Chapter 9
"I'm pretty sure I met Gabby Friday night on Oyster Avenue," Brandon said.
He had my full attention.
"It was pretty messed up. She had been dropped off and left on the boulevard, blindfolded, wearing only her underwear.”
I had put the call on speakerphone so Jack could hear. We shared a look.
Brandon continued. “They had written derogatory terms on her in black Sharpie." He paused. "I get it. College kids doing initiation rituals, but this was beyond the pale. I mean, they threw her to the sharks. Drunk guys were pawing all over her. I stepped in and kept them from messing with her.”
"That's kind of you," I said.
"Look, I'm no saint, but I think I'm a pretty decent guy. What they did to her was unconscionable. I offered to give her a ride home, but she wouldn't accept. She told me she couldn’t take off the blindfold or she’d be disqualified.
Told me that someone from the sorority was watching her at all times.
I don't know if that was really true. The van just pulled up, and they shoved her out.
Then it took off. I didn't see anyone else around supervising her.”
"Did you get a license plate on the van?”
"No. It never really crossed my mind. I was a little distracted. I mean, she was a good-looking woman. In her underwear, she was hard not to look at.”
"So what happened?"
"I gave her my jacket to cover up with and flagged down a cab.” He sighed.
"I gave her my number. I figured she'd have to get in touch to give the jacket back. I really wanted to see her again. She was damn cute. When I didn't hear from her, I was kind of bummed. Then I saw the news report,” he said in a somber voice. “They showed Gabby’s picture on the screen. It was her. Just horrible. Do you have any idea what happened to her?”
"I can't go into the details at this time.”
"But this is a homicide, right?”
"Yes, it is.” The thought crossed my mind that maybe this guy killed her. It wasn't uncommon for killers to insert themselves in investigations. Maybe this was his alibi. "What time Friday evening was this?”
"I don't know. Probably around 10:30 PM.”
"What were you doing that evening?” I asked.
"I had met some friends out for a drink, then I was heading back home. I called it an early night. I had an early tee time the next morning."
"What do you do for a living?"
“I'm a systems administrator.”
"And you never met Gabby before?”
"No. I would certainly remember a woman like that.”
"Do you remember what type of cab she got into?”
"One of those lime green Coconut Cabs.”
"Did you get a license plate?”
"I'm sorry, I didn't.”
I thanked him for the information and said we'd be in touch. After I hung up, I immediately ran background on him. Brandon Simmons had no criminal history. Didn't mean he wasn't our killer, but usually there's some indication of violent tendencies.
My next call was to the Coconut Cab company. They GPS track all of the cabs’ movements. It wouldn’t be hard to pinpoint which one picked her up.
As far as I could tell, Gabby never made it back to the sorority house. Then again, maybe she did. I was keeping my mind open to all possibilities.
The dispatcher told me, "There were three cabs on Oyster Avenue around 10:30 PM Friday night."
"Which one went to the Theta house?"
She tapped the keys. "Looks like Unit #12. That car was driven by Raj.”
"Can you confirm the drop-off location?"
"According to the GPS data, he dropped the passenger off at 715 University Boulevard."
"Where can I find Raj now?”
She tapped a few keys. “He's currently with a passenger."
"Tell you what, send him to me next.”
"What's this about? Is he in some kind of trouble?"
"No. I just need to ask him a few questions about his passenger. You don't have passenger data for that fare, do you?"
"No, this was a street pickup. Not a call in."
I thanked her, and she told me she would send Raj our way.