“I was talking to Angie a couple of minutes ago. She told me the bad guy’s arm was hurt. It may even be broken. I believe he was wearing a sling of some kind.”
“So Major did get him,” Brian murmured.
“Major?” Dan asked. “Who’s Major?”
Detective Fellows paused for a moment before he answered. Dan Pardee was not an official part of the investigation into the Komelik shooting, but for some reason Brian Fellows didn’t understand, the man seemed to have skin in this game. The Border Patrol agent was involved enough and cared enough that he was still at the hospital and still looking out for Angelina Enos long after most other officers would have gone home. And if Jonathan Southard was as screwed up as he appeared to be, Fellows reasoned that Angie might very well need to have someone looking out for her, preferably someone armed with a handgun and trained in the use of it.
“Major was Jonathan Southard’s wife’s dog,” Brian said.
“Was?” Dan asked. “And who’s Jonathan Southard?”
“Abby Tennant’s son,” Brian replied. “Her estranged son. Major was the son’s wife’s dog. We believe the dog died attempting to protect his owner, Esther Southard, Jonathan’s wife. Major is dead and so is Esther, and so are their two kids. All three of them were shot to death. The bodies were found in Thousand Oaks, California, late last night or early this morning. I’m not sure which.”
There was a period of stark silence before Dan Pardee spoke again. “He wiped out his whole family. When?” he asked. “How long ago did they die?”
“Long enough ago for Southard to get here from Southern California,” Brian said. “Long enough for him to track down Jack and Abby Tennant and blow them away. His father and stepmother live in Ohio. We’re concerned that he may try to target them next. That’s my next call-to let them know what’s happened but also to notify them that they, too, might be in danger.”
“What about Angie?” Dan objected. “If what’s-his-name, Southard, finds out he left a witness behind, what happens then? Who’s to say he won’t come back looking for her as well?”
“It’s not a matter of if he finds out,” Brian Fellows said. “Somebody already let that cat out of the bag. Mention of a surviving witness, an unidentified child, was on a TV news report earlier this morning. With a little motivated effort, the bad guy could probably find out who she is and where she is.”
“Great,” Dan muttered sarcastically. “That’s just terrific.”
“How long do you expect to hang around?” Brian asked.
“I told Angie I’d stay on until one of her family members shows up to take her home. I figured someone would have come for her by now.”
“If and when someone does come by to pick her up, give me a call back on this same number,” Brian said. “That way I can clue Law and Order in so they can keep an eye out, too.”
“All right,” Dan said. “Will do.”
The interview line was still lit-still on hold-but now the desk phone was ringing again on the second line.
“Oops,” Brian said. “Gotta go. There’s another call.”
This time when Brian picked up, the departmental operator was on the line. “A call from the big guy,” she said.
Around the Pima County Sheriff’s Department, “the big guy” was none other than Sheriff William Forsythe. It was not a term of endearment.
“You should have called me!” Forsythe said accusingly, once Brian came on the line. “The people who run Tohono Chul are constituents of mine-important constituents. Once you made that connection, you should have called.”
Brian had pulled an all-nighter. The idea of being bitched out by the sheriff himself didn’t go down very well right about then.
“It was five-thirty or six before we made the Tohono Chul connection,” Brian said civilly. “So far we’ve got what looks like at least seven victims-three in California and four here.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the out-of-town victims,” Sheriff Forsythe bellowed. “Those are none of my concern, and none of yours, either. Law and Order can run the reservation part of the investigation. I want some hands-on treatment for these local folks. That part of the investigation should be handled by one of our A-teams, not somebody working solo. I believe the Aces are next up. I’ve already called them, and they’re on the way. Once they show up at the department, turn over whatever you’ve got to them, and go home.”
Brian Fellows seethed with indignation. As long as Forsythe figured the victims were Indians or illegal aliens, he had no problem tapping Brian for the job. Once it was expedient to do so, the sheriff didn’t hesitate for a moment about calling in the big dogs. Everyone in the department understood that the Aces, Detectives Abernathy and Adams, were Forsythe’s go-to guys when it came to cases with the potential for any kind of political fallout.
“Right,” Brian said through gritted teeth. “Will do.”
When Sheriff Forsythe ended the call, Brian returned to the other phone. The interview with Corrine Lapin had ended, but Alex Mumford was still on the line, waiting for him. He might have mentioned to her that he’d just been sent to the locker room, but he didn’t.
“How long do you think Southard had been planning this?” Brian asked.
“There’s no way to tell. From what Corrine told us, I believe Esther intended to leave as soon as she had her share of the money.”
“Did Jonathan know she was about to exit stage left?”
“Hard to tell,” Alex said. “Some guys are so full of themselves that they can’t imagine anyone would ever up and leave them. In other words, maybe he knew and maybe he didn’t. Corrine indicated that regardless of whether charges were filed, there was some history of physical abuse.”
Brian knew where she was going. In relationships where domestic violence is part of the equation, the moment one spouse tries to leave, things can get ugly.
“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “The banking records I requested are just now coming in. Hang on.”
Brian waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the desk.
“Okay,” Alex said after a long pause. “Okay. It looks like the 401(k) money landed in their joint account on Wednesday of last week, but it isn’t there now. It was withdrawn on Friday, as soon as the check cleared.”
“The whole amount?” Brian asked.
“Every bit of it,” Alex answered. “I’ve also spoken to a neighbor who reported hearing two people, a man and a woman, involved in a screaming battle on Sunday night. She also said that by Monday morning things seemed to have settled down. Quiet, anyway.”
“So Esther discovered that Jonathan had hidden the money from her, and the two of them went to war over it.”
“Right,” Alex agreed. “The only reason it was quiet on Monday is that Esther and the kids were already dead.”
“The question is, was this his plan all along?” Brian asked. “Had he already gone to the trouble of setting himself up with another identity and made arrangements for fake IDs?”
Detective Mumford thought about that. “Those can always be had for a price, but you have to have some connection in that world. I have warrants for his phone and Internet records, and I’ll know more once we have access. Banking records just showed up, but so far nothing else.”
Brian was impressed. The investigation into the Thousand Oaks homicides was only a few hours old. Already Alex Mumford had managed to come up with court orders to cover banking and phone records. Considering it was 10:00 A.M. on a Sunday morning, that was pretty impressive.
“He obviously drove from California to Tucson in his minivan. If we put out an APB with information on his vehicle, we might find him. Then again, we may not. So far he must be paying cash for his gasoline purchases. There’s no sign of any credit card activity. Since he evidently has plenty of cash, he may try to ditch his Dodge Caravan for something else in hopes of slipping by us. If he’s trying to travel by air, my guess is that he’ll still be using his own ID, or at least trying to.”
“Have you released any information about finding the bodies on your end?” Brian asked.
“Not yet. We’re still waiting on additional next-of-kin notifications.”
“That won’t last forever, but it’s good for us. For right now Southard may not realize we’ve made the connection. If it hadn’t been for that neighborhood block watch lady, we wouldn’t have.”
“Hang on,” Alex said. “Here comes the phone record info.”
