CHAPTER 7
After finishing up his look at Anderson's laptop and copying some of the files onto a flash drive, Houston turned it over to Gunterson and then left with Paul, heading to the ranch. It was a quiet trip as the PI both turned the case over in his mind and wondered what Isabella Novelli's response would be to the news that her son had been so near the danger. As soon as he got out of the truck, Matt made the phone call to the restaurant that was located on the beach in Honolulu. Vince answered and knew as soon as he heard the serious tone of his friend's voice that something was up. "I just wanted to let you know what happened..." He told the former detective what had transpired and then began apologizing.
"And how in the hell were you supposed to know that anybody would take a potshot, Ace?" Isabella paused in the doorway of the office, a look of concern on her face. "Hang on a second..." Vince told his wife what had happened.
After a quiet moment of thought she nodded. "Not his fault. Are they both okay?"
"Yeah, fine. They're at the ranch."
"Tell Paul I love him – and tell Houston all is forgiven." She gave her husband a smile and went to the safe to remove some change for the cash register and went back to business as usual.
"Did you hear that?"
"Yeah." There was an audible sigh of relief on the other end. "I was afraid she would get pissed."
"She knows you would never do anything to cause any of the kids to get hurt, man – relax."
"Okay, well...guess I better get us fed. Got some homework to do, too. I'll holler at you later."
"Alright, kick the kid in the butt for me – and give him a hug."
Within minutes, Matt and Paul had settled down at the table on the patio, a couple of steaks on the grill as the PI began looking through some of the information that he had gathered from their suspect's laptop. "Maybe ole Clovis isn't as stupid as he looks." He took a sip of the beer that he had opened. "He's got some research in here on cellulose ethers – kind of complicated stuff for the average person. 'Course just because it's on here doesn't mean he understood it." They both laughed and then the investigator got serious again as he continued to browse through the information. "I think they've pretty well determined that it was a combination of glycol ether and chlorine reacting together that were used. Just a matter of determining exactly how it was done and linking that up with who did it. Or whom. Never been very good at deciding which one it should be."
"As a PI I thought you would stick with whodunit but what do I know." Paul stood and went to the grill to check the progress of the steaks and gave them a turn.
"Gotta hand it to you, kid. You handled it real well."
"It doesn't take much smarts to duck."
"You'd be surprised how many people just freeze up."
"Maybe it's genetic."
"If you do go into the Navy after you finish school maybe you'll be alright." Houston gave him a grin.
"If, huh? Mom keeps saying that. I've already made up my mind."
"It ain't a sure thing until you sign on the dotted line, bud." He watched Paul. "You already did, didn't you?"
"Yeah, a couple of days before break."
"Tell your folks yet?"
"Nope."
Matt took another swallow of the beer and surveyed the boy again. "Well..."
"Not you, too?"
"Knowing what I know I can't help but worry, Paul." The look he gave the teen was completely serious. "So are you going to try for jets?"
"Don't know." Both grew quiet again.
"Well, if I don't get these steaks off the grill they're going to have been killed twice. No use in more senseless violence today." Houston stood and put the steaks on plates and together they sat down and ate.
Later that evening a phone call to CJ confirmed that she and the others would be heading back to LA the following day. "So you'll be my New Year's date after all, huh?" Matt smiled.
"I will – which means you won't need to go through your little black book looking for one." CJ curled up on the couch, her feet tucked underneath her.
"I burned that a few years back. About three to be exact."
"This is you – there's probably a copy floating around somewhere."
"No ma'am. I don't need it – I've already got everything I need – and want for that matter." Matt propped his feet up on the desk where he had been going through the information on the flash drive once again.
"Any more leads on the case?"
"Nope. You?"
"Nope."
"It isn't a lead exactly but I do have a hunch. I think that old Uncle Donnie planned to have Clovis taken out. The work that the shooter had to do to get that window open took a while. There were several layers of paint on it."
"From what I've found he seems quite fond of him." CJ was somewhat surprised.
"Don't fool yourself, darlin': Donovan Lynch isn't fond of anybody but himself."
"Do you think he's in danger at the jail?"
"I called Hoyt a little bit ago and told him what I thought. He was going to see about having him moved into protective custody." It was then that his phone beeped. "Hmmm...speak of the devil. Hang on a minute, Babe." The PI switched to the other line. "Evenin'."
"Glad you didn't say good." The police lieutenant was getting into his car outside his home. "Looks like you might have been right about Clovis. I just received a phone call from the Towers: he's dead."
"Son of a bitch." Matt sat up. "Do they have anybody for it?"
"Not that I know of just yet. I'm on my way down there."
"I'm headed that way, too. See ya." He hung up and got out of the chair. "Babe, you still there?"
"Yeah."
"Clovis is dead at the jail."
"So you might have been right."
"Don't know. I'm going there now."
"Leave Paul at the ranch."
"I am. Love you."
"Call me later. Love you. 'Bye." With that she hung up and went to the study of the Texas home and sat down at the computer, not entirely sure what her next step was going to be.
"Paul..." Matt found his nephew kicked back in one of the recliners in the den watching a movie. "I've got to go out. You stay put, ya hear?"
"What's wrong?" Hitting the mute button on the TV remote the young man knew that something had happened. The news of Anderson's death surprised him. "So maybe that gunshot was meant for him this afternoon?"
"Maybe. Either way, I want you to hang tight here."
"Sure." He watched as Houston went out through the kitchen and heard the truck start up.
On the way to what was commonly referred to as the Twin Towers Jail, Matt thought over what had happened in the short amount of time since he had returned to Los Angeles. It was a lot to digest and just when it had seemed that he had a grasp of the situation, more complications kept arising. Now Anderson was dead and they hadn't gotten squat out of him which appeared to be exactly what his uncle had wanted. Still, after what CJ had uncovered about the supposedly good relationship that the two shared, he had to wonder: did Donovan Lynch really order a hit on his own nephew? Or could it have possibly been revenge on Donovan from another source. The only other local source that the PI knew that it could possibly be was Lockwood. Maybe the partnership between the two men was not an amiable one. "Too damn many questions and not enough facts. And now I'm talking to myself again."
After being cleared through security at the jail, Matt met up with not only Michael but Mitchell Gunterson who looked mad enough to spit nails. "I should have had him segregated this afternoon."
"We had no way to know for sure, bud." They were allowed into the cell block where all of the prisoners were now on lockdown in their cells. Clovis Anderson's body was on the floor near one of the common area tables, a bloody wound in his back. Looking down at the younger man, Matt shook his head. "It's truly amazing what some of these folks can create in here. A shiv made out of toilet paper. Guess they'll have to start installing bidets."
Hoyt shook his head. "I requested that they move him into segregation before I left the office. Guess it wasn't a high priority on their to-do list this evening."
"I want to get a look at the video from this area." Gunterson looked at the deputy who had escorted him back.
"Yes sir. It's ready for you now in the control room." He led the way to the room that was centrally located in the cellblock. The design of the towers had been set up so that virtually all areas of the section could be visible to the guards stationed in the control room. But even with all the high tech equipment at their fingertips, it was impossible for everything that transpired at the institution to be seen in time for the officers to intervene. "Here it is..." The deputy sat down and began replaying the footage for the men. "After we discovered what had happened I ran it back to just before he was hit."
Matt and the others watched as Clovis Anderson got off of a phone and went toward the door of the cell that he had been assigned, his head hanging down. Five men were playing cards at one of the tables and it appeared that a disagreement had broken out. Three of the men got up from their seats as Clovis got next to the table and then the other two blocked his path. All five converged, and somewhere in the tussle Anderson went down. The five men quickly went their separate ways as the alarm went off and the officer on duty had gone to check on the inmate.
Gunterson was the first to speak. "Do we have ID's on those five?"
"We do. They've been removed to separate interrogation rooms." He pointed over his shoulder.
"Do you generally work this area?" Matt looked at the footage again as it replayed.
"No sir. I was brought in after this happened. The guard that was on then is also in an interrogation room being debriefed."
"I'll need a copy of that." Gunterson was madder than Matt could ever recall seeing him. He as well as the others working the Cicero case had spent the majority of their time since the fire concentrating on the case, and now that their prime suspect and possible source of information was dead, there was a fair chance that the case would end up going without prosecution. The guard handed a flash drive over to the DEA agent. "Thanks."
Filing out of the control room Houston, Gunterson, and Hoyt went toward the door that separated the cell block from the other areas of the prison. It was unlocked and they met with another guard who escorted them to the interrogation rooms. "We need to get a look at the files on those five." Hoyt looked to his companions who both nodded.
"Houston..." Gunterson paused outside the first room where the guard was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in front of him and his head in his hands. "I want you to handle that part if you don't mind – and check into the guard as well." He saw the expression on their escort's face. "Just trying to cover all the bases, Deputy. This is a big case."
"Yes sir." It was obvious that the man was offended by the very thought that one of his co-workers could be involved in the death.
"Can you help me get that information?" Houston looked to the deputy.
"Yes sir."
"Divide and conquer?" The PI looked to his two friends who both nodded. "Meet you at my office?" Both nodded and the three separated. Matt followed the guard back to the administrative offices and received the information that he needed. He took it and went back to the office, starting a pot of coffee before settling down on the couch once again and pulling up the computer. His first course of action was to look into the guard – Jerald Wyland. Nothing seemed out of place and as far as Matt could tell the guard was clean.
Next he ran through the record on Bradley Moore. The twenty seven year old was in lock up for his part in a bank robbery that had occurred six months before and evidently hadn't learned his lesson from his previous incarceration for the same charges seven years earlier. He hadn't been in any trouble while at the jail. A check of his financials showed that he hadn't had a bank account since the age of nineteen so there was very little information to be gleaned from that area.
Moving along to Larry Jackson the PI read that he was currently in jail for a third DUI and had a string of drunk and disorderlies, assaults, and petty theft. Like Moore there hadn't been a bank account to look through and the trail was pretty well empty.
Next in the lineup was Rosario Kingman, a twenty three year old who had spent the last five years locked up on charges of aggravated assault and attempted murder that had actually taken place when he was seventeen. The case had been so violent that he had been charged as an adult and spent the first six months of his incarceration in segregation. Since that time he had been in and out of trouble behind bars for fighting and contraband. Looking into the man's personal life outside the jail, Matt found that he had three children by two different women by the time he had been arrested. Shaking his head sadly he thought to himself that Kingman was likely to end up spending the rest of his life behind bars at the rate he was going.
Fourth on his list was Jose Molina, a thirty year old illegal immigrant who had been picked up as a drunk and disorderly, found to have a large amount of presecription drugs on him, and had previous convictions for both illegal entry and drug sales. He had managed to stay out of trouble inside the jail with the exception of having been on the receiving end of a severe beating about three weeks into his latest sentence. A wife and four children had been deported back to Mexico after his arrest.
The last prisoner on their list was Zachary Evans, a twenty nine year old with a long history of violence. Bar fights, drunk and disorderlies, attempted murder, and manslaughter were all a part of his file and the PI paused when he saw where Evan had been born: Ft. Worth, Texas. A little more research showed that the acorn hadn't fallen far from the tree. Zachary's father had worked as a bar bouncer for most of his adult life and was himself incarcerated at Huntsville Prison in Texas on second degree murder charges stemming from an assault on a woman. Digging even further, the PI found that Evans had an ex-wife and two small children. He had been living with the family in Texas until about two years ago when he had suddenly pulled up stakes and gone to California. After his arrest and conviction, the family had gone back to Texas. From what he could find they had moved in with the wife's parents. A little further prodding and Matt found a bank account that had received a hefty deposit of $4,000 in cash that very afternoon. "Bingo." He printed out what he had found and was just coming out of CJ's office when the elevator dinged and Hoyt and Gunterson emerged.
"I'm thinking Evans." He held out the papers to Mitchell who began reading through, nodding.
"That's the impression I got from the interview. Although he didn't really have much other to say than, "I don't know anything about a shiv." He doesn't have any blood on him and they can't get any prints off of the weapon. But it is possible that they might be able to pull some DNA off of it. That's about the best I can do."
"What about his wife – Denise?" Matt poured coffee for both of the men, refilling his own cup as well as they all had a seat at the bar.
"I'll have somebody from the Dallas office look into her."
"Heard anything else about Rich?" Hoyt took a sip.
"Yep, called his wife a few minutes ago. He's still mad as a hornet because they're keeping him overnight. He'll be out by ten in the morning. Oh, and they found trace evidence in Anderson's car of chlorine and glycol ether. " Gunterson rubbed the back of his neck.
"I'm going to call in a few favors in Texas..." Matt took a long sip and thought about what they had so far. "There's just got to be a connection between Evans and Lynch somehow."
"So this Lynch guy is major league, huh?"
"Daddy wouldn't even allow the name mentioned in the house." Matt looked over at his friend. "Wait a minute..." He went to the couch and opened up the computer again.
"I believe he's getting better at typing with that cast on his hand." Hoyt winked at Gunterson who snickered. There wasn't any reaction from the PI who was totally absorbed in his search. After a few minutes he leaned back and pointed at the screen. "Found it. Evans worked at one of Lynch's roadhouses a few years back."
"That gives us a little something to work with."
"But I've been thinking..." Matt got up and went toward the windows, rubbing at the beard on his chin. "Our shooter this afternoon...they had to have known that we weren't Anderson. Unless they were completely stupid. We all had on our vests. And if you've been hired to take somebody out you're sure as hell gonna know what they look like." A worried expression crossed his face.
"True." Michael set down the coffee cup.
"So just which one of us was the intended target?"
