Pink Panther Ch. 01

Even in her very high heel pumps, Priya had to look up to speak to the much taller Katherine Woodburn, whose own legs were long and luscious. Katherine said "Priya, we don't know what is going to happen, at least not yet, but it's very possible that the Governor has stepped over a line he cannot legally have crossed. I am sure that I will be in contact with my colleagues soon, and we will be mapping out a plan of action."

"Senator," said Priya, "several black groups have come out and said they support the Governor's actions, and that undocumented workers are taking jobs from black citizens. Do they have a point?"

"Oh, they certainly do," Katherine said adroitly, "but several other Social Justice groups have correctly pointed out that the Governor is substituting one form of racism for another. No matter how you look at it, Priya, this Governor is just plain wrong, and he's proved himself to be a virulent racist as well as a 'White Nationalist'--"

*CLICK!*

Cindy won the race to the remote to turn off the television. She sat back down in the hot chair she had been occupying as Teresa gave her a 'thumbs up' for her initiative and taking the action step to discontinue the noise that had been polluting my office. They were here for the 'Angels' meeting, which I brought to order.

"Okay," I said, "now that the trash has been discarded, let's get down to it. What's going on this morning? Er... Teresa?"

"Uhh..." Teresa said, seemingly in a reverie. "There's something about these news reports that is bothering me." She then shook her head. "Maybe it'll come to me later. Sorry, sir."

"Don't be." I said. "I've been known to drift off, myself. Okay, Cindy, what do we have on the Dawson case that I don't already know--"

"That's it!" Teresa exclaimed, then caught herself. "Sorry sir, but I just realized... neither Bettina nor Hardwood mentioned the Rusty Dawson murder. At all."

"You're right." I said. "I didn't see any news this weekend. Did they cover it then?"

"I don't think so." said Cindy.

"No, I'm pretty sure they didn't say a word." said Teresa. "I only found out about it yesterday, when I called in to the Duty Desk for a briefing of any weekend events."

"Some collusion with the politicians and big corporations that might be harmed if the Public knew of Mr. Dawson's murder?" Cindy asked acidly.

"The Media hates Republicans." said Teresa.

"They hate Val Jared more than they hate Establishment Republicans, who also hate Val Jared." I said. "What is that old Arab saying? 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'?"

"Strange bedfellows, sir." said Teresa, astutely. "But to not report on a murder? That's a big deal story to overlook. Is this thing with the Governor that big a deal?"

I nodded. "Yep, that's a strangeness." I said. "To not mention a murder at all... and a potentially politically charged one. Interesting..."

I put that into its compartment of my mind and said "Okay, Cindy, what's the status of the Dawson case?"

"You got the email of the TCPD Crime Lab's report?"

"Yes." I said. "We'll talk about that with the Detectives after this meeting."

Cindy said "The only other thing I have right now is that Parker and Davis led a team of Officers to canvas the neighborhood yesterday, and also to check some things that we might not have seen during the initial crime scene investigation. No one heard anything, no one saw anything. Camera coverage of the area is spotty at best, some from the street and some from the building behind, on the other side of the creek. Nothing of value."

"Okay." I said. "Teresa, anything I need to know from your side?"

"Sir, just between us three and the crowbars," said Teresa, "can we trust Precinct Captain Briggs to remain in place? He was a big Harlow supporter, and Lt. Irwin has told me privately that Briggs almost stopped deployment of our people last month during the incidents where Harlow did try to stop them. And now I'm not getting Jack Schitt from him about 1st Precinct... he's all but given everything to Irwin to do."

"And you're complaining about that... why?" I asked. "Seems you've got a near ideal situation, there?"

"I guess I just want that oxygen to go to better uses, sir." said Teresa, making me chuckle.

"I'm not wont to discuss personnel matters in public, so let's do keep this between the three of us and the crowbars." I said. "I've been talking to the Chief about the Briggs situation. He'll either be shaping up or shipping out. I'll be sure to keep you in the loop, Teresa, as you're his direct chain-of-command..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The meeting in the Classroom 'E' began. Inside the room were Chief Moynahan, Captain Ross, Detective Parker, Detective Davis, SBI-SIS Lt. Chow, FBI Special Agent Martin Nash, SBI-SIS Lt. Orosco, Data Group Supervisor Myron Milton, Sergeant Rudistan, and of course Your Iron Crowbar.

"Okay, Davis," I said, "what's new?"

"Sir," said Davis, "first, we got the autopsy report. Martha the M.E. says that the time of death was, and I quote ', within minutes' of the 9-1-1 call and the gunshot heard on it'. She also says that Dawson was a frequent marijuana user and may have used 'uppers' and 'downers' on sporadic but consistent occasion, and that he had codeine and traces of barbiturates in his system at the time of his death."

"But no drugs were found in the apartment, the car, anywhere around there?" I asked.

"No sir." said Parker. "Unless the aspirin bottle comes back from the State Crime Lab as being full of something besides aspirin. Also, there were no alcoholic beverages on the scene: no wine, no beer, no liquor."

"Okay, what else?" I asked.

Jerome said "We did quick scans of the jump drives and memory sticks that were found before they were uploaded, and we checked the sheets of paper for fingerprints before running them through the digital copier. No prints were found."

"Besides Dawson's?" Cindy asked.

"No ma'am." said Davis. "No fingerprints at all. Some slight smudges on the papers that Commander Troy examined at the scene, but he was wearing gloves and there were no other prints at all."

"Now that", I said, "is a strangeness. I can't believe Dawson was that careful."

"What does that mean, sir?" asked Martin Nash.

"I'm not sure." I said, my voice sounding introspective, if not unsure. "What else?"

"No other prints in the room except for Dawson's." said Jerome Davis. "And no prints on the frisbee that was found, confirming what we'd tested for at the scene."

"All right." I said. "Let's go around the horn. What do you think of this, and what are your plans in doing something about it? Let's start with our State and Federal friends..."

Martin Nash said "I and Team Lazarus are investigating this from the angle that Dawson might be part of 'The Guardians of Justice' or a mole or whistleblower on their behalf. We'll either show that he's not, or find further leads."

"Out of curiosity," I asked, "have you, Jack, or your Team heard from Senator Russell about Dawson's murder?"

"Not a word, sir," said Nash, "which Jack finds strange. He said something about not needing a witch trial to see that Russell not screaming about this is in itself unusual."

"And he is correct... except for that part about the witch trial." I said. "Norm?"

"I'm concentrating on BigAgraFoods and Russell, as well." said Norm Chow. "Orosco is going to dig down and see if there's any connection to Larry Wheeler, either here or in Polk County, and I'm looking more towards the Guardians of Justice angle like Special Agent Nash is."

"Parker?" I asked.

"Sir, I'm going to be ascertaining any connections that Dawson had with the Press, if I can." said Teddy Parker. "Their total reticence to even mention the murder for three days of 'broadcast excellence', or lack of it, is kind of weird to me. I think maybe he was a mole, though whether for the GOJ or the Press, I'm not yet sure."

"Davis?"

"I'm going to be trying to retrace Dawson's movements for the last several days leading up to his death." said Jerome. "Supervisor Milton is getting cellphone records, so we can see who he called and who called him. We're going to try to find his email address, and see if we can trace any of those over the Internet, though that's a longshot and a half."

"Unless you're the NSA, of course." I said. "Oh, forget I ever said that. Okay, there's just one problem with what all of you have said. No one has explained this to me." I held up a Pink Panther disc.

"I can explain that to you, sir." Cindy said, her ice-blue eyes twinkling just a wee bit too much. "That's a disc golf disc." Everyone broke out laughing.

"Why, thank you, Captain, for educating me on that." I said, trying not to grin, but failing, as I waved a pink disc in her general direction. "Seriously, I want to know why this thing was in Dawson's rooms at the time of his death."

"Sir, did you take that out of the evidence room and the bag?" asked an incredulous Jerome Davis.

"No, but that's a good question based upon a good observation." I said. "This happens to be my own Pink Panther disc that I use whenever some of us go to the Disc Golf Course at Ronald Reagan Park. And that's what we need to do... eliminate Dawson's disc as part of the problem.

"Rudistan," I said, "I want you to get into plainclothes and take a team of plainclothes Officers to Ronald Reagan Park. Upload Dawson's DMV photo to your iPhones, and ask those playing disc golf if they've seen this guy around the park. We'll send another contingent to do the same thing late in the afternoon, then again tomorrow morning. Different Officers every time."

"Yes sir." said Rudistan.

Just then there was a knock on the door, and the Duty Desk Sergeant peeked in. "Commander, there's a phone call for you from SBI Director Conlan..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Yes, Director?" I said as I picked up the phone. Chow and Orosco had come in with me.

"Hi, Don." said Conlan. "We've got a situation in Pottsville, southwest of Westphalia along the Interstate. They had a burglary of the Art Museum there, and a night security officer was found dead. You may want to go look into it."

"Well, we've got a murder up here..." I said in a 'suggestive' way.

"Yes, and there's a similarity..." said Conlan.

Part 8 - Death in the Museum

We got to Pottsville in an hour in my SBI SUV. I drove (at Cindy Ross speeds), with Norm Chow riding shotgun and holding on for dear life, and Orosco in the backseat, reading up on the early Police reports.

"Night Security Officer is named Butch Fulmer." Orosco said. "Thirty-eight years old, no arrests. Been with the security company for six years. Before that, he was an assistant coach for the Tigers for ten years."

"I don't remember the name." I said. "Then again, I probably couldn't tell you all of Coach Thrasher's assistants at the University right next to my own house."

When we got to the museum, it was cordoned off. Our SBI badges got us in, particularly the one that said 'Inspector' on it, though the local LEOs didn't seem happy to see us.

The County Sheriff, a medium-sized man in decent shape, about 40 years old, came up to me. "He's inside, Inspector."

"The dead man?" I asked. "They haven't removed him by now?'

"Oh, no sir." said the Sheriff. "I meant the Detective handing this case. O'Brady."

"Ahhh." I said, understanding. Shane O'Brady. "Okay, guys," I said to my SBI guys. "Get ready for some fun."

Shane O'Brady was as tall as me, but much leaner. His black hair was curly, almost frazzled like Dr. Bonnie Karpathian's hair had been.

O'Brady was the (only) Senior Detective on the Pottsville Police Force. Some said he was the Iron Crowbar of this County. He did not need a crowbar, though; his arrogance was enough. Not quite Steven Ikea quality, but it could be used as a weapon.

Going into the museum, we were brought through the largest room, the main hall, and into a back room. The doors were heavy metal. One could be sealed and bolted from the inside, the other was like a bank vault door with a big wheel to move the bolts and a rotating dial requiring the 4-number combination.

Inside the room, the walls were yellowish-white like many hotel rooms. Velvet ropes kept people walking in a line from one door to the other. Behind the ropes were several glass cases. One of the cases had large precious stones on display. Another case had musket pistols that were well over 200 years old. And behind them was a small alcove that was lighted and had purple walls. It was now empty.

Shane O'Brady was 'lecturing' a group of Officers. "The Statue of Artemis was inside this small chamber." he said. "The only way to open this glass door is for two persons to have keys, one on each side, and eight feet apart from each other. Turning the locks separate two bolts that lock together. Then one has to have the passcodes to the locks on either side, which are different and both are not known by any one person. So it's obvious that at least two persons were involved, and they had keys and the passcode knowledge." I could see the keys in the locks on either side, and the keypads on either side of the empty statue chamber. The door to the chamber was closed.

I also saw the reason Director Conlan had called me... the object sitting on the credenza under the mirror on the people side of the velvet ropes. It was a disc golf disc, clear pink in color... and it was an Innova Champion Discs 'Panther'.

"Okay, any questions?" asked O'Brady.

"Detective, why did the robbers shut the door back?" asked one man in plainclothes, who was another Detective for the Pottsville Police Force.

"There's a time alarm." said O'Brady. "The door can only be open for thirty seconds before an alarm goes off."

"Detective O'Brady," I called out, "what is the significance of this pink frisbee, here?"

"Oh, a child must've left that there." said O'Brady. "I'm sure it's nothing. Oh, by the way, you look familiar, but I don't think we've met. You are?"

"I'm SBI Inspector Troy." I said. "And this is SBI Lieutenant Chow, and SBI Lieutenant Orosco of the new SIS unit."

"Well," said O'Brady, his voice haughty and a bit irritated. "I appreciate you coming, but I didn't realize we'd called for the SBI. I think we'll have this one handled."

"No, you didn't request us." I said. "We came because of a feature of this case in common with another murder in the northwestern part of the State."

"And what feature is that?"

"We found a Pink Panther at that crime scene."

"A Pink Panther?" asked O'Brady, seemingly incredulous. Everyone else in the room looked puzzled, as well.

"This disc. It's called a 'Panther' by the company that makes it." I said, pointing at it. "Has this disc been checked for fingerprints?"

"I'm not sure." said O'Brady.

"No, Inspector." called out someone at the door. "The Crime Lab has not dusted that room nor its contents down yet. Still working around where the body was."

"I see." I said. "With your permission, I'll just dust this plastic here." With that, I took out the powder and gently sprayed over the disc. Then I turned on the camera of my Police iPhone. The bluish light made the powder sparkle. There was one print, which I took a photo of.

"One print." I said. "The FBI database will tell us very soon who it is."

"It's probably me, sir." said a Uniformed Officer, a beefy man with a big gray mustache. "I picked that disc up and looked at it, then put it back down."

"It was right here when you picked it up?" I asked.

"Yes sir." said the man.

I nodded. "And your name is?"

"Dooley, sir." said the man.

Seconds later my iPhone chimed. "Dooley..." I said, "been with the Pottsville Police Force six years?"

"Yes sir." said the man. The data that came back had identified Officer Dooley.

"No other fingerprints." I said. "Guys, let's go check out where the body was while Detective O'Brady finishes up in here. Officer Dooley, be sure to have someone bag this disc as evidence." Dooley nodded.

"Inspector," said O'Brady, not happy he'd just been usurped as the alpha-dog at the scene, "do you really think this child's toy is significant?"

"You have no children, do you, Detective?" I said.

"No. How did you know that?" asked O'Brady. "Been checking up on me?"

"Not all all." I said. "But I do have small children, and the last thing I would ever let them bring into a museum is a frisbee that they could throw at valuable things. I'm also surprised the museum would allow a child into their facility with an object meant to be thrown and capable of doing great damage. Okay, I'll go look at the murder scene, now."

With that, we went into the main hall. Near the entrance to the exit door, the one that could be bolted from inside, was the chalked outline of where a body had lain, with blood spatter near the head area.

"I took photos, sir." said one of the lab techs, who showed me her iPhone. I looked at the pictures. Butch Fulmer had been stocky, and the hair on his head that was cut very short was sparse. He'd been shot in the very back of the head. I looked at the floor, and saw the chip in the tile where the bullet had exited the head.

"The bullet was lodged in the floor." said the tech. "Nine millimeter, .355 caliber."

"So they had him lay down on the floor, then shot him in the back the head." I observed.

"That's how I see it." said a voice behind me. Coming up to us was Shane O'Brady. He said "I didn't recognize you without your crowbar in your hand... Commander Troy."

I smiled. "It's here in the pocket of my trenchcoat." I said, opening the left flap to show it. "I'm not expecting to have to use it."

"I hope not." said O'Brady. "So what were the circumstances of the murder in your Town?... oh yes, it has to have been in your County for you to have known about it and this murder so quickly."

"True." I said. "That crime was more mundane than this one. Low-lifer in a cheap apartment, home invasion, maybe drugs involved. So what is the Statue of Artemis?"

"It's a statue a foot high of the goddess Artemis." said O'Brady. "It was found near Alexandria by a geological expedition from the University in 1954. It's solid gold, which make it worth a fortune for that alone."

"How long has it been here, in this museum?" I asked.

"Since 1962." said O'Brady. "This museum had already been built by the State, and they added the secure room to hold it. There was some talk of returning it to the University campus, but State Representative Hammonds squelched that."

"Ah yes, he's the State Rep for this District." I said, remembering.

"Yes." said O'Brady. "So again, and not to be ungrateful for your willingness to help, but why is this case important to you? And connected to a seemingly unrelated one?"

"Like I said, the Pink Panther." I said. "That disc's cousin is in my evidence rooms, also with no fingerprints on it. And I must disagree with you about its importance... I believe that in both cases we're going to find that disc is of extreme importance."

"Anything else taken, besides the Statue?" asked Norm Chow.

"The museum is doing an inventory now." said O'Brady. "So far, it's the only thing known to be missing."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The State Crime Lab techs were working through the secure room. They had bagged the Pink Panther disc. One of them, the young woman that I'd spoken to earlier, opened the doors to the cabinet below the mirror which concealed a security camera watching over the Statue of Artemis. The tape had been examined, and horizontal interference had damaged the recording, as if the Slender Man had been the perp and had come into the room.

"There's an artifact in the cabinet here." the woman said. I peered inside. It was a statue of clay, about 14" high, in the shape of a long blob of snot or something.