It Started on a Tuesday

By P G Sroufe

Richard Blaine is not a well-known detective or lawyer in Southwest Ohio. He is one of the best at both jobs. Although he is near the end of a long career, he is always eager for a new case or challenge, unless it is yet another divorce case.

Blaine gets his wish for a challenge when an Assistant US Attorney tells him about two possibilities. One of them Blaine hates because it involves working with the FBI again. The other opportunity, to help the Hamilton County Sheriff root out corruption and other issues.

Early on, Blaine meets the Hamilton County Prosecutor and instantly recognizes that the problems plaguing the Sheriff's office are orchestrated by the Prosecutor who plans to run for Governor.

If Blaine and his makeshift staff are unsuccessful, the Prosecutor could win and then his corruption and tentacles will reach all parts of Ohio.

Using all of his skills and resources, on both sides of the law, Blaine and his team work diligently to indict the Prosecutor and his cohorts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: P G Sroufe
• Release date: Jul 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201963361

P G Sroufe

Retired media executive P. G. Sroufe has turned from the “glitz and glamour” of media to the solitary task of writing and creating. His interests include film noir and other classic movies, playing with his cat, and attempting to find something good on television. Sroufe, according to him, lives in the middle of flyover country in the U. S. and enjoys the un-rushed atmospheric of a medium-sized city.

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PART 1

The First Tuesday

1.

It started on Tuesday, April 26, 2016.

As usual, I go to my office in Hamilton, Ohio, every Tuesday. I look at mail, return phone calls and emails. Occasionally, I have lunch with old friends. Friends who have become fewer and fewer in recent years. I think it is an age thing.

My office is on the fourth floor of the Rentschler Building in downtown Hamilton. It has been my one and only office for nearly twenty years. The 8-story building is what some call a landmark and a historic building. For over 100 years it has survived floods, fires, bank robberies and ne’er-do-well tenants at the corner of High Street and South Second Street. The ground floor has been a bank. The other floors have a variety of tenants, including a detective or two.

Me? My name is Richard Blaine. I’m a shamus or, as some would say, a detective. I am also an attorney. I am good at both jobs. Before I became a shamus, I was the lead investigator for the Butler County Prosecutor’s Office. There is a big difference between working for a government agency and working alone. Working in the Prosecutor’s Office, everything happens in the light of day and in the press's spotlight. At least, it should work that way. I could tell you many stories about what it is and what it should be.

Working as a private detective and an independent lawyer, most things are away from the public eye, away from the light and in the darkness and behind closed doors. Sometimes in dark alleys. I am not sure which way is better.

I would describe my office as Spartan. The furnishings are old, but comfortable. The layout is simple, a small reception area with several comfortable chairs for clients. There is a large desk as you enter the office, but my receptionist left a year ago for a higher paying job. I never filled the position. The technology I installed makes the position unnecessary. I decorated this area with some historic pictures of Hamilton and Fairfield. Otherwise, the old paint on the walls needs refreshing. Maybe someday.

Besides the reception area, there are three other rooms in the space. My office with its large desk, a couch and coffee table, some chairs, and a large television. It is quite comfortable. I decorated the walls with various pictures of me and various officials and dignitaries throughout both of my careers.

Next to my office is a conference room with a table that can seat six and a wall-mounted television to display evidence and other client materials.

The last room is a records room. Or it used to be. At one time, dozens of file cabinets full of case files and other materials filled the area. Now it is an equipment room. It holds all the computers and other electronic equipment necessary to maintain the records in a digital format. While there are dozens of large hard drives and arrays, the bulk of the 30 terabytes of data is held in multiple server farms offsite. After all, information is king.

This space also contains the equipment I use in the field, cameras, radios, and high-powered microphones. There are also two safes. One is for cash and a few personal records. The other is a gun safe. I do not like guns, but they are essential for my safety in the field and, of course, a good detective needs one. These days I always carry. It is more out of habit, but you never know...

I wired the entire office for sound and video. I can monitor and record everything that happens and control it from my office, the conference room, or my home. I have more gadgets than I know what to do with.  

I do most of my work from my house in Indian Hill, a suburb of Cincinnati. Everything I can do in Hamilton; I can do at home. I keep the office for safety and convenience. I would never meet with a current or potential client in my home. Most of my operatives have no idea where I live. Safety and privacy are high on my list of necessities.

While I love this town, I moved to Indian Hill after leaving the Prosecutor’s Office. It made it easier to leave without a huge temptation to work there in some other role. The new County Prosecutor, at the time, was a good politician and an OK lawyer. He worked for a big firm in Fairfield. He asked me several times to stay as a Senior Prosecutor and to oversee the litigation division. It was unlikely he would agree with my no plea agreement, strategy, and methods. He was a numbers guy. I’m not.

While looking through the pile of mail and throwing out the bills, the phone rang. Usually, I let all calls go to voicemail. This time I recognized the Caller ID.

Hello, Richard Blaine.

Good morning, Richard. I see you are in your office today. Sometimes you are difficult to find, the voice said.

That is not true at all, and Assistant US Attorney Bob Janson knows it.

Sometimes, I do not want to be found. What can I do for you today, AUSA Janson? I asked.

Although he can be a pest, he is a friend of long-standing.

You are formal today, he said.

Maybe. What’s up?

How busy are you these days? He asked.

You know a divorce here and there, collections, helping other prosecutors with trials. That kind of thing. What do you have in mind? I asked.

Maybe a couple of things. I may need some help with an OC case. It’s a small outfit based in Toledo, but has its tentacles in Southwest Ohio...

I interrupted, Are you talking about the biker gang run by ‘Big’ Lou Bellatti?

Do you know him? Bob asked.

You may remember a case in the late 80s. I had him dead to rights on trafficking and possession with intent to sell. The Prosecutor accepted a plea bargain over my objection. It was in all the papers, and it was all politics, I explained.

Oh, I remember now. That was a mess. We are working a RICO angle with some potential connections in the area.

Doesn’t RICO have to be interstate to raise it to the Federal level? I asked, knowing the answer.

It does. The AUSA up North thinks there are some connections to a group in Michigan through some dummy corporations. The same may be true down here with some Indiana and Kentucky networks. It could work with the right investigative team.

Now he is trying to butter me up. I am not sure it will work.

What’s the FBI role? I don’t want to get involved with them again.

He knows why.

You still mad about that? It was an honest mistake. They apologized and reimbursed you and your lawyer.

True, but it took me six months to get reinstated to the bar. No one reimbursed me for that, I said.

He was becoming more annoying by the minute.

I did not know that. Would you be willing to look at evidence and give me and my associate the benefit of your expertise?

Slather it on just a little thicker, Bob.

Can I think about it?

Yes, you can. I can pay your daily rate, he said snidely.

Pay me double, and I’ll drop everything else, I said with a smirk.

Every man has his price, Richard.

Not really.

I also have another possibility for you.

The RICO thing was old news and did not interest me. Maybe this will move the needle.

Do you know the Hamilton County Sheriff? Janson asked.

Yes, I’ve known Matt Roberts for years. He was a good cop and is an OK Sheriff.

Damning with faint praise.

He may have a project that is right up your dark alley. Clever, Bob.

Tell me more. I’m intrigued, I said.

For about the last year, he’s been having some concerns about some missing evidence, and an officer-involved shooting. He believes a Board of Rights hearing on the shooting was somehow fixed. He disclosed.

How can they fix a Board of Rights hearing?

Remember, it’s Cincinnati, he added.

Sounds like a giant can of worms, I said.

I think they may be your kind of worms... bad cops.

He’s right. I hate bad cops.

Shouldn't this be an Internal Affairs job? I asked.

It should be, but Matt doesn’t trust IA to handle it after botching the job the first time, but he should tell you all about it, he said.

How much did he tell you about it, Bob?

I think he is hiding something. So typical.

Enough to know it is not something for DOJ. It is all local and a little political.

That tears it. You know how I feel about politics.

This was going nowhere slowly.

Doesn’t everyone. It could be an opportunity to expose the politics. That’s why I thought of you for this job. One more thing, your involvement falls under the Outside Counsel laws in Ohio. You would work for yourself but financed by the taxpayers.

Sounds like the AUSA is trying to sell me a load of used crap.

Doesn’t it fall under the Ohio AG’s bailiwick? I asked.

It does, but you know the guy in charge, he said knowingly.

He was correct. I know both the current AG and his Inspector General, Max Albers.

Well, I’ll have to think about it. To be honest, the thing with the Sheriff interests me more, I said.

Do you have Matt’s number? He asked.

Indeed, I do. I’ll let you know what I decide. Might be a few days or longer, I said.

That will be fine. A RICO case can last for years.

How long has this one been flailing in the wind? I asked cynically.

Just about a decade.

So, now you are desperate to bring a charge or shift blame to an outside consultant when it blows up. Why do I trust you, Bob? I asked.

It’s really not that at all. We are not looking for a scapegoat. We already have one... me. He explained in a low voice.

Someday you are going to get me indicted for helping you.

That may not be fair, but I am officially annoyed.

I hope not. When’s the next Movie Night? He asked, changing the subject rapidly.

Next Tuesday at 7. Can you send me an encrypted email to summarize our conversation? If I do either of these jobs, it is going to cost someone plenty, I said.

I am aware of your exorbitant fees. Later this week, I’ll send you something to your encrypted email address. See you next week. He said and hung up.

I sat back in my comfy desk chair and started to think. What I failed to tell AUSA Janson is a contact of mine in the Ohio Attorney General’s office told me about the Sheriff’s dilemma a few weeks back. Janson just made it sound a little more desperate than it might be. I would weigh the value of the opportunity against the danger to me and my reputation. Sometimes a reputation is all you have. Mine is like the stock market, up one day down the next.

2.

I am rarely happier than when I return home after a day at the office. I love my house. It is secluded. I can think and breathe here. I can remember things, the good times and the bad. There were plenty of both.

The house sits in the back of a half-acre lot near Shawnee Run Road in Indian Hill. It is one of the smaller homes and lots. It was a bank foreclosure that the bank was in a hurry to sell.

From the driveway, the size of the house is a little deceiving. The siding makes it look like a manufactured home, but it is not. It was custom built in the early seventies. It also looks like a single-story ranch home. It sits on the part of the lot that slopes toward a wooded area. The house hugs itself to the slope and is two stories. The lawn and trees on the lot are well-maintained by a service.

We stopped at the gate. I collected the mail and gave Marty, my regular Uber driver, his well-deserved tip. He thanked me and asked when I was going into the office. I told him to plan on next Tuesday, but I would email him if there is a change.

It is a relaxing walk up the driveway on a pleasant spring or summer day. The driveway curves past the main door toward the garage on the side of the house. It makes for somewhat of a grand entrance.

Walking into the house, I was immediately confronted by the Three Amigos. Also known as my cats, Sherlock, Watson, and Moriarty. Sherlock is a Russian Blue with green eyes. Watson is an old tabby. Moriarty is a black cat.

Unlike many black cats, Moriarty is solid black, not a piece of white fur anywhere. As he ages, I am sure that will change. It does with most of us. Sherlock has the typical blue/gray coat for his breed. Watson is a striped tabby with various shades of brown, black, gray, and white. They are always together and always hungry These are the best cats I have had the pleasure of serving. Cats do not have owners, they have staff.

They knew it was not dinner time. So, they followed me everywhere just to be nosey. We went to the kitchen to drop off the food I bought. The salad would go into the fridge and the pizza box into the microwave for safe keeping. Watson is known for opening pizza boxes and lick the pepperoni. It always amazes him how I figure it out. Elementary, my dear Watson.

OK, guys, we’re going down to the office.

The stairs to the lower floor are on the other side of the kitchen and lead down to a fully finished basement which includes a laundry and storage room, a full bathroom with shower, my home office, and the home theater. There is the required egress door and a large empty area that is finished but has no furnishings. I have never figured out what to do with that part of the house. Maybe someday.

I designed the home theater from scratch. Originally it only had three recliner-style seats and a 65-inch television. Three years ago, I bought the 100-inch theater screen which rolls into the ceiling, an HD projector, popcorn popper, and a separate computer system, server, several large hard drives for content and a sound system. It took a year to digitize all the content. The entire system works from a laptop or multi-source remote from the center chair, just like the original Star Trek.

Late last year, I found a deal on movie seats at an auction of several closed theaters in Cincinnati. I bought seven and created two more rows of seating in the room. Now the room is a little tight, but everyone who comes to Movie Night is comfortable. I decorate the walls with movie posters of several of my favorite movies. Since I own more posters than there is space on the walls, they rotate from time to time depending on my current interest or mood. Next to the popcorn machine, there are multiple shelves for an array of movie candy. Depending on sales at Sam’s or Costco, they rotate as well.

The cats happily followed because they knew there would be cat treats. I went into the office and Moriarty made a beeline for the bed. He jumped up and turned around three times and laid down, staring at me. My home office is also a bedroom. Besides all the electronics to keep the home network and the home theater operating, there is a small television and a small closet for other electronics and some clothes. The area is available as a bedroom for guests. Since I rarely have overnight guests, it is usually for me when I am too lazy to go upstairs after watching television or a movie. I find it quite comfortable and secluded.

While Moriarty slept on the bed, the other two sat in the doorway waiting for something. Oh, that’s right, cat treats. Everybody received two treats and went to their favorite spot, the chairs in the home theater. I turned my attention to RICO, officer-involved shootings, and the Outside Counsel law.

The rest of the evening was quiet. Pizza and salad for me and cat food for the boys. Unlike other cats, these guys are not interested in human food except for Watson’s pepperoni fetish. It was just a normal television night, various shows on Hulu and other Roku apps plus cats in the chairs. I rarely watch news unless it involves a client. I was just about ready for bed when the motion sensor alarm sounded and the backyard spotlights came on.

I was certain it was just the usual dog or coyote incursion. Since there was no reaction from the cats, I grabbed some binoculars and scanned the backyard from the windows on the lower level.

I saw what appeared to be a large bag of trash, but it could be a body. The police need to be involved. There was no need for me to investigate. I did not want to disturb any evidence. Honestly, I do not want to take part.

I turned off the alarm and kept the lights on and called the Sheriff on his private phone. He answered quickly.

Sheriff Roberts, he answered with a touch of a Texas accent.

Sheriff, it’s Richard Blaine, I said.

Good evening, Richard, I thought movie night was next week.

It is. I have a problem. I believe there’s a body in my backyard by the tree line. Send a couple of detectives and a crime scene tech or three. I’ll be here. By the way, sirens are unnecessary, I said.

OK. They are on their way.

Quick and to the point. I like that in law enforcement.

Within ten minutes, I heard the gate buzzer, and I opened it. I went outside and watched as a single car rolled up the driveway at breakneck speed.

Good evening, officers. I’ve been expecting you. I said, as they exited the car.

Good evening, Mr. Blaine, I am Detective Ron Wilson. This is my partner, Detective Emily French. We received a call that you may have discovered a body.

Detective Wilson looked like a typical detective. He was in his mid-40s, tallish, rumpled coat and suit, with his badge and gun on his belt. He seemed in a hurry. He may have been a boxer at one time. He had that kind of look and a little cauliflower-ear.

Detective French, on the other hand, looked smarter and more self-assured. I could not quite see her eyes, but I was certain she had auburn hair. Her outfit was a well-tailored suit, and her badge and weapon were not noticeable. She may be in her early 30s and confident in her sexuality. I was certain she would be easier to get along with than Wilson. Just a hunch. I glanced at her again, and then it hit me. The hair, the suit, it makes perfect sense. Detective French is trying to emulate Agent Dana Scully. This might be fun, after all.

You are partially correct. My motion sensor lights came on and I saw what appears to be a body near the tree line in the back. Is Crime Scene here yet?

They are on their way. Could be a few more minutes. We’ll be handling it from this point, Wilson said, trying to remind me he was in charge. I did not believe it. Something about him bothered me... already.

Do you want to wait here, or come inside and wait? I can also show you what I saw from the windows in the back.

We’ll come inside, Wilson commanded.

We went into the house just as Watson came out of the kitchen and meowed. He does not like strangers. So, he hissed at them.

Don’t mind him. This way, I said.

As we walked by, Watson flipped his tail and scurried down the hallway into the master bedroom. We moved to the windows, which overlooked the backyard. I gave Detective Wilson my binoculars. I pointed in the direction I saw the body, or whatever it is.

Just about that time, the crime scene boys walked into the room with all the equipment they could carry and then some. This could be a long night.

Which way? One of them asked.

The best way to get there, fellas, is to go out the front door, turn right and go around the side of the house by the garage and straight back to the tree line. I’ll turn on some more lights for you, I said.

Although I finished, Detective Wilson interrupted me.

Mr. Blaine, I know this is your house and you are a good friend of the Sheriff, but I’ll be leading this investigation.

He really wants to be in control... of something.

How would you have told them to get to the backyard, detective? I asked.

Detective Wilson glared at me.

Emily, you stay here with our host and I’ll go see what the guys find in the backyard.

This guy appears to use bluster and self-importance to cover incompetence or worse.

Fine, she growled.

I could tell she was not happy with the division of labor.

Mr. Blaine, is there somewhere we could sit? She asked.

Sure. Right over here.

We moved to a part of the living area with a fireplace and two small couches and a coffee table. Above the fireplace was a very wide picture of the Cincinnati skyline at night from Matson Place. The moodiness of the picture generally reflects my mood. Of all the areas in the house, the formal living room was well-appointed. Personally, I rarely use this room.

You appear upset about staying inside while ‘the boys’ go have fun, I said.

You are very perceptive, Mr. Blaine. What do you do for a living?

She said as she took out a notebook and an old yellow pencil. The kind with the pink eraser on one end.

I didn’t but I’m a shamus.

I see. Tall, aren’t you?

I don’t mean to be, I responded.

She was trying to test me.

So, you are that Richard Blaine, she said knowingly.

Which one would that be, detective? Do you know many? I’ll play.

No, but the Sheriff speaks often about his friend, Richard, who occasionally quotes movies, she said.

So, tell me, Detective French, what movie did I quote?

Now I am testing her.

I believe it was ‘The Big Sleep,’ the 1975 Robert Mitchum version. Am I correct? She answered.

You are correct.

The reference is a little obscure. Knowing that piece of trivia was impressive. I wonder who coached her.

What do you want to know?

When did this happen? She asked.

About 30 minutes before you arrived, the alarm sounded, the lights came on and the cats became curious but less curious than if it were a dog or coyote, I answered.

Why did you look in the backyard? She asked.

Those were the lights that came on. The motion sensors will only trigger lights to illuminate a certain area. At first, I saw nothing, but then, using my binoculars, I saw what appeared to be a body. Of course, it could be a big bag of trash and I spoiled your evening... and mine.

I see, and then you immediately called the Sheriff?

That’s about the size of it, sister, I said.

Why did you call the Sheriff directly instead of 911? I get her point now.

Better service. I also thought that a body in the backyard, if it is a body, would need quick attention, I explained.

Do you often find bodies in your backyard?

She was trying to be cute. I will let it pass... this time.

No, first one.

When I thought about it, that was true. I have seen and found bodies in alleys, dark streets, hotel rooms, and a baseball field once, but never in my backyard.

I find that difficult to believe. You are a detective and a former prosecutor. You must have enemies, she said.

I must have because a man without enemies is like a dog without fleas, I said.

I think you are making a little joke out of this. Dead bodies are usually taken seriously.

She was scolding me.

It’s serious. I just spent too long in this business to worry about such things.

What business is that again?

She is about ready to cross a line.

Law enforcement. I was an investigator for Butler County for nearly twenty years and have been a private investigator for about the same amount of time. I’m also an attorney.

I see. You are a shamus. You must have several enemies.

She is right. I have several enemies. Luckily, most of them are in jail and those that aren’t are dead.

You could have searched the body and found evidence, but you waited for us. Why? She asked.

Because, my dear Detective French, it’s your job, I said sarcastically.

You seem to be overly cautious. Not really.

I’ve seen too many investigations ruined by well-meaning amateurs or professionals, I said.

Yes, I can see how that would be a problem. Foreign Correspondent, right?

Foreign, who, what? Oh, you thought. Not this time. I just like the phrase ‘well-meaning amateurs.’

It was perfect for this occasion.

Sorry, I thought we were playing a game. Oh, look who’s coming back.

Her voice turned from playful to irked.

I gave her a quick smile as I turned to see Detective Wilson strolling in with a crime scene tech in tow. Wilson had absolutely no expression on his face. In fact, he looked a little nauseous. The crime scene tech was looking longingly at Detective French. I can see why.

So, how are you two getting along? Wilson asked in his weasel's voice.

We both just nodded. I recognized the tech, but hesitated to speak to him because of my earlier rebuke from Detective Wilson. Better to let him think he was in charge.

This is CSI Al Meredith. He will take the lead on forensics. He called for an ambulance to take the body to the morgue.

I knew Al Meredith from previous encounters with Hamilton County, but this was no time to renew the acquaintance.

So, he or she is dead? Doesn’t a coroner or assistant check the body before you take it to the morgue? I asked.

No answers, just glaring from Wilson. He knew I was right.

Yes, he is. The basics are this. The body is male, in his mid to late 50s, about 175 pounds, 6 feet tall or so with brown hair. Sound like anyone you know, Mr. Blaine? Really?

About a hundred people or more, including you, Detective Wilson, I said.

Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll fix some coffee, and we can continue this stimulating conversation. Detective French, please join us.

Sure.

I could tell she did not like Detective Wilson, or maybe she didn’t like me, but I’ve been wrong about dames before. Of course, I did not like Wilson much either.

At that point, the crime scene tech smiled and excused himself to continue his part of the investigation. Why did Wilson find it necessary to bring him into the house? The tech knew Detective Wilson was losing control and seemed to be happy about it. Maybe he is on the promotion list. Or maybe he just wanted to see Detective French.

I showed the two detectives to the table and went into the kitchen. I brought the coffee and a box of donuts. I am sure Detective French would get the joke. I was going to play with Detective Wilson’s little brain.

Emily, did you take notes of your conversation with Mr. Blaine? Wilson asked.

No, we just exchanged recipes. What do you think? Feisty, isn’t she?

I think you may need a vacation. Mr. Blaine...

He looked in my direction with somewhat of a scowl and furrowed forehead.

Please, call me Richard, everyone does.

That is not totally true. It was a test.

Mr. Blaine, do you have any guns in the house? He failed the test.

No, I don’t like guns and do not keep any here. There are some in the office in Hamilton, I said.

Would you mind if we searched your house? He asked without justification.

Sure, go ahead. Search all you like if you have a warrant. Are you saying he was shot? I did not hear a shot. Did he have a gun? All legitimate questions.

We’re not sure. We didn’t search the body.

Now that’s sloppy police work.

Wilson continued, It looks like an overdose, and the body appears to have been moved here from another location. It’s possible that your lights scared whoever or whatever did this and dropped the body and ran.

Whatever? Was there a vampire or zombie in my yard? I thought there were only vampires in New Miami.

That makes sense to me. If you want more, don’t be shy, there’s plenty.

Wilson looked somewhat confused. I was referring to the donuts, not his observation.

As we sat at the kitchen table and discussed the evening's activities, Detective Wilson was still trying to take the lead. Detective French was taking more notes. They made a cute couple in a bizarre way. I could tell she did not trust his judgment, but she was too savvy to express her disagreement in front of someone else, especially a civilian.

Richard, do you have a connection with Moeller High School? Wilson asked.

None. I know where it is. I’ve been a fan of the football team in the past. Nothing current, I said.

The person in your yard was wearing a Moeller High School jacket. One of the large ones that an athlete might wear, Detective Wilson added.

Are you saying it was a student? It is the closest Catholic High School. Less than five miles away. It’s possible it could be a faculty member, coach, one of the priests or just a fan. Make sure that your lab guys do not destroy that jacket. It seems like your best lead.

It seems they activated my detective mode. I am sure Wilson will reject my advice. That may not be a smart thing to do.

Thanks, but I’ll... I mean we will decide the leads.

Detective Wilson was becoming protective of his investigation. I could tell by her body language Detective French was having none of this. Maybe she was hoping I would interfere.

SOMEONE’S AT THE DOOR!

Detective Wilson jumped up. What the hell is that?

Calm down, son. It’s just my doorbell. I’ll be right back.

My doorbell has many voices and sounds. This one was a paraphrase of a line from "The Thing from Another World." It often has that effect on people who have never heard it.

As I walked to the door, I could see Detective French was having a good, yet private, laugh over Detective Wilson’s reaction. I was a little more overt in my reaction. It served a purpose. He seemed a little jumpy. I wonder why.

I opened the door and Sheriff Matthew Roberts was standing there as if it were Movie Night. He was about 6 feet 4, 225 pounds, in his late 40s. He wore a custom-made uniform with a non-regulation oversized Stetson. In a past life, he could have been the Marlboro Man.

Good evening, Matt. I did not expect to see you tonight, I said.

Howdy, Richard. I was in the neighborhood and thought I would drop by to see how my detectives were doing, he said.

Howdy? Really?

Sheriff, you live in the Delhi Hills part of Cincinnati. This is the far East-side. In fact, we are almost in Clermont County. This is not your neighborhood. I think you are checking up on your officers. Nevertheless, you are welcome. Come in, Detective Wilson is on his third donut.

He entered the kitchen and greeted the detectives as he surveyed the donuts and coffee.

Is that coffee fresh, Richard? He asked.

I handed him a mug, and said, Always, but you’ve been here before.

The Sheriff is a regular attendee of Movie Night.

Yes, a great house and a better host. You guys should wangle an invitation to Movie Night. It is always a great evening. What’s on next week.

Neither detective was paying much attention to the Sheriff.

You know advanced previews or hints are not allowed. Plus, tickets are at a premium. There are only ten seats, and you know how the cats feel about sharing, I smirked.

The Sheriff ignored my comment, much like his detectives ignored him.

Detective French, what do we know so far?

The Sheriff was getting to the heart of the matter. Maybe it was the powdered sugar on Wilson’s chin or Sheriff Roberts just insulted his lead detective.

Wilson tried to interrupt, Sir, Detective...

I’m sure she can give me the rundown. Detective French continue.

That does it. There is something about Wilson the sheriff does not like, or he doesn’t trust him, or I’m making a mountain out of an internal police matter. Still, it looks entertaining.

Detective French gave the Sheriff all the information she had in her notes about the body; when, where, all that kind of stuff. Her attention to detail was perfect.

Ron, did the paramedics administer Narcan to revive the patient? The Sheriff asked his lead detective.

No, sir, Wilson responded.

CSI Meredith said during his examination that rigor had set in and time of death was long before the body arrived in Mr. Blaine’s backyard.

Is CSI Meredith a paramedic? Wilson shook his head.

So, you allowed non-medical personnel to remove body? The Sheriff asked.

I ordered him to do it for expedience. No need to have paramedics on scene if we do not need them, Wilson said.

Except that is our policy and protocol. Make sure you note that in your report, Detectives.

No response from either detective. The Sheriff was unhappy.

So, the body was dumped here. Did you and Detective French look for any evidence in the backyard? The Sheriff asked.

Not yet, sir. It is our next step, Wilson said.

Then, Mr. Blaine is not a suspect? The Sheriff asked, knowing the answer.

No, sir, Detective French answered.

Do you agree with that conclusion, Detective Wilson? He asked. No answer.

Sir, Mr. Blaine accounted for all his movements since he arrived home late this afternoon. Of course, we may have other questions when the body is identified. Plus, he has friendly cats, Detective French said.

Detective French tried to save Wilson. It was too late.

That’s fine. Yes, they are quite the trio. Is Crime Scene done? The Sheriff asked.

Yes, Wilson answered.

In that case, it is time for you to pack up your gear, check the backyard, and do the paperwork. Make sure your supervisor has all the paperwork ASAP.

The Sheriff was wrapping this up for his detectives. I am not sure that is normal procedure.

Thank you, detectives, it was a pleasure to meet you.

I didn’t mean it.

Here’s my card in case you have additional questions.

I handed the card to Detective French. She seemed more professional and curious about what I had to say. It is unlikely her partner would concur. By the way, her eyes are emerald green. Even an old guy would notice them.

The detectives left quickly, as if a cat had chased them. I could tell they were arguing about the case and the part Sheriff Roberts was taking. I can almost imagine the conversation. Instead of going back to the scene, they got in the car and left. I was certain there would be hell to pay for that later. I closed the door and turned to the Sheriff.

What was that all about, Matt? I was just a little curious.

Lazy cops. Did you notice they just left?

I nodded as we returned to the kitchen.

Wilson used to be one of the best. He was up for promotion and then he shot a suspect... a kid.

I read about that. Nasty business.

It was a big deal. All the media outlets ran with it for weeks until Internal Affairs released a report. Their conclusion was that it was justifiable, but admonished Detective Wilson for not using the taser first. In my opinion, that’s political correctness crap.

It was not Wilson’s first run-in with IA. He is a frequent flyer. It may be time for him to leave the force. Maybe a small-town department would suit him better.

It sounded like the Sheriff was rambling. I have no time for rambling.

You mean like tonight? He nodded.

I see and Detective French? I was curious.

Reminds you of Scully, right? She’s a rising star. If she stays, she will be one of the best.

Where is she going? I asked.

All the way to the F B I.

Really, he’s quoting Hannibal Lecter in my house. I am almost certain it was unintentional.

Oh, no, I’ve got you doing it too. He knew what I meant.

Not playing. That’s what she wants. She has the goods. She’s smart, well educated, working on a law degree, has all the skills. Hell, Richard, she could be Sheriff. Look, I need to look at some things. I’ll call you in a day or two. I may have a job for you.

I nodded. I decided not to tell the Sheriff about my conversation with the AUSA or Max Albers.

I can be available. Do me a favor? He nodded.

Bring Detective French with you to Movie Night next week. Tell her I fixed it with the cats, I said. He nodded.

We walked to the door, and he left. It appears Sheriff Roberts has bigger problems than a body in my backyard.

I did my nightly inspection of the house before turning in. All the security equipment and alarms were working and armed. The cats found me and needed attention. We walked down the hallway to the Master Bedroom and that was it for the evening. I set the alarm clock and waited for a dreamless sleep to arrive.

3.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016. While my sleep was dreamless, it was not refreshing. It was several brief naps and roaming the house in-between. I spent a long time looking out the back windows toward the woods on both floors of the house. Maybe I could see something that would pique my interest. Even with my night vision binoculars, all I could see was crime scene tape.

The response of the detectives was unsettling. Not looking at the crime scene was unusual. Not calling paramedics and the coroner was, frankly, illegal. I may investigate this myself and see what I can find. Since they removed the body and took it to the morgue for autopsy, I have lost the best piece of evidence.

I went through my morning routine as if it was a normal day. I fed the cats, made some coffee, and went to my home office. My herd followed me and occupied themselves. It was like they knew today was not the day to interrupt me while working. Only Sherlock laid on the bed in the office, watching my every move.

Email was normal, or as normal as it could be. Neither a friend nor an enemy was taking credit for the body drop. That was a positive sign... or was it? I spent some time looking at maps near and around my property. The woods behind my house are the border between my house and the houses behind my lot. Those houses face another street. Why would someone carry a dead body from that street through someone’s backyard and drop it in my yard? It makes no sense at all. While looking at all possible ways onto my property, there was only one conclusion. They left the body on my property on purpose. It was a message. Who was the message from? Is it a red herring? Does someone need a favor? Sorry, I am all out of favors.

It was time to get some additional legal advice.

This is Sid.

Good morning, Sid, Richard Blaine. I have a question.

Did the cats attack a dog?

I have known Sid Rossburg for a long time. We went to law school at the same time. He has been my personal attorney since I was admitted to the bar. The County Prosecutor who hired me advised me to find a personal attorney, just in case. I always found it an odd piece of advice. I used to ponder, In case of what? Not anymore.

Something odd happened last night. Something that has never happened before. A body turned up in my yard, I said.

In your yard? How could that happen? Did they throw it over the fence? He asked.

Fence? He knows I do not have a fence. The HOA hates fences.

No, someone dropped it in my backyard by the woods. It triggered the intruder lights, but the cats did not act like it was a dog or coyote, I explained.

Did you call anyone?

Yeah, I called Matt Roberts and, he sent a couple detectives and forensics. They asked questions and took care of the body, but did not look at the scene. They left crime scene tape, I explained, still thinking it was odd.

Are they coming back? Sid asked.

I doubt it. Neither one seemed interested. Matt joined us shortly after the body left.

Hmm. What did Matt want?

Coffee. He said he was ‘in the neighborhood.’ You know he lives in Delhi, I said.

That’s not your neighborhood. I suggest you drop the whole thing unless the detectives come back, he said.

Sounds like good advice, but I’m going to do some snooping. I have some ideas. My primary interest is discovering the identity of the body. If I know that, I’ll know what it’s about, I said.

Be careful, and carry your weapon. By the way, did Janson call you? Sid asked.

Yeah. He wants help with a RICO case that involves Bellatti, I said.

Remember what happened the last time you helped him, he warned.

I mentioned it to him. He remembered. I haven’t decided yet. He also mentioned a project with the Sheriff which falls under the Outside Counsel statutes.

That could be very political and shove you into the light of day, he warned.

I’ll be careful with both projects. Thanks for the advice. See you next week, I said and hung up.

After lunch with the cats, I grabbed my forensics kit, some latex gloves, and a camera. I ventured into the backyard to get a look at the scene. I did not know what I would find, if anything. My curiosity has gotten the better of me.

Several wooden steaks held the crime scene tape in place. I removed the tape but used the stakes to outline the scene. This would make it less noticeable to my neighbors. The spot where the body lay still maintained its shape. I took several pictures of it and the entire scene.

Next to the scene, there appeared to be drag marks from the tree line to the scene. At the edge of the tree line there were several shoe prints from, at least, two individuals. Based on the size of the prints, they appeared to be from work or hiking boots. The boot prints seemed to go through the woods and into another yard. I went as far as a could to not trespass in a neighbor’s yard. Unfortunately, one of my neighbors engaged me.

Hello, there. Can I help you? He asked.

No, thanks. I was just documenting some boot prints that seem to lead from your house through the woods to my yard. Did you hear or see anything late last night? I asked.

Nope. I just got back from a spring trip about an hour a go. You a cop? He asked.

I’m a shamus. He nodded.

The cops were here last night, but didn’t find what I just did in a few minutes. Was anyone at home last night? I asked.

Nope. We were all at Kentucky Lake. Got a cabin down there. Very relaxing.You fish? He asked.

No, my cats are my relaxation, I said, hoping to end the conversation.

We have a dog. He loves to get in the water. Well, I’ll let you get on with it.

Finally, he finished. I still had nothing except the boot prints.

As I turned to retrace my steps, I saw something shiny. No, really, there was something shiny in the grass. I took a picture of the item and picked it up. It was a key. A key to an older car. It was embossed with a GM logo. Interesting, I thought. If there is an abandoned car on the other street, I want to see it.

Hey neighbor. He returned.

Did you see any old cars on your street that looked like they didn’t belong here? I asked.

No, but I saw a large oil spot near our driveway. It looked fresh. Is that important? he asked.

Might be.

I showed him the key. It did not ring any bells. I didn’t expect it to.

I went through his yard and up his rather long driveway. Finally, I was on the street. I looked around his driveway and took pictures of the pool of oil. My neighbor was correct. It was a large spot. I swabbed the spot and place the result in a plastic evidence bag. There were also tire tracks. I took pictures of those. It was not much, but it was something.

As I was processing the evidence, I tried to think who I could contact about this incident. If it was a message, what is it? You would think whoever did it would leave me a clue. Maybe they were interrupted when the lights came on with the alarm. It could have spooked them, and they failed to complete their mission.

After I put the evidence in my safe to maintain chain-of-custody, I went back into the office to find the cats sound asleep on the bed. I turned toward the computer and went through my organized crime files. Looking for possibilities. After a while, I decided I would contact one of my informants to test the waters.

To keep this off-the-books, I used a pre-paid phone to make the call. Since I was in my office, I could still use the scrambler.

Hello, an older voice said.

Charlie?

Nah, he’s out, the voice said.

Tell him to call his Uncle Al. It’s important, I said.

OK.

I gave him the number and hung up.

A few hours later, that phone rang.

Yes, I said.

Uncle Al? A husky voice said.

Yes. Charlie? I asked.

Yeah. I haven’t talked to you for a while. What’s up?

I need information, I said.

How much information? Charlie asked.

2 C-notes worth. If it’s good, I said.

What’s the caper?

Someone left a body in my backyard. I want to know who and why, I said.

When?

Late last night, I said.

The who may be easier than the why. I may have something. I worked on an old blue POS Chevy today. Needed an oil pan and a new key. Sound familiar?

Could be. Who were they?

Don’t know. Never saw them before. They were pissed and in a hurry. They didn’t like questions. They paid cash, Charlie said.

Did you get the plate number? I asked.

It’s on the invoice. Do you want it?" Stupid question.

Yes, text me the plate number and send me the invoice. I said.

If everything pans out, I’ll get the money to you. This is a rush job. Got it, I ordered.

OK, he said.

Stay local. I may have some other work for you soon, I said, and hung up. I was done with this for now.

Later that evening, I ran the plate through Ohio DMV. As luck would have it, the plate came back to someone I helped prosecute over a decade ago. I wonder what Ernie Sanders was doing in Southwest Ohio. He works for Bellatti. Curious, but not earth shattering.

4.

Monday, May 2, 2016. I reviewed work email again. I do this task every day just to keep my Inbox from overflowing with spam. Lots of junk, but very few bills. That is a bonus. Several requests for help. I needed to review them carefully. Let’s see. By my count, there were 15 divorce cases. I am simply not in the mood.It is often traumatic when you give a divorce client the final report. It is suddenly my fault. It often results in me ducking a punch. Then I must sue for the fee. That could take months or years. If I were to receive all the past due fees from divorce cases, I could pay off the house.

There was an urgent email from AUSA Janson, which included a large attachment. I opened it to discover the case file for his RICO investigation. I am certain Janson considers it light reading. I hope there is plenty of paper in the printer. I dislike reading documents on a computer screen.

I also noticed an email from the Sheriff about tonight’s meeting. Yes, I agreed to talk to him. He said that he would bring food and some boxes.

Boxes? Evidence? Personnel files? Case files? Body parts? This sounds like an episode of Mission: Impossible. I wonder if I will accept this assignment. Only time will tell.

After creating all the files for Movie Night, I fed the terrible trio and was hanging with them when the gate buzzer sounded. I checked the monitor, and it was the Sheriff. He was on time, as usual. Within a few moments, I heard a muffled knock at the front door.

We exchanged greetings, and he walked in with his arms full of food. It looked like tacos and Arby’s. An odd combination, but OK with me. He returned to his car and retrieved two large evidence boxes.

Just put those down anywhere in the kitchen. If we need to move them downstairs, we can do it later. Have a seat. Iced tea or coffee?

Coffee, please. If you take this job, those boxes will get you started.

Sheriff Roberts sat at the table and opened the fast-food bags. The tacos looked good, but Arby’s just seemed to be right. I got the Sheriff some coffee and a pitcher of iced tea for me.

You going to drink all of that? He asked.

It depends on what you have to tell me, Matt.

I grabbed one sandwich and slathered it with Horsey Sauce. I also grabbed some curly fries. I noticed he had forgotten the Mozzarella sticks.

We began eating, and he started talking.

OK, here’s the deal. It involves some officers, uniform and plainclothes. In my thinking it has two components. You may find more. You remember the officer-involved shooting when a young man was killed by a detective in the spring of 2014? He asked.

Yes. From my perspective, it was a bad shoot, I said.

Mine too. Internal Affairs and the Board of Rights said the shoot was justifiable. The Board of Rights admonished the two detectives involved but decided not to forward charges.

That’s unheard of. Was there any backlash?

Plenty. After they made the report public, Lincoln Heights had unrest for about a week. A few shootings and several cars burned. The usual. He explained.

What were County detectives doing at a Lincoln Heights scene? I asked.

That’s the problem. No one knows, and the detectives lied about their whereabouts and a dispatch call. Plus, the County was sued for millions and settled. I think we should reopen the case. That would be part of your job.

Not what I was hoping for, but I will listen.

Were they ever charged with anything? I asked.

No criminal charges. One detective got a thirty-day rip. The other retired.

So, double jeopardy is not attached? I asked.

Nope. I want you to expand the investigation to include other individuals that may have interfered or obstructed the IA investigation.

OK, that’s the first part. Care to drop the other shoe? I asked.

There is something going on in the Property Room. There is missing evidence in several cases. In other cases, I was blocked from reviewing evidence. No one can explain the reason to my satisfaction. Even IA was stymied in their investigation. At least, that is how their report reads. I want you to look into that as well, Matt explained.

Sounds like a case of scumbaggary.

You said it, he laughed.

Yes, I did.

If you find other information, which leads you to other potential indictments for other crimes. I want you to run with it. Some of these people need to leave public service.

The Sheriff was becoming emotional. I guess I need to decide. First, I had another question.

Matt, how is the case going? He looked confused.

You know. My backyard. The body. There goes the light bulb.

Not much yet. Still no ID on the body. Cause of death was an overdose of cocaine laced with fentanyl. Nasty combination. The autopsy showed the time of death was about 10 hours before you discovered the body. Detective French believes whoever dropped off the body had no idea there were houses near those woods and the lights scared them. Seems logical. We’re going to send DNA and prints to the FBI for review.

Did anyone look in those woods for shovels or other tools for burying a body? I asked.

No one did, and no one thought about it. I’ll take care of the oversight later, he said.

If anyone needs access, I’ll be here.

He nodded. I decided not to tell him about my minimal investigation. Now I’ll circle back to his investigation.

Matt, you want a narrow investigation with a wide-ranging mandate. He nodded.

I guess we should see what’s in those boxes, I said.

Looks like I was in.

So, you want this assignment? He asked.

Want is a strong word, but I am willing to help. We’ll talk about the details later.

Thanks. I thought I would have to beg.

He seemed relieved and calmer. I cannot imagine him begging. It was not a hard decision. Maybe Internal Affairs did a thorough review, maybe not. I had a feeling that taking this case, no matter how important, was going to make me feel old and tired again. I knew what the problem was and, maybe, how to solve it. At least, I hope I can solve it. Crooked cops and prosecutors are good at covering their tracks. Dirty cops always leave a trail.

Matt told me what was in the boxes, the IA Report, and some underlying materials for the shooting. The other box contained the IA Report on the Property Room, with some sample logs and other related evidence. He was not specific. He noted most of it was incomplete and would require more digging. It was not much, but it would get me started. Either that or it is a road map to nowhere. Sometimes, nowhere is a nice place to be.

What about the prosecutors? Are they likely suspects?

I was just speculating out loud. Sometimes a prosecutor can be easily compromised by dames, drugs, and money. This would not be the first time.

Maybe, but the County Prosecutor says it can’t be part of an Internal Affairs investigation. It would have to be an Office of Professional Responsibility show. Unfortunately, they are compromised. That is why I came to you. As Outside Counsel, you can widen the scope to include related cases and departments. So, if you find something that doesn’t pass the smell test, you need to report it. That means you will need to meet with the prosecutor before you begin.

Matt did not elaborate. But I wonder how the Office of Professional Responsibility could be corrupt or is the Sheriff speculating?

Will he try to handcuff an investigation into his people or be cooperative?

I was beginning to regret my decision to help.

I am reasonably certain he will cooperate. He claims he wants to resolve the issue. I do not take him at his word very often. I will call him and make an appointment for you. Thursday or Friday work for you?

Next week would be better. I want to spend some time reviewing these materials and review the Outside Counsel statutes. By the way, you didn’t mention Detective Wilson. What’s his involvement?

Time for my other shoe to drop.

He was the officer involved in the shooting.

I wish I would have known about that important piece of information earlier.

Looks like next week will be a busy week. What’s the deadline? I asked.

Right now, it is open-ended, but sooner rather than later is my preference, he said.

I’ll send you the details of the meeting. What is this going to cost the taxpayers? The Sheriff asked.

Plenty. How much does one of your most experienced Department Heads make? Add twenty percent, I said with a smile.

That much. I’ll let the County know, he said.

I want this to be a thorough yet quiet investigation. No leaks, no press conference until I release the report and unseal any indictments, I said.

You may get an argument from the Prosecutor, but nothing from me. He said.

I’ll just tell him I’m friends with a former Attorney General and a local AUSA. That should take care of any objections or interference, I said.

Like all local prosecutors, I am sure he hates Federal involvement.

It just might. See you tomorrow night. Any clues about the movies? Matt asked, no longer in his role as Sheriff.

Yes, they’re good ones.

See you, Richard.

I called for the cats and we went down to the home theater and relaxed watching Columbo. Maybe I would learn some new techniques or just one more thing.

5.

Tuesday, May 3, 2016. Now that I have accepted a sizable project, my regular trip to the Hamilton office was off the agenda. I would stay home and review the Internal Affairs Report on the shooting. There is also preparation for Movie Night and a few phone calls to make. Today will be busy.

Before I went downstairs to the office, I fed the boys and gave them some treats. Once in the office, I began my routine of checking the systems and any alarm alerts. There were none. That is not