Free Nailed by Joseph Flynn Page B

wasn’t kidding yesterday. I want him.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And play it straight. If you find the bastard has run, call Horgan immediately.”
    “I will … but I don’t think he’s left town. I’ve got the feeling he’s still right here.”
    Clay agreed. “So do I.”
     

Chapter 9
     
    Ron’s call to the Oakland PD was routed to a Captain Walter Nance, the officer in charge of community relations. The captain’s tone wasn’t unfriendly, but it was guarded.
    “Chief Ketchum, I’m told you’re calling regarding the death of an Oakland resident in your jurisdiction. Have I got that right?”
    “That’s right, Captain. Have you seen the morning paper or the television news today?”
    The captain said he hadn’t, so Ron filled him in on what had happened.
    “Crucified?” The revulsion in Nance’s voice was clear.
    “Yes. We just learned the victim’s identity an hour ago. His name was Isaac Cardwell.”
    “Oh my God!”
    Ron was surprised by the depth of emotion in Nance’s voice. It wasn’t the reaction he expected from a cop, at least not one who’d likely worked the streets, at some point in his career, in a tough town like Oakland.
    “Did you know him?” Ron asked.
    “You are talking about Reverend Isaac Cardwell?”
    “Yes.”
    “He’s the pastor of Mount Olive AME Church. My church. My wife sings in the choir.”
    “I’m sorry,” Ron said. He waited a moment for Nance to collect himself and then went on. “The reason I called, before I notify his family, is I wondered if you know anything about the man. Something that might help with my investigation.”
    “Are you asking me if Reverend Cardwell had a criminal record?” Now Ron had the Oakland cop pissed.
    “No, I know he doesn’t. I already checked him for that.”
    “You sonofabitch! You’re white, aren’t you? Wait, a minute, where’d you say you’re calling from?”
    Ron knew what was coming, but he didn’t hesitate with his reply.
    “I didn’t. But I’m the chief in Goldstrike. Up in the Sierra.”
    “Yeah, I know you. You’re Ron Ketchum from L.A.”
    “That was a while ago, Captain.”
    Nance snorted contemptuously.
    “Captain, I don’t know what you’re experience is, but mine is that people are capable of redemption.”
    “You talking about yourself?”
    “No. Not right now. I was wondering if perhaps Reverend Cardwell had a troubled youth and then turned himself around. I was wondering if maybe he had a past that caught up with him yesterday. I’m trying to cover all the bases to find his killer.”
    “Yeah, I bet you are.”
    Ron was reaching the end of his patience — it had already been a very long morning — but he maintained a civil tone. “You want to help me, Captain, or should I speak directly to your chief? I think you know I’ll find a way to do that if have to.”
    “What do you want, Chief?” Nance’s snarl made chief sound like motherfucker, but Ron had heard it before.
    “I’d like you to tell me whatever you know about Reverend Cardwell.”
    “I know that he was a fine man, and before that he was a fine young man. The reason you didn’t find any criminal record on him is because he wouldn’t have dreamed of committing a crime. He was raised by his grandmother, and she brought him up right. She made sure no street trash ever got near him when he was a boy. He graduated high school with honors. He went to San Francisco State on full scholarship. He was ordained a minister. He believed his special mission was serving the poor.” The way Nance rattled off the details of Isaac Cardwell’s life told Ron that the man had to be a close friend of long standing. As further proof, the anger in his voice finally yielded to a catch of sorrow. “He … he married his childhood sweetheart and they have a three year old son. He was probably the most effective community partner this department had in our fight against kids using drugs.”
    Captain Walter Nance’s voice was too choked with