Chapter 48
It was Tuesday, the second day we were working the Michael Lenstein cold case.
I was curious to know whether Mrs. Lenstein knew more than she’d said, but if Matt Shane had threatened her or anyone else and made occasional visits to the neighborhood, that could be why no one had ever come forward with proof of his guilt.
We would try Lynn again that day along with a few other people who’d accused Matt then backpedaled later. It was the typical scenario of accusations, false memories, no memories, and then years later, somebody would come clean. The person who might talk hadn’t gotten to that point yet.
The morning updates were over, Renz and I were in our office, and we were going through the first box together.
“So how exactly was Michael killed?” I asked.
“He was beaten to death.”
“Seriously? That had to take time. There could have been a dozen witnesses to his murder.”
“We have the one and only video from a phone camera with ten-year-old technology. It was nighttime, and the camera was a good distance away. Nobody ever identified the killer. Just because Matt Shane had a beef with Michael doesn’t put him in the murderer’s seat.
In all likelihood, it was him, but without proof—”
“Yeah, we’ve got nothing. Smart that there wasn’t a physical weapon to deal with, though. Finding something like that could seal the deal.”
Renz grunted. “I have to talk to Taft.”
“About what?”
“I need to know why she put us on this unsolvable case that’s been gone over with a fine-tooth comb a million times. It’s wasting our capabilities to do something else.”
I grinned. “Like what? James Smith?”
Renz swatted the air. “Enough with him too. That’s another unsolvable case.”
I gave him a snarky look. “At least it isn’t a ten-year-old case. Are you really going to talk to her?”
“I don’t know. I’m blowing off steam, that’s all. There has to be a new serial crimes case somewhere in the US that we can take on.”
Taft’s name was on the tip of my tongue when a knock sounded at our door, and Taft walked in. I was thankful I hadn’t said her name out loud.
“Agents.”
“Boss,” Renz said.
“How’s the Lenstein case coming along?”
I spoke up. “I’m trying to familiarize myself with everything, and Lorenzo is looking for people who are still local who may let us interview them again. We tried a neighbor yesterday, but either she wasn’t home or she didn’t want to answer the door.”
“But we did speak to Michael’s mother,” Renz said.
“And?”
“And we think she knows more than she’s saying. It seems that Matt Shane has his foot on everyone’s throat so to speak. He shines around the neighborhood now and then to let people know he’s still watching and listening.”
“What could Michael’s mother know? There was one grainy camera video that couldn’t identify the perpetrator in that scuffle. Nobody liked Matt Shane, but that isn’t proof of murder.”
“And that’s why we have to interview people again. Lorenzo has the original witness statements. We’ll ask the same questions again to see if their account has changed over time.”
“Okay. Hopefully, you make some progress.”
I waited for Renz to air the complaints that he had just mentioned, but he kept quiet, and she walked out.
After the door closed and I heard her shoes clack against the tile as she walked away, I spoke up. “What the hell was that? I thought you had a ton of things to say to her.”
“Today is Tuesday. By Friday, she’ll reassign us to something else anyway. We may as well let her think it was her idea. Taft just wants to keep us busy until the next big case surfaces.”
“Well, I wish it would hurry up.”
We got back to work and tried to track down people who had given scathing testimonies against Matt Shane ten years ago.
“I’ve got three phone numbers,” Renz said. “Let’s see if they’re still assigned to the same people.”
“Put your phone on Speaker, and who is the first person you’re calling?”
“This number belongs to a friend of Matt Shane’s sister. Back then, she said Matt threatened everyone and even slapped his mother around. The dad was never in the picture.”
“Matt sounds like a real upstanding guy.”
Shaking his head, Renz dialed the first number.
A woman answered on the second ring. “Hello.”
“Hello, is this Patty Sanders?”
“Yes, who’s calling?”
“This is FBI Agent Lorenzo DeLeon. We’re reopening the Michael Lenstein cold case and are speaking with the original people who spoke up against Matt Shane.”
“I don’t have anything more to say.”
“You did say back then that Matt threatened everyone who disagreed with his way of thinking. You also said he slapped his own mother around.”
“I don’t remember what I said back then.”
“It’s documented, Patty.”
The phone went dead.
“Really? Why don’t we just go to the source?”
“What does that mean?” Renz asked.
“Let’s go talk to Matt Shane himself. Feel him out and see if he’s still a threat to the people who didn’t like him.”
“No can do.”
“Because?”
“Because he was exonerated, so we can’t harass him or even talk to him. He has family in Ohio and family here, and we never know where he is at any given time. Actually, we can’t even follow him. Again, the harassment clause.”
“I feel like this is going to be a long day.”
“It will be a long day if everyone hangs up on us.”
I stood. “Then let’s go in person. Patty might be at home, and there have to be a few more who are. It’s something, anyway.”
“Okay. Let me gather their names and addresses first.”
“And their original statements,” I added.
With the files in my briefcase, we headed to Patty’s house first since there was a good chance she was home.
“We can always call the neighbors and relatives in Ohio too.”
Renz sighed. “And as our witnesses here run out or refuse to talk, that’s likely what we’ll have to do.”
We reached Patty’s house and rang the doorbell. She answered within seconds.
“Patty, I’m Lorenzo DeLeon, the FBI agent you hung up on.”
“Sorry. I thought the case was cold and Matt Shane was exonerated. There’s nothing more I can add to my original statement.”
Renz smiled. “The statement you don’t remember giving?”
Patty groaned. “You’re really wasting your time. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
She closed the door in our faces, and we returned to the car.
“We’ll visit one more person to see if they’ll talk. If not, I guess I’ll have that conversation with Taft after all.”
We tried Lynn’s house again, and nobody answered, although I swore I saw the blinds move.
Renz was irritated that we were wasting our time, and I didn’t know enough about the past half dozen times the FBI had revisited the case.
I understood his frustration, though, and agreed that our time could be put to better use.
After returning to our headquarters, we called the people we still had current phone numbers for but got nowhere with any of them.
Renz stood. “Time to talk to Taft before our workday is done. Either she’ll tell us to keep working the case, or she’ll reassign us.”
“And if she says to keep working the case?”
“Then we’ll do what we can from our desks. If nobody is willing to talk, there’s no proverbial smoking gun, or no new evidence comes to light, then there isn’t much progress we can make.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“Nah, I can handle it. You can grab us a couple of coffees, though. In an hour, we’ll be done for the day anyway.”