A Predetermined Course Of Events by Robert F. Clifton (short novels in english .TXT) 📕

Wilson got up out of the chair and without saying a word walked out of the office.

Wallace looked at McKenzie and said,“From what I just saw and heard you have got much to learn about questioning individuals. That man turned the tables on you. He had you answering questions and at the end he had you stymied. I want you to take what I said as constructive criticism. Sit in on the next time questioning takes place either by Sergeant O'Neil or myself.”

“Yes sir.”

“Now, let all of us sit back and take a look of what we have and in my opinion it isn't much. We've struck out so far on a suspect named either “El” or a name beginning with the letter

“L”. At the same time we struck out by identifying any church that the girl might have visited or frequented. However, something that Edmond Hampton said offers a new place to investigate. Hampton mentioned that some of the men that pick through the trash at the dump are from the mission. What do all missions have in common? The answer is religion and religious services which broadly defined could be a church. Bill you and Tom go to the mission and see what you can learn,” said Wallace.

“On the way. Come on Sport,” said O'Neil.

Thirty minutes later Sergeant O'Neil and Detective McKenzie walked past two men who were seated on a wooden bench outside of the Atlantic Garden Mission For The Homeless.

Both men looked at them with a suspicious gaze knowing instantly that in all probability the two strangers were cops. Once inside O'Neil walked up to young Black man who was sweeping the floor. “Excuse me. Who is in charge here?”, asked the Sergeant.

“Mr. Perkins. He's back in the kitchen,” the young man answered.

Both investigators then walked towards the rear of the building passing through the large dining room which contained large folding tables and chairs both painted gray and in all probability purchased from or donated by United States Government Surplus. O'Neil pushed open the double doors that led into the kitchen. McKenzie followed. In the kitchen they saw a short, balding man who was stocking shelves in the pantry.

“Mr. Perkins?”, said O'Neil.

The man turned and upon seeing the two men answered, “Yes, may I help you?”

“We hope so. I am Sergeant O'Neil. This is Detective McKenzie.We're from the Nautilus Beach Police Department. We would like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind.”

“Certainly, what about?”

“We are currently investigating a homicide where the victim is a young Black girl who might have either frequented this mission or visited some of the men who use these facilities.”

“You must be referring to Ethel.”

“Correct, Ethel Lamb. I assume that you know her.”

“Yes. She has been here often. Usually for a meal. Most times breakfast, other times dinner. Sometimes she sat in for the services.”

“I see. Did she associate with anyone in particular?”

“Not that I can recall. Most of the men felt sorry for her knowing her mental problems. At the same time you should be aware that many of the men that we serve come and go quite frequently. Some live by traveling from city to city mission to mission.”

“ Would you happen to know how many man staying here go out to the city dump to search through the trash for anything of value that they might find and sell?,” asked McKenzie.

“Two men come to mind. One is Harvey Anderson. The other is Ellington Morris.”

Hearing the name Ellington Morris the two police officers looked at each other. “Ellington Morris, is he here now?”

“Not at the moment. He is away most days. He could be anywhere. Sometimes he walks the boardwalk panhandling for money. Other times he works the dump. One thing for sure he always arrives in time for supper and to get a bed for the night,” said Perkins.

“Can you describe him please?.” asked O'Neil.

“Ellington is a dark skin Black man. He is about six feet tall and weighs about one hundred and seventy five pounds.

He's wearing his hair long. Not an Afro but long down to his shoulders. This morning he was wearing a blue quilted jacket, bluejeans, tan tee-shirt and black high top leather shoes.”

“Do you know where he might be?”, asked McKenzie.

“That's hard to say. It's an overcast day, breezy and cold. I doubt if he's on the boardwalk him knowing that not too many people will be out and about there. He might be at the dump but then again like I said, he could be anywhere,” said Perkins.

“OK Mr. Perkins. Thank you for your time. We'll take a look for Morris. If he shows up here you can tell him that we want to talk with him. He can either come in to headquarters or call us and we'll come and get him. Here's my card and telephone number,” said O'Neil.

“You're welcome gentlemen. I'll certainly tell him when I see him again.

Once outside O'Neil said, “Well what do you think?”

“Right now the fact that a guy staying at the mission has the name Ellington might open a door in this investigation but I'm not getting over excited about the fact right now,”said McKenzie.

“Why not?”

“Too easy. We walk in ask a couple of questions and walk out with a lead. Too easy.

“Maybe but it's a lead.”

“Yeah. I don't know what they're making for lunch or dinner but some one was using a lot of vinegar. Did you smell it”,” asked McKenzie.

“Yeah, maybe they're making pickles. Let's swing by the city dump. If we're lucky Morris might be there,” said O'Neil.

At the city dump the detectives found six men going through the latest trash that had been recently dumped. McKenzie got out of the unmarked police car and walking carefully over assorted junk that had over time became part of the landfill made his way to where the men were working. After identifying himself he said. “I'm looking for Ellington Morris.”

“He ain't here,” said one of the men.

“Then, I take it you know him.”

“Yeah but like I say. He ain't here.”

“Was he here?”

“No.”

McKenzie took his time looking at each one of the men and finding none that met the description of Morris turned and walked back to the automobile where O'Neil sat waiting.

Chapter Four

Informants And Information

On a Saturday mid-morning Robert Wallace left his condo and drove his personal car to the seawall located in the inlet section of Nautilus Beach. It was an unusually warm November day, the type that many people would refer to as, “Indian Summer.” When he arrived at the sea wall he recognized the old Ford pickup truck parked there and also the owner, Howard Simpson. Simpson stood with a fishing pole in his hand and did not turn to look when Wallace stopped his car and turned off the engine. Wallace unhooked his seat belt, opened the driver side door and got out of the vehicle. He then walked slowly to where Simpson stood. “Kind of out of season for fishing this time of the year,” he said.

“Not if you're fishing for winter flounder,” Simpson answered.

“Right now I'm fishing for answers,” Wallace replied.

“Some time answers are expensive.”

“I agree. The answer I'm looking for will probably cost me five hundred dollars.”

“For five hundred dollars I'd have to hear the question.”

“The question is, who is a guy with a name El or begins with El who traveled at times with a young black girl named Ethel Lamb.”

“This guy White or Black?”

“I don't know.”

“Where did he travel?”

“The north side of town in the Black community and possibly out near the city dump.””

“Anything else, nickname scars, tattoos?”

“Right now, I don't know.”

“That's it?”

“Yep.”

“Not too much to go on. Give me some time, a couple of days, maybe a week. I'll be in touch if I come up with something.”

“OK. I'll wait for your call. By the way. You don't really expect to catch anything do you?”

“Hell no. I don't even have bait on the hook. I thought it would look better if when two guys were talking here one of us pretended to be fishing.”

“See you later Howie.”

Wallace then drove to mid-town and pulled into a parking lot near the boardwalk. He paid the attendant two dollars, the hourly fee. He didn't intend to be longer than one hour. Leaving the parking lot he walked up the wooden incline to the boardwalk. There he put two quarters in a newspaper machine, opened the door and took out a copy of the Nautilus Press. On the ocean side he saw a Black man sitting alone in the pavilion. Wallace walked into the pavilion then took a seat two rows back and to the mans left. He then opened the newspaper and pretended to be reading it. “Hello Bubba. What's new?”, asked Wallace.

“Depends on what you be looking for and how much you payin,” the man answered without turning and looking at Wallace.

“I'm looking for a guy that likes young girls. The kind that wont put up a fight.”

“Plenty of them around.”

“Yeah but this guy is nasty. He goes off when he's pissed. Then he might get violent.”

“Like I say. Plenty of them around.”

“Yeah, I want you to talk to your sources. See if you can come up with someone who traveled with a retarded teenage Black girl. I have reason to think that he was using her sexually and when he did he took her out near the city dump.”

“Got it. Anything else I should know?”

“No. That's about it for now.”

“You know my fee.”

“No problem.”

“Fine. I'll call you when I've got something.”

“ Good. I'm counting on you Bubba.”

“Has Bubba Stokes ever let you down?”

“No.”

“Later then,” said Bubba as he got up and walked out of the pavilion. Wallace sat for another fifteen minutes watching a dozen seagulls standing on wet sand their backs to the ocean breeze before he got up and left heading to the parking lot.

At ten fifteen on Monday morning Lieutenant Ralph Parker a member of the Forensic Unit entered Captain Wallace's office. Wallace looked up and said, “Do you have something?”

“Yes, the plaster cast of the tire impression we took out near the dump.”

“What can you tell me?”

“Well, as you know identification is based on characteristic marks and details found in the tire tread. Examination is made by direct comparison of the evidence impression on the tire. For example, if you look at this cast you will notice that one side of the tire in question is missing tread. The question then arises, why? In all probability the vehicle we're looking for needs a front end alignment. This tells us that the tire in question is located on the front of the vehicle. We also know that the manufacturer of the tire was Firestone and that particular tire was used in the production of General Motors in 1975. Unfortunately we're also talking about three to four million vehicles produced that year.”

“So, our best bet is to find the car or truck that has a damaged front tire with the matching tread found at the crime scene.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks Ralph.”

“No problem.”

Wallace then turned to Sergeant O'Neil and said, “I want you to take McKenzie with you and check Ethel Lamb's known travel area. Look for a General Motors vehicle. It could be a car or a truck. Check the front tires for the type of wear and damage a bad front end alignment might cause.”

“On the way. Tom? You're driving,” said O'Neil.

After the two detectives left the office Wallace turned to Sergeant Woodson and said, “What else can you tell me about the living conditions at the Lamb's?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Right now I'm interested in who might be either close to Ethel such as a neighbor, relative or frequent visitor.”

“The only frequent visitor that I can think of is King Munoz.”

“Who is he?”

“Edith Lamb's drug dealer.”

“King can't be his real name. What