Free One Deadly Sister (Sandy Reid Mystery Series #1) by Rod Hoisington Page B

any crime of consequence to happen in the city for the next 173 days. That was when he’d retire. Twenty years ago, the town was smaller and simpler, and he was one of only a handful of officers. Something was fudged back then, because he was unmistakably below the minimum height to join any police force. He was the shortest one on the force. Some continued to call him “Shorty Oehlert” even after the City Council appointed him chief. “Hey Shorty, be careful some crook doesn’t step on you.” “Hey, I hear your wife calls you Shorty.” In another 173 days, he’d tell them where they could shove their dumbass nickname.
    His office closet held a half-packed cardboard box standing ready for the day he’d clean out his desk. Retirement was close enough he didn’t bother hiding his gardening books and catalogs. He wasn’t happy having the new homicide to deal with; he just wanted to get out while still healthy.
    The chief assigned the homicide to Detective Goddard, for two reasons. He was better than the other detectives. And he was a self-starter who most likely wouldn’t bother the chief very much.
    Best or not, not everyone liked Goddard. Some in the department believed he had progressed too fast. Other officers also had a degree in Criminal Justice and some had more time on the street. Seniority, as they well knew, wasn’t enough to qualify them for promotion to detective; it merely qualified them to take the detective exam. Goddard had aced the exam. Some officers were watching and waiting for him to screw up.
    Saturday evening they had called Goddard at home and told him to report to the homicide scene. He was there when the report came in about Tammy Jerrold’s 911 call. He went immediately to her office. He took suspect Reid into custody that night. He began the interrogation in a casual, non-threatening manner to keep the suspect responsive. Reid, however, had asked about a lawyer, and the questioning couldn’t legally continue.
    Sunday morning, Goddard had met with Chief Oehlert and State Attorney Moran who then made the decision to arrest Reid. “It appears I’ll be facing Jerry Kagan in court again.” Moran smiled.
    “I can see you’re trembling in your boots,” the chief said. “How did you finagle that?”
    Moran chuckled. “The judge instructed our office to assist Reid in finding suitable counsel, so I helpfully suggested Kagan. Reid didn’t know any better and accepted him.”
    Goddard was surprised the judge went for it. Somehow, he felt guilty about the underhanded setup. In any case, it wasn’t up to a detective to suggest counsel for the defense.
    He recalled that old Jerry Kagan had dropped out of sight two years ago after facing Moran and losing a dramatic case. Kagan had defended an abused woman against the charge of murdering her violent husband. Kagan lost on a technicality when Moran was able to keep incriminating details of the husband’s evil past out of the trial.
    The woman was convicted. Each Christmas, they say, she sends Kagan a pleasant card from prison, blessing him, holding him blameless and thanking him for helping her. He hates the holiday season that foreshadows the arrival of the unwanted reminder.
    Goddard always found Kagan straight, a gentleman who just never really made it. Anybody’s guess how sharp he was now. Shouldn’t be much of a challenge. Goddard felt sorry for him having to face the ruthless state attorney again. No one liked to interact with Little Bonaparte. That’s what some called him, not only for the physical similarities—baby faced, short and stocky—but for his imperious personality as well. Goddard certainly didn’t care for him.
    At the requested meeting, Reid gave his statement relating the motel rendezvous with Loraine Dellin, the text message directing him to Al Towson’s apartment, the encounter with Towson and the meeting with Tammy Jerrold. Goddard studied the suspect’s face, and decided he didn’t believe his own words.