Page 185 - Labelle Gramercy, On the Case

Jury-rigged

I ignored the weird combination of compliment and formal
address. “My first impulse was to arrest him immediately. But
Captain Nimeau, after I showed him the tape, advised me to build a
stronger case. So I obtained a search warrant and waited until
Hannibal had gone out during the day. That was Wednesday, the
twenty-third. We used a skeleton key and were careful not to disturb
anything inside the dwelling. I found the hidden door to the side
yard, and a couple of hiding places under the floorboards and behind
the walls. That led us to enough evidence to indict him for forgery
and check kiting, but nothing related to the murders: no matches, no
ice picks, no list of names, addresses and daily movements of the
jurors. I then returned to the physical evidence at the crime scene,
figuring something had to turn up linking Hannibal to the killing.”
“And?”
“Nothing definite yet. A man’s shoe left an imprint on the dirt
outside one of the trailer windows, deeper on the toes as if the wearer
had been on tiptoes to get a peek inside. I made a cast and compared
it to every male’s shoes in the trailer park, even the assortment of
maintenance men and delivery boys who had been anywhere in the
vicinity that Saturday. No match. None of Hannibal’s shoes fit. I felt
like Cinderella’s prince or maybe a shoe salesman in a thrift store.
Naturally, the killer would have dumped the shoes in case they had
any blood on them. So I tried the trash collectors in his
neighborhood, a bit too late after the fact.”
“What about his own yard, by the secret panel?”
“Gravel. No dice.”
“Anything else?”
“Not yet. I’m checking every purchase he’s made since the verdict
came down against Sherman. Someone buying matches for cash
might not make an impression, but a buyer of a bunch of ice picks
would.”
“All right. Now what about the selection of victim? Did that follow
any pattern?”
“Pattern? Like what? Two women, then a man? A Sunday, then a
Tuesday, then another Sunday? Juror numbers one, seven and
twelve?” I’m sure a note of edginess crept into my voice. “Listen,
Lieutenant: it’s almost ten o’clock, and I need a break. Could we
continue this in fifteen minutes?”

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