The Mentor

Despite his alcohol fueled, late night encounter in Barnaby’s Bar, Luke still managed to wake early the next morning in preparation to once again revisit his troublesome caseload.

He anticipated another day of sitting at his desk staring at the files, reading and re-reading all the evidence, in the hope that a vital clue would pop up.

It wasn’t until he was brushing his teeth that Luke’s hazy memory recalled the friendly old man from the bar last night. A smile filled his face as he rinsed his toothbrush.

He admired the old guy for what he did. He was clearly trying to put the brakes on Luke’s downward spiral into an out of control bender, and he did that.

For that, Luke was appreciative. The old guy was a former cop with many years of homicide experience, looking out for what he probably perceived was an inexperienced young cop with some difficult cases.

Luke scoffed to himself when he recalled the old man’s incredible, even implausible, theories and suggestions as to who he unrealistically believed were Luke’s murderers.

His smile of admiration shifted to one of cynicism. Shaking his heavy head, Luke scoffed at how the old guy thought he could just sit there in a bar late at night, with a young cop he had never met, and simply listen to a summary of some murder cases, and without examining any evidence whatsoever, make these bold predictions about how to find the offenders, with complete confidence and certainty.

Once he arrived at work, his Wednesday morning in the office was an almost seamless continuation from the night before, and the night before that. He was living his own Groundhog Day.

The contents from his case files were spread across his desk without any apparent semblance of a system, to the untrained eye. His head rested on his hands while he re-read his files and case notes.

Luke removed his note book to consult some notes. He began flicking through the pages when he paused on a page with what appeared to be notes written in almost indecipherable hand writing.

He froze on the page. The cobwebs in his hung-over brain started to clear. He recalled they were the notes he had scribbled down last night while in the bar with the old man.

Luke read the note he scrawled, albeit almost indecipherable.

“Revisit Emily’s house & check if basement had been repainted or renovated. Know-it-all old man says Emily is in the wall?????.”

Luke’s eyes lifted from his notes. He glanced around the bull pen at his colleagues, each of whom was attending to their own respective caseloads. He considered the merits in following through with his undertaking to the old man.

His focus returned to his cluttered desk. ’Stuff it,’ he said to no-one. At least a drive to Boerum Hill would get him out of the office for a while.

Luke continued flicking further through his notes. He read a note to himself to ring the parents of Claire O’Connor, before they discarded Claire’s purse.

His eyes lifted to the ceiling. It was slowly coming back to him. The old man thought there was probably a camera, or a recorder in the purse.

Luke sifted through the files searching for Claire O’Connor’s case file. He located a contact number for her parents in New Jersey. A female voice answered after four rings.

‘Hello…’ The voice was not that of a young woman. Claire’s parents were in their late sixties.

’Hello. My name is Detective Luke Fox from the 84th Precinct in Brooklyn. I was looking for Mrs. O’Connor, please.’

‘Hello Detective. I remember you. This is Mrs. O’Connor. What can I do for you…? Do you have some good news for us?’ she asked. ‘Have you found our daughter’s killer?’

’Not at this stage, Mrs. O’Connor. But our inquiries are still ongoing, at this time,’ Luke reluctantly said. ’I have however received some new information,′ Luke began. ‘As a result, I am interested in re-examining some of Claire’s possessions. Do you still have the box of Claire’s possession you collected from us recently?’

‘We do. We sealed the box with duct tape. Everything is in Claire’s old bedroom.’

‘Fantastic,’ Luke said. ‘When would be a convenient time for me to drive out there to Jersey and collect them from you?’

‘My husband and I are traveling to Brooklyn later this week to visit some friends. I would be more than happy to drop the box off at the 84th, if that is more suitable,’ she said.

Luke accepted the kind offer before ending the call.

After hanging up the phone, he collected his file and car keys. If he was quick enough he would catch Emily Dupree’s mom, Megan, before she left for work. Megan’s husband should have left for his work by this time.

The drive to Boerum Hill from the 84th was quicker than Luke anticipated. While the peak hour traffic was building, it still moved steadily.

It wasn’t long before Luke rolled his vehicle along Ocean Street towards number 404.

Parking space availability in the one-way street was particularly limited. One of the characteristics of Brooklyn’s terraced-house living was the lack of off-road parking. All residents parked their vehicle in the street outside their homes, or as close as possible.

Luke had to drive a couple of laps of the block before he came across a vehicle exiting a car park, about one hundred yards east of the Dupree’s home.

Megan Dupree was surprised to see Luke when she responded to his knock. She was dressed for work, but still had time to meet with him. She invited him in for a coffee.

After handing Luke his coffee, Megan lowered herself into the chair opposite him, at her kitchen table.

It was a little distressing to Luke when Megan explained how upset she and Kirk had been since Emily disappeared.

She explained how she didn’t think she would’ve made it this far if it wasn’t for the love and support she received from Kirk. ‘He is my rock,’ she proudly said.

At that moment, Luke hoped the old man was wrong. This would tear Megan apart if the old man’s prediction was correct and her “rock”, a person she relied on and clearly loved, actually took away her eight year old little girl.

Luke was at a stalemate with this investigation. He had considered every possible lead to this point. He had even considered Emily’s biological father as a suspect, in revenge to Megan leaving him. Fortunately for the father, he was overseas at the time.

Every day that Emily was not found, was another day these people were without their child, or were unable to receive closure as to what actually happened to Emily.

It was another day that slowly eroded away any hope they had, or the likelihood of finding their little girl alive.

Luke carefully replaced his cup on the table. ‘I was going over the evidence recently and I was trying to get an understanding of your home… so I could work out how somebody was able to access your house when your front door was locked,’ Luke began. Megan nodded as she took a sip from her coffee.

‘Then I remembered that I didn’t check the basement very thoroughly. I can’t remember if there were any entry points that could have been used.’

‘Well, there are only the windows along the street side, but they were checked—weren’t they?’

’Yes they were… I checked those first. But I was more so wondering if there was any other way. You know… could there have been access through one of the adjoining houses that shared a common wall, for example?’

Megan’s eyes dropped to the table in front of her. ‘I never thought of that. I don’t think that was checked at all,’ she said.

Mindful Megan would be leaving for work shortly, Luke checked his watch. He suggested that he should head down to the basement and take a quick look around, so he could better understand the layout, and to remove the possibility of a shared wall being an entry point.

Both Megan and Luke made their way down the creaking timber stairs into the “L” shaped basement. The room was about four yards wide and ran the width of the property.

To the left, four, two feet by four feet, street level windows, situated just below the basement ceiling, filled the cluttered room with natural light.

To the right, was a dark blue colored wall, situated under the main house.

At the end, farthest from the stairs, the room turned at right angles, forming a small alcove about three yards deep by three yards wide. Kirk had established this area as his workshop.

A cache of tools that would be the envy of any tradesman was fixed to a wall mounted shadow board. A solid timber workbench and a tool storage cupboard, occupied most of the floor space in this alcove.

In the area of the basement immediately outside the workshop alcove was a three seat sofa in front of a flat screen television. Off to the side was a full sized refrigerator.

’Kirk’s man cave...? Luke said.

‘Absolutely. It’s his little retreat. I never come down here,’ she said as she scanned the cluttered room.′

The words of the old man resonated in Luke’s mind. “Look for any indication of recent renovations.” The only dry wall sheet in the basement was the wall running the length of house, to the alcove.

The wall on the street side of the room, below the windows, was below ground level and was solid concrete.

Luke rubbed his hand over the dark blue painted wall. It was definitely freshly painted. ‘Have you done some renovations down here recently?’ Luke asked.

Megan’s mouth inverted. She scanned the room. ’No… No this room could do with a makeover,’ she said. ‘But no, nothing’s been done down here for years.’

Her comment caused him concern. The paint on the main wall under the house was definitely not years old. At this stage, he chose to play down his concerns.

‘So this wall color…’ Luke said. He dragged a hand across the wall. ’This has been on here for years…?’

Megan nodded as she cast her eyes over the wall. ‘That wall color was there long before Em and I moved into this house,’ she said. ‘That’s how old it is…’

‘I was just thinking that a lighter color might help brighten this dark space.’ Luke said. It was an attempt to deflect any concerns Megan had with Luke’s interest in the wall.

A smile emerged across Megan’s face. ‘I said the same thing… but it’s nothing to do with me… This is Kirk’s little escape down here,’ She scanned the mess and clutter on the floor.

‘If he wants the wall this color…’ She flicked a hand at the wall and shrugged. ’Then that’s up to him. I don’t have a say in it… nor do I really care.’

Megan checked her watch. ’I’m really sorry to have to do this, Detective…’ She jabbed a thumb over a shoulder. ‘But I have to go, if I am going to be at work on time.’

Luke raised a hand. ‘Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you. I’ve finished my little check here. Everything is as I expected,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to be responsible for you being late.’

During his stroll back to his vehicle, Luke considered how the old man could be onto something with this case. Maybe the similarities the old man formed to one of his own cases had merit.

Luke remembered he promised the old man that if there was any indication of recent renovations in the basement, he would agree to follow through with the next stage—conduct inquiries with hardware stores in the area.

Before leaving his parking space, Luke accessed his cell phone’s internet browser in search of building material outlets in the immediate vicinity.

Within minutes he had a short list of three stores in the immediate area that sold drywall sheeting and associated accessories.

The first two outlets Luke tried came up empty. Neither store had sold drywall sheeting around the time Megan went to Manhattan.

He had one store left to try, before he would have to consider widening his search parameters.

Luke parked and secured his unmarked police vehicle in the off-road customer park of Harrisons Hardware and Building Supplies on Sturt Street, and made his way into the store.

The outlet was one of the larger stores in the area and supplied the various Boerum Hill trades.

After making himself known to the floor staff, he was escorted to a small office located behind the front counter.

The large venetian-blind covered window in the front of the office overlooked the entire store.

At the office, Luke met the store manager who introduced himself as Stan. He was a slim built man in his late fifties, with short grey hair and gold rimmed glasses worn on his weathered face. Both men shook hands.

’How can I help you, Detective?’

’I am interested in finding out if there were any purchases of drywall sheets and accessories on, or around the weekend of the 3rd or 4th of this month,’ Luke said.

Stan invited Luke to take a seat opposite while he began tapping on his desktop computer keyboard.

‘If you can bear with me while I access our sales records for this month…I’ll see what I can find out,’ Stan said. He continued to tap keys on his keyboard.

‘Thank you.’ Luke crossed his legs and reclined in his chair. He glanced around the office and its basic décor while he waited.

Stan’s puzzled eyes peered over the top of his gold rimmed glasses at Luke. ’Sorry. What day were you interested in again…?’ He asked.

‘Ah, the 3rd or the 4th of this month – that’s a Saturday and a Sunday,’ Luke said.

Stan returned his focus to his computer screen and continued to tap on the keyboard.

After several minutes of typing, Stan removed his gold rim glasses revealing red marks on either side of the bridge of his nose. ‘I have the sales records from the 3rd here. They are broken down by department. What is it you’re looking for again?’ he asked.

Luke uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on the desk. ‘I’m looking for any purchases of drywall, and or drywall accessories...you know things such as patching compound, jointing tape—’

‘Drywall nails, hand sander…things like that,’ Stan continued, finishing Luke’s hardware list.

‘Exactly.’

‘Well…’ Stan began, ‘It looks like we sold a number of items on Saturday the 3rd that could be used to hang drywall,’ he said. ‘Oh wait…’ Stan moved his mouse and tapped a couple of keys before studying his screen further.

’It appears that we had a delivery of one ten feet by four feet sheet of drywall on Saturday morning. The delivery was from a sale at…’ Stan squinted at the monitor. ’Nine fifteen ay-em,’ he said.

‘Was that all that was purchased…one 10 x 4 drywall sheet?’ Luke asked.

Stan returned his focus to his computer screen. ’Ah, yes that was—oh wait… Actually, no…that was part of a larger purchase,’ Stan said. He continued to read the computer screen.

’I think this may be what you are looking for, Detective. I have a two hundred twenty dollar purchase at nine fifteen ay-em on the third and the ten by four drywall sheet was part of that purchase.’ Stan rose from his chair.

‘What else was purchased?’ Luke asked.

Stan moved to the printer in the corner of his office. ’I’m just printing it for you, now,’ he said. He hovered over the printer while it finished its run.

Stan lifted the printed sheet and read it out to Luke. ‘OK…’ he began, as he returned to his seat. ‘The drywall was part of ten items that were purchased. By the looks of it, I would say the purchaser was doing a bit of DIY coz he’s bought everything he’d require to hang a sheet of drywall.’

‘What’s on the list?’

’The ten by four drywall sheet we mentioned… Drywall nails, jointing tape, hand sander and one hundred fifty grit sand paper… A four inch broad knife, rapid patch compound, a hand saw and trimming knife.

’Oh, and there was also a tin of interior paint, a paint roller and tray and heavy duty industrial plastic sheeting. Total purchase was two hundred twenty dollars,’ Stan said.

‘Does it say there what color the tin of paint was?’

’Ah…yep, it was tinted in the color Stream, which from memory, is a shade of dark blue,’ Stan said.

Luke sat back in his chair. ‘How did the customer pay for the goods?’

Stan placed the printout onto his desk then consulted his computer screen. ‘It looks like it was paid by a Chase Bank Debit card…the payment was from a savings account,’ Stan said.

’OK…so you will have the account number in your merchant banking details…?’ Luke said as a question

‘Correct,’ Stan nodded. His eyes returned to his computer where performed a series of clicks on his mouse. ‘OK…I’m just printing that for you now.’ Stan pushed himself from his desk and moved to the printer.

‘Do you have the address where the drywall sheet was delivered to?’

Stan placed the second printout onto his desk and returned to his keyboard and tapped it a couple of times. ’Ah…yep, there it is… We delivered it to four-oh-four Ocean Street,’ Stan said. ‘It’s only just around the corner actually.’ Stan gestured to his right

‘Thanks, I’m familiar with the address.’ Luke flicked a hand at the computer screen. ‘Does it record there who the sales attendant was?’

Stan’s focus returned to his monitor. ’Ah…yes it does. It was employee…three-three-one-four.’

Stan slid a white spring back folder from a shelf and flicked through the pages. He ran his finger down a page and stopped about two thirds of the way down. ’Ah… OK. Employee three-three-one-four is Grant Packer.’

Stan shifted his focus out through the front office window, to the main floor area. ‘Grant is currently on register two at the moment…Do you want to speak with him?’

’If I could, please...’

Stan pushed himself away from his desk. ‘Give me a minute,’ he said, then exited the office. A short time later Stan returned to the office with a young nervous looking, clean faced male in his early twenties.

‘This is Detective Fox…’ Stan said to Grant. ‘He just wants to have a quick word with you about something.’

Luke stood and shook the young man’s hand. ’How are you... Grant, is it?’ Luke said.

The young man nodded. ‘Yes.’

’You haven’t done anything wrong. You can relax… Take a seat,’ Luke indicated the chair beside him.

Grant’s shoulders noticeably relaxed a little. His grin was one of relief as he lowered himself into the chair. His questioning eyes moved towards Stan, then back to Luke.

’I want to ask you some questions about a sale you rang through the register on Saturday the third of this month,’ Luke said.

Grant checked this watch. ’The third…?’ he repeated as a question.

’That’s correct…The third. I know it was some weeks ago now, but I think the sale was one that you may possibly remember.’

Grant shrugged. ‘OK. I’ll see what I can do.’

Luke gestured to the printout on Stan’s desk. ’Can Grant look at that, please?’

Stan handed Grant the purchase printout. Grant accepted the printout and commenced to read.

’There were a number of items that are used to hang drywall, which were purchased in that one sale,’ Luke said. Grant didn’t respond. He continued to read the printout.

’I was wondering if you can remember that sale… or who made the purchase.’

’Oh… the drywall guy...’ Grant blurted.

Luke frowned. ’The drywall guy…?’ He repeated.

’Ah, yeah. That’s just what I called him, coz he bought some drywall, but… yes, I remember him,’ Grant said.

Luke smiled. ‘You do…? That’s great. What do you remember?’

Grant’s eyes dropped to the printout. ’I commented on all the materials he was buying… I think I said… “looks like you’ve got a busy day ahead of you…”, or something like that,’ Grant said.

’He told me that one of the water pipes under his house had burst, so he had to remove a sheet of drywall to get under there and fix it, and then he had to replace the drywall. I remember him now. He asked if we could deliver the sheet of drywall to his house.’

‘Can you remember what he looked like…? Can you describe him?’

Grant scratched the side of his head. ’Um… about my height–five-nine, or ten,’ he began. ‘Um…,’ he lifted his eyes to the ceiling. ‘He was a thin man, a little quiet, um….He had short brown hair, you know, thinning on top…’

‘By “thinning”, do you mean receding...?’

’Yeah, you know…’ Grant said, ‘Going bald…a lot of forehead.’

Luke nodded his understanding, as Grant continued.

‘But he was friendly enough though.’ Grant recalled. ‘Oh…’ Grant said. ‘He wore those glasses that don’t have any frames on them...’ he said. ‘You know… the ones that are just glass only, with the arms attached.’

Luke nodded. ’That’s great, Grant… Thank you. Do you think you would remember this customer if you saw him again?’ Luke asked.

‘Oh yeah…definitely. He was a nice man.’

Luke obtained copies of the relevant printouts and delivery dockets before he left the hardware outlet.

Building materials purchased by Kirk were delivered to his address on the weekend that Megan was away—the same weekend Emily mysteriously disappeared.

Luke needed to check behind that newly fitted drywall sheet. He needed to establish if there was evidence of a burst water pipe, behind the wall, or something more sinister.

Back at his desk, Luke made a call to Phil Duff, the crime scene investigator who attended Emily’s home the morning she was discovered missing.

He updated Phil on his findings in relation to the drywall purchases by Kirk Wallace. He asked Phil if he knew of a way to look behind a standard drywall.

‘Sure do…’ Phil replied. ‘We have a wireless inspection camera that we use just for such a purpose.’

‘OK…great. How does that work…? Does it damage the wall at all?’

‘Very little,’ Phil said. ’A camera is fitted to the end of a three foot long flexible cable. It has four bright LED lights at the tip with the camera.

’We do have to drill a small hole about three-eighths of an inch, into the drywall, then all we do is feed the camera in through the hole to allow a visual inspection of whatever is behind the wall.

’The images are displayed on the small hand held monitor. If there is nothing there, the hole is filled up.’

‘Fantastic…That’s exactly what I need.’

‘Get yourself a warrant…’ Phil suggested. ‘It is my experience that most people will not consent to having holes drilled into their walls by inquisitive police.’