Deadly Waters Pt. 01

"Sean McGhee, chief of police," he said, introducing himself.

"Jerome Schell, Siouan County Coroner's Office," the man responded, holding up his hand to show the blue nitrile glove instead of offering his hand. "You took over for Bill?"

"Yeah. Two weeks on the job."

Jerome chuckled. "Nothing like breaking you in right at the start. Your guy there is pretty chewed up."

"Yeah. They found him in the works a few hours ago."

"I did a quick look and didn't see any gunshot or stab wounds, though he's in pretty rough shape, so it's hard to know for sure. Normally, in a case like this, I'd ask if there was any reason to suspect it was anything other than an accident, but the weights zip tied to his hands and feet..." Jerome tsked and grimaced. "I think that pretty much answers that question."

"Any guess on how long he'd been in there?"

Jerome made a face, his nose crinkling and lips curling in disgust. "As bad a shape as he's in, I'd normally say weeks, but in that soup? I have no idea. It could have only been days for all I know. Dr. Chambly might have a better idea on how much being in there speeds up the decomposition." Sean's face crumpled in disgust, causing Jerome to chuckle. "Yeah. Twenty years doing this and I thought I'd seen it all, but this is a new one on me," Jerome said, looking at the body.

"Officer Fisher is the lead on this."

"Okay. He's already given me all the ID information for the stiff and his contact info."

"How soon can you let us know something?"

"I can't say. I just tag and bag 'em, but the normal turn around on a suspected murder is usually only a day or so."

Sean nodded. "Okay, thanks. If you have any pull with the Medical Examiner, have him make it as fast as he can."

Jerome grinned. "I don't, but I bet he'll bump this one to the front of the line. He likes the interesting ones, and this one..." He paused as he gave his head a quick jerk at the body, his lips twisting in some private joke. "It's pretty interesting."

Sean nodded. "Thanks, Jerome. Hope I don't see much of you."

Jerome grinned. "That's what everyone says."

.

.

.

THREE

"How bad was it?" Kim asked through the speaker when Sean returned to the station.

She buzzed him in and he stepped around the corner and into her office. The dispatch office was small, just large enough to contain the dispatcher's desk, the 9-1-1 computer system with its two screens, telephone, radio equipment, copier, and not much else. Like the rest of the station, it was painted a soothing cream with pale green and ivory floors. The tiles were laid out in a checked pattern, and were supposed to look like marble, but they didn't fool anyone.

"Pretty bad," he replied.

Kim shook her head. "I've lived in Brunswick all my life, and the last murder I can remember was when Ben Nelson shot his wife, and that was at least ten years ago. Even then, he called us and admitted he'd done it. I can't remember one before that, though there may have been one or two."

"How long have you lived here?" he asked with a teasing grin, not expecting an answer.

"A long time. How old are you?"

"Forty-one."

She smirked in return. He wasn't that much older than the officers reporting to him, and he looked at least five years younger than he actually was. "Longer than you've been alive, then."

Kim was the grandmotherly type, always happy and bringing in food for the guys. She was going soft from sitting at the dispatcher's desk, and her brown hair was turning gray, but she knew her stuff and seemed to know everyone in town. He'd looked over everyone's personnel file when he arrived, and while he couldn't remember her exact age, he remembered she was somewhere in her late fifties.

"So, there's been only one murder in ten years?" he asked, his tone making it clear he didn't believe it.

"None that I can remember." She paused as she thought about it. "No, none that I can remember. We've had our share of assaults, and a few shootings, of course, but I don't remember anyone dying. Smyth Hilliard was shot and killed a couple of years ago, but that was ruled a hunting accident. Stupid fools. Rifles and beer, not a good combination."

He chuckled. "Pretty safe place then?"

She grinned. "Yeah. All the thugs and creeps go to Fayetteville or Raleigh, or someplace like that. Folks around here just want to be left alone."

"Hopefully it'll be another ten years before something like this happens again."

"I hope. I can't imagine who'd do something like this."

"Somebody who didn't like Boyd Thacker."

She sniffed out a laugh. "I think you can say that with certainty." She paused a moment. "We have company," she said as she nodded at the vehicle pulling to a stop outside the floor to ceiling windows of the lobby.

He glanced up and sighed as he watched the bronze Lincoln Navigator pull to a stop. "Send him to my office," he said before stepping out and walking down the hall.

"Will do," she called to his retreating back.

"Mayor," Sean said, rising from behind his desk as Rudy approached, two men and a woman entering his office behind him.

Mayor Rudolph Klinger was in his mid-sixties, overweight, graying, and wearing his trademark pompadour and suit that would have been in style fifty years earlier. Though Rudy was always immaculately neat, his loud suits and wide ties always made Sean think of a car salesman hawking the new, 1975, Fords and Chevys.

Sean recognized the three people with Rudy as members of the city council, but try as he might, he couldn't remember their names. "Why don't we step down to the conference room where everyone can sit down," he said, motioning at the door. He led the four down the hall and turned into the windowless conference room, flipping on the lights before gesturing to the large wooden table with twelve black, high back, faux-leather chairs arrayed around it. "Please. Sit down. I'm sorry to say, I don't remember everyone's names."

"Evie Wirick," the only woman said, offering her hand.

Evelyn Wirick was somewhere in her mid to late fifties. She was tall for a woman, looking Sean straight in the eyes, and rail thin. Dressed in a light gray skirt with matching jacket, a white blouse, and black pumps with a low heel, she projected confidence. Sean shook her hand. She may look like a wisp of wind would blow her away, but her grip was firm.

"Josh Tindle. Nice to meet you again, Sean."

Joshua Tindle was perhaps forty. When he said his name, Sean remembered Josh's family owned Tindle's, a local grocery that was hanging on against the bigger chains by being known for offering locally grown produce in the summer, and fresh meat butchered for them from local farms. Dressed in comfortable looking tan pants and a green button front shirt that matched the green in the Tindle's logo, he looked happy and relaxed.

"Steve Locoste," the final man said, offering his hand when Sean turned to him.

Steven Locoste appeared to be in his mid-sixties though, unlike Rudy, he obviously took care of himself and looked like he might be a runner. Like Josh, Steve was dressed comfortably low key, wearing a dressy looking pair of jeans, a pale-yellow shirt, and sneakers.

"What can I help you with?" Sean asked as everyone began to take their seats.

"I'll come right to the point," Rudy began, his booming voice gravelly from forty years of smoking. "We're concerned about this unfortunate incident at the wastewater treatment plant. Was the deceased really Boyd Thacker?"

Sean shrugged. "That's the ID that was on the victim. That's all I can tell you. The body was a mess."

"Any idea who did it?"

Sean forced himself to not look at Rudy as if he were an idiot. "Mayor Klinger, we just found out about this five hours ago. No, we don't have any suspects. We don't even know for sure the victim is Boyd Thacker. We expect the medical examiner's preliminary report later today or first thing in the morning, but it'll take longer to confirm the identity and, hopefully, give us a time and cause of death."

"But you're working on it, right?"

Now Sean did look at Rudy as if he'd grown another head. "Of course we're working on it. Officers Fisher and Langley are at the plant right now walking the area, looking for any evidence."

Rudy smiled and nodded his head. "That's good. With the Brunswick Stew Festival coming up, we want to get this unpleasantness behind us as soon as possible. Do you think the investigation will be wrapped up by then?"

"Stew festival?"

"Yeah, the Brunswick Stew Festival. We hold it every year. We close down Main Street and have a Brunswick stew competition. We have games for the kids, vendors come in, and there's an antique car show. It's a big deal for the town. Brings in a lot of money."

"And when is this?"

"The last Saturday in February every year. Nothing like a hot bowl of Brunswick stew to warm you up on a cold winter day," Rudy said, his tone and cadence making him sound like he was pitching the idea.

Sean looked at the calendar on his phone. "That's less than two weeks."

"Right. So, do you think you'll have caught the guy who did it by then?"

"I have no idea. A lot will depend on the medical examiner's report. If Thacker drowned in the ditch, that's completely different than if he was killed somewhere else and hauled in."

"Okay, I understand that," Rudy said, smiling and nodding again. "But, do you think the investigation will be wrapped up before the festival?"

"Mayor, I just said I didn't know. What's the rush?"

"The rush, Sean, is to have this wrapped up before the festival. The town got a black eye from the spill last year, and now this? The guy who was accusing us of malfeasance is killed and his body is found on city property. Not just any city property, mind you, but the very place he was hollering about. This is going to be all over the news again. We don't want that kind of publicity, and especially not so close to the festival."

"What would you have me do? This isn't like on television where the case is wrapped up nice and neat in an hour. Some investigations take years, and right now, we have nothing to go on."

"Look, I'm not trying to push you, but this seems pretty simple to me. Can't they run some tests and tell you where he died, or something like that?"

"Simple?" Sean asked, staring Rudy down as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "You watch too much television, mayor. It doesn't work like that in real life. We find, what we're assuming is, Boyd Thacker's badly decomposed body in a secured facility. Nobody knows how it got in there. Nobody knows how long he's been dead. Nobody knows where he was killed. Apparently, he wasn't the most popular person in town and plenty of people wouldn't mind seeing him go away. That includes you, doesn't it? You want a suspect. How about you? You're a suspect. So, you tell me, mayor, how is this a simple case?"

Rudy stared at Sean in shock. "You surely don't think I had anything to do with it!"

"No more so than anyone else, but are you going to sit here and tell me you and Boyd were friends and you're sorry he won't be causing problems anymore?"

"Well, I didn't like the man, but that doesn't mean I killed him!"

"No, no it doesn't, but you see the problem? Until we get something to work with, you're as much a suspect as anyone else. All of you are, along with the other member of the city council, and everyone at the waste treatment plant. It's not that we don't have suspects... we've got too many suspects."

"So, what are you doing to narrow down the list?" Evie asked, obviously trying to save Rudy from further embarrassment.

Sean turned his attention to the councilwoman. "We're doing what we always do. We're talking to people to try to find discrepancies in their stories, looking for anything that might give us a clue as to what happened, and then take it from there. Over the next couple of days, we'll talk to everyone at the plant and try to figure out how Thacker got in there in the first place. The place is surrounded by an eight-foot fence with barbed wire along the top, so it's unlikely he crawled over, bound his own hands and feet, and jumped in with weights on. Once we figure out how he got in, we'll take the next step, wherever that leads. Then the next, and then the next, until we find out who, where, and why."

"But you have no idea how long that may take?" Steve asked.

"It takes as long as it takes. If someone's story at the plant doesn't check out, or the medical examiner finds something useful, it may only be a day or two, but it could just as easily take weeks or months, or we may never find out who killed him. It's too early to say." He paused then decided to throw them a bone. "Most criminals are stupid, otherwise we wouldn't catch them, but still, figure a few weeks, minimum."

"So, you might catch the guy before the festival?" Rudy asked again.

"Maybe, maybe not. I have no way of knowing until we get some threads to start pulling on."

"Just do the best you can," Evie said.

"You have my word. If we can find even a hint, we'll have something to start with. We're not going to let this rest, Ms. Wirick. I'm confident we'll catch him, eventually."

"I don't have to tell you, Sean, that when word gets out about this, people are going to be shocked," Josh said. "Stuff like this just doesn't happen in Brunswick. I know you're still trying to get your feet on the ground, but we need this wrapped up as soon as possible so people don't lose faith in your ability to keep the town safe. I think I speak for the entire city council when I say we're behind you one hundred percent, but this is probably going to make or break you."

Sean's lips quirked into a lopsided grin as he leaned back in his chair with a humorous snort. "No pressure then."

His four guests chuckled. "No, no pressure," Evie said. "If you need anything, any additional resources, we'll try to get them for you. I understand how tough this must be."

"Thank you for the offer. I might have to authorize overtime for this."

"Do what you have to and don't worry about the overtime," Steve said. "We want to keep Rudy happy and try to get this wrapped up before the festival."

The conference phone on the table began to ring. "Sean," he said after pushing the speaker button.

"WRAL is here with a camera," Kim's voice came over the speaker. "They're in the lobby and would like a statement."

"I'll be right there," he said and then ended the call. "Word travels fast down here. Anything else before I go face the wolves?"

"You want me to talk to them?" Rudy offered.

That was the last thing Sean wanted. "Thank you, mayor, but no. I'll handle it."

"We won't keep you then," Evie said as she rose from the table, the men following her lead.

As the mayor and the members of the city council hung back, Sean walked into the small lobby. "I'm Sean McGhee, chief of police," he said to the attractive, raven-haired woman, dressed in a dark blue pant suit with a bold red blouse opened just enough to show a hint of cleavage.

"Ronda Russell, WRAL News. I'd like to get a statement from you about the death of Boyd Thacker."

"Let's step outside," Sean suggested, stepping past Ronda and holding open the door for her and her cameraman.

Getting her outside would give his guests a chance to escape, and if he was lucky, the cold would make Ms. Russell a little less inquisitive. This was going to be a new experience for him. He'd never spoken on camera before, but in his work with the Boston PD, he'd seen his captain do it several times, often on cases he was handling. His task force had busted a major credit card laundering scheme, and then later, a child pornography ring, both of which had been big news. While the investigation was going on, Captain Beeler had spoken to the press several times, but had said little, always falling back on the 'we can't comment on an active investigation' line when he didn't want to answer questions. If it worked in Boston, it should work here.

Sean stepped to the side so there was a featureless brown brick wall behind him. "Will this do?" he asked as Rudy and the city council members stopped behind the cameraman to watch.

Ronda smiled. "Perfect." She turned to the camera and cleaned her teeth with her tongue. "Three... two... one. Ronda Russell, WRAL News. I'm here with Sean McGhee, newly appointed police chief of Brunswick," she said, speaking to the camera. She turned to Sean. "Is it true the body of Boyd Thacker, the riverkeeper who had accused Brunswick of causing several fish kills on the Siouan River, was found dead earlier today in the Brunswick wastewater treatment plant?" She tipped her microphone toward him.

"A body was discovered earlier today, but we have no confirmation on the identity."

She brought the mic back to her lips. "It was found at the wastewater plant?"

"That's correct."

"Any idea of how or when the person died?"

"Not at this time. We're awaiting the results from the Siouan County Medical Examiner's office."

"Any idea of when that'll be?"

"You'll have to contact the medical examiner's office."

Ronda fumed a moment, obviously annoyed Sean was being so terse. "Are you familiar with the accusations Mr. Thacker made against the city?"

"I am."

"Do you believe that has any bearing on his death?"

"As I said, we don't have a positive identification of the body. Until we have a positive ID of the victim, and we know when and how the victim died, anything I tell you now would be pure speculation."

"Any idea on when you will be making an arrest?"

"When we have all the facts of the case, if an arrest is warranted, we'll make it at that time." Sean watched as Rudy fidgeted, and then returned his attention to Ronda.

"Is there reason to suspect Mr. Thacker was murdered?"

"Until we get the results from the medical examiner, we're not assuming anything, including the identity of the victim."

"Could it have been an accident?"

"As I said, until we get the results from the medical examiner, we're not assuming anything."

Rudy stepped forward to stand beside Sean. "Hello Ronda. Rudy Klinger, mayor of Brunswick. We have every confidence Chief McGhee will apprehend the responsible party or parties within a couple weeks."

"So, the deceased was murdered?" Ronda asked, her eyes lighting up. "Is the deceased Boyd Thacker?"

"That's what I—" Rudy began.

"There's no confirmation at this time the deceased was murdered, nor do we have confirmation on the victim's identity," Sean said, his voice firm as he spoke over the top of Rudy and cut him off. "That's all," he said before stepping away.

"What about you, mayor? You seem to—"

"No, no, that's all," Rudy said, stepping away as well and following Sean into the station.

"You want to run this investigation?" Sean growled, glaring at Rudy when he stepped into his office.

"I don't know what you're so mad about."

"I just told you this could take months, and you get on the television and start running your mouth about murder and having arrests made in a couple of weeks."

"Well, unless you think he went swimming with weights on, it looks like murder to me!"

"I think we should wait for the facts before you start blabbing it all over television. We don't know if he drowned there or was killed in some other way. We don't know shit, and you're compromising the investigation by releasing information that might tip the guy who did it that we're looking for him."

Rudy fumed. "Okay, I'm sorry. It just seems obvious to me that having the weights tied to Thacker's body means it's murder."

"She didn't know about the weights, or she would have asked about them. We also don't know if the stiff is Thacker, and a couple of weeks? I never said that."