Chapter 1 #2
They knew the area as a homeless squat, but when they entered the warehouse, the entire lower floor was empty.
No boxes. No obvious signs of recent occupancy.
Just the body lying on the concrete, surrounded by growing puddles of water.
There was no power in the building, but the high-lumen work lanterns set up near the body spotlighted the tragedy, and the water puddles at their feet reflected that light back. Clearly, the roof was leaking.
The officers standing just inside the warehouse ended their conversation as the detectives approached.
Usually, it was forensics that set up lights on a crime scene, but they had yet to arrive. Gunner pointed at the lanterns.
“Where did all the light come from?”
A patrol officer named Davis spoke up. “We brought them in. Couldn’t see shit in here, sir, and after we found the body, we didn’t want to walk on evidence.”
“Right, so what do you know?” Gunner asked.
“An anonymous tip was phoned in to PD. We were dispatched to the scene, found the body, and called it in. We don’t know who called, and we haven’t checked the body for ID,” Davis said.
Gunner took a couple of steps closer and swept his flashlight over the body, noted the missing shoes and socks and the bruised and battered face, then saw a small shamrock tattoo on his neck and sighed.
“Cliff. Look.” He aimed his light at the tattoo. “It’s Freddie Welsh. This is our crime scene and the Feds’ missing victim. Better let Lieutenant Samuels know. He can be the bearer of bad news.”
“Right,” Cliff said and walked a short distance away to make the call.
Gunner was still sweeping the area with his tac light when he saw the old shoes beneath the stairs.
Suddenly, the reason the body was barefoot made sense.
A homeless person found the body and took the shoes.
He glanced back at Cliff, who was still on the phone, then headed up the stairs to the second level.
He began sweeping his light across the empty expanse and was headed toward the ramshackle cubicles when he caught a brief glimpse of a bearded man in rags running west.
“Runner!” he yelled and took off after him.
Downstairs, they all heard Kingston’s shout, and Cliff turned around in dismay. He didn’t know Gunner had gone up alone.
Cliff pointed at one of the officers. “You! Stay with the body. The rest of you take the west stairs up to block him off. I’m with Kingston.”
There wasn’t a man on the force who could outrun Gunner Kingston, but Cliff was his partner, which meant Cliff was also his backup. He took off up the stairs, two steps at a time.
* * *
The second Gunner saw a fleeing suspect, he shouted.
“Stop! Police!”
When the man kept running, Gunner kicked into gear, vaulting over an empty crate, side-stepping piles of ragged bedding left behind by the homeless who’d once sheltered here, and easily caught his runner at the door.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! I didn’t kill him!” the runner cried.
Gunner flashed his badge. “Detective Kingston. Dallas Homicide. What’s your name?” he asked.
The old man spun, his eyes wide with fright. “I didn’t kill him! I didn’t kill him!” he kept saying.
Gunner saw the shoes on the homeless man’s feet and knew he’d guessed right about the shoes. “Sir, your name, please.”
“Dan Helford. I go by Yankee Dan. I didn’t kill him. I was looking for a place to get out of the rain and came in the back way. It was so dark I couldn’t see shit, but I knew the layout because I used to squat here.”
Gunner’s eyes narrowed. “And that’s when you found the body?”
“I didn’t find it. I was up here in the old offices bedded down for the night when I heard the big doors opening downstairs.
I sneaked out to the landing to see what was going on because I didn’t want to get caught by the cops doing another sweep.
There was a faint light coming in through the open doors from the outside streetlights, but all I saw were silhouettes.
Two men were dragging one between them. They dumped him and left,” Yankee Dan said.
“Could you identify them?” Gunner asked.
“No way. Look around you. It’s black as the pits of hell in here, except for the lights you brought with you.
If they hadn’t opened those big doors, I would never have seen a thing.
I thought the man they left behind might just be hurt and came down to check for a pulse, but he didn’t have one.
I took the shoes and socks. I needed ’em, man.
I got a big sore on my heel from what I been wearin’. ”
“We got a call from 911 about a body. Was that you?” Gunner asked.
Yankee Dan nodded. “I found the phone only because it was hidden in the top of his sock. I opened it by pressing his thumb on the ID screen. Called 911, then put the phone in his pocket. I didn’t search his body. I’m not a thief. But I did touch the body by taking off his shoes.”
Gunner nodded. “Okay, Dan. I need you to come with me.”
Dan stepped back in fear. “Are you arresting me?”
“No, sir. But I need to get your statement for the record, and we’re going to have to confiscate the shoes and socks you took. They’re evidence.”
Yankee Dan groaned. “Ah, man. Then I’m going barefoot because I can’t put those old shoes I was wearing back on. I already have an infected sore from wearing shoes too small.”
“I’ll get you fixed up with replacements,” Gunner said. “And we might round up some meds for your foot and some food in your belly while we’re at it. How’s that sound?”
Dan rubbed his face as he slumped against the wall. “Like a better end to this day than I could have imagined.”
At that point, Cliff and three cops arrived on the scene.
Cliff was out of breath as he approached, his flashlight aimed straight at the duo near the door. The patrol officers who’d taken the west staircase were coming toward them from the other direction.
“Good, you caught him,” Cliff said. “Who is he? What’s he doing here?”
“This is Dan Helford. He is the one who found the body and called it in. We need an evidence bag for these shoes. His DNA will be on them because he took them off the body, but he’s not being arrested.
We just need to get his statement for the record,” Gunner said, then saw the patrol officers approaching.
Cliff pulled an evidence bag from his pocket, and Gunner dropped the shoes and socks in it.
Gunner pointed at Officer Davis. “You and your partner take him to Central Homicide and put him in an interrogation room. I’ll be there shortly.
And tell somebody in the office to get him a pair of shoes and socks.
He also needs some first aid on one of his feet and something to eat. Tell them I said so, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” they said and cuffed him.
Dan panicked. “You said I wasn’t under arrest!” he cried.
Gunner gave him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s just protocol. I promise,” he said and gave the patrolmen a look. “He’s old and he’s hurting. Take it easy, right?”
They all knew Kingston well enough to know not to push his boundaries. “Right, sir,” they said and slowly escorted Dan down, then walked him barefoot through the continuing drizzle, seated him in their patrol car, and drove away.
Cliff flashed his light around the area, making sure there weren’t any more surprises up here. Satisfied he wasn’t about to get jumped, he threw out the obvious question. “Hey, Gunner, do you think the old man was telling the truth?”
Gunner glanced at him and frowned. “About what? That he found a body and stole the shoes and socks? Yes. Do I believe he used the phone on the corpse to call it in? Yes. And you and I both know that Freddie Welsh was beaten, tortured, and dead at least a day before he wound up here. I don’t see an old homeless man with nothing but dirt on his hands doing any of that, do you? ” Gunner said.
Cliff nodded. “Yeah, right… I wasn’t thinking.”
“Your call to Samuels lasted a while. What else is on your mind besides the job? Who else did you call? Your bookie? We pay attention to the evidence, not the obvious.”
Cliff felt seen. He had called his bookie, and he was looking for the obvious to get this over with.
“So, he didn’t see anyone?” he asked.
Gunner frowned. What the hell is wrong with him? They were standing in the farthest, darkest corner of the upper level. Was he really going to have to explain this like his partner was five?
“Turn off your flashlight,” Gunner said.
Cliff flipped it off, and within seconds, Gunner turned his off, too, putting them both in immediate darkness.
“Can you see me?” Gunner asked.
“Well, hell no,” Cliff said.
Gunner turned his light back on. “Right, and Dan Helford didn’t have a flashlight, and there were no lights on anywhere in this building.
He only heard the doors opening…and all he saw were the silhouettes of three men coming in and two men going out.
He was a good fifty yards away on the second level, in a warehouse without power.
I couldn’t even see your silhouette when I turned off my flashlight, and you were standing less than five feet from me.
We’re going down now. You wait for the Feds until they’re on-site and then head back to the station.
They’ll bring their own forensics team, and they can call the shots.
I’m going to the station to get his statement on record.
Did you tell Samuels who the victim was? ”
“Yes. He said he’d deal with it,” Cliff said, but he was frowning all the way down.
He and Kingston had been partners for seven years, and the man still scared him a little. He’d just made a fool of himself and lost the last thousand dollars in his savings account, all in one night. If Gunner didn’t kill him for stupidity, his wife would do it for his betrayal.
* * *