Detective (46 page)

The next day produced nothing,
either, although by this time Ruby
was moving at high speed through the
microfilm reels, having learned to
keep the non-robbery reports sliding
by. By the end of that day she had
reviewed and discarded five
microfilm cassettes.

The next morning, while threading
film from a new cassette through the
reader-printer's setup reels, she
wondered doubtfully, Did this
robbery ever happen as Elroy Doll
claimed ? And if it did, was it ever
recorded ? The nagging questions
stayed with her through the next two
hours as she realized how much more
searching lay ahead.

Suddenly Ruby's attention was
riveted on an armed robbery case,
number 27422-F, dated April 18,
1980. At 12:15 A.M. that day a robbery
occurred outside the Carousel Nite
Club on Gratigny Drive, Miami Lakes.
She

384 Arthur Halley

zoomed in to magnify the details.
These showed that the robber,
wielding a knife, approached his
male victim, Harold Baird, and
demanded all of Baird's money and
jewelry. Four hundred dollars in
cash was taken, as well as two rings
worth a hundred dollars each, and a
gold money clip worth two hundred.
The clip bore the victim's initials,
HB. The report described the
perpetrator as "a very large white
male, identity unknown."

With a sigh of relief, Ruby
pressed the machine's printout
button and reached for the emerging
copy of Report 27422-F. Then she
leaned back and relaxed, knowing she
had found proof that at least part
of what Doll had told Sergeant
Ainslie was true.

Now on to Tampa.

Back at her Miami Homicide desk,
Ruby telephoned the Tampa Police
Department, was transferred to the
Detective Bureau, and then to its
Homicide Squad, where a Detective
Shirley Jasmund took Ruby's call.

"We have some information here,"
Ruby announced, "about what we think
is an old case of yours a husband
and wife named Ikei, murdered in
1980."

"Sorry, I was still in school that
year fifth grade." Detective Jasmund
giggled, but added, "Somewhere,
though, I've heard that name. How'd
you spell it?"

When Ruby told her, Jasmund
responded, "It may take a while to
look up, so give me a number and
I'll call back."

Three hours later Ruby's phone
rang and Jasmund's voice announced,
"We found that file, looks
interesting. An old couple Japanese,
both in their seventies stabbed to
death in a summer home they had
here. Bodies shipped back to Japan
for burial. No serious suspects, it
says here."

DETECTIVE 385

"Are there details about the crime
scene?" Ruby asked. "Sure are!" Ruby
heard the sound of pages turning.
"Officers' reports say it was very
messy. Bodies brutalized, bound and
gagged, facing each other . . .
money taken, and . . . wait, here's
something odd . . ."

"What?"

"Hold on, I'm reading here . . .
Well, there was an envelope found
beside the bodies. It had blobs of
sealing wax on the back, seven in a
circle it says, and inside was a
printed sheet a page from the
Bible."

"Does it say what part of the
Bible?"

"No . . . Yes! Here it is.
Revelation."

"That's it! The case I want."
Ruby's voice was excited. "Look, we
have a lot of information to
exchange, so I'm going to fly up to
you. Would tomorrow be okay?"

"Let me ask my sergeant."

The sound of muffled voices
followed, then Jasmund's again.
"Tomorrow's fine. You've got us all
curious, including our division
captain, who's been listening. He
said to tell you that the Ikeis'
relatives in Japan still phone each
year with the same question: Is
there any news? That's where I heard
the name."

"Tell the captain that when he gets
his next call from Japan, I think
he'll have answers."

"Will do. And when you know what
time you'll get in, call and we'll
have a squad car meet you at the
airport."

An early Gulfstream Airlines flight
from Miami to Tampa took sixty-five
minutes, and Ruby Bowe was at the
City of Tampa Police Department by
8:30 A.M. Detective ShirIey Jasmund
came to the front desk to escort her
to the Detective Bureau, and the two
women black and white liked each
other immediately. "Word's gone
around about

386 Arthur Halley

you," Jasmund said. "Even the chief
has been told about that old case
with the Japanese. When we're all
through, he wants a report."

Jasmund, in her mid-twenties, was
outgoing and lively, with shining
brown eyes, dark hair, high
cheekbones, and a slim figure that
Ruby envied, having recently put on
a few-pounds herself. You'll have to
lay off the junk food soon, honey,
she told herself for the umpteenth
time.

"We have a meeting set up,"
Jasmund told her. "With Sergeant
Clemson, Detective Yanis, and me.''

"The reason that Japanese family
keeps calling us year after year,"
Detective Sandy Yanis of Homicide
told Ruby, "is that they care so
much about their ancestors. It's why
they had the bodies flown back for
burial, but apparently they won't
rest well until whoever killed them
is found and punished."

"They can rest soon," Ruby said.
"It's ninety-eight percent certain
that the man who did the killing was
Elroy Doil, executed three weeks ago
at Raiford for another crime.''

"I'll be damned. I remember reading
about that."

Yanis, clearly an old hand, with a
lanky, rugged physique, appeared to
be in his late fifties. His face was
seamed, the lines intersected by a
long scar on his cheek that looked
like an old knife wound. What
remained of his graying hair was
brushed back untidily. Half-moon
glasses perched on the end of his
nose; mostly he looked over them
with a penetrating gaze.

The four were crowded into
Sergeant Clemson's tiny office. In
Miami's Metro-Dade headquarters,
which she'd visited yesterday, broom
closets would be larger, Ruby
thought. Shirley Jasmund had already
explained that the

DETECTIVE 387

Tampa police headquarters, built in
the early sixties, was inadequate
and outmoded. "The politicians keep
promising a new one but can never
seem to find the money, so we
struggle on."

Yanis quizzed Ruby. "You said you
were ninety-eight percent certain
about your guy Doil. How about the
other two percent?"

"There's supposedly a knife hidden
in a graveyard here in Tampa. If we
find it, that ninety-eight becomes a
hundred."

"Let's not play games," Sergeant
Clemson said. "Be specific." He was
younger then Sandy Yanis; though se-
nior in rank, he seemed to defer to
the older detective.

"All right." Once more Ruby
described Elroy Doil's pre-execution
confession to fourteen murders,
including the Ikeis in Tampa a case
that no one in Miami Homicide had
heard of then Doil's emphatic denial
of the Ernst double murder
attributed to him, though he had not
been formally charged.

"He was a pathological liar, and at
first no one believed him," Ruby
continued. "But now there are some
doubts, and I have the job of
checking everything he said."

Jasmund asked, "Have you caught him
out in anything?"

"So far, not one thing."

"So, if whatever he said about
Tampa checks out," Yanis prompted,
"you might have another unsolved
murder on your hands."

Ruby nodded. "A copycat."

"So what about the knife and a
graveyard?" Clemson put in.

Reading from a notebook, Ruby
quoted Doil's own words. " 'There's
a cem'tery near where the Ikeis
lived. Had ta get rid o' the knife I
used, hid it in a grave. Know

388 Arthur Hailey

what was on the marker? Same last
name as mine. Saw it, knew I'd
remember if I wanted the fuckin'
knife back, but I never got it.'

"Question: 'You buried the knife
in a grave? Was it deep?'

"Answer: 'No, not deep.' "

Clemson opened a file on his desk.
"The address where the Ikeis lived
is 2710 North Mantanzas. Is there a
cemetery near there?"

"Sure is," Yanis said. "Mantanzas
runs into St. John, and there's a
graveyard right behind called Marti
Cemetery. It's small, old, and owned
by the city."

"In case you hadn't realized it,"
Clemson told Ruby, "Sandy is our
resident oracle. He's been around
forever, forgets nothing, and knows
every arcane corner of Tampa. Which
is why he does pretty much what he
likes and we put up with his
peculiar ways."

"About memory," Yanis said, "I do
have trouble remembering birthdays.
Haven't a clue how many I've had."

"The bean counters know," Clemson
rejoined. "When it's time they'll be
around here with your pension
check."

Ruby felt she was hearing an
exchange that had taken place many
times before.

More seriously, Yanis told her,
"Most of the guys who work in
Homicide get promoted out or move on
to something else after six or seven
years. The stress is too great. Me,
I'm hooked on it all. I'll be here
till they carry me out, and I
remember old cases like the Ikeis,
and love to see 'em closed. So let's
get on start digging in that cem-
etery. Won't be the first time I've
done that."

Sergeant Clemson used a speakerphone
to call an assistant state attorney
so the others could hear their
conversation.

DETECTIVE 389

After having the problem described
to him, the attorney was
uncompromising.

"Yes, Sergeant, I do realize we're
not talking exhumation. But the
reality is, no matter how near the
surface the knife might be, you
can't go disturbing any human grave
without a judge's order."

"Any objection to us checking
first, to find if there is such a
grave?"

"I guess not, as part of an
official investigation. But be
careful. People are touchy about
graves; it's like invading someone's
privacy, or worse."

Afterward Clemson told Yanis,
"Sandy, find out if there's a grave
in that cemetery for someone named
Doil. If there is, you can swear an
affidavit, then ask a judge to sign
an order letting us dig there." He
added for Ruby, "This is going to
take a couple of days, maybe more,
but we'll move as fast as we can."

Ruby accompanied Yanis to City Hall
and the Real Estate Division to meet
an assistant property manager, Ralph
Medina, whose responsibilities
included Marti Cemetery. Medina, a
small, middle-aged civil servant
with a friendly attitude, explained,
"Mart) doesn't need much managing,
takes maybe four, five percent of my
working time. One good thing once
our tenants are inside, they never
complain." He smiled at his own
joke. "But if I can help, I will."

It was Ruby who described the
purpose of their visit, Elroy Doil's
pre-execution statement, and what
they were seeking. She then inquired
how many people were buried in the
cemetery who had had that same last
name.

"How do you spell that?"

"D-o-i-l."

390 Arthur Halley

Medina produced a file, ran a
finger down several lists, then
shook his head. "There's no such
name. No one with that name's ever
been buried at Marti."

"What about similar names?" Yanis
asked.

"There are some spelled D-o-y-l-e."

"How many of those?"

Medina checked his lists again.
"Three."

Yanis turned to Ruby. "What do you
think?"

"I'm not sure. Doil's words were
'same last name as mine,' and the
idea of disturbing three graves
without real reason . . ." She shook
her head.

"Yeah, know what you mean. Mr.
Medina, when were the people in
those Doyle graves buried?"

The answers took several minutes
to find. At length: "One was in
1903, another in 1971, the last in
1986."

"Forget the third; that's six
years after the Ikei murders. About
the other two are you still in touch
with the families?"

Again, more searching through
registers, files, and yellowed
pages, then the pronouncement, "The
answer's no. The 1903 burial shows
no contact at all; it was so long
ago. After the 1971, there was an
exchange of letters, then nothing."

"So you couldn't contact relatives
of those dead people, even if you
wanted?" Yanis queried.

"No, probably not."

"And if we obtained a judge's
order to search those two graves
just a foot or so below the surface,
you'd cooperate?"

"With a judge's order, of course."

As Ruby and Yanis left City Hall
together, she said, "So you decided
to go ahead anyway."

DETECTIVE 39~

"We have to," he answered tersely,
adding, "It's a long shot with those
different names, and maybe we'll
waste our time. But it's a bigger
risk to pass up a chance of finding
the truth about how those old people
died."

She regarded him curiously. "You
really care about the answer, don't
you? Even though it's all those
years ago."

"For me," he told her, "those old
cases never go away, no matter how
many years you wait. So you tried to
solve a case ten, fifteen years ago,
but couldn't. Then something new
comes up like now and you try again,
every bit as hard as before."

"Not everyone does," Ruby said.
"It's good that you care."

As if he had not heard, Yanis
tapped his forehead, then continued,
"I have a list in there that won't
go away. Right up top is a little
girl named Juanita Montalvo. She was
ten years old; fifteen years ago,
here in Tampa, she disappeared. A
lot of us worked hard on that case.
We got nowhere, but somehow,
someday, before I finish, I want to
know what happened to Juanita, and
where she is, even if it's buried in
the woods and we have to dig to find
her."