A Rage To Kill And Other True Cases

Marcia.”
    As it happened, a number of people who lived in the apartment buildings had seen a stranger about midnight on Friday night. One occupant recalled seeing a stocky man in a blue denim jacket and cap at the entrance to the building where Marcia lived. “He was pushing all the buttons trying to get in, but it looked to me as though nobody was buzzing him up.”
    The apartment manager said that Marcia Perkins had a number of visitors—men she dated or knew as friends, and a woman with three children who seemed to be a good friend. He thought Marcia was dating a quiet, well-mannered man on a regular basis, although he had not seen him at the apartment in the past week. He was not aware of any trouble between Marcia and her boyfriend, or anyone else for that matter. She was a good tenant.

    On June 3, Detectives Benny DePalmo and Duane Homan got two interesting bits of information. The victim’s grieving estranged husband called to report something that seemed a little strange to him. A man named Melvin Jones had dropped in on him at ten o’clock the previous night to discuss Marcia’s murder. Jones had fervently denied any involvement in the pretty nurse’s death. In fact, it seemed to her husband that he was almost protesting too much. He went to great pains to explain that he hadn’t seen Marcia since Thursday, May 27, when he’d stopped by to pick up a stereo set that belonged to him. “He told me he hadn’t stayed longer than fifteen minutes,” the widower said. “He insisted on leaving me his phone number—just in case I needed him for anything.”
    Marcia’s husband was quite sure that Melvin wasn’t Marcia’s boyfriend, at least not anyone she would have dated steadily. Rather, he thought he was a friend of Marcia’s sister who had moved to Montana. He described Melvin as being a husky man, broad-shouldered and thick in the chest. He didn’t know where he worked—or
if
he worked, for that matter.
    On the heels of that interview, the apartment manager called detectives to say that a man had been by asking for Marcia. This struck him as eerie since her body had been removed the previous day, and she’d been dead for five. He told the man that Marcia had been murdered, and the man had left, driving a two-tone green General Motors car. Oddly, he hadn’t seemed devastated or even shocked by the news. “I got the license number,” the manager said, and handed over a scribbled note.
    Homan and DePalmo quickly ran the plate numbers through the WASIC computer and found the car registered to a Ralph Ditty* with an address on Thirty-first Avenue in Seattle. More interesting was the fact that Ralph Ditty was a relative of Melvin Jones, and Jones lived at the same address. If Melvin Jones had known that Marcia was dead at 10 P.M. on June 2, then why was his relative looking for her on June 3? Maybe he’d come by to check because he didn’t believe Melvin when he told him.
    Melvin Jones came into the Homicide Unit later that day. He was a huge, muscular man, but he had a very young face, handsome and soft. He seemed earnest when he said he’d be glad to give a statement about his friendship with Marcia Perkins. He said that he had lived with Marcia and her sister from the previous October until February. But he pointed out that it was her sister—not Marcia—with whom he’d been romantically involved. When her sister decided to move to Montana, Marcia took an apartment by herself. He stressed that his breakup with the sister was friendly, and that he and Marcia were buddies, still. He had no idea who might have wanted to harm her.
    Jones said he last had seen the victim on May 26—a day earlier than he had told her husband—when he went to her apartment to retrieve a stereo set which belonged to him. He said he had learned of her murder on June 2 when her sister called him from Montana to tell him. He said he didn’t know anything about his own cousin’s visit to the apartment house. “He wouldn’t have had a reason to go over there asking questions,” Melvin said, puzzled.
    The investigators studied Melvin Jones. He was a big man, six feet three or more, and he easily topped 230 pounds. He was a good-looking man, with an easy-going manner despite the tragedy to his friend. When they commented on his size, he smiled and said he’d been working out with the Seattle Seahawks during spring training for the professional football team, although he wasn’t yet officially on the squad.