The Greatest Game episode: Another Cup of Coffee missiondevelopment/2013/07/another-cup-of-coffee/ Coil obtains information from disparate sources. She pulls together facts, statements and conjecture. Dozing off, the only remedy is another cup of coffee. Continued from A Great Help… The facts started coming together when they got back to the parking lot. Traces of gunpowder were found in the trunk of the Barracuda. DMV records showed the car had once been registered to a Thomas Randell. LAPD rousted Randell, who said he sold it to his cousin, James, six months before. Thomas Randell was surprised James Randell hadn’t bothered to put the car in his own name. He was upset it might have been used in the commission of a crime. LAPD reported Thomas Randell appeared to be on the level, a supermarket manager in Whittier. They were still investigating, but they suspected he had nothing to do with the bank robbery or James Randell, other than selling him the car. There are 37 million residents of California, 23 million of whom are licensed drivers. In the state, there are 27 million cars, light trucks and SUVs. Finding a certain owner and/or driver of a specific car isn’t necessarily easy, even with computers running 24/7. Coil considered herself lucky to pull this much data together this quickly. “OK, Randell ditches the Barracuda. It’s got a little gunpowder in the trunk. We think the Barracuda might be tied to a guy who gave Faith McMichael a ride. He might have been her boyfriend or something. Jeez Don, it ain’t much, but it feels like a lot.” “It does. Hey look, it’s after ten on Friday. I’m gonna call it a night. How ‘bout we meet up at seven tomorrow morning?” “No problem. I’ll probably spend another hour at the station.” But she hadn’t even finished by midnight. Another report had been waiting for her when she got to her office. Interviews with several of Faith McMichael’s friends had been documented. One in particular was interesting. The girl’s name was Samantha Gavallan. She said she was Faith’s BFFL, best friend for life. Coil smiled. “So dramatic, these kids.” She paused, then admitted, “As if I’d been different when I was that age.” Samantha said Faith called herself “Fate” and had a tattoo her mother didn’t know about. For the last four or five months, Fate had been hanging out with an “older guy.” She didn’t know how old, but he was tall and slender, and wore glasses. “Bingo! Might need to talk to Yolanda Morales again. Too late now,” she thought, glancing at her phone. Assembling the preliminary report from SID, her report on the interview with Tammy McMichael, her notes from the forest scene, from the parking lot scene, from the Yolanda Morales interview, along with the printout from Office Depot and the reports of interviews with Faith McMichael’s friends, she read through everything again and started doodling on a yellow pad. She wrote facts, statements and conjecture. Drawing boxes around several of the notes, she connected lines between the boxes, until the paper was a hopeless mess. Then she started over, with fewer words and boxes. At the bottom, she wrote: Who is the 2nd man? The short woman? The 2nd car—was it the abandoned Chevy? The Chevy might be a match with the bank robbery witness statements. The only thing people agreed on was that it was older. Her phone rang: Larry. “Hey baby, sorry I didn’t get back to you.” “Char? You comin’ over tonight?” Larry was a third of the way in the bag. One sheet. “No, hon. No can do. I’m on this bank robbery-murder and the facts are maybe coming together.” “Shit. It’s Friday night, Char. Isn’t the bank robbery Federal?” Sighing, she said, “I know it’s Friday, Lar. I really want to be with you, but I gotta keep going. And yeah, it’s Federal, but it happened on my turf. And then the murder. Tomorrow night, I promise.” “You’re just no fun.” He hiccupped. “OK Detective, you’ll get yours next time I see you.” “Lookin’ forward to it.” “Sayonara baby.” “Thanks for understanding.” She clicked off. At five a.m., she woke up, head buried in her arms with a post-it note pad glued to her cheek. “Huh. Musta dozed off. Damn. Feel like shit.” She got up and poured another cup of coffee. Continued…
Posted on: Sun, 28 Jul 2013 10:54:09 +0000
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