Deadly Waters Pt. 02

"It's where the city's vac truck, and the few industries that bring in waste, dump. Basically, we have cameras in the three places where non-employees would normally be found."

He swiveled to look at her. "Could the body have been dumped there?"

"No. It's in front of the screens… and the hole is too small for a body anyway."

"How often is the truck dump used?"

She shrugged. "It depends on what's going on. If we're having to pump out a lift station, it may get used three or four times a day. If not, maybe once every couple of weeks in the summer, less often in the winter."

"Anyone use it in the last week?"

She shrugged again. "I'd have to check the dump logs."

"Can you do that while I work on this?"

"Sure," she said, nodding as she turned and walked away.

Using the computer's built-in search, it took him only moments to locate all the archived video files. The system kept a rotating ninety-day archive, all neatly stamped with the date and time, with the videos broken into one-hour chunks. Best of all, the videos were in MPEG-4 format, which meant they'd play on almost anything and he wouldn't have to convert them or find some funky video player to watch them. He copied the last week of video to his thumb-drive, and then transferred them to his laptop. When the copy was complete, he removed the files from the flash-drive before repeating the process for the previous week. While the second week was copying to his flash-drive, Maggie appeared with a book.

"In the last two weeks, we had LoCoste Adhesives in. He unloaded three-thousand gallons, and the city vac truck was in twice, unloading twenty-five hundred gallons each time. That's it."

"What does the vac truck do?"

"Pumps out lift stations, backed up sewer lines, stuff like that."

"And LoCoste Adhesives?"

"That's owned by Steve Locoste. He comes—"

"The councilman?" he interrupted.

"One and the same. He comes in every couple of months, or so, and dumps a load of diluted adhesives. They make adhesives for the furniture industry. He and a few other industries have an agreement with the city so they can dump their organic waste into our influent stream."

"Handy."

She grinned. "They get charged for it. LoCoste and Prickle Dyes are beyond our lines, so they truck the stuff in. There's also Instant Porta-Potty and three… no, wait… four, septic tank service companies that come here. They show up more often in the summer than they do in the winter."

"What does Prickle do?" he asked as he pulled the thumb-drive out of the security computer, plugged it into his laptop, and started the copy process again.

"Stains and dyes. After they dump, the water can turn the prettiest red, blue, or green you've ever seen."

"So, nothing out of the ordinary?"

She looked at the logs again. "Nothing that I see."

"Okay, thanks for looking. I have the video. Is this the same computer that controls the gate?"

"Yes," she replied as she nodded.

"Can you show me how it works?" he asked, and then kicked backwards, rolling his chair out of the way.

She stepped up beside him. "We open this program here, and then enter the code, along with the days and times it's valid. That's all we do."

Sean nodded as she stepped out of the way.

It took a little digging, Maggie watching for a while before she left him to it, but he finally found a couple of text files that had all the information he was looking for.

"I have what I need. Thanks," he said, sticking his head into her office.

"You're welcome. Have you seen the circus?" she asked, standing to look out her window.

He stepped into her office and then joined her behind her desk to see what she was looking at. There was an ABC11 news van parked on the side of the road. He couldn't see very well because there was a berm blocking part of his view, but it looked like the crowd was giving an interview.

"Isn't there something you can do?" she asked.

"So long as they're not blocking traffic or damaging property, no. They have the right to be there. If they threaten, harass, or damage property, let me know and I'll run them off. Otherwise, just ignore them, or, if you really want to get to them, take them some coffee. Kill them with kindness and get that on the news."

Her face lit up with the suggestion. "I like that idea! I'll start brewing some right now."

"If you go out there, you'll be doing me a huge favor if you don't talk about what happened here."

She giggled. "I saw the news last night with you and the mayor. What a mess. Okay, I'll keep my mouth shut."

"Thanks. Also, the county forensics team will be out in a day or so to examine the plant vehicles. Work with them as much as you can."

She sighed. "Okay. The yard trucks and the Gator are no problem, but the maintenance trucks, that's a bit harder. How long on each vehicle?"

"Not long I wouldn't think. I just asked for a cursory check on the Gator and all the trucks, except for Harbaugh's. His, I asked for a detailed exam. Maybe thirty to sixty minutes per vehicle on all of them except Harbaugh's. His will probably be longer."

"Kevin's? Why?"

"He admitted he'd been up there in the last few days." He smiled at Maggie, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. Nobody is accusing him of anything."

Her mouth hardened. "Kevin is the nicest guy you'll ever meet, and he's been one of my most reliable maintenance guys for years. I can't see him being involved in anything like this." She paused and sighed. "I guess we can work around it. If they could do the maintenance trucks after three-thirty, that would be helpful. That's when the maintenance guys go home."

"Tell them that. Maybe they can work something out. We're really digging for a place to start."

"We'll work with them as much as we can," she said, but she didn't sound very enthusiastic about the idea.

"Thanks. Don't freak out on Harbaugh. This is what we do." He paused and looked out the window again. "It looks like the news crew is packing up, so I'm going to go. Thanks for the help. I'll stop on the way out and let the hooligans know what they can and can't do." He drove to the gate and, after it opened, pulled through and stopped among the protestors, stepping out of his car and clipping his badge to his belt. "Who's in charge here?" he asked, looking over the crowd.

"Why?" demanded a thin and angular woman with a hawkish face. Her blonde hair contained streaks of red so dark they were almost black, with her eyeshadow and lipstick almost the same hue. She was wearing an artfully ripped jean jacket with straps and buckles over a brightly rainbowed shirt, along with an equally torn pair of jeans, and a pair of loosely laced combat boots.

"I'd like to speak to them. Unofficially," he added when nobody moved. The crowd muttered and looked at each other, but no one stepped forward. "No one organized this? Everyone just happened to show up at the same time?"

"I guess I did," the woman finally said.

"Please turn off the cameras," he asked as everyone started holding up their phones.

"They have a right to film this!" the woman protested.

"What's your name?"

"Linda."

"Linda, please ask them to turn off the cameras. I'd like to speak to you, in private."

Linda hesitated then turned to face the crowd. "Can you give us a minute? If he tries to arrest me, get that on video."

"I'm not arresting anyone unless you give me a reason to." When the phones began to disappear, he nodded. "Thank you. Now, Linda, I don't intend to hassle you, but you have to abide by some rules. If you follow the rules, you can stand out here and protest all you want, and if anyone tries to make you leave, call me and I'll explain it to them."

Linda's eyes narrowed slightly. "What rules?"

"They're really simple. You can't block traffic, you can't harass or threaten anyone, you can't damage property, and you can't cross onto private property. In this instance, that's anywhere inside the fence. That's it. You follow those four simple rules, and you're not going to have any problems from me or my officers."

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing even more. "You're much more accommodating than the other guy, the chief of police."

He flashed her a smile. "He's retired and I'm the new chief."

"So, as long as we do what you said, you don't have a problem with us protesting?"

"It's a free country. So long as you abide by the laws, I can't legally prevent you from expressing your opinion, so why try?"

For the first time Linda smiled. "I can tell by your accent you're not from around here. The previous chief sent his goons out to arrest some of us on bullshit charges, like inciting to riot and littering."

He shrugged. "So long as you're not causing trouble, I'm not going to hassle you, but let me be very clear. You trespass, threaten, harass, or cause property damage, you'll get to see the inside of my jail cells."

"What about Boyd?"

"What about him?"

"You're not going to sweep this under the rug, are you, like they did with the fish kills?"

"We don't know that the victim is Boyd Thacker."

"Who else would it be? I haven't been able to reach him, and nobody has seen him in the last few days."

"If you can ID the deceased, that would help us a lot. Contact the Siouan County Medical Examiner's office if you can do that, because right now, we have no confirmation on the identity of the victim. My officers are interviewing all the employees who work here and I'm here right now to collect the security video in case the cameras caught something. We're doing everything we can to see that justice is done."

"Even if Boyd's killer turns out to be a city employee?"

"The fact the killer might work for the city holds no sway with me. We'll follow the evidence wherever it goes."

Linda looked at him a moment then gave him a nod. "So long as we don't block traffic, cross the fence, or harass anyone, you'll leave us alone and not send your goons out to hassle us?"

"They're not goons," Sean snapped, his face hardening in annoyance. "They're officers of the law, sworn to protect you and your right to protest, so show a little respect."

She looked slightly chagrined. "Sorry. I just remember the last time. Your officers won't hassle us?"

"No." He pulled a card from his wallet. "If you're following the guidelines I gave you and anyone gives you any trouble, have them call me. That includes any of my officers."

Linda took the card and flicked it with her finger. "I'll do that. Thank you."

He grinned. "Enjoy your protest," he said before he turned back to his car.

Sean sauntered down Main Street, pausing to look in windows and nodding to people on the street. A weekly stroll through the downtown area was something he decided he was going to do when he took the job.

Boston was an old city, but it had lost most of its charm as the city grew and reinvented itself. The small downtown area of Brunswick, however, still looked like something from the turn of the century. The twentieth century. The ten blocks of Main Street that composed downtown had become a collection of small mom and pop stores which sold everything from antiques to ice cream, restaurants, and professional businesses.

This was only his second walk about, but he wanted to make his weekly strolls something the merchants could count on, and use that face time to build a closer relationship between the people of Brunswick and his department.

It was almost one when he stepped into Big Belly Deli, the sandwich shop's name catching his attention and making him smile. Entering the restaurant was like stepping a hundred years into the past, and he admired the antique stamped tin ceiling, rough brickwork, and unfinished wood floors.

He'd just placed his order, and had taken a table by the window, when his phone began to play its jaunty little ditty. He grimaced as he looked at the name displayed on the screen.

"Mayor," he said in greeting, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't disturb other customers.

"Sean, I just saw the news. There's a bunch of people outside the waste treatment plant making a scene and waving signs around."

"I know. I spoke to them this morning. Are they still there?"

"I don't know, but if they are, I want you to run them off."

Sean sighed. "I can't do that if they're not breaking any laws. I explained to them what they could and couldn't do, and they agreed to not cause trouble."

"Surely you can come up with something!"

"Maybe, but why would I? They're not hurting anything and they have the right to protest if they want to. I'll call Maggie and find out if they're behaving. If they are, then there isn't anything I can do."

"Bill was able to break them up!"

"Yeah, so I heard. Inciting to riot and littering? That's what you want me to go with? Better to let them get tired and go away on their own."

"They're making the city look bad!"

"And having my officers roll in there and arrest people, people who are not hurting a thing and have the right to protest, on a bunch of trumped-up charges makes the city look good?"

"I'm starting to think we've made a mistake with you. You don't seem to have the city's best interests at heart."

"Mayor," Sean said slowly, "I'm not going to harass a bunch of people just because you don't like what they have to say. My job is to protect the people of Brunswick, including those you don't like. If you have some evidence they're breaking the law, get back to me, otherwise, I'm going to have to respectfully decline your request to 'run them off.'"

"Most of these people probably aren't even from here!"

"More the reason to treat the visitors to our fair city with fairness and respect, don't you think?"

There was a lengthy pause. "You're not going to do anything about it?"

"So long as they aren't causing problems, no."

"I don't think I like your attitude."

"I'm doing the job you hired me to do. Do you really want to go on record ordering me to harass innocent people?"

"I'm not ordering you to do that!"

"I didn't think so. My lunch is ready. It's been nice talking to you," he said before he ended the call. He drummed his fingers on the table, and then dialed Maggie's number.

"Maggie Neese."

"Maggie, Sean McGhee. How are your friends at the gate?"

"Fine. We took them coffee like you suggested. That was fun. You could tell they didn't know what to do." She giggled. "In fact, a little while later, they buzzed the gate and asked for a trash bag."

"They're not causing problems?"

There was a short pause, probably while she stood up so she could see what they were doing. "No. It looks like they're sitting in the grass eating lunch. Why?"

"Just checking to make sure they're following our agreement."

"No problems. I'm guessing they're getting bored and will be leaving soon. At least, I hope so."

He grinned as he nodded to himself. "Thanks, that's all I needed to hear."

"Hey, chief, got a minute?"

"Sure, Fish, come on in. What's on your mind?" Sean asked, waving Fish into his office.

Fish dropped into a chair. "I'm stumped. This Thacker case is kicking my ass. I can't find anything. I was hoping you could go over it with me and see if maybe I'm missing something."

Sean gave him a rueful grin. "Don't let it get you down. I've been in your shoes more than once. You just have to keep digging. Sure, let's go down to the conference room so we can spread out on the table if we need to."

Fish flashed a quick grin. "Thanks, chief."

The conference room shared space in the center of the station with the dispatcher's office, restrooms, cells, and the armory, while his officers shared the small offices that were spaced along the outside walls. They moved to the conference room and Fish dropped his case file on the table as they sat down.

"Start at the beginning and walk me through it step by step," Sean suggested. "Sometimes just talking about it makes you think of something."

"Okay. I interviewed everyone at the plant. The only person who can't account for their whereabouts for practically every minute is Maggie."

"Why's that?"

"She lives by herself, but she didn't key into the gate on any off-hours, so even if she did kill Thacker, that still doesn't explain how she got him in the ditch. The only other person there might be a question about is Kevin Harbaugh. He was at the headworks during the time frame the ME estimated Thacker died."

"The maintenance guy?"

"Right. The problem with him is, if he did it, he has cojones the size of basketballs. Brass ones."

Sean chuckled. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I have him on video going to the headworks where Thacker was found. Makes sense, right? Thacker's dead body was in his truck, he goes to the oxidation ditch on some routine maintenance visit, chucks the body in, and nobody's the wiser. The thing is, his truck sat in front of the admin building for a half-hour, probably while he had lunch, right before he did. Nobody came in or out during that time, so I guess the body could have been in there, but how would he have known nobody would leave and see it?"

Sean nodded. "I see your point."

"I talked to Steve Locoste. Nothing there. He loaded up and dumped just like normal. The guy who loaded the truck didn't see anything suspicious or out of the ordinary. Let's see… the county found Thacker's truck and boat trailer at Riverside Park. Somebody reported it after it hadn't moved for a couple of days."

"Where's Riverside Park?"

"About four miles outside of town. They have a campground, boat launch ramp, that sort of thing. It's run by the county. The ME's report didn't tell us anything we didn't already know or suspect. The most likely cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head before the body was dumped in the ditch. Because of the advanced decomposition he can't be sure, but he estimated the day of death was between four and seven days before the body was found. That's consistent with when Boyd went missing. The last confirmed meeting anyone had with him was six days before he was found, when he was on a phone call to the Waterkeepers Alliance."

"You pulled his phone records?"

"Yeah. Nothing suspicious there."

"Did we find his phone?"

"No. It might be in the ditch. No way to know unless they drain it."

"Can they do that?"

"They can, but they really don't want to. Maggie said they weren't doing it unless Perry told them to. Apparently draining the ditch and then refilling it is a big deal and causes a lot of problems. I figured it wasn't worth it just to find his phone."

"No, probably not. Did you contact the Waterkeepers Alliance?"

"I did. Nothing. When I spoke to them, they were shocked he was dead, but they also said he wasn't working on anything in particular. The phone call was his standard monthly report."

"And you don't think Harbaugh is your man?"

Fish shook his head. "Honestly, no. If he did it, he's the coolest guy I've ever seen. I got no sense he was anything but truthful."

Sean pursed his lips. "This case is going nowhere."

"You're telling me. The only person who came in outside their normal time was…" Fish paused as he looked through his file. "Ron Byrley. He was called in because a lift station had a high wet well alert. The operator on duty confirmed he showed up, but he also confirmed Byrley left again in his truck as soon as he arrived, and it's all on video. He didn't return until the next day. He said he took the maintenance truck home. I found out that's against policy, but…" he shrugged.

"Anything on the forensic survey?"

Fish grinned. "Only that I never want to drive a truck that's been at the sewer plant. The maintenance trucks, in particular, had unusually large amounts of human waste present on most surfaces. The trucks may look clean, but they're not. Yuck. They found all kinds of stuff, including small amounts of blood residue, but nothing that could be matched to Thacker. I guess that makes sense. You work on machinery, you get cut up. Also, all the yard trucks, and the Gator, were about the same as the maintenance trucks, only slightly less disgusting. Nothing there. I also reviewed the video. People come and go all the time, but everyone logged in like they were supposed to."