Irrefutable (8 page)

Alex looked up at her, but said nothing.

“Real estate law. She handles complex contractual issues in sales of high end properties. And, she just bought a new car. I know you don’t feel like guessing, so I’ll just tell you. She bought a new Mercedes from the same dealership.”

“So, what have you learned?”

“Well, they have a few things in common. They both attended Florida State, both are involved in real estate, and both just bought new cars from the same dealership, which just happened to have a security breach involving both their files.”

“Okay, you’ve got both feet on the ground. What direction do you start walking?” he asked.

“I want to look at the other names on the list from the dealership.”

“There you go. Find as much background on each as you can. If the names are of men, find out if they’re married and research the wives. I want to find anything else these people share in common.” Alex did need the information, but he also needed to give Samuels something to keep her occupied. She was beginning to irritate him.

Alex studied the computer screen. He sipped his long since cold coffee as he tried to make sense of things.

“What if…?”

Alex looked at Samuels. “I thought you were gone.”

“How do we know our perp’s a man?”

He didn’t try to hide the laugh. “Unless I missed something in biology class, women don’t typically produce semen.” He returned his attention to the computer screen.

“I have a theory.” Samuels rolled her chair next to Alex. “Hear me out.”

Alex leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, let’s hear this theory.”

“None of the victims can identify their attacker. There’s no physical evidence to indicate it’s a man, other than the semen.”

“So, we just throw out the semen? Pretend it was never there?” Alex had heard enough. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, please ignore this big, pink elephant in the room. The rapist is a woman.” He shook his head and returned to the computer.

“These women weren’t brutalized enough for it to have been a man.” Samuels said. “The exam reports only document the injuries from the fall when they were knocked down. If it had been a man, committing a real rape, there should be evidence of forceful penetration, but there’s not. Whoever did this couldn’t bring themselves to
really
hurt the victims.”

“Okay, if you insist on going there, how do you explain the semen? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know yet.” Samuels looked at the floor for several seconds, seeming to be in deep thought. “It could have been planted.”

“By who? Why?” Alex was beginning to raise his voice. “You want to be a detective right? Maybe we should have explained the job description a little better. Our job isn’t to come up with wildly imaginative theories. It’s to find evidence, evaluate that evidence and generate leads.” He jabbed the top of his desk with his index finger to emphasize the point. “Those leads generate suspects. Once we have suspects, we build a solid case against them with the evidence that we’ve gathered.”

Samuels was un-phased. “It wouldn’t take that much force to knock a woman to the ground from behind, especially if she was jogging.” She looked at him, waiting for a response, but got none. “Take me, for example. I could easily overpower most women. Is it that far of a stretch to imagine someone like me being capable of doing something like that?”

Alex looked at her, but said nothing.
Of course she could. She had more testosterone than most of the guys.

“Maybe you can’t picture it, but others here certainly could. I’ve heard people talk.”

“I’ve never heard any comments about your masc…”

Samuels held up her hand, cutting him off. “Hey, it’s okay. I am what I am. I’m just saying if you could look at things with an open mind and not see everything as black and white, you might find that what I say makes sense.”

She did actually have a valid argument, but Alex couldn’t let her see him resign to the fact that he may have misjudged her. “Okay,” he said, “Let’s just assume, for a minute, that you’re right. What motive would a woman have to attack other women?”

“Revenge, maybe?”

“For what?” Alex turned his chair toward her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, interlocking his fingers.

“I don’t know. Maybe she was jilted by a lover and wants to get even.”

“Jilted by all three of ‘em? So, you’re assuming the rapist is a lesbian”

“No, I‘m not. Maybe these women are the mistresses that her lover had affairs with.”

“Okay, maybe you could check into that. Look at both of their backgrounds. See if you can tie them to one man. While you’re at it, see what else you can dig up on them. Lord knows they haven’t been through enough, with the rapes and all. Let’s see if you can
really
drag them through the dirt.”

“I should have expected as much.” Samuels said, as she got up to leave.

“These women are not the suspects.” Alex said as Samuels walked away. “They’re the victims!”

“Mendez!” Phelps shouted from his office.

Alex, rolling his eyes, stood and walked toward the barking voice. “What?”

“Okay. Prepare a statement. The best way to go is to get it out in the open. At least they can’t accuse us of trying to hide anything.”

“I’ll work something up.”

“I want to see it before you go public.”

_________

The Old Towne diner, one of the last surviving original businesses in the downtown area, was always busy for lunch. Even with the rain, today was no exception. Samantha Stone waited, just inside the door, for Samuels
and
an open booth.

The small brass bell at the top of the antique wood door added to the charm of the old place. It served as a reminder of the simpler times from the diner’s past. Its small tinkling sound announced the arrival of new customers. This time, it was Samuels.

“Sorry I’m late.” she said as she fumbled with her umbrella which refused to cooperate, insisting instead to remain in the full open position. She shook it violently, causing a small rain shower to fall on herself and Samantha. “This piece of crap.” Samuels gave up and tossed it on the floor next to the door.

“I think there’s an open booth.” Samantha said, as two men made their way past them toward the end of the counter to the vintage cash register. She made a sour face as the aroma, from what was obviously several days’ accumulation of body odor, reached her nose.

As the couple negotiated the narrow isle toward the empty booth, Samuels noticed an older couple watching her with a disapproving look. “Can I help you?” She leaned over the end of their table.

Samantha pulled her by the arm toward the empty booth. “Just don’t make eye contact, and it won’t bother you.”

They waited to sit, while a waitress wiped the table with a rag that was well on its way to having a life of its own. “You seem to have a bug up your ass. What’s up?” Samantha said as they sat.

“I don’t like people looking at me like I’m a freak.”

Samantha looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Well, I don’t think it’s fair to make a
statement
with your appearance, and not expect people to notice.” She reached toward Samuels to touch her hair. “I mean, look at this. You wear your hair like a marine drill sergeant. People are going to look at you.”

Samantha did not have the masculine appearance that Samuels chose to portray. She was indeed, quite feminine. Her light brown hair was long and luxurious. Her makeup was always impeccable, and she dressed to show off the curves of her slender, fit physique. And, in her job as a journalist, it had served her well. Her feminine charm had opened many otherwise, closed doors in the past.

“Coffee?” the waitress asked. They both nodded and flipped the cups that were upside down on the table. She took their food order and left.

“I’m sorry if I’m just not a pretty as you.” Samuels said after the waitress was out of earshot.

Samantha sat back in her seat. “But that’s not what’s bothering you, is it? You’re not that superficial.”

“No… Normally I wouldn’t even notice people looking.”

“Then what is it?”

“I guess it’s this new position. And that jerk they put me with. He’s supposed to be a mentor, but he’s just an asshole.”

“So, is it not all the glamour you thought it would be?”

“It’s just so frustrating.” Samuels said looking over her coffee cup. “He treats me like I’m some blithering idiot.”

“Sounds to me, like a typical male chauvinist attitude.” Samantha said.

“I don’t think it’s that. It’s more about me being just a beat cop, not a detective.” Samuels leaned forward and pounded the table with the side of her fist. “Whenever I have an idea about anything, he blows me off, like it’s a foregone conclusion that anything I say is stupid.”

“Could you do better on your own?”

“I could. I’m never allowed to follow up on my ideas. He treats me like a friggin’ child.” Samuels stared straight ahead. “How can I ever take off as a detective unless I’m allowed to spread my wings?”

“You need a springboard.” Samantha said with a sly smile.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, something to jump on that gives you a boost.”

Samuels stared at her blankly.

“Sometimes you have to step on people to climb your way up the ladder.”

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“Tell me about your detective.” Samantha took a sip of coffee.

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s his background? What does he do when he’s not… detecting?

“Well…I know he’s a single dad. His wife was murdered two years ago. It’s still unsolved. I think he still sees a shrink.”

Samantha’s smile faded as she took notes. “That’s what you call ironic. Did they have any suspects?”

“I’m not sure. He doesn’t talk about it. Why?”

“You’re a cop. You have access to the investigation, don’t you?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Okay, let’s see. We’ve got a detective, whose wife was murdered and the case is unsolved, who is raising a kid by himself and he is under the care of a psychiatrist. Does that about sum him up?”

Samuels furrowed her brow, “What are you up to?”

“Don’t worry about me. You just be ready to jump when the time comes.”

“And, how will I know when that is?”

“Don’t worry.” Samantha said with a sinister, sideways grin, “You’ll know.”

Chapter Eleven

Tonight was Alex’s turn to cook. Chicken breasts in cream sauce with plantain dumplings, was an old family favorite. Alex’s mother had taught him to make it when he was a growing up in Puerto Rico. The recipe had been handed down for many generations.

Alex had always enjoyed cooking. Even when Allyson was alive, he spent more time in the kitchen than she did. It was the only household chore that gave him pleasure.

It served as a creative outlet, offering at least a temporary escape from the constant pressures of his life.

Carmen placed two glasses and two sets of silverware on the table and sat. She didn’t speak.

To Alex, she seemed distracted. “How many dumplings?”

“Three, I guess.”

Alex filled her plate and placed it in front of her. “You’re a million miles away. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” With an elbow on the table, she rested her chin on her hand and picked through her food with a fork.

Alex prepared his plate and sat at the table. “Something’s up. What is it?”

“I already know the answer. Don’t worry about it.”

“What answer? What am I not supposed to worry about?”

Carmen stared at her food. “Some of my friends are going on a camping trip to Lake Kissimmee.”

Alex shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

“See, I told you.” Carmen rolled her eyes.

“Told me what?

“I knew you’d say no.”

“I can’t let you go off somewhere with people I don’t know, especially over night. Anything could happen.” Alex took a bite of his chicken.

“There will be parents there.”

“Who will be there?” Alex said as he chewed his food.

“Amanda Carter’s parents, Stacy Grimes’ parents.”

“I don’t know them.”

“You don’t know anyone if they don’t work with you.” Carmen still picked through her food. “You don’t even talk to anyone at my softball games. There are lots of parents there, but you always keep to yourself. People think you’re just stuck up. My friends ask me why you’re so anti-social.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How can it not matter?” Carmen raised her voice now. “Don’t you care what people think of you? Or what they think of me?”

“I don’t know any of those people, so you’re not going.” He cut through his chicken with far greater force than was required. The knife and fork scraped on the plate making a sharp grating sound that sent chills through Carmen.

Alex looked down and let out a sigh.

Carmen sat quietly for a moment. “Mom would’ve let me.”

“You mother isn’t here!” Alex slammed his knife on the table.

They both sat, saying nothing for a very awkward minute. “I’m sorry.” Alex said finally, “I just can’t let anything happen to you. I couldn’t deal with that.”

“That’s a bit selfish. Don’t you think? I don’t get to experience life, just so you don’t have to worry.” Carmen calmly got up, placed her plate in the sink and went to her room.

“Don’t try to use guilt on me. I’ve become numb to it.” Alex sat silently for a moment then continued to eat.

_________

“It’s finished,” Liz said, when Alex answered the phone, “assuming there’s no further information.”

“That was fast.”

“When you have the right evidence you can move quickly. Besides, we don’t want to give this guy anymore time, especially now that my name is on the list.”

“When can we see it?”

“I’d like to come in the morning if possible.”

“How early can you be here? I have a press conference at ten.” Alex looked at his watch.

“When do you want me?”

“Actually, afternoon would be better. How ‘bout three o’clock?

“I may have to push back a couple of appointments but that should be fine. I’ll see you then.”

Alex hung up and dialed Rachel’s cell. “I want to do a DNA sweep at the dealership. Can we do it?”

“You can’t force anyone to submit samples without a warrant.” She said. “Do you have probable cause to get a warrant?”

“No, and I realize we can’t force them, but what if we ask for voluntary cooperation?”

Rachel laughed, “Good luck with that.”

“We can approach it as a way to narrow the field. I don’t really expect everyone to cooperate, but we may get a reaction. If anyone objects too strenuously, we know who to take a closer look at.”

“When do you want to do this?” she asked.

“Tomorrow, after lunch, around one. I’m holding a press conference at ten. Kind of a pre-emptive strike.”

“And you want me to be there, right?”

“I thought, maybe you could persuade more of them to cooperate.”

“And why would you think that?”

“Because, you’re not a cop. You’re with the DA’s office. It seems more official.”

“Well, I guess I don’t have anything more important to be doing. I’ll come by the station for lunch and we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds great. See you then.” Alex hung up the phone and smiled at himself. It actually felt like he may be making progress.