Murder on Sixth Street

Once he was done with that, he entered Harry Allen into the NCIC database and then waited for the FBI computer to process the request. He'd done that mostly for more information because he still didn't have a motive. Running all the people involved in a crime through NCIC was just one of his standard procedures. What came back was some information that caused him to move Harry to the top of the suspect list.

Harry was thirty-one and had served in Special Forces during his eight year military career. When he was twenty six, he declined to re-enlist and was working as a mechanic when he got into a bar fight. As a result of the bar fight, Harry was arrested and convicted of assault with a deadly weapon -- a lock back pocket knife. The prosecutor had originally charged Harry with attempted murder because he'd been trained by Special Forces in knife fighting. Harry's lawyer had negotiated that down to a guilty plea of assault with a deadly weapon.

The judge ruled that since Harry hadn't started the fight, he was sentencing him to one year in the county jail and a year of probation instead of prison. Harry hadn't been in trouble since, but his knowledge of knife fighting made a stronger case based on "means".

Ron was also surprised by the information he got from NCIC about Rhonda Richards. Rhonda had been truthful about stripping in Louisville, but she'd forgotten to tell him she'd been arrested for prostitution once. It was only one time fifteen years before and she wasn't convicted, so it didn't raise any loud alarms with Ron, but it could be a motive if Shank was someone knew and hew was trying to blackmail her. Ron put Rhonda at the bottom of his list of potential suspects because of that and that she probably had access to a box knife.

Ron logged off the NCIC database and then put what information he had into a matrix. Down the left side of the matrix were the names of his suspects and persons of interest. He didn't bother to list each pimp. He just made the entry "pimps". Below that, he put "cartel hit man".

Across the top were his three "MOM" categories. He then started making notes in the box at the intersection of each name and each MOM category.

First on his list was now Harry Allen. Ron wrote "doesn't like how pimps treat their girls" in the box for motive, put "trained in knife fighting" and "probable box cutter in store" in the box for means. In the box for opportunity, he wrote "presence at crime scene".

Ron filled out the matrix with what he could prove and then went back and added what he theorized. It was those theories he'd check out next, but when he looked at the completed matrix, there wasn't all that much to check.

He was sure every pimp on Sixth had a motive, but with no history of anything violent other than slapping his girls around, none of them had much to investigate. It was possible one or more had hired somebody to do the job, but after thinking some more, Ron didn't think that was likely. A pimp might have had someone beat the hell out of Shank to teach him a lesson because that would have never been reported. A murder would, and they all knew they'd be prime suspects.

The cartel hit man was a more promising thing to investigate, but Ron knew that was going to take a long time and probably wouldn't lead him anywhere. If it was a cartel hit man, he was probably sitting in Mexico drinking tequila by now. The cartels never used local people for their dirty work.

That left him with Harry and Rhonda. He had a possible motive for Rhonda, and maybe a weak means, but she didn't seem like the type and she was also a lot smaller than Shank. He doubted Shank would have just stood there without putting up a fight of some sort.

He then drew a timeline using the information he had. He'd gotten to the scene at nine so that was his starting point. The crime scene techs had left at about seven thirty and the officers on the scene at about eight thirty. Sometime in between the techs leaving and the officers clearing the scene, the fire department had hosed down the alley to wash away the blood. He'd have to call the fire department to find out for sure, but he put the time at eight-fifteen.

Because of the time the murder occurred, Ron's best suspect was still Harry, so he went to talk to him again.

Ron walked into the pawnshop about four that afternoon. His intention was to talk to Harry first, and if that didn't yield any results, to talk to Rhonda.

Harry welcomed him into his office and offered a seat, and then asked Ron why he was there. Ron smiled.

"Well, mostly because there's something you forgot to tell me about your past. You were in Special Forces, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, so were a lot of guys. Why?"

"You also served a year in the Monroe county jail for assault with a deadly weapon, right?"

Harry put his hands on his desk and stared at Ron.

"If you think I killed that guy, you're crazy. Why the hell would I want to kill some two-bit pimp I don't even know?"

Ron shrugged.

"You told me you didn't like the way he treated his girls. Maybe you decided to fix it yourself instead of calling the police. A knife is quiet so nobody would hear anything, and you were trained how to use one."

Harry sagged back in his chair.

"Yes, I know how, and I've done it...I was in Iraq and took out a terrorist guard that way. Not something I ever want to do again. That's why I didn't re-enlist."

Ron shrugged again.

"You did in that bar fight."

Harry sat back up then.

"No, I didn't. The guy was pissed because I talked to his girlfriend and started after me with a beer bottle. I did pull my knife to try to scare him, but that's all. I never touched the guy. It was only because he was a friend of the county sheriff I got arrested in the first place."

Ron smiled.

"Then why did you plead guilty to assault with a deadly weapon?"

Harry frowned.

"Monroe county is a small county and the guy was pretty popular. I was an outsider. My lawyer told me if I was tried for attempted murder, the prosecutor would bring up my Special Forces training and I'd probably be convicted. That meant at least ten years. If I pled guilty to assault, I was only looking at two, maybe three. I guess the judge must have believed my story, but he still had to sentence me. That's why I only got a year in county instead of three years in the state prison. Call that lawyer if you don't believe me."

"I'll do that", said Ron. "Do you happen to have a box cutter?"

Harry frowned again.

"Sure, I keep one out on the loading dock so I can un-box stuff there instead of bringing the boxes inside and then taking them back out. Why?"

"I want it. If you have nothing to hide, you'll give it to me. If you won't, I'll just get a court order and take it anyway."

Harry stood up.

"I don't have anything to hide. Want me to go get it for you."

"No. Just show me where it is."

Rhonda waved at him when Ron walked out of the pawnshop, but she was busy with a customer and in the process of filling out some paperwork. He decided to see if the techs could find anything on the box cutter before talking to Rhonda again.

Cindy Mason, one of the techs had the box cutter for only half an hour before she called Ron.

"I think I have your murder weapon. It's the box cutter you brought down."

When Ron walked into the lab, Cindy grinned.

"I sprayed it with luminol and it was positive where the blade goes into the handle. I dusted it for prints before I took it apart, and got a full set of prints from the handle.

There was blood on the inside when I took it apart so I gave it to Jerry to run the DNA. I sent the prints to the FBI for identification. I won't have the results until tomorrow, but I can tell you the blood is human and it's the same blood type a your victim's."

When Ron got to his desk the next morning there was a note from Cindy that said "Call me as soon as you get in".

Cindy was all smiles when he walked into the lab.

"Everything's back. The blood is definitely your victim's and the prints belong to a man named Harry Allen."

Ron looked at the lab report she handed him and then back at Cindy.

"You sure?"

Cindy smiled.

"Jerry ran the DNA twice. The FBI computer identification was ninety-five percent certain of the prints, and they verified it by hand."

Two hours later, Harry was sitting in an interrogation room across the table from Ron. Ron was confident he had the killer but he still wanted to know the motive. Without a motive, the DA would still prosecute, but Harry's lawyer could probably plea down to manslaughter.

"Mr. Allen, the officers who arrested you explained you have the right to have an attorney present, so if you want one, now's the time to ask. I have enough to put you away for first degree murder. The box knife from your pawnahop had the victim's blood on the inside and your prints were all over the handle. With your Special Forces training, any jury will convict you. What I don't understand is why you killed the guy."

Harry looked up and frowned.

"I don't want a lawyer because I didn't do it. I didn't have any reason to. I only saw the guy a couple of times when he was talking to his girls when I closed up. I didn't like what he did to them, but that wasn't a reason to kill him. Maybe beat the hell out of him, but not kill him."

Ron shrugged.

"Then how did his blood get on your box knife?"

Harry shook his head.

"I don't know, but I didn't put it there."

"Well, Harry, you'll have to do better than that to convince me. What I see is that you met the guy behind your pawnshop to tell him to leave his girls alone and when he told you to fuck off, you slashed his belly open and left him to die there. It all fits. You were there, the box cutter is yours, you didn't like what he did to his girls, what else am I supposed to believe?"

Harry looked up then.

"Maybe I do need a lawyer."

Harry's lawyer got there an hour later, but after another two hours of questioning, all Ron had heard was that Harry didn't have a motive, hadn't killed Shank, and didn't know who did.

Ron was sure Harry was the killer, but the lack of a motive other not liking Shank bothered him. The only people who might have that information were the girls on the corner where Harry's pawnshop was located. At ten that night, Ron drove down to Sixth and parked in front of the pawnshop. He was surprised to see the lights were still on and the sign on the door said "OPEN". Out of curiosity more than anything, he went inside. Rhonda smiled at him, but to Ron, the smile looked forced.

"Hi Detective Mathews. What can I do for you?"

Ron walked up to the counter.

"I saw the lights were on and wondered who was still here. I didn't expect you to be."

Rhonda's face went from a smile to a frown.

"I didn't know what else to do after they took Harry away, so I stayed hoping he'd come back. He didn't and now I'm so scared my knees are shaking. I can't stay here all night, but I don't want to go outside by myself."

"Well, Harry's not going to come back, not unless he can prove he wasn't the killer. I doubt that's going to happen. All the evidence says otherwise."

"You don't think he'll be convicted do you? Harry would never do something like that.

Ron shook his head.

"Harry seems like an OK guy to me, but I've seen OK guys do crazy things before. All the evidence points to him, so yes, he'll probably be convicted."

Rhonda sighed.

"Then I don't know what I'm going to do. If Harry's not here, there won't be a pawn shop and...and..."

Rhonda sobbed then.

"Then I won't have a job. I'm too old to start over again."

Knowing what he knew about Rhonda made him feel sorry for her. He put his hand on hers.

"Rhonda, that doesn't sound like the woman you told me about, the woman who wanted to be an artist and when that failed, took up strip...I mean, dancing for a living. You'll come out of this all right."

Rhonda wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I've been thinking about this since they took Harry away and I haven't come up with an answer yet. I don't even know how I'm going to get home tonight. I took a cab to work because my car wouldn't start, but there aren't any cabs that will come down here after dark."

Ron thought for a few seconds. It was against department policy to transport civilians in a police vehicle, but this was different. It was protecting a citizen from harm, and he had no doubts about what could happen if Rhonda started walking down the street.

"Rhonda, I have to talk to a couple of people, but you stay here and I'll take you home."

Rhonda looked up and her smile looked genuine.

"You'd do that?"

"Yes. Just sit tight until I come back. You might want to lock the door while I'm gone, just to be safe."

Ron talked to the three girls standing on the street corner. They said they knew of Harry, but hadn't really ever met him. They saw him coming out of the pawnshop every night, but he'd never talked to them.

When he asked them if Harry had ever talked to Shank about how he treated them, they all shook their heads. A little blonde who called herself Trixie stepped a little closer to him.

"I guess I can tell you now since Shank's dead. Detective, if he'd have said anything to Shank, Shank would have burned down the pawnshop like he did that resale shop. We're glad he's dead. Ricky C isn't a choir boy, but he's a lot nicer to work for."

Rhonda was ready to go when he knocked on the pawnshop door. He waited until she turned out the lights and then walked her to his car. Once he was behind he wheel, he turned to Rhonda.

"Where's home?"

When he drove into the drive of the little two-bedroom bungalow, Rhonda touched his hand.

"I can't thank you enough, but I'm still shaking. Could you come in for a while until I get settled down? I'll feel safe with you there."

Ron didn't view Rhonda's request as anything he hadn't done before. He'd often stayed with a woman for an hour or so after her spouse or boyfriend had been taken to jail because he'd beat her up. He didn't know if there was anything between Rhonda and Harry, but it could be, and he knew women tend to see the worst side of things. If he stayed with her for a while, maybe he could start her thinking about her future instead of worrying. It had worked in the past.

After Rhonda made them a cup of coffee, she sat down on the couch beside him and thanked him again.

"I feel better now. I still don't know what I'm going to do, but I feel safer. That's a problem when you're a woman living alone. You keep reading about this woman or that woman being raped or killed, and that makes you wish you had a man around. I don't think that's going to happen with me. I'm too old and too fat."

Ron sipped his coffee and then smiled.

"You're not fat, and you're not too old. You're a good looking woman. There's a man out there for you. You just haven't found him yet."

Rhonda sighed.

"Well, there weren't any around that pawn shop, not unless I wanted a druggie or a pimp. I don't go anywhere else except to the grocery store, and it's mostly women there.

"I get jealous sometimes. I mean they're there with their wedding rings and sometimes their husbands and their husbands are always touching them. I haven't been touched by a man since Reggie died. I miss that, the touching. It always made me feel like he wanted me. He did too. We didn't do it like newlyweds, but when we did, it was really nice."

Ron smiled.

"I can understand why he would have."

Rhonda looked at him and grinned.

"Do you really think that or are you just trying to make me feel better?"

"No, I really think that."

Rhonda fiddled with her hair.

"Your wife probably wouldn't like hearing you say that."

Ron chuckled.

"Well, if I was married, probably not, but I'm not married."

"Why not?"

Ron frowned a little.

"She didn't like my hours or the fact I couldn't always call if I was going to be late. We talked about it a lot...well, it was more fighting than talking, and we finally decided to split. I didn't want to make the same mistake again, so I never tried to find anyone else."

"You don't miss it like I do?"

"Being married? Not like I was."

"No, I mean...being with her."

Ron chuckled.

"You mean sex? I used to, but it's been so long, I've about forgotten."

Rhonda giggled then.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten how."

Ron smiled.

"No, I haven't forgotten that part."

Rhonda's voice got a little lower and softer then, and Ron felt her touching his hand.

"If you haven't forgotten how, could you...it always made me feel better, and I really need to feel better."

She didn't wait for Ron to answer. She moved to his side and put her arms around his neck.

"Make me feel better...please."

Ron started to say he couldn't do that, but when she kissed him, he realized he didn't want to say no. He hadn't really forgotten how it felt to have a woman's breasts pressed into his chest and he hadn't forgotten how it felt when she gasped and shook as the orgasm swept through her body. It had been a long time, but with her soft voice and kiss, Rhonda had made him remember like it was yesterday.

If the timing had been different, if he hadn't already basically retired, he'd still have told Rhonda no. If he'd had several more years to work as a detective and the Captain ever found out he'd had a relationship with a woman associated with the murder, he'd probably have been fired and maybe even lost his pension.

Even worse would have been what would have happened if he'd arrested someone down on Sixth Street. People on Sixth Street would know he'd taken Rhonda home at least once and whoever he'd arrested would tell his lawyer that. It wouldn't matter if nothing had happened or not. Scottie would have jumped at the chance to convict a cop of something just to show people that in his administration the police weren't above the law.

As it was though, he only had three weeks left before he was out of the department. It would take at least two of those weeks before Harry's trial started. He'd have to testify during the trial, but even if Harry wasn't convicted, the case would be passed on to another detective who wouldn't find out anything more than Ron already had. The case would slip into the file of unsolved cases and probably not looked at because of all the other things that continued to happen on Sixth Street.

As Ron walked to Rhonda's bedroom with her, he was thinking this was a stupid thing to be doing. Nothing can come of it. It's just her needing to feel like somebody still wants her. He changed his mind when Rhonda pulled the top over her head. It wasn't just her wanting him. It was him wanting her too.

Rhonda felt great lying beside him with her full breasts against his bare chest and her thigh over his. She rocked her hips when he brushed her left nipple, and he felt the coarse hair on her mound against his thigh. As he kissed her, he moved his hand down over her hips until his fingers brushed that same coarse hair. Rhonda moaned when he stroked the thick lips under the hair, and then pushed her left breast up to his face.

She moaned again when he closed his lips around her nipple and pinched gently, and when he pinched her nipple again, he felt her hand working between them. When she found his cock, she circled the head with her fingertip and then started stroking it with feather light touches.

For Ron, making love with his ex-wife had been an exercise in finding out what she liked and what she didn't like at the particular time. That was made more difficult because she hardly moved until the orgasm hit her.

He didn't have to wonder with Rhonda because she seemed to like everything he did. She also didn't just lay there beside him. She was either kissing him or stroking his cock or both, and every time he touched her, Rhonda would catch her breath or moan.