Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

rumor mill is saying, though. Chief Hansen has been an extremely popular chief, not only with the department, but with the public as well. I keep hearing that he intends to retire soon and has set his sights on the mayor’s office. My guess is that Baldwin probably feels threatened and isn’t about to risk playing second fiddle to Chief Hansen in any public arena. And you can’t discount the political heat that this case is generating. If either the mayor or the chief got the chance to dis the other publicly on this thing, they’d probably do it.”
    “That makes sense. And it wouldn’t be the first time a popular sheriff or police chief made the leap from public employee to political hack.”
    We reviewed the probation file and then used my office speaker phone and called Jenny Owens, Merchant’s probation officer. Owens was experienced and very competent. I wanted whatever insights she could provide regarding Merchant. We needed to find him fast and eliminate him as a suspect, or somehow tie him to the Vogue murder.
    She picked up on the fourth ring. “Owens. How can I help you.”
    “Jenny, Sam Kincaid. How are you?”
    “I’m well, Sam. How about you?”
    “I’m good, thanks.”
    I introduced Kate to Jenny over the speaker phone and explained that we wanted a probation status report and her professional take on John Merchant. I didn’t tell her why, but she figured that out very quickly.
    “Geez, sounds kind of serious, Sam. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the murder of Levi Vogue, would it?”
    “It could; and I’ll have to ask you to keep it confidential.”
    “Sure thing. Your timing is rather interesting. He was in to see me the day before yesterday for his scheduled visit. If you looked at his probation agreement, you probably saw that his conditions include completion of both an anger management class and an outpatient alcohol treatment program. I recently called the clinical social workers who are running those treatment groups, and I basically got the same story from both. He’s just going through the motions. He shows up, but makes absolutely no effort or contribution in either group. He knows we’ll revoke his ass in a heartbeat if he misses any sessions. He reports to me when he’s supposed to, makes his monthly victim restitution payment, and maintains sporadic employment, mostly in low paying labor jobs. And that’s about it.”
    “And your personal impressions of him?” I asked.
    “My take on him is that he’s a very angry man. He reeks of hostility and resentment. I can’t tell if it’s because I’m a female officer or if it’s a more generalized hostility toward any authority figure. I’ve been giving some thought to transferring him to the caseload of a male officer to see if his disposition improves. He gives me the creeps. And did you get a look at his size? The guy goes six-five and weighs about two-forty. And I’m not talking about a fat boy either. He’s built like one of those steroid-using pro wrestlers you see on TV.”
    “Thanks for the insights, Jenny. It sounds like we’d do well to call out the troops tonight when we go looking for him.”
    “Absolutely,” Owens replied. “Look, Sam, I don’t want to pry into what you’re doing, but, since he is a part of my caseload, I’d sure like to tag along.”
    “Fair enough,” I replied. “You’re welcome to join us. Given what you’ve just told us, having another agent along makes good sense anyway.”
    We called Burnham and arranged for him to meet Jenny and establish visual surveillance at Merchant’s home. I instructed Burnham not to initiate contact until McConnell and I caught up. I wanted to talk with Sue Ann Winkler prior to confronting Merchant. Other than the killer, Winkler may have been the last person to see Levi Vogue alive.
    ***
    McConnell and I drove to Sue Ann Winkler’s apartment and found nobody home. We then headed over to her place of employment, the Satin & Lace Club.
    “Kate, I’d be happy to go in and handle this if you’d rather wait here.”
    She faintly smiled and said, “Thanks for being so thoughtful, but this isn’t my first trip to a strip joint.”
    “Cop pay is that bad,” I quipped.
    This time she frowned and said, “Smart ass.”
    A couple of stout-looking bouncers greeted us at the front door. They were busily checking customer identification and collecting a hefty twenty-dollar cover charge. We were directed toward a long mahogany-colored bar