The White Angel Murder

50

Jessica walked in to the Imperial County Sheriff’s Department with an ipad under her arm. She was greeted by a large uniformed officer with a handlebar mustache and tattoos on his forearms. This was the Salton City branch rather than the main branch and it was a small building joined to the fire station. It reminded her of the small town caricatures of police departments she would see on old television shows like The Andy Griffith Show and Perry Mason. In the back of the space there was even a drunk tank with an old man sleeping on a bunk.

“What do you need?” the uniform said.

“I’m Jessica Turner with SDPD, I called earlier about interviewing a Mr. Hood.”

“Sign in here and leave your gun with me.”

She signed the sheet and handed her.38 special over the desk. The uniform took it and stuffed it into a small box behind him and gave her a laminated badge that said “Guest.” He led her to the back and they opened a door that led down a corridor and to another metal door that he unlocked. In a small room with a desk and three chairs sat an older black man wearing an orange beanie though it was over ninety degrees outside.

She saw bruising around his eye and a scuff mark on his cheek.

“Hi Darrell, my name’s Jessica. I’ve driven up from San Diego to see you.” He didn’t respond and she sat down across from him. “I’m just here to show you some pictures, Darrell. Would that be okay?”

He shrugged. She took out her ipad and placed it on the table facing him and flipped it on. A screen shot of eight photographs came up.

“I want you to tell me if you see the man that you told Jon Stanton about. The man that told you he had a message for Jon. If at any time you get tired or want to stop for a little bit, you tell me okay?”

He nodded.

She began flipping from page to page, eight at a time. They sat for over an hour and flipped through seven hundred photos, but he didn’t recognize anyone. She told him she would be right back and she stepped outside and called the SDPD dispatch.

“Dispatch.”

“This is Jessica Turner, CCU, number 28546. I need a sketch artist down at the Imperial County Sheriff’s Office, Salton City Department as quickly as possible.”

“We’re gonna need authorization from a captain and a request form filled out and faxed over to us.”

She hung up without saying a word and called Tommy. He said he would have a sketch artist down to her in half an hour.

Jessica went back into the room and asked if Darrell needed anything. He said he would like a Sunkist orange drink and she went to the vending machine and got him one. When she came back in she sat down and scanned the room for cameras or audio recorders; there were none.

“Darrell, I know that somebody hit you, and I would like you to tell me who it was.”

“Don’t matter.”

“It matters to me. Would you please tell me?”

“Cops round here, they ain’t too friendly. Don’t want no homeless in their town. Whole town’s goin’ to hell cause’a them tweekers and they tryin’ to run us out for sleepin’ in their parks.”

“Was it one of the cops here that hit you?”

“I don’t want no trouble.” He popped open the Sunkist and took a long drink. “I’ll take a sandwich if you got one though. Ain’t eaten since yesterday.”

She rose and went back out to the vending machines. There was a large rotating one with various items and she bought a ham and cheese sandwich, chips and a slice of chocolate cake and took them to him. As he ate, she checked her emails.

“So why you need to find this dude?” he said with a mouthful of food.

“He’s done some very bad things. He’s a bad person, Darrell, and you could be saving some lives by helping us find him.”

He nodded. “Lot’s a bad people in this place. Why’s he so special?”

“He’s a rare type of person. One that we need to catch right away.”

Darrell ate another ten minutes and then they sat in silence until the sketch artist arrived. He was tall and slim with wire-frame glasses and Converse sneakers. He looked annoyed and didn’t say hello.

“They have sketch artists here,” he said as he sat down and placed his pad on the table.

“I wanted the best I could get.”

He mumbled something and then began asking Darrell questions.

“What can you tell me about what he looked like?”

Darrell began describing the man and the artist made a rough outline before pulling out a thin album that was underneath his pad. He opened it up to stock photos and began pointing to them and asking if his nose looked more like this photo or this photo, if his eyes were this shape or this shape.

Within half an hour, and after only a handful of erasings, he was done. He handed the pad to Jessica.

“Shit,” she said.

“What?”

“I know who this is.”