Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

County Sheriff’s Office, and try to identify suspects who commit burglaries using a similar M.O. My sense is that this avenue is least likely to produce our killer.
    “Finally, I’d focus my attention on the possibility that Vogue was killed as the result of his work on the Board of Pardons. That would entail following any investigative leads related to our prison and parole populations. We’d probably need to go back over every parole case Vogue handled since his appointment more than five years ago, looking for any inmate who might have threatened him. In fact, we’d want to include any prisoner who ever threatened any of the board members.”
    “That’s a comprehensive approach and I like it,” said Kate. “Let’s give equal attention to the family/friends angle and the possibility that the murder was job related. How about if Vince and I pursue the burglary and family possibilities while you follow the employment trail.”
    “Sounds like a plan,” I said.
    McConnell and Turner were paged by the lab technicians at the Vogue residence. They left me in the conference room with nothing better to do than snoop through Vogue’s wallet, which Kate had left on the conference room table. I put on the latex gloves and removed the wallet from its plastic evidence bag. It contained the usual Social Security card, Utah driver’s license, a plethora of charge cards, and several pictures of Margaret Vogue and their two sons. Looking into one of those little nooks and crannies, where normally a person wouldn’t place anything, I discovered a small yellow Post-it note with a faded telephone number penciled in. The phone number read 555-5484. I quickly jotted the number down and placed the Post-it back where I found it.
    Turner returned to the conference room and announced our first break in the case. “The crime lab team just discovered two fresh cigarette butts lying near the side of Vogue’s garage. Given where the killing took place, that would have been the logical place to wait.”
    “That’s good news,” I said. “If we get lucky, those butts might yield a latent print or maybe even a DNA sample.”
    “Sam,” said Turner sheepishly, “I’m embarrassed to ask you this, but I’ve never worked a case with anyone from the Department of Corrections before, and I’ve never heard of the Special Investigations Branch. Could you fill me in on what it is you guys do?”
    “Sure,” I replied. “No need to feel embarrassed. In the SIB, we make it a practice to keep our heads down and maintain a low profile. We assist the Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office in the investigation of crimes committed at the state prison either by inmates or employees of the department. We also assist federal and local law enforcement agencies with fugitive apprehension, drug trafficking at the prison, as well as solving crimes committed in the community when the offender is on probation or parole. And sometimes we conduct internal investigations involving prison staff accused of violating department policy. We used to be responsible for handling pre-employment investigations, but last year we managed to dump that job on somebody else.”
    Moments later, Kate returned, and our planning session broke up. I was anxious to get busy. McConnell had informed us that Margaret Vogue had been notified of the murder, and was making arrangements for a prompt return to Salt Lake City. Right or wrong, I felt a sense of personal responsibility for the murder. Had the SIB failed to do its job properly? Could this murder have been prevented with better intelligence information? It was a moot point now, but I promised myself that this case would not go unsolved.
    ***
    It was a little past six when I left police headquarters. I called home. I had agreed to take Sara to school on my way to work this morning. I wondered if she would remember my promise. On the third ring, a sleepy voice near and dear to me answered, “Kincaid residence, Sara speaking.”
    “Hi, Pumpkin! How are you doing this morning? You’re starting to sound so grown up when you answer the telephone.”
    “I know,” she wearily replied. “Daddy, did you forget that you were supposed to take me to school today?”
    “No, honey, I sure didn’t. But something came up at work, and daddy had to leave in the middle of the night while you were still sleeping. But guess what? I’m on my way home right now to pick you up. How does that sound?”
    “Yea, daddy. Can we stop at