“What’s the name of the church?” Harry asked.
“The First Assembly of Jesus Christ the Lord.” She pushed back an unruly strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. “I’ve got a church bulletin. There’s something in it I want to show you, anyway.”
She retrieved the bulletin and gave it to Harry. It was professionally printed and slickly laid out, filled with church information, some short feature articles, and a column by the minister, the Reverend John Waldo. Betty Hall had underlined a comment in that column relating to Darlene Beckett. She jabbed a finger at it. “Just read it. That’s what we were living with every time we went to church.”
Harry read the minister’s column. In it, Reverend Waldo urged his parishioners to fulfill your Christian duty and do whatever you can to bring justice to Darlene Beckett and thereby free the boy she has led astray so he can be returned to the loving arms of Jesus Christ.
“And that s.o.b. pressed for that every chance he got,” she said.
Vicky decided that she and Jim Morgan would take on Darlene’s probation officer before they ventured into the quagmire of the department’s computer systems. Morgan, apparently a closet computer geek, raised a mild objection, but Vicky refused to be swayed.
“People before machines,” she said. “People have heart attacks or get hit by buses. Machines will be there the next day.”
Morgan pointed out that machines caught deadly viruses and had fatal crashes too. Then he laughed and agreed that he couldn’t fight her logic. He had a nice laugh, she thought, one that went well with his outgoing, easy manner. He was tall and lean, well put together, but not the type who wore his shirts a size too small to accent his biceps. There were enough of those in the department and she had no interest in working with someone who had to check himself out in every mirror he passed. Before today she had only seen Morgan in uniform. Now, dressed in casual civilian clothes, there was a youthful quality about him that she found very appealing. He had short, sandy hair, striking blue eyes, and a wide, sensual mouth, and she couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t wearing a wedding band. She caught herself and pushed that thought away. She had no intention of getting involved with anyone. She’d been dumped by her last boyfriend and had no interest in having a rebound love affair with somebody on the job. She found herself smiling. But you can look, she thought.
Darlene’s probation officer was an eighteen-year veteran named Bennie Rolf. His office was adjacent to the Hillsborough County Courthouse in a featureless 1960s building. The interior was much the same, cookie-cutter offices filled with drab, institutional furnishings that were one step above those found in most prisons.
Bennie Rolf fit the offices perfectly. Just under six feet, he carried two hundred and forty pounds layered over a frame designed for one-eighty. He was in his early forties with fast receding brown hair and a badly trimmed beard that was flecked with gray. Just looking at him, Vicky would have bet the rent money that he had a nasty case of bad breath.
The man also looked a little twitchy, Vicky thought, as they took chairs in his cramped office. She decided she’d have to watch his eyes throughout the interview, looking for the tell that would let her know when he was lying.
The office was a mess with client folders and papers piled haphazardly. There was a lone window that looked out onto a parking lot and the glass in the window was the only part of the office that appeared clean.
Vicky started off slow and friendly. “So Bennie, did Darlene ever tell you about any threats she’d received, or anyone in particular that she was afraid of-like maybe her ex-husband, or boyfriend, or somebody she met while she was out bar hopping?”
“She wasn’t allowed in bars,” Rolf said. “That was part of her probation agreement.”
Vicky smiled across the desk. “Well, let me clue you in, Bennie. The lady was a regular at one bar we know of for sure. And we’ve got witnesses who’ll swear to it. In fact, the guy who was killed with her picked her up in that bar.”
“I know. I read it in the papers.” Rolf shook his head as if even now he found it hard to believe. “We can’t follow clients around twenty-four-seven. We can only do the best we can.”
“Well, you sure seemed to be trying.” She watched Rolf nod agreement. “You sure made enough visits to her apartment.”
“Not that many,” Rolf protested.
Now it was Vicky’s turn to shake her head in disbelief. “Bennie, Bennie, Bennie, we got a neighbor who was a regular hawk about Darlene. He literally kept a book on every car that was parked in her driveway. And he was home day and night, so he didn’t miss many. In the past nine months, which is ever since she started reporting to you, he’s got you there thirty-nine times. That’s at least once a week. Seem about right to you?”
Bennie began to stutter. “Wa… Wa… Well, I don’t know about that. I don’t think my case file would show that many visits.”
“Maybe you didn’t write them all down,” Morgan suggested.
“Oh, no. Oh, no. I always record every visit.”
“Is it normal to visit a client that many times?” Vicky asked.
Rolf raised his hands defensively. “Look, this woman was notorious, a very high-profile case. Sure, I visited her more than usual. If anything went wrong with her, if she got involved with another kid, say, well, my butt would be on the carpet big time.”
Bennie was sweating now. His eyes were blinking rapidly and his stutter wasn’t about to go away. The man had so many tells going you could hardly keep track of them, Vicky thought. She remained silent, knowing instinctively that Bennie would fill the void. She glanced at Morgan, letting him know she wanted him to follow her lead. The silence didn’t last long.
“Look,” Bennie said, “if this was a drug dealer, or some petty hood that somebody offed, you guys wouldn’t even be here. I’ve had plenty of clients who’ve ended up dead, but I can count on one hand the number of times you guys have come to me with questions.”
Vicky and Morgan continued to stare at him. Finally, Vicky leaned forward as if expecting him to say more.
Rolf obliged. “Okay, maybe I was a little intrigued with her too. For crissake, she’d become a media star, hadn’t she? So just like everybody else, I took a special interest in her.”
Vicky nodded as if she understood completely. “Tell us about the ankle monitor, Bennie.”
“Oh, no. Oh, no.” Bennie waved both hands in front of himself as if it would ward off what Vicky was suggesting. “I’ve got no idea how she got that off. The last time I visited her I checked it-just like I did every time I saw her-and she had it on just like she was supposed to. That’s right there in every one of my reports.”
“How do you think she got it off?” Morgan asked.
“How the hell do I know?” Bennie caught himself and made his voice less defensive. “Look, this isn’t the first case I’ve had of somebody getting one of those off. It’s not foolproof, for crissake.”
Vicky looked toward the window. Disbelief mingled with disgust and Bennie picked up on it immediately.
“Hey, if you’re trying to say that I had something to do with the monitor coming off, that’s bullshit. Why would I risk my career, my pension, everything I have, for that slut?”