Tainted Evidence by Michael Kent

Author:Michael Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Detective, Homicide detective, Adventure, Police procedures, Romance
Publisher: Mezzo Publications.
Published: 2019-01-17T00:00:00+00:00

- 17 -

The dumpster was behind a pet supply and kennel facility just east of les Galeries d’Anjou shopping complex. The building fronted the west service road of Route 25, the expressway heading to the South Shore tunnel. When I finally got there, Manny lay on the hood of a patrol car catching rays from the noon sun. The beat officers were trying to look busy by pacing back and forth along the police-do-not-cross tape strung at the entrance of the driveway. In addition, two technical officers sat in their service d’identification van, doors open while they ate a snack.

“Sorry guys,” I yelled. “A Smart car wasn’t smart enough to know that it was in the blind spot of a transport truck that was changing lanes. I spent twenty minutes on the exit ramp to the shopping center before they untangled the mess.”

The forensic identification team left their seats, and still holding their munchies, walked to me.

One of them pointed to Manny with his thumb and a twist of the wrist.

“The big guy didn’t want us to touch anything before you got here.”

I read his I.D. pin.

“Thank you, Officer Saba. I like to look at evidence just as the criminal left it. It gives me insights into how he was thinking.”

The other techie took a delicate bite of his muffin. Saba raised his eyes and commented with a shoulder shrug. Manny was humming a tune and still sitting on the hood of the patrol car.

As we approached the dumpster, officer Saba gave me a pair of nitrile gloves. As I stretched one over my right hand, it became a paler blue.

“I think I need a large,” I said.

Saba did his shoulder shrug again. I guessed that the techies didn’t carry a range of sizes in their van.

I peeked into the open chest-high container. A foot or so of the rifle barrel was visible under a green lumpy garbage bag.

I glanced back to Manny, “Where’s the person who found this?”

“Back inna store. You want?”

“Absolutely, can you get him, please?”

A few minutes later, a lanky youth in torn jeans and wearing a Guns N’ Roses tee-shirt peeked out from the back fire-door of the store. With his foot, he pushed the handle of a broom partially out the door so it couldn’t swing back shut. I signaled him to me.

“You found the rifle?”

The kid looked at his sneakers and mumbled, “Yeah.”

“What’s your name?”

“Daniel Nault.”

The kid looked sixteen or seventeen at most.

“You work here, Danny?”

“I hate that name. Everybody calls me ‘Not’.”

I mimed tying a knot, “Knot?”

“No. ‘Not’ like no, no way.”

I suddenly felt my fortieth birthday sneaking up on me, and that today may be a long day.

“Okay, Not, can you walk me through how you found the rifle? Just explain it as if you’re telling me about a movie or a concert you saw. Make me feel that I’m there myself.”

He nodded rapidly. “I came out of the back door, pushed open the lid and swung the poop in.”

He looked at me with a satisfied smile on his face.

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