Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

disturbance at the prison. You can probably imagine how embarrassed I was this afternoon when he called, and I had to tell him my star investigator hadn’t checked in all day, and I didn’t know a thing about the investigation. It won’t happen again, will it?”
    “Absolutely not. You’re right. I’m sorry for leaving you hanging out like that. It won’t happen again.”
    “Good,” he snapped. “It better not. Now bring me up to speed, and for God’s sake, give me some good news. I’ve had calls today from two television stations, both daily newspapers, and half the radio stations in town.”
    I spent the next few minutes giving him the good news and the bad. I tried the good news first by explaining that we had identified a likely perp. The bad news outweighed the good news by a long shot—that our suspect might currently be on probation for aggravated assault. It didn’t help his disposition any when I told him the suspect’s girlfriend had been having a clandestine affair with Vogue for several months, and that this might be the motive for his murder. It really made his day when I explained that Sue Ann Barlow was a nude dancer in a club frequented by Vogue.
    “Oh, that’s just dandy, Kincaid. What you’re telling me is that the Chairman of the Board of Pardons was a sexual pervert, hanging around nude bars with a stripper, and that the guy who killed him is in our offender population. It doesn’t get much uglier than that.”
    “So far, none of this information has been corroborated. We haven’t had time to interview Winkler or her boyfriend. We’ll get that done as quickly as we can.”
    “What other kinds of leads are being pursued?”
    “The usual focus—family and friends, the local B&E crowd. Terry and I are looking into the possibility that the murder was somehow connected to his employment on the board.”
    “What about physical evidence?”
    “Can’t say for sure. The lab crew was still processing the house as well as Vogue’s car when we left. They did find a couple of fresh cigarette butts by the side of the garage, but they may or may not be connected to the murder. They’ll be checked for latent prints or possibly a DNA sample.”
    “And the murder weapon?”
    “No weapon, no shell casings.
    “There is one avenue that I haven’t pursued yet.”
    “Yes. And that would be?” snapped Sloan.
    “We haven’t put the word out among our inmate snitches. If Levi’s murder is in any way connected to somebody in our prison population, inmate informants would probably hear about it.”
    “I don’t want you to do that yet. Let’s hold off, for say, twenty-four hours, and see if the investigation produces an arrest. If not, then you can have my blessing for using prison snitches. I know how useful they can be, but at the same time, the last thing we need right now is a prison disturbance on our hands. Only use prison snitches as a last resort.”
    To his credit, Sloan had learned to choose his battles carefully. He’d been savvy enough to successfully navigate the troubled waters of an angry public that wanted increasingly punitive measures against criminals; a state legislature eager, in the name of re-election, to placate that angry public; and a governor who wanted nothing more than to have his corrections department operate smoothly and quietly without creating political waves for his administration. So far, Sloan had been successful at doing just that.
    Sloan concluded our telephone conversation with some words of caution: “You know, Sam, be damned careful with this information about Levi’s extracurricular activities. Between Vogue’s and Margaret’s families, they swing a lot of political clout. If this gets out, the press will have a field day with it. And if the families conclude that we’ve turned this murder investigation into a character assassination of the dearly departed, they’ll close ranks fast and turn up the political heat. In the meantime, let’s hope the murder is unrelated to both his fooling around and our offender population, then maybe this will all go away quietly. If it doesn’t, keep your head down because the fallout is likely to get real serious. And Sam, if it turns out that you’re the guy who exposed the marital infidelity, things could get a lot more difficult for you.”
    An ugly case growing uglier by the minute, I thought.

Chapter Ten
    I still hadn’t caught up with McConnell when my cell phone rang. It was Patti calling