Previously:  Sheriff Derek Oleson is called to headquarters by Detective Jana Burke in the midst of his interview with Father Brian. A new recruit is anxious to make a name for himself by taking over the interrogation of a man claiming to be the killer of Debra Padget. The Sheriff must use cunning and instinct to maintain his authority and control over the case, especially after learning there is a department leak.   

**********

Chet Lapinski tracked the progress of a spider that was soon to discover the error of advancing in his direction. For the moment, he forgot his aching bladder. If he had to wait much longer for two asshole detectives to get their act together, he might be forced to piss his pants.

Bright overhead lights bathed his scalp in heat, and sweat trickled down his chest and back, filling the interrogation room with an acrid tang. 

Where the fuck is everybody?! 

He was ready to confess. Hell, he was anxious to confess. The punk, Detective Newstead, wanted to be the one to record Chet's confession, but Detective Hitchens, the older dude, insisted they wait for Sheriff Oleson. They'd abruptly left the room, and for a while he could hear sounds of an argument going on outside the door. Then nothing for what seemed like hours.

Adjacent to where he sat was a formica table. "Why didn't I think of this before?" he chided himself. Probing its underside, he found no hidden microphones. Though a bit disappointed in the banality of his experiences thus far, he was pleased by his own cleverness.

Swiping his damp palms across the fabric of his pants, Chet splayed his fingers to mimic a woman examining a manicure. He imagined them necklaced around Debra Padget's neck, feeling the final collapse of cartilage as her windpipe disintegrated. His pleasure abruptly skittered back into its dark hidey-hole when he realized there was dirt imbedded beneath the few fingernails he hadn't ripped away with his teeth.

Panic set in. Had he gotten them dirty crawling around outside that bitch's windows looking for a way to get in and punish her for the way she ruined his life? His small pocket knife - the one his daddy had left him - had been confiscated, leaving him with nothing to scrape away the dirt. If he could get to a bathroom, he might be able to get cleaned up before the Sheriff arrived.

A surveillance camera was positioned near the ceiling. Chet grunted on rising from the moulded plastic chair, crossed the room and directed his words toward the blank screen. "I need to use the toilet right now; otherwise, I'm gonna pee all over your nice, clean floor."

In short order the door opened. An angry Detective Newstead pressed his fist into the middle of Chet's back and roughly shoved him through the doorway and down the hall.

"Hey, you're hurting me," Chet whined. "That's police brutality."

Looking around to be sure there were no witnesses, the young detective snarled, "Get used to it, freak. I used to be a prison guard, so I know what's waiting for you. You're gonna be screamin' for your mama every night." He forced the bathroom door open with his boot tip and added, "You've got exactly three minutes." 

********** 

Sheriff  Oleson nudged the metal security door of his private entrance closed behind him. The rectangle of light that oozed from beneath the lowered blinds of his office window gave the room its only light. Derek mentally patted himself on the back for following routine the night before. It gave him a few minutes alone before assuming the mantle of his authority.

He stepped quickly to his computer console, and while it was booting up removed the baton, radio, flashlight and holstered Glock semi-automatic from his duty belt. After typing in the password prompt, Derek prayed the CSU staff had entered the items removed from Debra Padget's home. When the updated file came up, he made a mental note to congratulate them on their efficiency. 

Derek tapped his mouse pad for each item listed. Then he went back and read it a second time, confirming that neither a rosary or gold cross were mentioned in the evidence file. 

A slight shudder accompanied the unwelcome thought that Debra's death might somehow be linked to a series of break-ins at local churches during the winter of 2010. Investigators had concluded it was likely homeless persons trying to avoid freezing to death, but maybe there was something else behind it. Nothing of substantive value had been stolen, though a few of the churches mentioned candles and small crucifixes missing.

Crossing the room to raise the window blinds, he looked out on a bustling squad room and two empty holding cells. Derek hoped to hell that being sequestered in an interrogation room for several hours hadn't agitated Chet Lapinski to the point of unwillingness to cooperate further.

Certain types of killers craved an audience, even if the looks directed at them were contemptuous. Showing up at the crime scene, standing around openly enjoying the proceedings would suggest the man currently in custody was someone looking for that kind of attention. Keeping him out of sight was a bad move on someone's part, and he'd find out in short order the identity of that person.

Case Detective, Ron Jolly, stood near the printer reading a report that had just come across. He looked up in time to meet the Sheriff's stern gaze. The information Detective Jolly held was important, yet his cop's instinct told him it would drop the bottom out of their case. It had apparently fallen on him to be the bearer of bad tidings.

Better get this over with.  

Derek opened the door before his detective knocked. "This is everything available through our database on the suspect, Chester Lapinski, Sir." He maintained a neutral set to his features as he handed the report to his boss. "Personally I think it raises more questions than it answers, but read for yourself."

Other than spending some time in jail for being in arrears of child support payments, Sheriff Oleson found no serious run-ins with law enforcement. The suspect lived with his elderly mother and was employed as a nurse for Care With Compassion, a home healthcare provider, until four months prior.

That's when Chet Lapinski's world came crashing down around him. A series of complaints had been made by elderly shut-ins who claimed they'd been billed for visits Mr. Lapinski had never made to their homes. Once substantiated, Chet's superior, Marion Burdock, had terminated him.

There followed a series of nasty encounters between Chet and Mrs. Burdock, culminating in her obtaining a P.P.O. against the former employee due to threats of bodily harm. Just the evening before, the woman had called 911 to say that someone was attempting to break into her home. Whoever it was had disappeared by the time the police arrived.

Sheriff Oleson looked up from the report without bothering to cover his disappointment.

"I see what you're getting at, Ron. Marion Burdock called in her complaint at 11:37 P.M. and lives half way between Granite Mountain and St. Cloud - a two hour round trip by car. If Lapinski was the burglar, that would make it very unlikely he was the man who killed Debra Padget at or around the estimated T.O.D. of 11:00 P.M. last night." 

Derek let out a long sigh of frustration and rubbed his palm over the top of his head in a rare display of perplexity.

He'd worked with Ron Jolly for ten years, and he trusted the man's instincts largely due to his creative and deductive abilities. Detective Jolly was a decent man, respectful to a fault and loyal. It was this latter quality that prompted Derek to make a spontaneous decision.

"Ron, I want you to sit on this report for now. There's a chance, though small, that Lapinski wasn't the person who attempted to break into Marion Burdock's home. He could still be our perp."

"Yes Sir, I agree. In fact, I contacted Chet's former place of employment on the off-chance that someone there might be willing to talk about his termination." Detective Jolly grinned like a man whose horse just came in first. "I was lucky to get a chatty secretary with, apparently, little regard for HIPPA regulations. When I mentioned I was one of the detectives investigating the murder of Debra Padget, she screamed, 'Oh my God, Oh my God' into the phone."

Partially seated atop Derek's desk and facing him, Ron Jolly continued, "Took a few minutes to get her to calm down, but when I got the gist of what she was referring to, I'll admit to a chill going down my own spine."

"Weird coincidence or important clue, I'm not sure. But the secretary told me the person responsible for the majority of complaints that got Chet Lapinski fired was Darcy Shaw, on behalf of her Aunt Debra."

~~~ to be continued with Part 2 ~~~