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

“Her word against mine.”

“Do you know a young lady named Candice Morgan?”

“Never heard of her.”

“Well you'll hear of her soon. According to Sergeant Woodson her parents are going to sign a complaint against you in the interest of their daughter who will testify against you.”

“If she does she'll be lying.”

“ I doubt it. Let's change the subject. Do you know a teenage girl named Ethel Lamb?”

“No.”

“She is an African-American girl, dark skin, and with a mental problem.”

“Do you mean Dummy?”

“Why do you call her Dummy?”

“Everyone does.”

“Everyone? Give me some names.”

“Oh mon I don't know names just dudes who talk about her.”

“When you say guys talk about her what do they say?”

“They say she's easy.”

“Easy how?”

“You can get her for an ice cream cone or a bottle of soda.”

“Did you have her?”

“Hell no. That bitch smells.”

“ Do you know anyone who did?”

“No, but I seen her once or twice with the culos from the mission.”

“Culos means bums in Spanish,” said Garcia.

“Thanks Ed. These bums as you call them, can you name any of them?,” asked Wallace.

“No. Like I said I seen her with them once or twice.”

“Is there anything else you would like to tell me?,” asked the Captain.

“No, except I didn't do anything.”

“Not according to Detective Myers.”

“I forgot to mention that I'm also charging you with resisting arrest,” said Myers.

“I didn't resist.”

“You ran and Sergeant O'Neil and Detective McKenzie will testify to that in court,” Myers replied.

“Well, I guess that wraps up this matter. Take him downstairs and book him. What's the charge Carol?” said Wallace.

“Disorderly person, molesting and interfering and resisting arrest,” she answered.

The next day Detective McKenzie brought in Ellington Morris, Tom made Morris take a seat next to the Captain's desk. Wallace looked at the man for a moment seeing a man wearing second or third hand clothes and worn, dirty canvas shoes. “Are you Ellington Morris?,” asked Wallace.

“Yes sir.”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Probably for panhandling on the walk.”

“Have you ever been arrested before?”

“Yes sir, a couple of times.”

“What for?”

“Vagrancy and panhandling.”

“Where do you live?”

“At the mission.”

“What is your occupation?”

“I use to be a stevedore till I hurt my back.”

“Where did you work?”

“The docks in Philadelphia.”

“It is our understanding that you now work the City Dump looking for anything of value.”

“That be true, cept I ain't been out there for some time.”

“Think hard, when was the last time you were out on or near the dump.”

“Had to be some time in September. I remember that cause I found me a big bag of aluminum cans cashed them in and made a few dollars that day.”

“How long have you been living at the mission?”

“Bout eight months. Came into town from Philly. Had no scratch. Didn't know nobody. The mission took me in.”

“Well since you have been at the mission that long do you know a young girl named Ethel Lamb?”

“Know her? No. Seen her? Yes.”

“And when you saw her what was she doing?”

“Sometimes she came in to eat. That be different times of the day. Not all the time but every once in awhile. Once or twice she sat in for the service.”

“Ever see her with men from the mission?”

“Yes sir.”

“Can you name them?”

“No. dudes come and go. I saw her walk away with one dude one time, two dudes another time.”

“Where did they go?”

“Don't know for sure but heard there be a vacant house on Turner Street. Place got a mattress on the floor.

Lot's of homeless guys on drugs stay there and shoot up. They might have taken her there.”

“Did you ever have relations with the girl?”

“Hell no! Living be hard enough for me. I don't need no sex with a minor charge put on me. Matter of fact I felt sorry for the girl.”

“Then why didn't you protect her?”

“Cause if I did I'd have to fight those dudes. Probably get beat up and then arrested. Fact is I mind my own business.”

“You're probably right Mr. Ellington. No one can fault you. Maybe, just maybe had you stopped those two men Ethel Lamb might still be alive,” said Wallace.

“And my ass might still be dead,” Ellington replied.

Chapter Eight

Evidence

On Wednesday, January 10, 1979 Captain Robert Wallace read and re-read the laboratory report sent by the State Police. “The pubic hair submitted for analysis was examined and found to be human. The donor is Caucasian.” Wallace placed the report on his desk top leaned back in his chair and said to himself, “Son of A Bitch. According to this report this takes any and all African-Americans out of the picture. This will now be like starting the investigation from the beginning. Now, where do we start?”

“Let me have your attention people. The lab report just came in about the pubic hair found on the victim during the autopsy. I've got news for you. That hair came from a Caucasian. All that means right now is that the assailant was White or a White male left the hair,” said Wallace.

“Could Ethel been assaulted and killed by two men,” asked Myers.

“Right now anything is possible.”

Wallace looked at the thick file related to the Ethel Lamb case and then opened it. He began reading each report submitted by members of the squad. He chose one report submitted by Tom McKenzie then leaned back in his chair and began to read it. Then, he read it again. “Tom?” he said.

“Yes sir?.” McKenzie answered.

“In your report in reference to the information you ascertained in relation to Ellington Morris you also mention a Harvey Anderson. Who is Harvey Anderson?”

McKenzie stood silently with an embarrassed red face.

“I don't know sir. I never followed up on that information. I got caught up with investigating Morris that I forgot about anyone named Anderson. I'm sorry.”

“Well, according to what you did put in your report

Is that this Anderson guy works the city dump. Go back to the mission and find out what you can about a Harvey Anderson. First of all I want to know if he's White or Black.”

“Yes sir. I'm on the way. Again, I'm sorry sir.'

“Hey mistakes happen. Try not to make anymore, OK?”

“Yes sir.”

After leaving police headquarters Tom McKenzie Drove to the Atlantic Garden Mission. As usual three what appeared to be homeless men loitered near the front door. They moved away when Tom approached. Once inside he looked around and saw that the main dining room was empty. Still, hearing sounds coming from the kitchen he walked towards it.

Entering the kitchen he saw Mr. Perkins standing in front of the stainless steel sink washing a large pot. “Mr. Perkins!,” said McKenzie.

Perkins turned smiled and turned off the running water. Then he dried his wet hands on his apron. “Ah, Officer McKenzie. It is McKenzie isn't it?,”he asked.

“Yes sir.”

“What can I do for you Officer?”

“If you recall the last time I was here with Sergeant O'Neil we asked you about anyone staying here occasionally going out to the city dump to work.”

“Yes and I told you that there were two men that did.

One was Elliot Morris and the other was Harvey Anderson.”

“That's correct sir. What I need now sir is to be able to talk to Harvey Anderson.”

“I'm afraid he's no longer here. He left right after Christmas.”

“Do you happen to know where he went?”

“I heard that he went to Schooner Beach. Knowing him you'll probably find him at a mission there. Good luck. Harvey unfortunately is an alcoholic.”

“Can you give me a description of the man?”

“Certainly. He's White, forty years old about five foot eight or nine weighs about a hundred and sixty pounds and has brown hair. As far as I know he came here from Philadelphia as many of our homeless men have. Most of those lived on the sidewalks of Race Street. That's about all I can tell you Officer.”

“Thank you. You have been a great help sir.”

“You're welcome. Stay safe. I'll pray for you.”

“Thank you. Good by,”

Arriving back at the Major Crime Squad Office Tom McKenzie reported to Captain Wallace. “Harvey Anderson is a White male, age about forty. He's five foot eight or nine and weighs approximately a hundred and sixty pounds. Unfortunately, he's not here. He might be in Schooner Beach at a mission there.”

“Very good. Now, had you gathered that information the first time you were there you wouldn't be driving to Schooner Beach tomorrow,” said Wallace.

Late the next morning Detective McKenzie drove across the bridge that separated Schooner Beach from the mainland. Sergeant O'Neil sat next to him. “Well here we are. What's next?,” asked McKenzie.

“We go to the Schooner Beach PD. When we get there we'll get directions to the mission or missions. At the same time see if they have anything on Harvey Anderson,” said O'Neil.

“Do you know where it is?,” asked McKenzie.

“Not really. I haven't been over here in years. Just keep driving down Atlantic Avenue until we see a radio car. We'll stop, identify ourselves and get directions. Once we get there we'll see what they have on Anderson. Then look for him at the mission/ Let's hope that there is only one mission.”

“I see a radio car up ahead,” said McKenzie.

McKenzie stopped his car next to the Schooner Beach patrol car. When he did O'Neil got out and walked over to where two patrolmen sat. “Hello. I'm Sergeant O'Neil from the Nautilus Beach PD. To tell you the truth I haven't been here in years. I need instructions to your headquarters”

“We just got a call to come in so just follow us,” said the police officer in the passenger seat.

“Great.”

After arriving at the Schooner Beach Police Department Sergeant O'Neil along with Detective McKenzie went immediately to the Detective Bureau. There they met with Captain Harold Lewis. “Captain, we're in town looking for a homeless man named Harvey Anderson. We have reason to believe that he might be living in a mission house. What I need is information. First, do you have any records of a Harvey Anderson being arrested in your city. Next, I need the names and addresses of the mission houses in Schooner Beach,” said O'Neil.

“Have a seat. This will take awhile. I'll call down to our Records Bureau and see if we have him in our system. As for the address of the mission house, we only have one in town at the moment. It's called Good Sheppard Mission House and operated mostly by volunteers. The Reverend, William Davis is in charge. The mission is located on Decatur Street. When you leave I'll have a radio car lead you there,” said Lewis.

“Fine, I appreciate that sir,” O'Neil replied.

“While we wait for the Records Bureau to call do you mind me asking why you want this Anderson fellow?, asked Lewis.”

“Not at all. We 're investigating a homicide of a teenage girl in our city. One of the pieces of evidence was a pubic hair found on the victim. The lab report states that the donor of that hair is a Caucasian. At the time of the murder Anderson was the only Caucasian living at the Atlantic Garden Mission. We also have information that from time to time he was near the crime scene.”

Five minutes later the Captain's telephone rang.

“Captain Lewis,” he said answering the call.

Lewis said, “Thank you', and hung up the receiver. “Well now, according to out records we have nothing on a Harvey Anderson, not even a vagrancy charge. Sorry,” he continued.

“Oh well, thank you for you help. Now we'll be going,” said O'Neil.

“Perhaps you'll do better at the mission house,” Lewis replied as he shook hands with the two detectives.

After following the radio car to the Good Sheppard Mission House McKenzie parked the car. Both men then went inside. A young man O'Neil judged to be in his mid-thirties was standing talking to a young woman. Seeing the two men he asked, “Can I help you?”

O'Neil showed his badge and said, “Police. We would like to speak to the person in charge.”

“I guess that would be