***
The next morning Renner and Lucas methodically worked through the list the manager had provided. They divided it evenly and quickly eliminated names that did not fit the criteria they had established. At the same time, Renner crosschecked Solieau’s Record of Arrest and Prosecution and referenced it against local gang affiliates. There was no denying it was a time-consuming and laborious part of the job, but finding the one vital piece of information to break the case wide open was what fuelled her in the chase. She had made several tenuous connections when Lucas received an email with the preliminary results from the crime lab.
He clicked, opened the attachment, and skimmed through the details.
“Two blood types on the knife; both O+. Preliminary DNA identified gender; one male, one female.”
Renner grinned. “My hunch was right.”
“Looks that way. Detailed DNA analysis will be at least two weeks. The lab ran the prints.”
“And?”
“And nothing. No record.”
Lucas shook his head and stared back at Renner.
“We’re chasing a ghost” She spun in her chair, stood and began to pace.
“Renner, look at the bright side - at least it cuts the list in half,” he replied.
“True, but we can’t be sure all the names made it on in the first place.” She thought for a moment. “If there were multiple blood samples on the knife, it means the attacker may have cut themselves.”
Lucas nodded. “Could just as easily be residue where the knife wasn’t cleaned properly?”
“What about the prints on the belt, anything there?”
“Only a partial.” He sat back.
“Come on, Gabe.”
“Same prints, no record. What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.” She took a few more steps. “And the knife?”
“Bayonet style. No evidence to trace it back to its owner.”
“It was a smart move leaving it behind,” she replied.
She moved back to her desk and slumped into her chair. They both sat silent for a few moments. “You know, we could be coming at this from the wrong direction.”
Lucas stared back.
“It would explain why no one’s talking. They’re not scared; they’re protecting our girl. There’s a history to this case and we need to find out how far back it goes. I’ll get a press release out through Media Relations.”
“Good, and I’ll focus on ex-partners. See if there is anything there,” he replied.
“What about Lil-Ray - take a run at him?”
“He’s all the way up in Beaumont. It’s a long drive and, besides, he’s in for life. With Solo deal he’ll want to deal and I’m in no mood for a sit down.”
“Okay, leave him for the moment. We know where to find him.” She thought for a moment. “So far our timeline with Solo starts with him arriving in Houston. Where did the bus depart from?”
“If I had to guess - most likely the Louisiana Superdome or Broad Street overpass. Hundreds of buses made that route,” Lucas replied. He shrugged his shoulders. “Thousands were transported across the state line, but it was chaos. No order, no records. You really want to follow Guiterrez down that rabbit hole? Besides, if you think he crossed paths there—”
“Maybe,” she replied, as her phone rang. She answered and spoke for a few minutes. She made notes before terminating the call, then looked across at Lucas.
“Forensics. They’ve studied the CCTV footage. Nothing other than movement around the bar confirming the crowd dispersing at 11:18 pm.”
“Give or take a couple of minutes that confirms time of death around 11:20 pm.”
“You check with dispatch - see who made the 911 call?”
“One of the guests. I spoke with him. He was in New Orleans on business. The only thing he saw was Solo hit the floor. After that he took off.”
“Another dead end.” Renner let out a sigh. “Still no definite motive.” She sat silent for a minute before speaking. “Our girl, she ran a big risk. She takes Solo out in a room full of witnesses. That tells me two things. One, it’s personal, but more important, killing him was worth the risk of getting caught.” She paused before continuing. “Then she dumps the weapon and blends in with the crowd when panic sets in and they all moved away.”
“Let’s canvass the neighborhood. See if we can find any cameras close to the scene. Long shot, but if we match who’s on the footage to our list, we might get a look at our girl?”
“It’ll be by the grace of God,” she said, shaking her head in frustration. She looked up at the clock mounted over a pin board on the pale yellow wall of the squad room. “It’s 11:15. I’ve got a few loose ends I have to sort out. Give me a couple of hours and we’ll give it a shot.”
It was mid-afternoon when she drove the unmarked Crown Victoria across the busy intersection onto Jourdan Avenue where they began to weave their way through the residential streets checking houses one by one. It was one of the worst hit areas of the city after the unrelenting storm surges had overcome the Lake Borgne and Industrial Canal levees. The flooding had devastated entire parts of the Lowed Ninth Ward and neighboring suburbs of Arabi, Chalmette and Meraux. Amongst the mountain of garbage which surrounded overturned cars and houses lifted from their foundations, some residents had shown resolve, banded together and had begun to rebuild their lives from the rubble. Others had packed up what they could and left with little other than memories in search of a new start. X’s spray painted on the front doors of the rows of abandoned homes indicated they had been searched by first responders and cleared after the disaster. Those with numbers on either side the mark indicated bodies had been found, and, as they drove, Renner could not help but let the numbers work over in her mind.
They passed Martin Luther King Elementary and crossed North Claiborne Avenue, heading south toward the Holy Cross district. Repeating the exercise, they worked their way west and back toward the Industrial Canal searching for any cameras, which may have captured images on the night Solo was killed.
It had been over ninety minutes when Renner pulled the unit to the curbside and, with the engine idling, turned and looked across at Lucas, finally breaking the silence.
“Gabe, this is hopeless. Even if we find a camera, chances are it’s not functioning or the footage will have been looped and erased.”
He nodded. “It was worth a shot. We’re running out of options here.”
She pulled away and started the short drive downtown.
“Hey, check online. See if our media release is up.”
He worked away on the keyboard of his cellular phone for a minute before the link appeared. He clicked it and as the page loaded, read it out to Renner.
Police investigate homicide in Lower Ninth Ward.
A 28-year old man was fatally stabbed Saturday (August 28) in the 1700 block of Jourdan Avenue in the Lower Ninth Ward.
He has been identified as Jermaine Solieau, according to Coroner, Dr. Carmen Vasquez.
The NOPD has asked anyone with information about the incident to call Homicide Detective, Sarah Renner at 555-622-5300 or Crimestoppers at 555-822-1111.
“Good. We might get lucky with an anonymous tip.”
As Lucas went to put his phone away, he looked down at the color screen and paused. “Remember that guy who was playing at the bar there the night Solo was killed.”
“Otis Shaw. He’s good. Some friends and I saw him play.”
“So, it’s a big deal, right. If it was my place, and I’d landed a major up-and-comer, I’d be filming it. Or at least get something—”
“On my phone,” Renner said, finishing his sentence.
She slapped the steering wheel with both hands. “How did we miss that?”
She checked the rear vision mirror and immediately performed a U-turn onto Jourdan Avenue. “Good job! This might just work.”
Less than five minutes later, they parked outside the bar where they had been two days ea
rlier.
“Sign says he doesn’t open till five.” She checked her watch. “That’s thirty minutes. We’ll hang here and wait for him to arrive.” She left the engine running and air-conditioning on and sat anxiously in her seat. She ran the events of the case repeatedly in her mind as she kept watch on the bar while Lucas made some calls.
Twenty minutes later, she spotted the manager make his way down the sidewalk and up to the front door. Leaving Lucas in the car, she crossed the road and approached him as he worked the keys in the lock.
He looked up and she drew close.
“Evening, Detective.”
She played out the pleasantries before he continued.
“No surprise, it’s been quiet in here for the past two nights. Not expecting many more tonight for what it’s worth.”
She nodded. “I was hoping to run through a few questions. That is, if you don’t mind before you open up.”
“Of course. You been waiting long? I seen you from the corner.”
“No, not long.”
“All right then. Come in. I’ll fetch you something cool to drink.”
They made their way into the dimly-lit space and over toward the timber counter that wrapped around the bar. She slid onto a stool and waited for him to make his way round to face her. The stale smell of smoke hung heavy in the air.
“Otis Shaw,” she said. “I saw him play at Vaughan’s.”
“He’s one cool cat. Night he played here was busier than I ever seen it. Even before the storm.”
“You heard anything around the tracks – any idea who might have wanted Solo dead?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. This is the ninth. I didn’t pay it no mind, other than to clean up next morning.”
As she was about to continue, the door behind them opened. Lucas made his way through. She could tell by the way he moved, his eyes were adjusting to the space.
She turned back toward the manager.
“Do you have a mobile phone?”
He paused for a moment as he bent and reached into the fridge. He pulled out two bottles of soda. She could tell he was working the information in his mind.
“Yes, ma’am.” He popped the top and placed the drink on the counter. He reached into his back pocket, retrieved the phone and placed it next to the bottle.
She didn’t move, as Lucas’s phone rang and he moved away to take the call.
When he was a few paces away, she reached across, picked up the soda and took a sip.
“With your permission, I’d like to look at the camera roll and review any photographs you took the night Shaw played.”
He rubbed his forehead, before he picked up the phone and keyed the security code to get access to the menus. He reached across the bar and handed the phone to Renner.
“Start from here. Use these buttons. I’ll be setting up if you need me.” He moved away.
Renner began scrolling through the thumbnails. The small two-by-two images were clear. The small flash had lit up the otherwise dark space. Clearly, it was the night in question. Lucas moved up and stood beside her as she studied the pictures for the next five minutes.
“That was Guiterrez.”
“And?” she asked, looking up.
“He followed up in Houston. Father’s alibi was solid.”
“No surprises. It was a long shot at best.”
“That it?”
“He was happy to hear about Solo.”
“I bet he was.”
She looked back down at the phone. There were a number of photographs, which included the manager with Shaw and his band. They also showed the packed room with people smiling. They all looked to be having a good time.
She continued until the scene changed to photos of the surrounding streets and damage from the storm. She returned to the start and worked back through the images, one by one, clicking the button and zooming in on the small color screen of the Motorola phone. She drew a sharp breath as she noticed several women who had not appeared on the original list or been interviewed by any of the team. They were clearly visible.
Adrenaline kicked in. It seemed from the start it had been one dead end after another. Now, with this new lead, there was a real possibility there may be something solid to move forward with. It had been a slow start and it was time to build some momentum in the case.
“Gabe, look.” She held up the image on the unknown females. “I think we might have a lead. We need to figure out who these women are.”
“Send this to forensics and get those images enlarged and enhanced. We could run it on Channel six tonight. Someone knows them.”
The manager made his way back toward the two detectives who were leaning in and intensely studying the phone on the counter. Renner glanced up as she heard him approach.
“We need to take this phone with us and download the footage. I’ll make sure you get it back.”
He waved his hands in the air. “Do what you need to do. I have to open in ten minutes anyway. I’ve got the landline.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Renner said as she turned, made her way across the room and threw the door open. She headed out of the bar as Lucas followed closely behind. Now every second counted in tracking down the killer, before she faded away and this became another in a long list of cold cases that would haunt the NOPD.
Less than ninety minutes later, Renner and Lucas had handed the phone to Forensics who in turn downloaded, worked, and passed the images across to the network. Renner sipped her coffee as she stood in a huddle with Lucas and several other detectives from Homicide. She watched the television keenly as the live broadcast screened the faces of the women with a plea for information. It was frustrating as the case hung in the balance. This was their last play. All she could do now was head back to her desk and wait.