Murder in eagle cove, p.32
Murder in Eagle Cove, page 32
“That was a quick trip,” Derrick said.
The three left the conference room and told the chief where they were going.
Noah, Derrick, and Dave parked on the street and entered Blunt’s home. “Hi, Marty. You pulling a little overtime duty?”
“Yup. Sitting in a crime scene is the worst. I’ve never been so bored in my life.”
Derrick introduced Marty to Dave. “We’re going to make one more search of the attic. Would you like to help?”
“Sure,” he replied. “As long as I don’t have to go up there. It still really stinks upstairs. I can only imagine how bad it is in the attic.”
Derrick and Dave exchanged a sour look. Noah was hoping he wouldn’t have to go into the attic either. “I’ll go up and search,” Derrick volunteered. “Maybe I can hand the boxes down, and the rest of you can start going through them.”
“I’ll pass the boxes down from the ladder,” Dave suggested.
“Marty and I will start going through them on the bedroom floor,” Noah said.
The four proceeded upstairs to the bedroom with the attic scuttle in the closet. The large blood stain on the carpet where Larry had been hit in the head remained. Noah looked at it, and a chill went up his spine. He knew, as a police officer, he would see blood and needed to desensitize himself to bloody crime scenes. He shuddered a little, trying to move past the revulsion he was experiencing.
Derrick pulled down the attic scuttle stairs, and the group was immediately met with the stench of death. Even after a week, the smell had barely subsided. Noah gagged in the back of his throat. Derrick started up the stairs, seemingly numb to the smell.
“I’ll work the top of the stairs,” Noah offered.
Nobody argued with him, and he knew they wouldn’t. This will give me a chance to get used to situations like this.
When Derrick climbed off the top step into the attic, Noah started up. Before he got halfway up the steps, a light went on in the attic space, illuminating the entire room at the top of the scuttle. When he reached the top step, he could see Derrick at the other end, opening the window wide. A cool September breeze blew through the window, offering much-needed ventilation. Noah looked around, noticing fingerprint powder on the window jambs and the platform near the scuttle. Boxes were scattered about, with the contents of some poured out onto the planks that made up the attic floor. The planks were spaced about six inches apart, leaving exposed insulation. The builders had used blown-in insulation rather than the pink batting sheets used in most construction. It looked like gray wool. The only sign or evidence that a body had been lying dead here for more than a week was the stench.
Noah remained on the stairway, watching as Derrick carefully probed around in the insulation around the box furthest from the opening. He found nothing and carried the box to Noah, who handed it to the others. He and Derrick shared little conversation while Derrick repeated the routine with each box, working his way back to front, where Noah waited to hand them down. When Derrick worked closer to the scuttle, the boxes were half-empty, the contents scattered around from having been previously searched. Derrick continued picking through the insulation, replacing the spilled contents into the boxes, and handing them down.
“Bingo,” he yelled about thirty minutes into his search. “I have a phone.”
He carried the phone by the edges with his gloved hand, gingerly handing it to Noah, who took it in the same manner and brought it down the stairs.
“I need an evidence bag,” Noah said as he walked out of the closet into the bedroom.
Dave produced one and opened it to let Noah drop the phone in. They laid the bag down on the floor and photographed it. Noah looked around the room where the other two men emptied each box and examined the contents. Most of the items were old, personal belongings of the victim. Nothing looked like it could be evidence of the murder. Noah returned to the top of the stairs where Derrick had left two more boxes to be carried down. He took each back down to the bedroom. When he returned to the top of the stairs, he looked around the attic space, which was now almost empty. Derrick poked through the insulation and passed the last couple of boxes out. He turned on a flashlight and examined the empty attic, looking for anything suspicious. They’d spent over an hour searching the attic and going through boxes. The only fruit of their labor seemed to be the cell phone. Derrick came over to the scuttle opening and turned off the light. “Looks like we’re finished up here,” he said.
Noah took his cue and backed down the stairs, followed closely by Derrick. They went into the bedroom and began helping the others dig through boxes. The search was turning up no new clues.
“Does anyone smell smoke?” Dave asked.
The four of them had been so intent on their task that nobody noticed smoke coming from the first floor. Noah ran from the bedroom toward the stairs. “This place is on fire,” he yelled.
Dave grabbed the cell phone in the evidence bag, and he, Derrick, and Marty followed Noah to the stairs. The fire was already moving up and had engulfed the entire first floor. Noah dialed 9-1-1, screaming into the phone. “We’re trapped on the second floor in a fully engulfed house fire on El Dorado Avenue!”
The four men retreated to the bedroom where they had just been, furthest from the fire. They yanked the curtains down and stuffed them under the closed bedroom door to keep the smoke out. Dave pushed the window open and started yelling for help.
The call went out for fire and rescue to respond to a house fire on El Dorado Avenue at eleven-ten. The volunteer fire and rescue team leaped into action. The first firefighter arrived at eleven-fourteen, followed a minute later by the fire truck and rescue unit. One of the neighbors came running to the house with an extension ladder and pushed it up to the window. Noah was the first out of the house, followed by Dave, Marty, and Derrick. They pulled hose from the firetruck, and the firefighters were putting on protective gear in the street. The emergency equipment had difficulty getting close because of the cars parked there and in the driveway. Noah’s first thought was moving the cars. He hollered to the others to get the cars out of the way. Marty’s county sheriff's vehicle was already on fire in the driveway. Dave and Derrick’s cars were parked on the street. All their tires were flat. The fire was no accident. Derrick called the sheriff and requested an entire team be sent to the El Dorado crime scene for a suspicious fire. Noah phoned Chief Armstrong.
“Chief, the house where the murders occurred is on fire, and it’s no accident. We were working in the attic, and someone came into the downstairs and torched the place.”
“Is everyone all right?” he asked.
“We all got out, but whoever did this slashed all our tires. Send everything you have. Somebody had to have seen something here. We’re going to need a canvass.”
“You got it, Noah.”
Noah found Derrick, and they went to his car to retrieve a spiral notebook. They tore out pages, and each took a few sheets. They waved over Dave and Marty, and the four of them split up the sheets and spread out among the crowd to ask if anyone had seen anything suspicious. I’m glad I left the file with all the reports in the car where it was safe, Noah thought.
The firefighters worked the blaze while the crowd of gawkers gathered. It is evident from the black smoke and smell of the burning home that an accelerant had been used. It’s unbelievable that someone slashed Dave and Derrick’s car tires and entered the house, spreading gasoline in every downstairs room without us hearing anything. Noah thought. Whoever did this was bold.
Police officers and sheriff deputies began arriving. They jumped into action, pushing the crowds back to give the firefighters room to work. The fire was so hot that entering the building was not an option. They fought to control the blaze and prevent it from spreading to neighboring structures. Marty’s vehicle was burned beyond recognition. It appeared it had been torched, too. It wasn’t close enough to have ignited from exposure to the burning house.
Noah went from bystander to bystander, asking if they had observed anyone around the house or cars before the fire. Most of them had shown up when the sirens and commotion started. He kindly asked them to return to their homes and let the emergency crews do their job. Dave, Marty, and Derrick took the same approach, garnering little to help the investigation. The crowd kept growing despite their requests to leave the area.
Chief Armstrong showed up and took control of the scene, asking the police officers and Sheriff deputies who responded to the call to arrest anyone who refused to leave. A call was made for wreckers to pick up the two vehicles parked in the street with flat tires. He then found Noah and Dave to inform them that tow trucks were coming, that they should get their belongings out, and moved to his SUV. “Derrick, take my vehicle when you leave to search Robert Moore’s garage.”
“I think I have Moore’s cell phone,” Derrick told the chief. “It’s all we got out with. I found it in the attic.”
“We should be able to pull data from and determine who it belongs to.”
“I agree. I want to drop it at the crime lab. Who’s searching the car and garage at Moore’s apartment?”
“A team from county. I want you to observe. Leave Noah here with me. It’s up to Dave if he wants to go along. He may need a ride to pick up a rental car.”
Derrick took the chief’s car keys and went in search of Dave. They all reeked of smoke. At least nobody can smell the dead guy over the smoke, he thought.
He found Dave continuing to ask bystanders if they had witnessed anything unusual before the fire started. Nobody’d seen anything. He talked to the next-door neighbor who brought over the ladder, thanking him for saving their lives.
“It looks like we owe you a new ladder. It caught fire and burned before the fire department could save it.”
“You got out just in time. What were you doing in there anyway?”
“We were conducting one final search of the attic. It seems someone came in while we were up there and set fire to the place. They also slashed all of our tires. I sure wish someone had seen a strange car or person. Whoever it was had to have been carrying a gas can on the way in. I assume they slashed our tires before setting the fire so they could quickly escape, and we wouldn’t be able to follow.”
“I’ll ask around. My neighbors like to gossip. Somebody may have seen something or caught something on security surveillance cameras.”
“Call me if you hear anything,” Dave said, handing him his card.
Derrick found Dave continuing to question neighbors still milling around the scene.
“Do you want to go with me to the search of Moore’s car?” he asked. “I have the chief’s SUV keys.”
“I don’t need to go to the search, but I’ll have you drop me at a rental car office. I need to get something to drive.”
They left in the chief’s SUV.
Noah had exhausted the crowd, asking if anyone had seen anything strange when he remembered the woman across the street. He remembered reading somewhere that she didn’t miss much. He walked over and knocked on her door. When she answered, he told her his name and that he worked for the Eagle Cove Police. Rather than invite him in, she looked him up and down before coming onto the porch. “I didn’t think anything of it at first. A plumbing company van pulled in front of the house, and two men in coveralls got out. One was carrying something. I guess it was a toolbox. I think they both went into the house. They were only there a minute. So much happening over there, it’s hard to know what’s unusual.”
“Do you remember the name of the plumbing company on the van?”
“No. The van was white. It had a logo in the shape of a toilet on the side, making me think it was a plumber.”
“Can you tell me anything else? Make and model of the van or license plate?”
“No. I’m not good with the make or model of vans. I had no reason to get the plate number. It had a dent on the front driver’s side, though, and the windshield was cracked. That’s all I remember.”
“Thank you. You’ve been helpful.”
“You’re welcome. Glad to help. You smell awful, by the way. Tell your wife to soak your clothes in Lestoil to get the smell out.”
Noah laughed. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t have a wife, but I’ll soak these clothes before they go in the wash.”
Noah took his notes and walked back across the street. It was amazing how much the crowd had disbursed with cops threatening to make arrests. But now the media was showing up. Wreckers had come and picked up both Derrick’s and Dave’s vehicles. Marty’s was totaled. The fire department continued battling the fire, and another unit was called in. The firefighters were soon exhausted. The house had taken less than two hours to burn to a smoldering pile of rubble.
Noah found the chief and told him what he had learned from the woman across the street.
“Call in an APB for the white van, Noah. It’s unlikely we’ll get anything with no tag, but give the description.”
“What happened to Dave and Derrick?”
“They took my SUV and went to search Moore’s vehicle and garage.”
Noah pulled out his cell phone and called dispatch to order the APB for the white van wanted in connection to an arson fire on El Dorado Avenue in Eagle Cove. When he hung up, he returned to the chief and asked how he could help.
“Not much to do now. The canvass is done, and you’re the only one who got anything. Most other officers on the scene here are working on crowd control. I must remain here until the fire department finishes and the fire marshal arrives to open an investigation. With four police officers in the structure when they set the fire, I consider this attempted murder.”
“They had to be trying to get rid of evidence, Chief.”
“It sure appears that way.”
Noah roamed around, trying to stay out of the way, until he found Marty sitting in a squad car from county. “Are you doing okay, Marty?”
“Yes. You?”
“I’m just exhausted. We were lucky that the neighbor showed up with a ladder. He saved our lives.”
“County’s about to clear the scene. I will catch a ride with the officer who drives this vehicle. Would you like us to drop you somewhere?”
“Let me check with the chief to be sure he doesn’t need to keep me here.”
Noah checked with the chief and was told he could take off. He went back to the guys from county and had them drop him at the station. Poor Marty will have a ton of paperwork and reports regarding all this, Noah thought.
When they dropped him at the station, he headed home to shower.
The meeting in Judge Karen Gardner’s chambers at the Plymouth County Courthouse started promptly at one o’clock.
The lawyers for both Tiffany Strait and Robert Moore were there, as was the prosecutor assigned to the case.
“This may be a short meeting,” the judge said.
“I want to ask that the two defendants be handled separately, your Honor,” Prosecutor Daniel Coe stated.
“I would have expected that request from the lawyers for the defendants, Mr. Coe. But frankly, I’m surprised to have such a request from you. Can I ask why?”
“Yes, your Honor. Evidence continues to pour into my office, and it appears Mr. Moore and Ms. Strait have varying responsibilities related to the murder of Harold Blunt. Keeping the two cases separate is in the best interest of all parties.”
“Fine, Mr. Coe. Do you have any objections, Mr. Cranston?”
“No, Your Honor. I would, however, like to file a motion to lower my client's bail. She isn’t a flight risk, and the evidence against her is weak. She’s cooperating with law enforcement, and it would be considerably easier to prepare her defense with her out on bail.”
“Any objections, Mr. Coe?”
“No objections to lowering Ms. Strait’s bail, your honor.”
“Okay. I’ll lower her bail to five hundred thousand, cash or surety. I have time for Ms. Strait’s preliminary hearing on October fourth at nine a.m. Will that time work for you, Mr. Cranston?
“Yes, your Honor.”
“Mr. Coe?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Add it to your schedules, please. Mr. Langley, I assume you have no objections to separating these cases.”
“No, your Honor. I would, however, like to request Mr. Moore’s bail also be reduced.”
“I strongly object to lowering Mr. Moore’s bail, your Honor,” Prosecutor Coe said, shooting up from his chair, red in the face.
“I will not lower Mr. Moore’s bail,” the judge stated. “File your motion, Mr. Langley, and I will take it under advisement pending his preliminary hearing. I want to schedule it for nine a.m. on October fifth. Does that work for you, Mr. Coe?”
“Yes, your Honor.”
“Mr. Langley?”
“Yes, your Honor.”
“I believe we’re through here,” the judge said, indicating the end of the meeting. “Have a nice afternoon, gentlemen.”
The prosecutor and both lawyers stood and left her chambers.
Noah drove home worrying about how he was going to tell his mom he had been trapped in a house fire this morning. She’s going to flip out. He pulled into the driveway and walked through the kitchen toward the stairs. His mom was watching television while his dad snoozed on the sofa.
“What’s that awful smell?” she asked without even saying hello.
“These clothes need a soak before going in the washer, Mom.”
“Why do you smell like that?”
“The house over on El Dorado burned down. I was pretty close. I’m going up to shower and change.”
Noah quickly traversed the stairs to avoid answering more questions. He showered and changed into fresh clothes. He carried his smoky clothes downstairs and dumped them in the laundry sink with some laundry soap to soak. He returned to the living room to let his folks know he was returning to the station.
