
Beta: Much thanks and appreciation goes to my superbeta, the ever-awesome Barb (Bank1115). She’s amazing! This story would not be where it’s at right now without her encouragement and assistance—whether it be prodding me and my muse along or correcting my boo-boos. She even helps me with research!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
What Are You, Mick St. John?—Chapter 2
“Lieutenant Carl Davis on line one for you.”
Josh thanked his assistant via the speakerphone, then picked up the receiver and pressed the button to connect the call.
“Carl?”
“Josh…hey. I assume you heard from Beth what happened last night.”
“Yeah…she’s a little shook up.”
“Understandable. But listen, something’s not quite adding up, and—”
“—For you too, huh,” Josh interrupted.
“What?”
“I’m by no means disputing that what Mick said about Spalding was true, I mean, that’s obvious—but there’s something about Mick…I don’t know.”
“That’s exactly why I’m calling you. St. John just came in to give his statement.”
“And?” Josh leaned forward.
“On the surface, it all seems plausible…but he seemed uncomfortable about the fact that the investigation isn’t closed. Not to mention, the phone call—which is what I wanted to ask you about…”
“He was uncomfortable about the phone call.”
“Yeah, he was; he tried to downplay it—”
“Oh, I wasn’t asking, I was telling: I know for a fact: he was uncomfortable about the phone call—one part in particular. He wasn’t giving in to Spalding’s demands, until Spalding yelled, ‘You do not talk to me that way! I know what you are, Mick.’ And then Mick shut right up and listened.”
Josh heard Carl’s low whistle on the other end. “Huh. Mick conveniently left part out. Did he explain what Spalding meant?”
“Nope.”
“Maybe that’s why he didn’t mention the recording—didn’t want me to go looking for it and start asking questions.”
“Yeah, well, it’s already started me wondering.” Josh expelled a breath. “Beth erased it this morning.”
“What?!”
“Yeah…said we didn’t need it anymore, Julia was safe; and she didn’t want it on there as a constant reminder of what happened.”
“Hmm.”
“There wasn’t anything actually incriminating on it—well, at least not to Mick. Lee Jay, of course, hung himself with that phone call. Duncan Smythe only needed to hear it once before he agreed to release the statement saying Mick had turned himself in.”
“Guess it’s not like we’ll need it for a trial, anyway—not since Mick snapped his neck.”
“Yeah, that’s what Beth said—you also think it weird Mick went in there unarmed, knowing that there was a dangerous ex-con and possibly some of his buddies in there?”
“Yeah…he must be the cockiest bastard I know. Said some old buddy of his taught him some moves.”
“You believe him?”
“I dunno. It’s not impossible—unlike some of the stuff Julia Stevens said…she claimed Mick jumped down from the rafters.”
Josh snorted. “Eyewitnesses say the darndest things sometimes, eh?”
“Yeah. Anyway, the lab just dropped their fingerprint report on my lap. I’m going to take a look at it now.”
“Keep me posted.” Josh hung up and tapped his finger on the desk thoughtfully.
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Carl pawed through the file until he found the list of fingerprint evidence. He scanned the sheet until he saw what he was looking for: Identifiable prints: Side door. Exterior—Ricardo “Ricky Ricardo” Acevedo; Cameron Boyd; Lee Jay Spalding; Beth Turner (elimination sample). Interior—Ricardo “Ricky Ricardo” Acevedo; Cameron Boyd; Lee Jay Spalding; Julia Stevens (elimination sample); Beth Turner (elimination sample); Unknown A.
Carl frowned. Lee Jay and his two chumps had put their dirty little paws on both sides of the door, not surprising. And according to Julia Stevens’s statement, Lee Jay had played the gentleman until they had gotten inside, so he probably opened the door for her on their way in. She later exited under her own power, hence her prints only on the inside. Beth had both entered and exited—her prints explained. But what about the complete absence of Mick St. John’s prints? As a PI, his were in the system. He couldn’t be the unknown. And why were the unknown person’s on the inside only? Lee Jay couldn’t have had another hostage; Julia Stevens would certainly have noticed. And the detailed fingerprint notes stated that one of Unknown A’s prints was found slightly overlapping one of Julia Stevens’s prints, meaning that Unknown A had exited the warehouse after Julia, so it wasn’t an old print. Someone else was in that warehouse—someone that any or all of the three people who had exited that warehouse alive either hadn’t noticed or weren’t mentioning.
But first to deal with St. John and the lack of his prints. Carl imagined that no one had opened the door for St. John. So, what, then—gloves? Who wears gloves in L.A. besides burglars? Or someone else who doesn’t want their fingerprints found… Mick had definitely said he used the door like everyone else. The only other alternative besides him wearing gloves was expressed in Julia Steven’s statement. And that was just…
“Impossible.”
But the idea wouldn’t go away. It nagged at him while he drove his car. It ate at him while he devoured his cochinita pibils. It drove him mad until he put his car into drive and headed in the direction of the warehouse where it had all gone down. He smacked the steering wheel. “Fine…I’ll go play junior detective.”
Carl circled the warehouse, looking for a way up from the ground. Nothing.
Inside, he found a narrow metal staircase zigzagging up the wall to a door that opened onto the roof. He removed his jacket and threw it on a nearby table, but several clinking sounds made him promptly pick up his jacket to see what was underneath. A half-dozen wooden stakes rolled and bumped into each other on the table. He picked one up to examine it. Wooden stakes? What, were Lee Jay and his goons planning to go camping afterwards, to celebrate offing Lee Jay’s nemesis’s son?! He shrugged and put it back on the table. He climbed the staircase slowly, trying to balance his kit and not look down. “Damn things I do to satisfy my gut’s wacky hunches…” he muttered.
The door was locked from the inside. So obviously Mick had not entered or exited through that door, even if he had miraculously managed to find another way up to the roof. Carl turned around on the tiny landing in front of the door and looked up slightly, over at the rafters. No freakin’ way… But still he opened the door and stepped out onto the roof. He was several feet from the edge, but still turned and sidestepped over to the windows opening just above and beside the rafters. One was open slightly. He put his kit down and took out some jars of bright red powder. He twirled the fingerprint brush first in the powder, then all over the edge and handle of the open window.
Carl’s stomach twisted as several prints showed up. You’ve got to be kidding me…He stared at them for a moment before taking out a set of tape lifts. Some were smudged, but there were quite a few that were usable. Carefully, he pressed each set of prints, preserving them.
“Why do I hate that my crazy hunch was proved right?!”
To be continued...