Crowley Story: Slammer Time

"What is it, Davis?  Why did you do it right now?" asked an exhausted Sheriff Alan Steel.  He had been up almost constantly since the Strickland murder, and ol' Deputy Davis Gorland had to go and pull the trigger on the rare time he went home to catch an hour or two of shuteye.

"Sorry, Sheriff," said the corpulent Deputy.  "The DNA results had just come in and I didn't want to wake you.  We thought we might better take him before he got wind of it, and decided to flee back to Connecticut or the Bahamas or wherever."

Alan Steel expelled a deep sigh.  "It's three damn o'clock in the morning.  When the hell did you bring him in here?"  They were at the Dixon County Sheriff's Office, a tiny building on the Round.  It only had two holding cells.  Most of the prisoners, when charged, were sent to Ware County, where the two counties had a joint prison facility.

"We brought him in at 1:23 AM, sir. We got him at his house.  I think we woke him up, so he didn't know about the tests yet."

"I'll bet not.  Did you wake up the whole neighborhood while you were at it?"

Lucy Mayer, the dispatch officer, came over.  "Sir, I think Deputy Dawg here woke up 'bout half of Crowley."

The Sheriff rubbed his eyes as if trying to wash away this whole scenario.  "I see it got you out of bed, Lucy.  This surely ain't your shift."

Lucy shrugged.  "No, Sheriff, it ain't.  But I heard what was coming down and I didn't want to miss it."

The Sheriff looked around and noticed that almost the whole force was there.  "Good lord, am I the last one in the loop?"

Deputy Gorland looked sheepish.  "Sheriff, you had just gone home.  You'd been here for three days almost non-stop.  You told us to wait for the DNA results.  When they came in, and it was almost midnight when they did, we decided it's what you would have wanted."

He had only gotten the call from Davis about a half hour ago.  Well, whatever; it was all set in motion now.

"Okay, fine.  I'm going back to talk to him now.  The rest of you stay out here."

Deputy Gorland did not like the idea of Sheriff Steel going in by himself.  "Sheriff, I don't know if that's a good idea.  He could be dangerous.  Let me go in with you."

"We are talking about who I think we're talking about, right?  Yeah, I think I'll take my chances.  He's more likely to talk to just me than having a whole herding team of officers back there.  Besides, you can monitor us on the closed circuit."

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They moved the prisoner from the holding cell to their one small interrogation room.  Sheriff Alan Steel sat waiting for him, the only furniture being a small table and two chairs.  The prisoner was chained at the wrists and ankles.  "Take that crap off of him.  He ain't going nowhere."

Officer Horatio Hernandez, the only Hispanic on the force, and one of Alan's best and most reliable, hesitated.  "But, Sheriff, that's not safe protocol.  You'll be at risk..."

"It's okay, Horatio.  I know this guy.  Things will be fine."

Officer Hernandez nodded and unshackled the prisoner.  Horatio was not tall, and might have been the only officer the same height as the prisoner (Lucy would have been shorter). 

Then it was just Sheriff Alan Steel and the prisoner, sitting at opposite ends of the small table.

The prisoner spoke.  "Thank you, Sheriff.  I appreciate you removing my restraints."

The Sheriff leaned back and glared at the prisoner's face.  "Yeah, I'm hoping that wasn't one of the stupidest things I've ever done, but sometimes you just gotta roll the dice."  He stopped and gauged his thoughts.  "What the hell happened, Gariton?  How did you get yourself into this mess?"

Gariton grimaced, his sad brown eyes reflecting a great depth of melancholy.  "It is a rather interesting predicament, isn't it, Sheriff Steel?  I certainly never thought I'd be wearing an orange jumpsuit.  I really don't think the color suits me."

"Well, you might have to get used to it, if we can't figure this out."  He leaned across the table towards Gariton Hollander.  "Did you kill Rondy Strickland?"

Gariton looked back just as closely.  "No, sir.  I did not.  But I want to help you find out who did it."

"That's mighty sweet of you, Gariton. But first, I kinda need to figure out why your DNA is all over the murder weapon."

"What is the murder weapon?"

That angered Alan.  He got out of his chair and almost started around to Gariton's side.  "Is that the route we're going to take?  Really?"

"Look, you can believe me or not.  I really don't know.  I heard it was a gunshot to the head, so I imagine it was some kind of gun.  But I don't know specifics beyond that."

"It was .22 mag Kel-Tech PMR-30, and your fingerprints and DNA were all over it."

"Fascinating.  But I don't own a gun, and couldn't tell you one gun from another.  Were there any other fingerprints or DNA evidence on it?"

"That's not something I want to share with you.  You're the one I'm questioning.  You're the one that's under scrutiny."

"I'm just curious.  Christine had a gun.  I'm not sure what it is, though."

The Sheriff looked down at the reports he had brought in with him.  Gariton was right.  There was other DNA on the gun.  Rondy's was on it, which was kind of strange, but maybe there was a struggle earlier.  But there was also Christie's.  "You think it's Christie's gun?  Are you implying that she is the killer?"

"No!" exclaimed Gariton, startled.  "It's just the only gun I've ever handled in my life.  I found it in one of her drawers, and I packed it up with some of her other stuff four days ago.  She had called wanting me to bring her some of her stuff.  She was moving in with Rondy."

"How did that make you feel?  Christie moving out?"

"Pissed off.  Upset.  She was difficult, and apparently not very faithful, but I did love her." Gariton looked up at the Sheriff and realized the impression he was making.  "That doesn't mean I wanted to kill Rondy.  Yes, I was upset, but I wouldn't kill anybody.  I...just wouldn't."

"Huh.  Is that right?  You know, that's not what they're saying at the Oasis.  You got into a fight six nights ago, remember?  People heard you threaten Rondy, you know.  People heard you say you were going to kill him."

"Close.  I said 'You are killing me, you know that?'  Anyways, I'm pretty sure that's what I said."

"Okay, now I know you're lying to me.  Too many other people heard something else."

"I can't help what other people think they heard."

"They heard 'I'm going to kill you, you know that?' Even your friend Janet Roper thinks so."  Gariton looked defeated.  "Any rate, this gun.  You say you handled it four nights ago?  What did you do with it after that?"

"I put in a duffel bag filled with her some of her clothes and toiletries.  I even stuck some of her porn DVDs in there."

"Interesting mix there, Gariton.  And what did you do with the duffel bag?"

"I took it over to Rondy's.  I didn't want to see her, so I just left it on the front porch."

"That was smart!  You just left a duffel bag containing a gun on the front porch?"

Gariton slumped over the table, laying his down in his folded arms.  "It's been a rough week.  I....wasn't thinking clearly."

"I'll say.  You ain't been staying at that big house you and Christie got with Daddy Delco's money, have you?"  Daddy Delco was Christie's father, the rich furniture retailer who had his hand in several highly profitable businesses.  "Man, that fancy house...and now it's all alone and empty.  Because you're not staying there either, are you, Gariton?"

No.  It's....too difficult.  There's too many memories connected to her and it overwhelms me."

"So where have you been, Gariton?"

"The office, mostly.  There's a cot in my office, and what with trying to catch up so much bookkeeping what with Houston, Jr. having left and Houston, Sr. recovering from his heart attack."

"You there mostly by yourself?"

"Well, Janet Roper has worked until 9 or so a couple of nights, but yes, mostly alone."

The Sheriff thought he might have to get into Gariton's relationship with Janet Roper, but right now he had other fish to fry.  "Were you up there the night of the murder?"

"Yes."

"You hear anything?"

"No."

"So there you were, right next to the scene of the murder, right in the building next door to you, walls thin enough to hear things, I would think,  Yet you saw and heard nothing.  Instead you were right there, motivated, seething at Rondy and what he had done to you, with no real alibi and a murder weapon found with your DNA and fingerprints on it!"

"Am I under arrest?  Do I need a lawyer?"

"You mean besides the one you just killed?"  Gariton looked angry.  "Sorry.  That was over the top.  No, right now I am questioning you as a person of interest.  But I have to admit, you are getting more interesting by the minute."

"Am I free to go?"

"Well, yes and no. If we stop talking now, I don't think I have any choice but to charge you with murder. If we keep talking, who knows?  Maybe you'll help me see the light."  The Sheriff sat back down across from Gariton again.  "Now, do you have anything else to say before I arrest you?  Anything to add before we call in your lawyer?"

Gariton thought for a minute, and then his own light came on.  Whether he could get the Sheriff to see it, was another matter.  "Yes.  Yes, I think I do.  Do you know what Rondy and Christie have been up to the last few weeks?  I mean, besides the whole infidelity thing?"

Sheriff Steel had to admit to himself.  He was intrigued.  "Oh, really?  Do tell!"

And Gariton began to tell.