I got right to it. “What do you have for us?”
Flatt cleared his throat, consulted a small black notepad. “We’ve talked to five neighbors so far.” He waved a pen in the air. “It’s a Tuesday, so a lot of people have already left for work. Of those I talked to, two have some good information.” He checked the notepad again. “One, Larry Blankenship, says he got up about two a.m. to go to the bathroom. He sleeps upstairs, and the bathroom window faces the alley. He saw headlights at the end of the alley.”
“Did he actually see a car?”
He shrugged. “It might’ve been an SUV. He didn’t think much of the car itself, he just thought it was pretty late for someone to be out on a weeknight.”
“Anything else?” Spats asked.
“No,” Flatt said. “The other one is Karen Pacheco. She’s pretty old, and she has trouble sleeping. She was dozing in front of the TV, and she thought she heard a noise out back, a loud thump or something. When she went to look, she didn’t see anybody.” He shrugged. “That’s it. The other neighbors either didn’t see or hear anything, or they aren’t home.”
“Addresses?” I asked.
Flatt rattled off the addresses for Larry Blankenship and Karen Pacheco. I thanked him, and he went to join his partner at the crime-scene tape.
“You take Pacheco,” I said to Spats. He can be exceedingly charming, and I had no doubt he could get the old lady to open up.
“I’m on Blankenship,” Ernie said.
“Good. I’m going to talk to the guy who found the body,” I said. “Then I have to talk to his parents before news of this gets out.
Ernie twisted up his face. “I don’t envy you that.”
“Yeah, it’s the worst.” I gestured for them to get moving. “We’ll meet up later.”
Both gave me a mock salute and headed for the alley entrance. I watched the CSI team for a moment. It was a new investigation, and I was being revisited by the same unease I had with each new case. I had to perform well so that no one would ever have reason to question my abilities. I couldn’t afford to have anyone delving into my past, into my life before I was even a rookie cop, to discover the one mistake I’d made then that could jeopardize my career even now. I quickly dismissed the thought and walked over to Clark Leblanc, who was still waiting by the corner of a house outside the crime scene.
“Mr. Leblanc?” I said. I introduced myself.
“Call me Clark.” He had a hoarse voice, full of phlegm. He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet.
“How’re you doing?” I asked.
He lowered his chin and stared at the dumpster. “I won’t ever get that out of my head. I’ve never seen a dead body, let alone a kid.” His eyebrows furrowed, and he cleared his throat again.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured and gave him a second. “Would you tell me exactly what happened this morning?”
“Not much. I had my usual cup of coffee. Then I cleaned out the coffee pot, dumped the coffee grounds into the bag. It was full, so I put on my sandals and brought it out here.” He jerked a thumb behind him. “I live there.”
I glanced past him. Through an open gate, I saw a neatly manicured backyard and the rear of a two-story house. “And then?” I prompted him.
“I, uh, went to the dumpster and was about to toss in the bag, but I looked inside to make sure there was room. That’s when I saw the arm. I didn’t think I saw what I saw, so I looked again. I walked to the edge of the dumpster and saw his face. I could tell he was dead.” Another throat clearing. “I dropped the bag and called 911. Then I waited.”
“Did you talk to anyone?”
He shook his head.
“You didn’t call anyone else besides the police?” I put a little force into my question.
“No, I didn’t.” A tinge of indignation in his voice. “I told you exactly what happened.”
“All right,” I said. “Did you recognize the boy?”
“No, but I didn’t get a real good look at him.”
“Did you notice anything unusual in the area?”
He looked around. “No, the alley’s like it always is. It’s usually pretty quiet out here, sometimes people walk through, or you get the occasional car. It’s not as busy as the street, though. It’s not like I’m out here a lot, though. Just to take out my trash.”
“Did you see or hear anything last night, someone in the alley?”
“No. I’m a heavy sleeper, except when my bladder wakes me up.” He smiled. “Last night I was up, and I told the other officer I thought I saw a car, an SUV, maybe. But I didn’t get a good look at it. Then I was back in bed. My head hits the pillow, and I was out until six a.m. I’m up every day at the same time.” He ran a hand through his gray hair. “Although tonight may be different …”
“That’s understandable.” I thanked him for his time. “We might need to talk to you again.”
“That’s okay by me. I gave the officer my contact information. You call anytime.” He frowned, stared at the dumpster as if it were guilty of the crime. “I guess I’ll go inside.”
I watched him go through the gate. When it shut, I went back to check with Jamison and the CSI crew. They hadn’t turned up anything noteworthy, so I left to find out more about Logan Pickett’s parents.
Click here to continue reading Deadly Connections.
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