‘So what?’ Commander Hill asked, shrugging his shoulders. ‘You’ve found a rather vulgar looking man entering a National Park.’
‘But the tattoos. Look…’ She zoomed in on the footage. ‘They’re twisting the images of Disney’s characters, just like our guy is trying to twist our perception of Lincoln.’
‘I just can’t match the two…’ Hill shook his head. ‘It could be just a coincidence.’
‘There’s something I haven’t told you.’ She bowed her head and Hill looked up with intrigue. ‘But I’d ask that this remains within these four walls for now. You see, I spotted this guy down at the cabin with the Confederate flag just off Monroe Street.’
‘What? He’s here in town?’
‘As of last night he was!’ Vanessa nodded her head and grimaced. ‘And yet just a few days before the Lincoln body was taken, this man was spotted three hundred miles away in another Lincoln site, in a location which has been vandalised by our culprit!’
‘And how did you come across him? Why were you at the cabin anyway?’
‘Well this is the sensitive issue, Commander. Darnell was telling me on our trip to Kentucky that his son is white and has joined this Confederate club. At first I thought nothing of it, but then it hit me how close Darnell is to this case, and how our culprit is trying to entice Detective Jackson… to reveal a statement on Lincoln’s views on slavery. Darnell told me himself that he unfortunately doesn’t get on with his son. Wouldn’t he be the perfect person to be part of this plan?’
‘Well sure, but I don’t know if it’s enough to go on. I think you’d need to review the other tapes and see if this guy is seen anywhere else on your Lincoln trail.’
‘Will do, sir.’
‘Let me have another look at the tape. Zoom in on his face.’
Vanessa clicked on her keyboard and got a close-up of her suspect. He had a strong jaw and Roman nose. The commander tilted his head and squinted his eyes as he dissected the image which had become a little blurred.
‘Hmmm. I wonder,’ Hill mumbled, stroking his chin. Vanessa double-glanced at him before returning to the screen trying to determine what connection her boss had made to the potential suspect. The commander ploughed through his paperwork and lifted up a file marked Oak Ridge. He lifted out a disc, placed it into his laptop and pressed play. On the screen were two officers questioning a bespectacled man in a white shirt, blue blazer, black tie, a blue security cap, fluffy brown hair and goatee.
‘Look at this guy.’
‘Who is it?’
‘He’s one of the security guards from Oak Ridge. We brought them both in for questioning that morning. But look, take away the hair, the glasses, and add a lip piercing, could this be the same man as you found on your security tape in Indiana?’
Vanessa tilted her head and reviewed both images. She focused on the face and spotted a noticeable similarity between the jaw and his convex nose. In the interview tape, the hair could’ve easily been a wig; it was hard to tell.
‘I can see it! I mean, I don’t know if it would stand up in court but we could probe further. Is it Carl Bradshaw?’ Vanessa giddily replied, gleeful that their hunch had been accurate.
‘No, the other one,’ Hill replied.
‘Rick Spabrunt?’ Vanessa’s draw dropped.
‘That’s the one. By all accounts sick as a duck that night. Oh look there he goes again.’ On the screen, Spabrunt barfed across the table like a scene from The Exorcist and his interviewers darted backwards to avoid the putrid missile.
‘But we tested him?’ Vanessa slammed her hand down on the desk and turned to her boss for his insight. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘It could have just been deception. He could’ve easily poisoned himself. What better alibi could you have?’
Chapter 14
Outside of the entrance to Springfield University, Darnell stood waiting, inconspicuous in a beige jacket and matching cords, pinstriped shirt and sunglasses. He watched hundreds of students descend on the university.
As the clock tower chimed on the hour, an Asian girl ran up the stairs appearing flustered. She was short, no larger than five feet, dressed in a purple woolly jumper and red trousers. A yellow beret covered her straight black hair, which ran down to the top of her neck. In her hands, she carried a folder which had loosely stacked papers inside.
‘Lae!’ Darnell called. As she heard her name, she jumped, tripped forward and dropped her folder onto the floor. A dozen sheets of paper flew over the bricked path, which had a coating of ice as the Midwest entered the winter period. Darnell ran over and began to pick up the papers which rained down beside her in multiple directions.
‘Thank you!’ Lae said as he handed over her papers. He briefly browsed over them but the top page was made up of mere scribbles which he struggled to decipher through her handwriting like a pharmacy dispenser reading a doctor’s prescription note. ‘Sorry, did you call me?’ ‘I did. I’m Detective Jackson.’ Darnell lifted out his badge and showed her his credentials. ‘I came to your lecture yesterday and I was really interested to get a better understanding of Abraham Lincoln as part of a case I’m working on. I wondered if you could help me at all?’
‘I should really get to class. Could you not get support from Professor King?’
‘No, he’s too formal and text-booky. I need someone who can give it to me straight. I’m a layman. I haven’t got a qualification to my name. And also I heard your arguments in the
