Chapter 7 #2
“Now that, I don’t,” Hawkeye said as they stopped at his office.
Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out his keys, he unlocked the door, and they went inside.
He flipped on the light and pointed to a large plastic bag in a side chair.
“There are the empty peanut butter jars that Holland is wanting. Care to run those down so he can get started processing them?”
“Sure. While I’m doing that, can you put in an order to have footage of the Flynn’s brownstone collected for the last four to six weeks? I’d like to see if there was any unusual activity going on around there.”
“Good idea,” Hawkeye concurred. “Whatever came of the surveillance that Jett and Rookie pulled for you of the arena footage before the match?”
“I need to follow up with them. I haven’t received the report yet,” Brand said. “I don’t know if that means they have completed it or if they are looking into something they found. I’ll get with them this morning and let you know straight away.”
“Stay on it,” Hawkeye said. “I feel we are getting to a crucial point here with this rat poison element “I’m going to review some of Flynn’s old arrests and see if I can get any vibes from the perps for doing the job.”
“Will do,” Brand said. “Just out of curiosity. Did Flynn work any special cases other than doing patrol?”
“Not really,” Hawkeye said. “Other than when he stumbled upon what Monte Adams was doing and turned in the evidence to Internal Affairs.”
Brand grabbed the plastic bag from the side chair and shot Hawkeye a curious look.
“Could that have something to do with this case? We know the fight stemmed from Adams working security at the arena and hanging around during practice, although he claimed to only be doing his job. But could there have been a little revenge going on as well?”
“At this point we have no evidence to point in that direction,” Hawkeye said. “And we have no connection between Adams and anyone other than Dugan. Did Rogers even know Adams?”
Brand shrugged. “That might be something to look into.”
“I’d be interested to find out that tidbit.”
“I’ll let you know.” Brand closed the door behind him before heading back to the autopsy level.
Dr. Holland looked up from an exam table, and his eyes widened. But seeing the bag, he smiled. “Ah more goodies to work with. Just put them over on my desk. I’ll get to them as soon as I finish here.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Brand said.
By the time he returned to the main level, his cellphone pinged with the surveillance of the Flynn’s brownstone.
He headed to the police computer room that the task force used when they were at the station and used his code to enter the room, transferring the information to the desktop.
He slowly watched the footage, making notes on a pad of paper he found of the frame and time stamp of segments to rewatch.
He watched the noted segments twice more and jotted down points of interest. Certain that on each date he saw a man in a hooded sweatshirt slip through a back entrance at Reilly and Harley’s residence and exit fifteen to twenty-minutes later every time.
While the camera angle was in the wrong position it was also impossible to zoom in and get facial recognition on the intruder. He was able to get a good photo of the perp that suggested his height and body size despite the baggy sweatshirt and pants he wore in an attempt to disguise himself.
Satisfied with his progress, Brand called Jett to follow up with him about the footage he and Rookie were supposed to collect.
The phone rang a few times before it was finally picked up. Instead of Jett, it was Pepper who picked up. “Hey Brand, sorry, Jett’s in the shower. Can I get him for you? It’s a little early for you to be calling, isn’t it?”
Brand looked at his watch and saw it was almost eight. “Normally, I’d say it is, but when you get woken around five thirty to go see the medical examiner, it’s mid-morning. You of all people should know what early mornings are like having to catch redeye flights and all.”
“Don’t I know it,” she agreed. “Can I get him for you, or do you want him to call you back?”
“He can call back but tell him I need info on that surveillance I asked for. I’m at police headquarters if it will make it easier for him and Rookie to meet me here to discuss.”
“Will do,” Pepper said.
When he rang off, Brand sent a text message to Rookie to see what his ETA was and suggested he meet him at police headquarters instead.
Since they worked in the basement of the renovated brownstone where most of the task force lived, he knew it was easy to be lazy in the mornings.
Only Rookie and Margot still resided at her posh apartment on Lakeshore Drive.
Heading your way lit up his phone screen. Just like all of Rookie’s messages. Short and to the point.
While Brand waited, he gave Carly a call. “Morning beautiful,” he said when she answered.
“Morning. How are things going?” she inquired.
“Worth the early morning wake up,” he said. “I hope you were able to go back to sleep once I left.”
“I slept like a baby,” she said. “I’m almost ready to leave for work. Brittany and I are having a breakfast meeting with Stella this morning. We’ve been asked to consult with her on a big project. It sounds really exciting.”
“Did I know about this?” he asked.
“No,” Carly said. “I meant to have told you, but I kept forgetting. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I find my head is in the clouds these days.” She gave a little laugh. “Colleen and Margot tell me it’s pregnancy brain, and I should get used to it.”
“Keep that to yourself or none of your friends, especially Simone will decide to have a baby,” Brand warned.
“I don’t think that’s what’s going to keep Simone from having one. It’s the gaining weight factor that’s keeping her from waiting to have one.”
“That comes with the territory, or doesn’t she understand that?”
Carly sighed. “She knows, but her weight has always been something she’s worried about, not that she has ever had to worry. She’s a perfect size. But to hear her tell it that is because she watches everything she eats.”
“Maybe it is,” he said.
“Oh!” Carly gasped. “I just looked at the time. I better go or I’ll be late. Love you.”
“You too,” Brand said and ended the call.
He printed out a color copy of the best image of the intruder and studied it, noticing what looked like a tat on the perps forearm where he had the sleeves on the hoody pushed up mid-way.
Then he went back to the computer screen and tried to zoom in on the image, focusing on the forearm, blowing that area up. Sure enough it was a tattoo.
Brand frowned. He’d seen one something like that before, but he couldn’t remember where.
The door opened and Rookie entered. “Sorry, I got here as fast as I could. Traffic was a nightmare.”
“Jett’s not here yet,” Brand told him. “You don’t have the surveillance footage you collected of the arena before the exhibition game do you? If you do, we can take a look at it.”
“No,” Rookie said. “He does. We didn’t see Monte Adams like you were hoping for, though.”
“I guess that was too much to hope for,” Brand pushed a hand through his hair.
“That guy was too smug when Wyatt and I were questioning him. While we wait on Jett, take a look at this. Have you seen this tattoo?” He handed Rookie the printed photo and pointed to the man’s forearm “I’m sure I have, but don’t remember where. ”
“That’s hard to see,” Rookie said.
“Let me print off the blown-up version,” Brand said, pressing print on the computer and Rookie picked up the page from the printer as it shot out.
“Better detail on this one,” he agree. “And it does look familiar, but like you, I’m having trouble remembering where I saw it.”
The door opened again, and Jett joined them. “I ran into Hawkeye in the hallway,” he told them. “He’s filled me in on your morning. So rat poison?”
“What?” Rookie’s brow wrinkled. “I didn’t hear about this.”
“The Medical Examiner found rat poison in the undigested peanut butter in Flynn’s stomach,” Brand explained.
“Rat poison and Warfarin, a blood thinner, both have anticoagulants in them. That’s why Flynn’s original lab work came back showing Warfarin in his system, but it was probably the rat poison instead. ”
“Hell’s Bells,” Rookie expelled a long breath. “Are you saying someone put rat poison in all that peanut butter Flynn was eating?”
“That’s what it looks like,” Jett concurred.
“Damn,” Rookie said shaking his head. “Damn.”
“So we can agree whoever did this had to know him,” Brand said. “Especially his eating habits. It wasn’t a random act.”
“Could it have been his sister?” Jett asked.
“I don’t believe so,” Brad said. “She could be faking being upset but I didn’t pick up on that vibe. I had Hawkeye pull surveillance footage around their brownstone and it showed someone was getting inside through the back door on several occasions.”
“A guy with a tattoo on his forearm.” Rookie handed the printout to Jett.
Jett studied it. “Huh.”
“Neither one of us can recall where we’ve seen that design before,” Brand admitted.
“I recognize it too,” Jett said. “Maybe it’s a common tat that we’ve seen on the street?”
“It would be funny if it is one of Don Juan’s,” Rookie said but his snort of laughter held no humor.
“Maybe that explains it,” Brand agreed. “Okay. Let’s talk about the surveillance you collected of the arena. Rookie said you didn’t find Monte Adams on it before the exhibition game.”
“None. And we looked at that footage at least six times,” Jett said. “But we did see Clint Rogers talking to someone at a back door to the arena.”
“That’s right,” Rookie confirmed “I forgot about that. We couldn’t tell who the guy was because of the way he was standing out of the camera angle, and he wouldn’t come inside, even though it looked like Clint kept trying to invite him in.”
“That’s suspicious,” Brand said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Show me that footage.”
Jett sat down at the computer and pulled up the link to the surveillance video and played the clip showing Clint Rogers leaving the locker room, already wearing his hockey uniform and a pair of sandals, and going down the corridor toward a back door.
He opened it to talk to someone who stood at the right angle, so he couldn’t be caught on camera.
But what they could see was a portion of the tattoo on his forearm.
“It’s almost as if that guy knew where the building’s security cameras were placed,” Rookie pointed out. “And he didn’t want to get caught by them.”
“Look,” Jett said and paused the video. “Here’s where Rogers tries to get the guy to come inside, but he won’t.” He clicked the video to start playing again.
“Run it back a few seconds and let’s watch that again,” Brand instructed. “I thought I saw something.”
Jett hit rewind and then play, and they watched the video again.
“Stop,” Brand commanded.
Jett clicked the mouse and froze the frame.
“Can you zoom in on that guy’s arm?” Brand pointed at the screen.
Jett increased the image size several points and they were able to see the guy’s shirt sleeve inched up as he raised his arm, exposing his forearm.
“Does that look like a portion of a tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve? Could he be the same guy that the surveillance tape showed breaking into the Flynn’s brownstone?”
Rookie shook his head. “I don’t know.” Rookie said.
The door opened, and as they broke apart, Hawkeye walked in. “Holland has the results on the peanut butter jars,” he announced, and they heard the anger simmering in his voice. “They were all laced with the rat poison.”
“Shit.” Brand started counting on his fingers.
“I know there were at least eight empties plus the half-eaten and the full jar in that bag. Not to mention any jars that Flynn might have consumed but not have discarded at home. Can you imagine what consuming that much rat poison was doing to his body?”
Hawkeye nodded. “I just finished reading Hollands completed report before he called with the results. The bottom line was Holland said Flynn was a dead man walking and he didn’t know it.”
“Who could have had it out for him so bad that they’d want him dead?” Rookie asked.
“Is it the guy Rogers was talking to in that video?” Jett said.
“What guy?” Hawkeye asked.
They showed him the video of the guy who had sneaked into the Flynn’s brownstone and the close up showing his tattoo.
“Looks like the same guy to me,” Hawkeye said. “Let’s bring Rogers back in for questioning and get him to tell us who this guy is.”
“I think we need to talk to Harley and Dugan again as well,” Brand said.
Hawkeye nodded. “Them as well. Hell, bring Monte Adams down here too while you’re at it. I want to talk to that SOB myself before Trainor gets the chance to question him.”