The Barcode Murders Read online

  He was half way home when he got a call back from Draker.

  “Hey Mike, Alan Swansea. Thanks for returning my call. How have you been?”

  “Good, Alan. Hey, I want to congratulate you on that Russian sex ring case. Good show, man!”

  “Thanks, Mike. Actually, I just took a new case and I was hoping we could get together over a beer so I could pick your brain.”

  “Sure, no problem. But why me?”

  “Well, it was one of your cases. The Chloe McPherson murder.”

  There was a pause at the other end of the line. “Really. Are you serious?”

  “Serious as a heart attack. Janice McPherson met with me and wants to see some justice done. I told her that the case is colder than cold but she doesn’t give a crap. She talked me into giving it a second look. So what do you say?”

  “I don’t mind giving you the dope on it but I can tell you now that cold is not the term I would use for that case. Frozen solid would be more like it.”

  “I figured as much. But it’s hard to turn down a case when the client is insisting that you take it and offers you a blank check to boot. You know how it is.”

  “I don’t blame you there. And I’ll level with you—I didn’t want to be taken off that case but the chief eventually insisted that I give it up. I wanted nothing more than to get that creep and see justice served for that little girl’s family. But unlike you, I don’t make the rules. I would love nothing more than to see you catch the killer.”

  “That’s what I hoped you’d say and I appreciate it. So how about meeting at Jason’s for a cold one? I’m buying.”

  “Let’s see, I’m free this evening but tomorrow they’re putting me on night duty.”

  “Let’s go for tonight, then. Say nine o’clock?”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Great, I’ll see you then. And thanks for the favor, Mike.”

  “No problem.”

  As he hung up, Alan was pleased that Mike Draker was willing to cooperate with him on the case. Before he had retired years ago to take up website design, he and Draker had done some favors for each other out of mutual respect for one another’s common goals. Mike Draker was an honest, hard-working investigator with a big heart for those who have fallen victim to crime. He had in fact told Alan that he had considered retiring to start his own private investigation business but the security and benefits of the force made it too hard to leave.

  Alan thought about his upcoming meeting with Greg Weller. Although there was little comparison between a murder case and a case involving a cheating spouse, both cases had a victim. And although the comparison ended there, Greg Weller also deserved justice. As much as Alan didn’t want to admit it, he was happy that had he had made it possible for Weller to make an informed decision on the fate of his marriage.

  As it turned out, once Greg Weller had viewed the damning evidence of his beloved Allison’s tryst with George Stillman the night before, the man suddenly saw the light. He not only recovered remarkably well from the initial hurt and pain, he could hardly wait to begin proceedings to make his wife pay for her cheating ways.

  CHAPTER 4

  Jason’s Pub was located in the Short North district of Columbus and a popular nightspot for students, artists and art lovers. Alan had frequented the place since his college days when he was an art major at the university. It only took him a moment to spot Mike Draker sitting at the bar.

  “Hey Mike—you beat me here.”

  “Been here for about half an hour. This has been a day from hell and your offer of a beer kept sounding better and better.”

  Detective Mike Draker was a few years older than Alan and had been with the police force for seventeen years. He had risen in the ranks quickly because of his work ethic and ability to get things done. The Chloe McPherson case was no doubt one that still stuck in his craw.

  “Yeungling lager, please,” Alan told the bartender. “And another one for my friend.”

  “Been a few years since I’ve been here,” Draker said. “In fact, I believe it was the last time I saw you.”

  “Funny how history repeats itself. I was probably picking your brain back then, too.”

  “You were in fact. You wanted the rap sheet on some chick’s abusive husband.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s right. Donnie Jackson. One super bad dude for sure.”

  The beers came and Alan took a long slug. “So what can you tell me about the McPherson case?”

  “I don’t know how much you already know so I’ll start at the beginning. We got a call from the school principal the day she disappeared and did a routine preliminary investigation. It didn’t take long to realize that it was not going to be an easy ride. Not only were there no eyewitnesses to her disappearance but everybody involved in the case seemed to be out to lunch, and I don’t mean just in the literal sense. Not one but two teachers—one of them a nun, no less—were on the playground that day supposedly watching over their precious flock. Yet neither one of them saw Chloe vacate the area. It’s not like the playground was that big or crowded—maybe twenty or thirty kids all tolled. And the place was little more than a wide-open field without a place in sight where a kid could hide if they wanted to. Made me wonder if those women were on crack, to tell you the truth.”

  Alan laughed. “I kinda doubt that. Did you interview the girl who was assumed to be the last one to see Chloe?”

  “Yeah, her name was Bethany—I remember that because that’s also the name of my niece. Love that name. Anyway, she recalled seeing Chloe over by the basketball court, which was located in the far corner of the playground near the street. There was a chain link gate nearby that had been unlocked which we assumed was how Chloe vacated the area. Found out that the gate had been locked earlier that morning so it’s still a mystery how it ever got unlocked.”

  “Did the groundskeeper seem legit? Mrs. McPherson told me about his swearing it had been locked.”

  “Seemed okay. Sober and well-mannered. Probably telling the truth.”

  “Remember his name?”

  “I was wondering when you were going to start asking for names. I pulled the file before I left the station and took the liberty of making a copy of the report.”

  “Mike, you’re the best!”

  “I know. I even told the captain what you were doing and he was okay with it. I can tell you, Alan, that everybody in the department wanted to get their hands on that girl’s killer. It was really painful to deep six it. So you can count on support from the force if you need it.”

  “That’s awesome. I really appreciate it, Mike.”

  Draker reached down, opened his brief case and pulled out a thick manila folder. He handed it over to Alan.

  “Here you go, my friend. Everything’s in there. You will note that there isn’t a whole hell of a lot though, considering it’s a homicide case.”

  “Thanks. Before I go over this stuff, do you have any theories at all on who may have murdered Chloe? Did any flags raise at all throughout the investigation?”

  Draker shook his head. “That’s the bitch of the whole case. We had quite a few tips phoned in early on as you would expect and we followed up on every one that sounded even remotely relevant. Nothing—nada. I mean, we never got so much as a smidgen of a viable lead. In fact, the only one I ever considered as a suspect—and that was only for a nanosecond—was the girl’s dad.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Like I said, it was only for a second. Then I changed my mind. And I think I only suspected him because there was no one else there to point a finger at.”

  “Okay, so for that single nanosecond, why did you suspect Travis McPherson?”

  “The guy was just so obviously devastated by his daughter’s death. You know, even more than you would think he’d be. The guy was bawling off and on during my interview, and it seemed not so much as fake, as excessive. I mean, I don’t have any kids, but I can imagine how tough it would be to lose one like that. But Mr. McPherson was crying like a big sissy and it seemed so freaking strange and out of place. Add that to the fact that he and his daughter had been so uber-close—that was according to his wife and everyone else who knew him—and it made things seem kind of fishy. But like I said, this was all going through my mind during the interrogation and I pretty much eliminated him as a suspect about as quickly as I considered him.”

  “And why was that?”

  “A couple of reasons. One, what would be the motive to kill your own daughter if you loved her so much? I mean, I thought of JonBenet Ramsey and that whole suspicious relationship theory with her father, but it just didn’t seem likely. Two, even if McPherson wanted to kill Chloe, why would he pick such an incredibly stupid time and place to do it—at her school in broad daylight? Made zero sense.”

  “Yet somebody with zero sense managed to do just that, didn’t they?” Alan said.

  Draker nodded. “Good point. Bottom line is that McPherson had a solid alibi. He was having lunch with a colleague at the time of Chloe’s abduction so that totally ruled him out.”

  “How solid was it?”

  “Solid enough. The colleague vouched for him and there was no reason not to suspect that she was on the up and up.”

  Alan became aware of the song that was now playing on the jukebox. An old Doobie Brothers tune.

  “And that was the only time you had a specific suspect in mind?”

  “Yup. It’ s all in there. We canvassed the entire neighborhood around the school, searched the sexual predators database, prior felons involved in kidnapping of minors, everything we could think of. No leads or viable suspects whatsoever.”

  “How about the area where the body was found? What was the scoop on the guy

  who discovered Chloe's body?"
br />   “Old man Bleeker? That guy was something else. First of all, he was eighty-five years old yet obviously had excellent eyesight. He had been walking his dog along the rim of the ravine when Fido suddenly started pulling like crazy on his leash. Frank Bleeker looked down into the ravine and noticed something bright yellow at the bottom. Get this: it was one of Chloe’s socks showing from where her tiny ankle was sticking out from beneath a pile of leaves and rubble. If you could see where the old man was standing when he spotted that tiny yellow speck you would be as impressed with his eyesight as I was.

  “At any rate, he somehow managed to make his way down the steep bank of the ravine without killing himself and came upon the girl’s body. He immediately headed back to his home and called 911.”

  “So he was never a suspect?”

  “Nope. The guy was pretty feeble and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Had lived in the neighborhood his whole life and had no criminal record. Besides that, he was well known by his neighbors, who loved the old guy and confirmed that he didn’t even own a car. The only places he ever went were to the neighborhood Kroger and on walks with his mutt.”

  “Hmm, I see what you mean. Plus her body was found on the other side of town from where the school is located.”

  “We canvassed the area of the ravine in search of possible witnesses but didn’t get a single bite. I tell you, we all started thinking this guy was invisible the way he could do so many bad things and never be seen. The lack of leads in this case was making us look like a bunch of lame asses and the press was not kind toward us at all after a while. Nobody could understand how all of these things could happen without so much as a single slipup by the perp. No prints, no DNA, no eyewitnesses, no apparent motive. It was an absolute bitch, man.”

  Alan drained his beer and ordered another round. “I do recall the bad publicity regarding the case. The Dispatch was absolutely relentless the longer the investigation wore on.”

  Draker shook his head. “No mercy. But you know, you can’t keep selling papers if you don’t find the killer. So the press eventually backed off covering the investigation since there was nothing to report and I think that’s what eventually did the case in for us. That plus the fact there were more than the usual number of other homicide cases going on around the same time. That’s where I think we dropped the ball. Pissed me off, but they cold-cased the thing much too soon.”

  “Which brings us to my next question. Janice McPherson says that the police made it sound like there was still an active investigation going on in the case. She eventually found out that wasn’t true. Why the deception, man? That really pissed her off.”

  “Politics, that’s why. You know how things go in government, Alan. The higher ups are only concerned with keeping the public happy, even if it means outright lying to them. Travis McPherson is a pretty influential guy in local politics so they didn’t want to step on any toes and get him riled up. So the common word was to keep the McPherson’s happy by telling them that everything possible was being done to find their child’s killer.”

  “Sort of ironic, really. Mrs. McPherson says that her husband wasn’t really that gung-ho on finding the killer. At least not until he found out that you guys were sitting on your hands. Now all of a sudden he’s out for blood.”

  “Yeah? That’s interesting. Wonder why that is?”

  “No idea. What I do know is that he is going to be the first one I’m going to interrogate. I need to try to figure out what this guy is all about.”

  “Good luck. But get ready for the barrage of sobbing you’re going to have to endure.”

  “Thanks for the tip. One other thing I’m curious about: how certain was the coroner that there was no sexual assault on Chloe?”

  “You’ll see when you read the autopsy report. The bottom line is that there were no signs of trauma that would indicate any sort of penetration or sexual activity on the body. No semen, hair, or fibers. There was obviously some bruising to her neck resulting from the strangulation but no appreciable defensive wounds of any kind. Clothing was clean, too. The examiner was all but certain that Chloe was killed somewhere else and then dumped into the ravine after the fact.”

  “And she didn’t resist being strangled?”

  “She probably couldn’t. The coroner deduced she had been strangled from behind, giving her little to no chance to fight off her murderer. There’s even a slim chance she was unconscious while she was being strangled—as though she may have been asleep at the time or sedated. But there were no drugs found in her system so the jury’s out on that. What ever the case, it wouldn’t take much time or effort to suffocate a little eight-year-old girl.”

  “Jesus. Makes me sick thinking about the defenseless child.”

  “I hear ya.”

  Alan fell silent and surveyed the bar. The place wasn’t very crowded this early and he recalled the many nights he had spent hanging here with Julie. The place hadn’t changed much since those days and he could almost feel her presence when he spotted their favorite table near the jukebox.

  What he wouldn’t give to have her back.

  “You still going out with the same girl—wasn’t her name, Natalie?” he asked the detective.

  “Nah, that ended a couple of years ago. We were pretty tight for quite a while and we actually started talking about living together. But I got cold feet, and that pretty much was the beginning of the end.”

  Alan chuckled. “In other words, she scared you off. I take it you’re not the marrying kind.”

  “You got that right. Why bother? Even if there were a woman I liked enough to commit to, it would never work. Cops make lousy husbands—that’s a proven fact. I’m married to this fricking job and the last thing I want to do is try to juggle a long-term serious relationship with the hours I keep. Like I told you before, if I were to retire and go private, that might make things different. But that isn’t going to happen. So the best I can do is play the field. It’s all good.”

  “You may be on to something, actually. I mean Julie was the woman of my dreams so I married her and we were all ready to live happily ever after. Then she got sick and died. And look where that has left me. Alone with no desire to do much more than work and hang out with my dog. You’re probably saving yourself a lot of grief by staying uncommitted. Cause even if you get lucky like I did, you could still end up right back where you started from.”

  “Julie passed? I didn’t know that. I’m so sorry, Alan.”

  “Thanks. She was diagnosed with brain cancer a couple of years ago and it was inoperable. She was gone in just three months. It was horrible watching her die like that. I wanted to cash in my chips afterwards and damn near drank myself to death. Then I started imagining her up there getting really pissed at me for being so weak, so I managed to get a grip on myself and moved on. It’s not been a picnic though.”

  “That must have been rough. Julie was a real sweetie.”

  “Sure was. Oh well, life goes on. She’s probably pissed at me now for going back into private investigation but I really can’t think of anything else that comes close to making me feel like some sort of asset to society. Web design was not only boring but incredibly unfulfilling. So it looks like I’m back in the game to stay.”

  “I’ll level with you, man. When I heard about those human trafficking victims you saved last year, I was just blown away. You know there are PI’s that never see action like that their entire careers, yet there you were saving the world. Awesome, man. Stick with it.”

  “Well, I don’t think I was quite saving the world, but it was kinda nice knowing that I changed a few lives for the better. But hell, you know that those bad guys will eventually get out of prison and just start all over again.”

  “That’s not your fault, though. It’s the nature of the beast. We do all we can do and the rest is up to the judicial system, unfortunately. That’s the way it is and the way it always will be.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  After another beer and some idle chat, Alan found himself becoming anxious to leave so he could go home and pore over the Chloe McPherson file. When they left the bar, Alan thanked Draker again and promised to keep him informed on any new developments in the case.