21st Birthday (Women's Murder Club) Page 6

  I felt Clapper’s hand in this shake-up, but right now I had to focus on this critical opportunity to interview Burke while he was vulnerable. Burke would have a hard time lying to us without being called out.

  A tried-and-true method of police interrogation involved manipulation of the suspect, namely to make him comfortable. Make him your friend. Give him a way out so that he would tell the truth before the hammer came down.

  There were rougher, more intimidating methods, but “Let’s be friends” seemed appropriate protocol with this man in this circumstance.

  I asked Burke if he needed anything.

  “Coffee? Tea?”

  “I can’t stay here,” he said. “Call me when you know something.”

  Brady said, “Mr. Burke, I know you’d like to be anyplace but here. Understand that the more focused we are during these critical first hours, the better our chances of finding Tara alive and maybe Lorrie’s killer. Okay?”

  Burke sighed deeply and said, “I can barely think straight, but go ahead. Ask me and make it fast.”

  “Now I’m sorry, but I have to show you a picture.”

  “Of Lorrie?”

  Brady nodded at me.

  The morgue photo Claire had sent me was on my phone. I took the phone out of my jacket pocket, brought up Lorrie’s image, and passed my phone across the table to Burke. He looked at the photo, rocked back in his chair, cried out “Nooooooooo,” and then slapped my phone facedown on the table.

  “That’s her,” he said, weeping. “I need to go home.”

  Brady said, “You’re free to go, Mr. Burke. But, did you understand what I said? A half hour answering our questions may help us get the bastard who did this. We need your help.”

  Brady and I took turns tossing questions; softballs at first.

  Who were Tara’s friends? Names of her relatives? Did you have a housekeeper? A nanny? Can you account for your time on Sunday, Mr. Burke? What were your movements on Monday after your fight with Tara?

  And then Brady started pitching hard balls right across the plate. Can anyone confirm your whereabouts on Sunday? On Monday?

  Do you know of anyone who wanted to hurt her? Who do you think killed your child?

  Assuming she’s alive, where could Tara be?

  Isn’t it true that you have a girlfriend and you want to marry her?

  “Mr. Burke,” said Brady, standing at the table, throwing a menacing shadow over Lucas Burke. “Isn’t it true that you wanted to move on with your life and Tara was in the way?”

  “You can go straight to hell,” said Burke. He pushed back his chair and moved toward the door.

  CHAPTER 24

  I WAS THE SO-CALLED good cop in this setting.

  I headed Burke off and stepped between him and the door, saying, “Come on, Lucas. We’re on your side. We’re frustrated, too. You don’t want to leave us without a lead to Lorrie’s killer, do you?

  “Come on. Sit down. Look,” I said, “I still have your car keys.” I dug into my pants pocket and showed him his car keys. I stepped away from the door and put the keys on the table.

  Burke glared at me, at Brady, at the keys, and then sat back down and angrily answered our questions.

  “I don’t know who killed Lorrie. If I did, I’d kill him myself and happily go to prison. The last time Tara ran away she went to the outlet mall out in Livermore, but by now she’s probably run out of cash. So where is she? I don’t know. But you know what I think? I think a total stranger kidnapped Tara and killed my little girl.”

  I asked, “Have you received a call or a note from anyone asking for ransom?”

  “No. But that doesn’t mean she’s not a captive. Tara is a big flirt,” he said with a growl. “She flaunted her wild side. Makes total sense to me that she caught the attention of a psycho. She could have been buying all that makeup and underwear to show herself off. She’s trusting. Naive. Maybe she has a boyfriend. Maybe Lorrie wouldn’t stop crying. Oh, God. I don’t want to think about that. Is this what you want to know?”

  Lucas’s ramblings made no rational sense, except as a glimpse inside his clearly conflicted mind.

  I said, “Back to you, Mr. Burke. We’ve been told that you’re seeing one of your students.”

  The photo of the note was on my phone. I found it, showed it to Burke. I read it out loud.

  “Dear Misty, I’m in love with you. I promise that I will be free and we will be able to get married by the end of the school year. Love, Luke.”

  “Look, it’s a fling. Misty is in my creative writing class. She’s very dramatic and we were playing at elopement. It was stupid of me, but as God is my witness, I had no intention of leaving Tara. Misty knows it wasn’t real. Ask her.”

  “I intend to do just that,” I said.

  “Tara is a terrible pain in the ass,” he said, “but I still love her.”

  Brady said, “I had a bad marriage once, and I understand the pressure you’ve been under. But you have to come clean with us. Maybe something with you and Tara got out of hand. Did she attack you? Come at you with something heavy? Point a gun? Did you have to protect yourself? Is that how it happened? Because if that’s the story, we can help you, Mr. Burke.”

  “No. No, no, no.”

  Brady said, “Your mother-in-law has filed reports against you for abusing Tara. Any truth to that?”

  “No, damn it. I was not charged. Tara didn’t accuse me; it was her nutty mother. Tara and I had a fight about money, that’s all. Shouting and door slamming. Both of us. I left her in the kitchen crying and that’s all I know.”

  Brady was still standing.

  He unhitched a pair of cuffs from a belt loop and told Burke to stand up and put his hands behind his back.

  “We’re holding you as a material witness while we check out your story.”

  “I don’t get it. You said I could leave,” Burke said, not moving.

  “Changed my mind. You have a right to have an attorney,” Brady said, and then continued reading the man his rights. “Do you understand your rights?”

  “You’re not charging me, but you’re holding me?”

  “You’re a material witness, sir. Last one to see your wife and daughter. We have to verify your story, and as soon as we’re satisfied we’ll either charge you or release you. Hands behind your back.”

  Burke looked up at the two of us. He wasn’t a big man, while Brady’s arms are massive and I’m a fit five foot ten. The door was locked. Burke didn’t stand a chance of getting out.

  He stood and put his hands behind his back. Brady cuffed him and left me with Burke while he went to get guards to take Burke to holding on the sixth floor.

  “This is for your own good, Mr. Burke. If we don’t find evidence of your involvement in murder or kidnapping, you’ll be in the clear. Meanwhile you’ll have a cell of your own. I’d advise you to sleep. Do you have a lawyer?”

  “Divorce lawyer, that’s all.”

  Interesting. “You want to call him or do you want a —”

  “Harold Tish. Number’s on my phone.”

  I used Burke’s phone, tapped on Tish’s saved number, and when a receptionist answered, I said that Lucas Burke was calling. When Tish got on the line, I put him on speakerphone and held Burke’s phone up to his face so he could hire his lawyer. When the arrangements were made, Burke was escorted to his cell.

  What did all of this boil down to?

  We had nothing on Burke. But we had him. And we were just getting started.

  CHAPTER 25

  RICH CONKLIN AND HIS new partner, Inspector Sonia Alvarez, sat in Brady’s glass office, waiting for him to arrive. Conklin had met her at the elevator a minute later and walked her back to the corner office. He sized her up as they waited together in awkward silence.

  He guessed she was mid-thirties, about five six, 130. Looked strong. Had an efficient haircut, no makeup, but her great big eyes made up for it. She wore Dockers and a man-tailored shirt, serious cross-trainers, a necklace
with a little charm: horseshoe, presumably for good luck. No other jewelry that he could see. His impression was of a good-looking girl in a tough job with no interest in drawing attention to herself.

  Conklin said, “So, Vice, right, Alvarez? Was this sudden? Or you’ve been planning to make a change?”

  “Sudden, yah. Chief Clapper calls me Monday and makes me an offer. I mean, took me a couple of days to process, but it’s time to switch things up. I’ve been living in Vegas most of my life. My cousin is putting me up for a while. You like it here?”

  “San Francisco? Or SFPD?”

  “How about both?”

  “God, yeah on both.”

  Alvarez said, “Anything you think I should know?”

  “I mean, it’s hard and we’ve been stretched for a while, but it’s a clean operation.”

  Christ. What was he supposed to tell her? He didn’t know what Clapper had in mind for him. Brady, either. He glimpsed Brady through the glass wall as he strode up the center aisle and came through the open door.

  “You two have met. Good.”

  Brady closed the door, introduced himself to Alvarez. They shook hands and he told her to sit back down and he’d take her through a four-minute orientation. After that, Conklin would bring her into the loop.

  Alvarez sat erect in her chair as Brady gave her a shorthand introduction to the Homicide squad, the new organization, and the case she would be working on as part of the Burke investigation task force.

  “Conklin will give you the case details.”

  He drew boxes on a yellow pad with a red grease pencil, connected the boxes with lines. An organization chart. He turned the pad to Alvarez.

  Conklin noticed that the box around Alvarez’s name was drawn with a dotted line. He gave her a quick look and she returned it.

  Brady saw the looks and fielded them.

  He said, “When I came here from Miami PD I was in rotation until it all came together. I worked with Conklin as a matter of fact, worked with his partner Sergeant Boxer, and also with the lieutenant, Jacobi. So, it’s a two-way street, Alvarez, up to a point. We’ll try to make a good fit, but most important, right now is to find Tara Burke, wherever she is.”

  Conklin knew that he and Boxer were ideal partners. They picked up on each other’s verbal and visual cues, knew when to step forward, stand back, draw their guns.

  This was just too sudden.

  He heard Brady ask him to take Alvarez back to his desk and summarize the case of the missing wife and child, the discovery of Lorrie Burke, and the interview with Lucas Burke, now on the sixth floor in holding.

  Alvarez said, “Thanks for the opportunity, sir.”

  When his phone rang, Brady took the call.

  “Okay, Brenda. I’ll tell them.

  He hung up and said, “Young lady by the name of Johanna Weber is wanting to talk to us. She says she’s Tara Burke’s bestie. Welcome to Homicide, Alvarez.”

  CHAPTER 26

  BEFORE ENTERING INTERVIEW 2 with Conklin, Alvarez said, “What do we know about Tara Burke?”

  “Very little, but I’ll take the lead and feel our way.”

  “Okay, but I reserve the right to jump in anytime.”

  She grinned, but she meant it.

  “No problem,” he said.

  Conklin opened the door and saw Johanna Weber, Tara Burke’s self-described best friend, sitting at the table. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, had blue-streaked hair, and was tapping on her phone, fingers flying.

  She looked up and Conklin made the introductions. When he and Alvarez were seated, he said, “Ms. Simmons, you have something to tell us about Tara Burke?”

  “I hope,” she said. “Anything I can tell you to help find her, I will. She was like my sister and we shared everything.”

  Conklin said, “You mind if I ask you some questions, get them out of the way?”

  “No, go ahead.”

  “Do you know where Tara is?”

  “I wish I did. I’m very, very worried. I haven’t heard from her since the weekend. Her mailbox is full.”

  Alvarez said, “Okay to call you Johanna?”

  The young woman nodded.

  “What can you tell us about Tara?”

  “We’ve been friends since the sixth grade. Like, close. We used to double date, and I was her bridesmaid —”

  “What’s her marriage like, Johanna?” Alvarez asked. “Do you have any idea?”

  “They definitely have problems. Lucas is like, what, twenty years older than us? To be honest, I think she may have been hooking up with someone on the side. And no, she never told me who. She was teasing me, with like ‘Ooooooh, someone likes me.’ So, why was she saying that? I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

  Conklin watched as Johanna pulled her hair back from her face and twisted it and then kept talking. “I really think Lucas loves her and Tara tortures him. She just thinks faster, like, runs circles around him and whatever. And Tara told me that she thinks Lucas has a girlfriend, so like that’s not cool, either.”

  Alvarez said, “I’m new to this case, Johanna, so tell me more about Tara. Why would she have a boyfriend when she’s only been married for a short time? Three years?”

  “Three years and two months. She might do it to get Lucas mad. That’s the kind of thing she might do, like the way she never locks the doors on their house. And she showed me a bruise on her wrist once. I don’t know if Lucas did it, but I asked her. Listen, she’s very cute. You’ve seen her picture? Then, you know. Guys were always hitting on her.”

  Conklin said, “I just want your opinion, Johanna. Do you think Lucas would hurt Tara?”

  She shook her head no, vigorously. Johanna said, “If anything, he loved her too much.”

  “You know that the baby was found today. Lorrie’s dead.”

  Johanna Weber’s eyes filled with tears. Her mouth quavered. Alvarez said, “Okay, okay,” while Conklin found a package of tissues on the shelf under the mirror.

  Alvarez said, “In your opinion, could Tara have hurt her baby, say in a fit of anger, or even by accident?”

  “No, not ever. She loves LuLu. If something happened, Tara would take her to the hospital so fast.” Johanna dried her eyes and then said to Conklin, “Tara’s dead, isn’t she? She’s been killed.”

  Conklin said, “We’re looking for her. Every cop in San Francisco is looking for her.”

  She thanked him and he thanked her, gave her his card, and told her to call if she thought of anything, heard anything, anything at all. He told her he’d walk her out and said to Alvarez, “I’ll be right back.”

  Conklin returned with his laptop and loaded the video of Brady and Lindsay’s interview with Burke. He played it for Alvarez.

  “Let’s see the Burke interview. I need to hear him, watch him.”

  Conklin hit a few keys and the video came up. Brady and Lindsay started by going easy on Burke, then working him over. The video ended with Burke in cuffs on his way up to holding.

  Conklin said, “So what are you thinking?”

  Alvarez said, “He’s believable. If he’s lying, he could be a movie star.”

  Said Conklin, “Academy Award. At least a Golden Globe.”

  Alvarez said, “So, what now, partner?”

  “Let’s see what Brady wants us to do.”

  CHAPTER 27

  BRADY AND I WAITED in an unmarked Chevy in front of Lucas and Tara Burke’s house on Dublin Street.

  It was a fairy-tale house: small, baby blue with gables, bay windows, and a white picket fence. It didn’t look like even mice were killed here.

  We’d gotten all we could get from Lucas Burke as a material witness, and his attorney had sprung his client from our humble jail in under twenty-four hours.

  At that time, Burke had given us his verbal consent to search his house, even turned over his keys. But if we found evidence, Burke’s attorney would move to exclude it because we’d had no warrant. I could hear it now. My client�
��s baby had been murdered. The police say, “Okay if we go through your house? See if Tara left a note, anything like that. Clear up some questions?” Mr. Burke should have said “Get a warrant,” but he was grieving. And he was not under arrest. Because he’s innocent and the police had no probable cause.

  Clapper said, “We have no choice. Brady, keep eyes on him. Night shift. Swing shift. We do what we can do.”

  Meanwhile, three days after she’d left home with Lorrie, Tara was still missing. On that basis, most judges would approve a search.

  We’d been waiting in our car for hours.

  If I were a smoker, I’d have gotten out of the car and lit up. But I didn’t smoke, and Brady and I both stink at small talk. So we listened to radio calls and stared out at McLaren Park across the street, a rolling 320 acres of grassy heaven. (Assuming you didn’t know about the bodies buried in that park that once went undiscovered for decades.)

  I thought of the murdered baby and her young missing mother and asked myself if, by the end of the day, we would have probable cause to charge Lucas Burke for the murder of one or both.

  My phone buzzed and I grabbed it off the dash.

  “I’m ten minutes out,” Yuki said.

  “Good. And thank God.”

  “Thank me later,” she said with a laugh.

  I told Brady and he grunted, looked at his watch. The CSI van appeared, flashed its lights at the reporters blocking the way, and pulled up to the curb bordering the park. Crime Lab Director Hallows and CSI Culver got out of the van as ADA Yuki Castellano’s Toyota pulled up behind us.

  “Record time,” I said to Brady.

  Yuki passed papers through the driver’s side window to my CO, who was also her husband. Brady unfolded the warrant.

  “Judge Hoffman signed here, here, and here,” Yuki said, then she summarized. We had twenty-four hours to go through Burke’s house. We could open closed closets, cabinets, drawers and doors. Could confiscate electronic devices and weapons. Without knocking out walls or otherwise damaging property, CSU could test for anything that might indicate evidence of crime.