In his Daddy's Shadow - 5. Chapter 5

Vincent and Dave had exhausted themselves making love. They were lying in Vincent’s bed wrapped up in each other’s arms. Their kissing never stopped, and each was fondling the other.

“I know this is insane,” Dave said. “I think I love you. I don’t want to let you go.”

“It’s not insane,” Dave said. “I feel the same way.”

He held Vincent even closer, as if that were possible, when suddenly they were both startled to hear Dave’s phone ring. He grunted, and retrieved it from the bedside table.

“Who the hell would call at this time of night?” he wondered out loud.

“It’s only 10 o’clock,” Vincent pointed out. “That’s not late, at least, not in L.A.”

“Hello,” Dave answered sounding a little bit annoyed.

“Dave, this is Mark Riley.”

“What the fuck. Where are you?”

“At the station.”

“Don’t you ever sleep? Don’t you ever go home?”

“Not since Ginny left me, I have no reason, and no desire to go home to an empty house.”

Dave was sorry he asked.

“Why the late call?” he wanted to know.

“I located Jones Jewelers for you. They’re in the 8300 block on Melrose Avenue.”

“That’s great. Listen, I’m going to go there first thing in the morning with Franklin’s ring. Maybe they have a receipt or something with an address where he and his brother might have lived when the ring was purchased.”

“Don,” Riley said.

“What? Who’s Don?”

“His brother’s name is Donald.”

“Tell the chief why I’ll be coming in late. I don’t want him to think I’m goldbricking, and get myself fired. Not now, not when I’m so close.”

Riley laughed. “He’ll never fire you. Let me assure you that you have more job security than any other detective in the precinct.”

“Thanks, Mark. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Both Vincent and Dave were sound asleep five minutes later.

Now that Vincent, James, and I could go shopping, Vincent had the fixings for a great pancake breakfast. After we ate, and we all congratulated Vincent for a delicious meal, Dave told us where he was going.

“I want to go with you,” Vincent said.

“Not possible. You must stay home to protect the boys.”

“Then take us along,” James said.”

“No way,” Dave said.

“Pretty please,” I added. “I’d love to see real detective work in action, and not the phony stuff in my dad’s movies.”

That flattered Dave, and he relented. We piled into his unmarked police car. He headed to Melrose Avenue.”

“Don’t get in the way,” he warned us. “Just observe.”

When we arrived, the store was closed. A sign on the front door posted the store hours. They opened at 10 AM, and it was only 9:30.

“Shit,” Dave said. He looked around. “There’s a coffee shop at the corner. Let’s get a cup of coffee and a donut. I know we just had breakfast, but we need to kill time.”

“We should have called first,” I said. “If we were home, I’d know how to kill time.”

“Me too,” Vincent said, and he smiled at Dave, who grinned back at him. These two macho men were acting like a couple of high school boys.

We lingered in the coffee shop until 10:10 to make sure the jewelry store would be open. It was, and the four of us walked in together. We didn’t realize how menacing we four big guys looked. The proprietor was afraid we were there to rob him. He discreetly pushed a button under his counter. It sent a silent signal to his alarm company.

Dave approached the counter. The rest of us hung back. The owner of the store looked about ready to faint away. Dave showed him his ID and his badge.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions, he said. He realized how frightened the man was, so he said, “You can record my badge number, and call the sixteenth precinct if you’d like to check on me.”

The man relaxed significantly. “What do you want of me?” he whined. “I run a clean shop. There’s no stolen stuff in here, I swear.”

Dave laughed, and the man relaxed a little more. “I’m sure there’s no criminal activity going on here. Please take a deep breath and calm down. You may be able to help me nab a serial killer.”

“Wow,” was all the comment the owner could come up with.

“First of all, for the record, please state your name.”

“I’ll tell you, but promise not to laugh. It’s Tom Jones.”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He removed the evidence bag with the ring from his pocket. “We have reason to believe that this ring was purchased here, and that a duplicate ring was purchased here also, most likely at the same time, but not necessarily.”

Mr. Jones examined the ring with a loupe, especially the inscription, “Jones Jewelers.”

“We inscribe all custom made pieces,” he explained, “so this was certainly made by us. Sometimes, someone comes in with an expensive piece of jewelry, claiming he bought it here, and asking for a refund. If it’s not inscribed, we know for sure it’s not one of our creations, and we also suspect it might be stolen. We tell the customer to please leave, and if he acts up, we tell him to leave or we’ll call the police.”

“That’s really very wise of you,” Dave complimented Mr. Jones.

Just then two gruff looking men came into the store, with guns drawn. They identified themselves as working for Mr. Jones’s security company.

“I’m sorry men,” Jones said. “It’s a false alarm. When these four guys came in, I panicked. It turns out that they’re policemen.” He assumed that the rest of us were cops also. Sometimes it’s good to look older than your years.

Dave showed them his ID, and Jones continued to apologize. One of the alarm company’s employees wasn’t going to drop it. “Who are these other guys?” he asked Dave.

“They’re material witnesses to the murder in the Gary Barnett home. I was guarding them when I was informed that a vital piece of evidence was purchased here. I couldn’t leave them alone, so I brought them with me.”

The man certainly knew about Carolyn’s murder, but he continued to be dubious. He and his cohort finally left the store, and Dave continued his interrogation.

“This ring and its counterpart were purchased by twin brothers. Do you have any records which might give us a lead to their whereabouts?”

“I never forget a face of anyone who gives us a special order. I must say I don’t remember any twins, and even if only one of them came in, I would remember a double special order. When was the ring purchased? I always vacation the first two weeks of July, and my brother covers for me. He should be in very soon. Perhaps he’ll remember. In the meantime, I’ll go in the back, and examine my special order registry.”

“Great,” Dave said. “Vince, why don’t you go with him. I’ll call if a customer comes in.”

The minute Vincent and Mr. Jones went into the back of the store, someone did come in. He looked like an older version of Tom Jones. He appeared to be just as panicky as Tom did, so Dave quickly produced his ID, and assured him that all was well.

“I’m Sheridan Jones,” the man said. “I’m Tom’s older brother. I got a call from our alarm company that there had been a disturbance at the store, so I rushed right over earlier than expected.”

“I came to the store to question you men about a ring we found at a murder scene. It was engraved with your store name. Tom got frightened before I could identify myself, and he pushed the alarm button. I assure you everything is fine. Your brother and one of my men are in the back looking through your special order registry.”

“What can we help you with?” Sheridan asked.

“Your brother thinks the rings may have been purchased while he was on vacation. Would you remember twin brothers ordering matching pinky rings with a small garnet stone?

“Sure, I do, but only one man came into the store. He said that the second ring could be made the same size because it was a surprise for his twin brother.”

“Do you remember when that was?”

“I can’t remember exactly, but I’d say that it was a good four years ago.”

“Jim,” Dave said, “Go in the back and give Mr. Jones that information.”

“The reason I remember it so well,” Sheridan continued, “is that I warned the customer that the stone was too small for the setting. I was afraid that we’d be unable to secure it well enough, and he could lose the stone. He said that the ring was perfect, and he would take that chance.”

Vincent, James, and Tom emerged from the back of the store. They had big grins on their faces.

“We have an address and a telephone number of a Duane Firestone,” Vincent said. “I guess he uses the same technique as his brother. His alias has the same initials as his real name.”

“This is good news,” Dave said. “Look, I’m taking you guys home now, and I’m going to the station to set up a stakeout. I’ll come over tonight with Chinese takeout for dinner.”

Dave shook the hands of both Jones brothers. He thanked them profusely for their help, and wished them a very good day. In a few minutes we were on our way. When Dave dropped us off, he and Vincent gave themselves a very wet kiss. James and I grinned, but I could see that James had turned a deep shade of red.

*****

Dave’s boss, Lt. Hendrix, was all smiles when Dave presented him with his latest evidence.

“Good work,” he said. He interrupted his praise long enough to set up a 24/7 stake out at the address Dave gave him. Then he asked Dave to inform him as to how he had gotten this information.

Dave filled him in on his visit to the prison, the ring he recovered there, and his visit to Jones Jewelers. He neglected to tell Lt. Hendrix, that he had company at the jewelry store.

Just as their briefing was winding down, Hendrix got a telephone call from the cops assigned to the first shift of the stakeout.

“Sorry to tell you this, Lieutenant, but the address you gave us is an empty lot.”

“Shit. Okay, abort the stakeout.” He slammed down the phone. “Did you hear that?” he asked Dave.

“Yeah, but I’m not defeated yet. Whoever purchased the rings must have gotten his driver’s license when he was sixteen or so. At that age he was probably living at home. I’ll get to my computer and pull every driver’s license issued to a Joseph and a Donald Franklin when they were sixteen years old. We’d have an old address, but it’s a start. I’m also going to contact the head honcho of the IRS in Los Angeles County, and the head of the California State Tax Department. I don’t know if either of them ever filed a tax return, but on the off chance they did, and they expected a refund, they would have used their real names and address.”

“It’s worth a shot.” Hendrix said, “but it’ll be tough to get quick information from a federal or state tax department.”

“I’ll explain that we’re trying to catch a serial killer, and it’s literally a case of life or death.”

“Well, I hope it works, and good luck to you.”

The motor vehicles bureau information was easier to investigate. Dave had a special code to access their records. By five o’clock, he had the address where the boys lived when they got their driver’s licenses. A Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Franklin Sr. still lived there.

When Dave got their address, he told Hendrix, “I’ll visit the Franklins tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, go home now,” the lieutenant told Dave. “You’ve had a long tough day.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dave called Vincent. “Set the table,” he said. “I’m at the Chinese restaurant. I’ll be home in less than a half hour.”