GREAT THINGS ENTERPRISE
CLAUDE BLACK
Petersons
Chapter 3
Dr. James Upchurch
As everyone filed out of the third-floor classroom after the first meeting of the seminar, I suggested, taking on a leadership role, “Why don’t we meet at Petersons this afternoon and work out the teams?” Petersons was a local student gathering place two blocks west of the university, at Fifth and Monroe, within easy walking distance from the university.
“Can’t,” Mark said. “I’m lecturing at the law school, and I have to do a lot of course preparation today.”
“Are you a professor?” Alex asked.
“No. There was an opening for an adjunct to teach a first-year constitutional law course. I applied and was accepted.”
“I’m taking a seminar in recent advances in pediatric medicine, too, and I have a lot of work for that class,” Mary said.
“I have a Civil War class,” Tobius said.
“Okay, how about dinner at five?” I said. Everyone had similar obligations and appointments. “Well, how about Thursday at seven?”
“I have a date,” Chie said, “but I could reschedule.”
Mark said his son had a basketball game that afternoon, but he was sure it would be over by then. The time seemed acceptable for everyone.
“Okay—Thursday, seven at Petersons,” I said.
“Won’t it be awfully noisy at that time?” Mary asked. “I’ve been in there in the evening, and it was hard to hear anyone, let alone have a conversation.”
“Yeah, it does get noisy,” I said, “but I know Oslo, the manager, so I’ll see if we can use one of his meeting rooms. If you’ll all give me your email addresses, I’ll make a distribution list so we can keep in touch.” They wrote them out.
“Why don’t you include your phone numbers and Facebook pages,” Mary said, “so we can phone or text if we need to?” Everyone did.
“I’ll put all this information in an email and send it to you this afternoon,” I told everyone.
On the way to my apartment, I stopped by Petersons and told Oslo about our meeting. There was one room left with a table and ten chairs, so I scheduled it. “Would you like food and drinks?” Oslo asked.
“Probably, but I’d better let everyone order when they get here.”
“Okay, see you Thursday at seven,” Oslo said.
To familiarize myself with the group, I googled each one and looked at their Facebook pages. There were two physicians, Mary and me; a lawyer, Mark Hanes, who seemed to rub Mary the wrong way; a musician, Tobius LaBraun Shefield; a teacher, Alexandra “Alex” Howell Chandler; and a Ph.D. student in criminology, Allie Alexander, whom Dr. Norman called “Chie,” who was a surprise. She was tall, about five feet nine or ten, with long, curly, blonde hair, a square-shaped face, and deep, deep blue eyes. She looked like she could be more at home in an Atlantic City beauty contest than a criminology classroom. I watched a YouTube video of one of Tobius Shefield’s concerts; it was good. But most surprising of all was Alex; I felt some unusual attraction toward her.
On Thursday evening, a server placed three large bowls of chips on the table and several bowls of salsa, so everyone chatted and snacked as they arrived. Tobius and I had Coors, Chie and Alex had Diet Sprites, and Mark had a Pepsi. “Would you like to order anything?” I asked Mary, who arrived last and out of breath.
“Just white wine,” Mary said, and I left to place the order. A few minutes later, Oslo McCarthy carried in a glass of Chardonnay. Oslo was a tall, broad-shouldered African American with a broad smile, bulging muscles, and large hands. He had begun working for Mr. Arnold Peterson while earning a B.A. in Business Management. After college, he joined the Army, transferred to the Military Police, and attended the United States Army Military Police School (USAMPS) at Fort Leonard Wood. He served two years in Germany and two years in Afghanistan. Following his honorable discharge, he returned to manage Petersons and bought the business when Arnold Peterson retired four years ago. He and I shared our military backgrounds.
“Oslo, why don’t you join us?” I said. “Is that okay with everyone?” They agreed, and Oslo took a seat across from Mark.
I said, “There are three facets to forensics for this project: evidence, process, and conclusion.”
Almost before I finished, Chie said, “I’d like to handle the conclusion.”
“So would I,” Alex said.
“Okay—everyone all right with that?” I asked.
“I’d like to take on process,” Mark said.
“I’d like evidence,” Tobius said.
“I’d like to join you,” I said to Tobius. “Okay, Mary, I guess that leaves you on the process with Mark. Are you okay with that?”
Surprised, she said slowly, “Well, I guess.”
“That’s not the most energetic acceptance I’ve ever gotten,” Mark said, smiling.
In an irritated tone, she said, “Well, let’s hope it gets better.”
Everyone studied the file Lieutenant Roebuck had provided and made a list of forensic issues to discuss. I opened my laptop and played the DVD copy of the surveillance tape he had provided.
“Will you play that again?” Chie asked. I replayed the relevant segment of the recording.
Mark said, “As I looked at the file, I became interested in the tech report on the safe deposit box drill shavings and the size of the bit used.”
“I’m wondering about the other car,” Tobius said.
“Other car?” everyone asked in unison.
“Yeah. Remember, Lieutenant Roebuck said someone parked a Ryder truck between two identical cars,” he said, looking at his notes, “two identical 2016 Lincoln Town Cars. We know about Benjamin Attell’s car, and the other one belonged to Mrs. Beth Bayce. Isn’t it a bit odd for two identical cars to be parked so close? Not impossible, but strange.”
Mark picked up the conversation. “That’s a good point, Tobius. I have several questions about the process. As we listened to Lieutenant Roebuck and read the file, there seemed to be three groups here—patrolmen, investigators, and techs—but they didn’t seem to be talking to each other.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” Chie said, “It seems they’ve already concluded that this was a standard robbery. But as you said, there seem to be too many loose ends to that conclusion so early.”
The more Chie talked, the more impressed everyone became with her. Not only was she attractive, she also had a sharp mind—so much for “dumb blonde” jokes.
Oslo, who had read my file, asked, “What about the papers?”
“Papers?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, the police report said the robbers took a lot of papers from the boxes. The police recovered the money and the other stuff from the boxes: cash, coins, jewelry, and a marriage license, but there’s nothing in the file about the other papers. It seems strange to me that the thieves would leave one briefcase, especially one filled with money, and not the other. Why not take both? After all, they made a clean getaway. Or why not leave both briefcases, if they were worried about escape.”
“I was wondering about that, too,” Alex said. “And what about the makeup? Lieutenant Roebuck described how good it was, and the security camera confirms it. The robbers didn’t try to hide their faces or evade the security cameras. They must have been pretty sure no one could recognize them.”
“I did notice,” Chie continued, “that neither robber wore any jewelry or rings. But on the left hand of one robber in a clear picture, there was a ring indent, but no ring. Only one robber wore a watch, and in the only clear picture, it looked like a cheap, over-the-counter model. And did you notice that when they turned their backs to the camera, the stripes on one robber’s jacket didn’t match?”
There was a general “Huh?”
“Well, look at Oslo’s shirt,” Chie continued. “See how the stripes on the pocket, sleeves, and collar match? That’s a high-end shirt. When manufacturers try to save on materials and production, they don’t stack the material so that the stripes match across all the cuts. The robber’s suit probably came off the rack at a big-box store. That would make it very hard to track.”
Again, I thought, wow, she’s sharp. I looked at Chie’s slacks, blouse, and light jacket. Sure enough, all the lines in the material aligned; even the weave on the pants matched.
Mark took notes in shorthand, a skill he said he’d developed as an undergraduate at Southern Illinois University. He said he would type all these points into Codex and mark them as a group discussion.
The conversation continued until Tobius said, “I’ve got to run. It’s nine o’clock, and we have practice. I don’t want to be late—my brothers are hard to get along with if one of us is.”
“I’ve got to run, too—I’m taking a shift in the emergency room. Perhaps, before we leave, we should set a time to meet again this week and lay out our plans before next Tuesday.”
Tobius and I agreed to meet at Tobius’ apartment. Chie and Alex would meet at Alex’s apartment. Mary and Mark eventually decided to meet for lunch on Friday at the Wainright Student Center on the east side of the campus. The student center was a gift to the university from the late cattle baron Stephen Wainright, who attended Seaway University and met his wife there. Mark said lunch would be best for him, since he had a PTA meeting with his daughter on Friday evening—if that would work for Mary. “Oh, you have a daughter?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, Rebecca Helen,” Mark answered.
“How old are your children?” Mary asked. She had heard him talk about his son, who had played basketball earlier in the evening.
“John Michael is eight, and Rebecca is six,” Mark answered.
“Okay, noon tomorrow,” Mary said.
After some small talk and chitchat, I concluded our meeting. “All right, we have each other’s contact information. Oslo said we could use this room as often as needed.”
This was going to be a challenging group; everyone was a serious student with proven research skills and a clear sense of purpose. But there seemed to be a strange chemistry between Mary and Mark, and the more I heard Alex talk, the more interesting I found her.
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