find a judge?”
“I don’t know,” Calumet said, “but we’ve got to do something. I’ll go in without a warrant if I have to.”
That was the exact right answer, and Murphy knew it. In a kidnapping case like this, where there was a chance to save the victim’s life, exigent circumstances trumped the Fourth Amendment requirement for a search warrant. Fortunately, Calumet and his partner were too green to be sure of that. Murphy was the seasoned veteran.
“This is a death-penalty case,” Murphy said. “Ten years from now everything you do today is going to wind up at the U.S. Supreme Court. You’ve got to go by the book on this one.”
“He might have the mayor’s daughter in that house,” Calumet said.
Murphy shook his head, knowing he had to downplay the exigency of the situation. “I doubt it.”
The two detectives looked at each other, then back at Murphy. “Why?” Doggs said.
“He only held one victim, and that was just long enough to set up his video camera and cut off her head. The mayor’s daughter has been missing for almost forty-eight hours. She’s dead. We just haven’t found her body yet.”
“So what do we do?” Doggs said.
Murphy needed to keep them busy and out of his way. “We’ll try to get a search warrant. Type up an affidavit with a summary of all ten murders we suspect him of. Leave off the arson. Wrap it up with the letters to the newspaper, the finger, which we know came from the victim under the overpass, and the mayor’s daughter. Mention the videos. And make sure you include the cause of death and the physical evidence from each scene to prove that we can link them. Then write up a brief biography of your suspect… what’s his name?”
“Richard Lee Jeffries,” Calumet said.
Murphy nodded. “Jeffries, right. Make sure you explain how you came up with the tire information. Everything hinges on linking Jefferies to the tire track.”
Doggs and Calumet were both nodding, but Murphy could tell they thought he was overreaching. And they were right. For a search warrant, all they needed to do was tie Jeffries to one murder. The rest could come later.
“Look,” Murphy said, “I know you guys probably think all this paperwork is bullshit, but one day your affidavit is going to get an anal exam from a bunch of highly motivated, very skilled, pro bono, anti-death-penalty lawyers who have had months to study it. If there’s a single flaw in it, they’ll find it. It’s called attacking the four corners. You’re not getting a warrant for a chop shop, looking for a couple of stolen Chevys.”
Murphy made a show of looking at his watch. “It’s five thirty. Take a couple of hours to get your affidavit together. Meanwhile, I’ve got one more lead to run down. While I’m doing that, I’ll work the phone to try to find us a judge. Let’s meet back here at seven thirty and we’ll see where we stand.”
“Shouldn’t one of us go sit on the house,” Doggs said, “in case the guy comes back?”
Of course you should, but I can’t let you do that.
Murphy shook his head. “If he spots you before you spot him, he’ll be in the wind and we’ll never find him again.”
“But we know what he’s driving,” Calumet said.
“You know what he was driving three months ago when he dumped that body off Michoud Boulevard,” Murphy said. “What if he’s driving something different now? What if he drives right past you and sees you watching his house? After everything this guy has done, you don’t think he’s paranoid? He probably sleeps with his eyes open.”
Calumet shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Murphy knew the young cop didn’t mean it.
“What if we can’t find a judge?” Doggs said.
Murphy hesitated for several seconds, trying to appear thoughtful. “You were right about what you said earlier. It’s possible to search the house without a warrant, but we have to show we’ve exhausted all reasonable efforts to get a warrant and that someone’s life is in imminent danger.”
“Given the circumstances, that doesn’t seem that tough,” Doggs said.
“First we’ve got to try to find a judge,” Murphy said. “And before we do that, we’ve got to put together an affidavit. Otherwise, when this case gets reviewed by a bunch of bleeding-heart judges and ACLU lawyers, it’ll look like we didn’t even try to get a warrant.”
The two young detectives looked at each other, then turned around and walked out of the squad room. Their disappointment in Murphy’s mentorship was obvious.
As Murphy watched them go, he knew he had only two hours to find Richard Lee Jeffries.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Monday, August 6, 5:45 PM
The driveway in front of 127 South Saint Patrick Street was empty. Murphy circled the block looking for an old Honda Civic with a new set of Goodyear Aquatreds. There wasn’t one.
He parked across the street, in the back lot of Saint Anthony of Padua Catholic Church. He watched the house until six o’clock. There was no movement and no change in the lighting. It didn’t appear anyone was home.
Murphy was reaching for the glove compartment when his cell phone rang. The caller ID showed Restricted. It was either a police number or it was Kirsten. He pressed the ignore button. He pulled the hood of his raincoat over his head and cinched the drawstrings. The rain was coming down in sheets.
His police radio crackled. “Homicide Division to twenty-five fifty-four, Detective Murphy.”
It was Calumet’s voice. Murphy picked up his radio and keyed the microphone. “Twenty-five fifty-four, go ahead.”
“Call the office ASAP,” Calumet said.
Murphy set the radio back on the seat and grabbed his cell phone. He dialed the main number for Homicide.
Calumet answered on the first ring. “Murphy?” The young detective sounded excited.
“Yeah.”
“Can you get back here by six fifteen?”
Murphy glanced at his watch. That was in less than fifteen minutes. “Why?”
“For a briefing.”
“What briefing?”
“We got the search warrant.”
“What!” That was impossible. They couldn’t have done everything he had told them to do.
“Yeah, we got the warrant.”
Murphy took a deep breath. He had to sound like a detective who wanted to arrest the most prolific killer in the city’s history. “How?”
Calumet’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The captain overheard me and Doggs talking about putting together a warrant, and he asked what kind of information we had. Once we laid it out, he told us to leave off all the murders except the dump job in the east, the one where you found the tire track. He said that’s the only one we need to link Jeffries to right now.”
And the captain is right, but that doesn’t help me.
“You got it signed already?” Murphy said.
“Doggs is on his way back from the judge’s house right now. The judge lives uptown, on the river side of Saint Charles, said he rode out Katrina and he’s going to ride out this one.”
What a fucking disaster, Murphy thought. “I’ll head back,” he said. “Wait until I get there to start the briefing.”
