Free Death of a Bankster by David Bishop Page A

it is still supposition.”
    “Sergeant Richards, have you independently confirmed that Sam Crawford, if he is dead, was murdered?”
    “Sir, my judgment tells me that Sam Crawford was murdered, but if you are asking if we can establish this with evidence? No. Not yet. Two eyewitnesses claim he died as reported, but we have no further corroboration.”
    “Sergeant, you’re repeating yourself.”
    “That’s because the question was repeated, sir.”
    “Are we looking into these two witnesses to determine their credibility?”
    “Yes. Both Mr. and Mrs. Crawford appear solid citizens, the same for their neighbor, Carla Roth. I cannot conjure up a reason for them to fabricate this event.”
    “A life insurance scam?”
    “They’re under no pressure for money. Credit’s good. Home mortgage current, etc.” The Lieutenant bobbed his head and shoulders side-to-side. His way of saying that Maddie should pick up the pace. That they were drifting into too much minutiae for this kind of meeting. “Sir,” Maddie said laboring the point, “I don’t see it. The only insurance on Mr. Crawford was his policy through his employer, the bank. The beneficiary on that policy is the bank. They have no kids, no dependents of any kind, so they never took out other insurance.”
    “That comes from Mrs. Crawford, does it?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Have your partner contact the state insurance commissioner for a list of life insurers authorized to sell in Arizona. Check ‘em all. Okay. That it?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “So,” Sergeant Brackett interjected, “you still got a maybe murder.”
    “Okay, Doyle,” Lieutenant Harrison said, “can it.” Then the lieutenant turned to Maddie. “I’ll okay a couple more days. If you don’t have it nailed when you wrap up Thursday, Friday morning you’re to send the wife to missing persons. After that, I’ll reassign you and your partner to another case.”
    “But Lieutenant—”
    “No buts, Sergeant Richards.” His hand went in the air like he was stopping traffic at an intersection. “If it weren’t for the respect I have for your instincts, I’d pull you off this morning. Understood?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Keep me posted. The leash on this one just got short. As for your Phoenix Suns sting, let me know when that wraps.” Maddie nodded.
    Next, the Lieutenant turned his attention to a rare homicide case within the vice squad headed up by Sergeant Doyle Brackett.
    Brackett started with one last indirect dig at Maddie. “There’s no maybe about my murder. We found the corpse, a former local college hoops star, on the bed in an upscale hotel room. Based on the female lingerie he was wearing, his choice of a room with a queen bed had been appropriate. His days of running up and down the court are over. He had a rail spike through each hand pinning him to the nightstands left and right of the bed. This guy had a huge wingspan. I remember his playing days. He could palm a basketball in either hand, but ended up palming two rail spikes.”
    Maddie stopped listening closely, returning her thoughts to her own case.
    After Lieutenant Harrison’s meeting broke, Maddie filled her partner in on the Lieutenant’s order to pull the plug at close-of-business Thursday. “We got till then to prove we have a murder. I really can’t blame him, but my gut tells me Sam Crawford is dead and it went down just the way we’ve been told.”
    Sue shook her head. “We need a body.”
    “That’s about it. Nothin’ says murder like a dead body with a real bullet in the head.”
    Sue had spent the morning setting up the murder book and attendant files on the Crawford case. They both knew that if they didn’t get lucky and quickly, they’d be stamping it: CANCELLED. REFERRED TO MISSING PERSONS.
    Maddie hated the paperwork and recordkeeping associated with investigations. Sue, who prior to joining the force, had been in charge of case files for one of Phoenix’s most successful criminal law firms,