Booked for Murder Page 8

  “She must have confided in you at times, you know, like women do with their beauticians.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I do get that from a few members.” Kevin rubbed his chin as he thought. “She did mention how Corrine Adams occasionally threw out jabs in the locker room.”

  I leaned in. “Like how?”

  “Charlotte was proud of her progress. She was really coming along, and her efforts were noticeable. I guess Corrine was jealous. Actually, a few people made snide remarks if I recall. They’d comment on how Charlotte must be getting extra workout time with me after hours, snotty and juvenile things like that, and it really seemed to bother Charlotte. I told her to blow it off—they were just jealous because their time at the gym was actually their social hour, and none of them ever broke a sweat.”

  Charlotte was an attractive woman, but the thought of her doing anything inappropriate with her fitness trainer was ridiculous. Still, we had to ask.

  Frank locked eyes with Kevin. “There wasn’t anything going on between you two, right?”

  Kevin shook his head. “I have a wife and two kids that I spend all my free time with, so no, and although Charlotte was a great lady, and pretty for her age, there was absolutely nothing going on between us. She could have easily been my mom.”

  “Okay, and who were the other women besides Corrine Adams who seemed jealous of Charlotte?”

  “Debbie Jenkins and Anne Silverson. Those are the only names she ever mentioned, anyway.”

  “We need you to pull their applications for us.”

  “Yep, Tiff has that on her computer. Right this way.”

  We thanked Kevin for his time, I handed him a card, then we waited as Tiffany made copies of the women’s applications for us.

  Back in the cruiser, I paged through the information on each woman as Frank drove. “Killing someone over weight loss would really be taking a trip to crazy town, don’t you think?”

  Frank shrugged. “Jealousy comes in all shapes and sizes and for a million reasons that are only logical to the one who’s jealous.”

  “True enough, and now we have three more women to check out.” I fished my phone from my pocket.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Rachel Meadows. I want to see if she’s home before we head that way. We still need a face-to-face with her.” After I dialed her number, she picked up right away, and I introduced myself over the phone. “This is Detective McCord from the homicide division of the Chicago PD. My partner, Detective Mills, and I would like to stop over if you’re available right now.” I waited as she responded. “Okay, appreciate it. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I hung up and made sure my phone was set to vibrate before stashing it back in my pocket. “She lives in the Madison Park Apartments off of East Hyde Park Boulevard.” I checked my notes. “In apartment twelve.”

  “Got it.”

  We reached Rachel’s building at two thirty, took the elevator to the second floor, and knocked on her door.

  A woman who appeared to be around the same age as Charlotte pulled the door inward. “Detectives, please come in.”

  I made the introductions again, and she offered us seats at the kitchen table.

  “Are you getting anywhere with the investigation?”

  “Not as quickly as we’d like, and that’s why I wanted to speak to you personally,” I said. “I’m a good friend of Steve’s and would like to bring the killer to justice as soon as possible.”

  “This is so unbelievable. Charlotte has been my best friend since our college days.”

  I nodded. “And she must have confided in you over the years.”

  “Of course. I’m a widow myself, and we were always there for each other. Now I—”

  Her words drifted off, and I took the opportunity to speak. “Did Charlotte have a personal journal that you’re aware of?”

  “Hmm… that subject never came up. If she did, I didn’t know about it, but that’s the type of thing a person keeps to themselves. Actually, I have one, yet I’ve never talked about it with anyone, until this very moment.”

  I continued. “Was anybody angry with Charlotte? Even the most unlikely person may be guilty of something. Road rage, someone she cut in front of at the store and they went off on her, anybody? I don’t want to seem like we’re grasping at straws, but somebody was angry enough to kill her, and to me, that’s shows significant anger issues.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t imagine anyone being mad at Charlotte. She was the kindest woman, and she hadn’t mentioned anything like that to me.” Rachel gave her eyes a thorough rub. “She did tell me about those ladies at the gym who razzed her about her weight loss, though. Charlotte was accomplishing her goals, and I think the criticism was out of pure jealousy, nothing else.”

  “How about somebody at work or in her building who had a beef with her?” Frank asked.

  Rachel pressed her temples as she tried to recall. “Not that I remember. She suggested giving the overtime to the younger ladies and told Dr. Carter she didn’t want to cause friction.”

  I wrote that down even though I had already heard it mentioned. “Steve said you two go shopping and out to eat often.”

  “Yes, we do—or did. I’m really going to miss that.”

  Frank took over. “No problems with waitstaff or cashiers lately?”

  “Not at all, Detective Mills.”

  We were at a loss. The only names that we had belonged to the ladies at the gym, and my gut told me that would be a dead end too. We thanked Rachel, offered our condolences, and left.

  “Back to the precinct?” Frank asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s see what’s going on with Jill Blass’s husband and their financials. Henry and Shawn can follow up with the women from the gym.”

  Chapter 21

  Even though Jeff Vaskey was in his mid-fifties, he would still be a challenge. The man had thirty pounds on the average guy. After reading his online blog and conducting a bit of surveillance on him, Vic realized that Jeff was single and lived in a small stand-alone house. That was a plus and likely the only way to take him by surprise—late at night when he was sound asleep. Kaiser, the dog Jeff had mentioned on his blog, wouldn’t be a problem. He recently had to be put down due to age-related ailments. That guaranteed an undisturbed entry into the house. Vic would sneak in and, thanks to an online video about picking locks, kill Jeff during the night, when he was most vulnerable and wouldn’t be a threat.

  Child’s play.

  The editor of a free local newspaper, Jeff wasn’t home and wouldn’t be until after six o’clock.

  No time like the present to test my lock-picking skills, check the layout of the house, and see which bedroom looks like Jeff’s. I don’t want any surprises later when it’s time to make my move.

  Vic considered the aluminum baseball bat in the corner.

  It’s strong, won’t splinter like ash, and unlike a gun, it’s quiet. A couple of cracks to the head and it’s literally lights out for Jeff. That’ll teach him and the others not to dismiss me.

  Vic jotted down a reminder to wear rubber gloves. They would create a good grip on the slippery bat, and that was exactly what Vic needed.

  Heading out at four, Vic found the drive took only ten minutes and checked the street for prying eyes before taking advantage of the fence that wrapped Jeff’s property. The safest way to gain entry into the house was to slip through the side door beyond the gate. Peeking through the garage window as a precaution, Vic saw that it was empty.

  Here we go. Let’s see if getting inside is as easy as the video showed.

  Kneeling at the door, Vic slid the slender tool into the key slot in the knob then pressed in the second tool to trip the mechanism. With a few jiggles, the lock clicked, and Vic turned the knob. The door creaked open.

  I’ll be damned. That was as easy as the video said it would be.

  After entering the garage and crossing to the other side, Vic flipped the wall switch by the interior door. The oute
r door was left ajar so a beacon of light would filter in when the garage switch was turned off. Most homes built in the last twenty-five years were entered via a laundry room or the kitchen. This one entered from the laundry room.

  Vic continued through the kitchen and bypassed the living and dining rooms. Finding Jeff’s bedroom was the only thing that mattered.

  This is easy. A small three-bedroom house—one room’s an office, one’s a guest room, and the last one is Jeff’s master suite. Good enough—a direct line from the laundry room, through the kitchen, and down the hall. His bedroom is the last door on the right. I could find it blindfolded.

  Vic slipped out through the side door and gate then took the sidewalk a half block to the car. With plans to return late that night under the cover of darkness and with the neighborhood fast asleep, Vic drove home and made supper.

  Chapter 22

  After entering our precinct, I dropped off Charlotte’s laptop with the tech department. I had called Steve on the drive back, and he didn’t know Charlotte’s log-in, but he did say she’d always used birth dates for her lottery tickets. That might be something Tech could work with.

  Back in the bullpen and sitting at my desk, I reviewed Jill Blass’s life insurance policy. Although the amount of insurance seemed exorbitant for a part-time working wife, and it had been taken out only three months prior, it appeared to be in order. Other than directing suspicion at Mitch, there was nothing illegal about taking out a large policy on one’s spouse. Frank propped his fist under his cheek as he sat at his computer and scrolled through the family checking and savings accounts.

  “Find anything abnormal or repetitive withdrawals?” I asked.

  “Nope. These accounts are about as boring as anyone else’s. Deposits go in, the bills go out, and it appears that the majority of them are on autopay. It does look like they were living paycheck to paycheck, though.”

  I leaned back in my chair and groaned. The likelihood of Mitch Blass having anything to do with his wife’s murder was simply unknown. We needed more. He couldn’t prove his alibi, and we couldn’t disprove it.

  I dialed Lutz’s office with a question about that. “Hey, Boss, what do you think about getting a warrant for the Blass home?”

  “On what grounds?”

  “Maybe he’s hiding a knife collection—I don’t know. He says he owns guns, but they’re for hunting, so wouldn’t you need knives for field dressing and skinning animals too?”

  “You’ve got a point. And he had nobody to substantiate his alibi of sitting at home watching football?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, I’ll call for one. Hopefully, I can get a judge on the phone before the courthouse closes shop for the day. I only have a half hour left.”

  I clicked off the call.

  On the other side of the bullpen, Henry hung up the phone after speaking with Corrine Adams. “Wow, she’s got quite the mouth.”

  “Expound on that.” I minimized my computer screen and gave Henry my full attention.

  “She’s pissed that I even knew her name, let alone asking if she had a problem with Charlotte Sanders. She said she’d sue both us and the gym for slander.”

  I chuckled. “Nobody accused her of anything, and the police can question anyone they want to.”

  “Whatever. I wasn’t going to get into that with her. What a nutjob. She said she was at the movies with her husband on Saturday night and had nothing to do with Charlotte’s death.”

  “Did you get her husband’s name?”

  “Yep, and the name of the movie and the theater she said they went to.”

  “Okay, call those other two women and check them off the list. I doubt if any of them were involved in Charlotte’s death, but everyone is a person of interest until we find the perp.” I glanced at the wall clock and saw that the courthouse would be closing in ten minutes. “There’s a chance we’ll be tearing apart Mr. Blass’s house shortly. Lutz is waiting on a warrant.”

  While we waited to hear from our commander, Frank and I added to the Blass report that the bank statement and life insurance policy were in order, but finding knives in the house could be Mitch’s undoing—we would have to see.

  At five minutes after the hour, my phone rang. It was Lutz. “Judge Pickler signed off on the warrant, and Debra will call as soon as it’s delivered. Gather up Frank, Tony, and Kip and head down to the conference room on the main floor. We’ll leave from there.”

  “Got it.”

  I placed the receiver back on the base, told my colleagues to gather their gear, and said we’d head downstairs and wait for the warrant to arrive. Lutz would contact me as soon as it was in Debra’s hand.

  My cell buzzed at twenty after five—Debra had the warrant. “Let’s go, guys. I’ll grab the warrant, and you three head to the parking lot. Two cruisers, and Lutz will have a patrol unit waiting for us at the address.”

  We were on the road by five thirty and heading to East Fifty-Fourth and South Ellis Avenue, where the Blass’s lived in a multifamily condo building.

  When we arrived, a squad car sat snugged against the curb. We parked our cruisers behind it and met with the officers, who confirmed Mitch was home by his car parked farther up the street.

  Officer Grant pointed at the white Sentra four cars up. “That’s Mr. Blass’s vehicle. We confirmed it by the plate number.”

  I pulled my notepad from my pocket and jotted down the make, model, color, and plate number Grant gave me, then we headed to the redbrick building that looked to house twenty or more units. The Blass condo was on the second floor, and luckily for us, the building didn’t have a secured front door. We reached Mitch’s door, and I gave it several good raps.

  “Chicago PD. Open the door, Mitch. We know you’re home.”

  Footsteps approached, and he jerked the door open. “What the hell do you want? This is harassment.”

  I shoved the warrant into his chest and told him to take a seat at the kitchen table. “We’re searching your home, and these officers will make sure you stay put while we’re doing it.”

  Once we gathered in the living room, I explained to Frank, Tony, and Kip that we were looking for knives—any type and anywhere but primarily the hunting variety, like what Jill was stabbed with.

  “Be thorough, guys. Once we clear the house, we’ll check his car too.”

  We spread out and each took a bedroom. Frank and I doubled up in the en-suite master bedroom. Once those rooms had been searched, we would work our way to the front of the condo and, as a group, check the living room, office, and kitchen. I yelled out to one of the officers who came to my side.

  “What can I do for you, Detective McCord?”

  “Find out if he has a garage space and take his car keys from him.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tony had cleared the small bedroom he’d been searching. “Nothing in that one, Jesse.”

  “Okay, help Kip finish the other one. We’re almost done with the master bedroom and bath.”

  So far, we’d found nothing out of the ordinary, not even the guns he’d claimed to own. That made me even more suspicious, and I stormed into the kitchen to have a word with Mitch.

  “What did you do with the rifles and shotgun you said you had?”

  “I used to own guns, but they were sold a long time ago.”

  Frank chimed in. “That isn’t what you told Detective McCord yesterday.”

  Mitch sneered at Frank. “How would you know? You didn’t sit in on our meeting.”

  “It was recorded, idiot.”

  I bore a hole through Mitch with my eyes. “You got receipts for those sales?”

  “Nope. Like I said, that was a long time ago.”

  I spun my finger in the air. “Tear this place apart, inch by inch.” I told Kip and Tony to start on the car and the one-car garage space we’d found out Mitch rented. Frank and I stayed inside and upturned furniture and tore through drawers but found no weapons.

  Mitch smirked at us a
n hour into our search. “I told you I don’t have them anymore.”

  Minutes later, the front door opened, and Tony gave me that look. “There’s nothing in the garage or car.” He tossed the keys on the table.

  I leaned in, inches from Mitch’s face. “You’re up to something, and don’t fool yourself. We will find out what it is.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Detective McCord. Now will you please leave me alone so I can mourn my wife, and by the way, thanks for the mess.” He looked around. “My kids arrive tomorrow, so I guess I’ll be cleaning up this shit all night. I guarantee you, Commander Lutz will hear about this.”

  “Go right ahead and tell him, but mark my word, you haven’t seen the last of us.”

  Chapter 23

  I was aggravated at myself for letting Mitch Blass get to me. I walked out knowing full well he was lying, but I didn’t know why, unless he actually was guilty of murdering his wife. He thought he’d gotten the best of us, but he didn’t know much about the Chicago PD. We were relentless and would learn the truth one way or another. We reached the cars, where I told everyone to hang tight. I needed to call Lutz, update him, and get his opinion on the obvious lies Mitch was telling.

  I pulled out my phone and tapped his number, and he answered in two rings. I quickly explained the situation.

  “Have Patrol pull around the corner and watch Mitch’s car. If he leaves, have them follow him, and I’ll let Abrams know what’s going on. Blass is backpedaling for some reason. He absolutely said he had guns, not that he used to have them. We may have to keep our eyes on him for a few days and watch his movements, and make sure to tell Patrol to stay out of sight,” Lutz said.

  “Roger that.” I hung up and relayed the message to the patrol officers, then we climbed into our cruisers and headed to the station.

  Once we reached our precinct, I made a pit stop at the tech department before heading upstairs. I needed to know if they had made any progress with Charlotte’s computer. I entered the large workspace and headed for Todd’s desk. He sat with his back to me but looked over his shoulder when I walked in.