GREAT THINGS ENTERPRISE
CLAUDE BLACK
CHAPTER 3
Petersons
Dr. James Upchurch
As everyone left the third-floor classroom after the first meeting of the seminar, I suggested, “Why don’t we meet at Petersons this afternoon and work out the teams?” Petersons is a local student gathering place two blocks west of the university at Fifth and Monroe, which is within easy walking distance.
“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 on recent advances in pediatric medicine, too, and I have a lot of work to do for that class,” Mary said.
“I have a Civil War class,” Tobius said.
“Okay, how about dinner at five?” I asked, taking on a leadership role. Everyone had similar obligations and appointments. “Well, then how about Thursday at seven?”
“I have a date,” Chie said, “but I can reschedule it.”
“My son has a basketball game Thursday, but I’m sure it will be over by then,” Mark said.
The time seemed acceptable to everyone. “Okay, Thursday at 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 down.
“Why don’t you include your phone numbers and Facebook pages,” Mary said, “so we can call or text if we need to?” Everyone agreed.
“I’ll put all this information in an email and send it to you this afternoon.”
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 I; 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.” She was a surprise. Chie was tall, about five feet nine or ten, with long, curly blonde hair, a square shaped face, and 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 and it was good. But Alex was really interesting; I felt an attraction to her.
* * *
Thursday evening when I arrived at Petersons, Alex and Tobius were already in room 2. A server placed three large bowls of chips on the table, along with several bowls of salsa, and everyone chatted and snacked as others arrived. By seven o’clock everyone was present. A server took our drink orders. 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, out of breath.
“Just white wine,” Mary said. 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 wide smile, bulging muscles, and large hands. He began working for Mr. Arnold Peterson while earning a bachelor’s degree in Business Management. Following college, he joined the Army, transferred to the Military Police, and completed the Military Investigations Course 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 later. He and I had our military backgrounds in common.
“Oslo, why don’t you join us?” I said. “Is that okay with everyone?” They agreed, and Oslo took a seat across from Mark.
“According to Professor Norman’s syllabus, there are three facets to this project relating to forensics: evidence, process, and conclusion,” I said
Almost before I finished, Chie said, “I’d like to do the conclusion.”
“So would I,” Alex said.
“Okay. Is everyone alright 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 process with Mark. Are you okay with that?”
With a surprised expression, she slowly said, “Well, I guess.”
“That’s not the most energetic acceptance I’ve ever gotten,” Mark said, smiling.
In a tone of voice showing irritation, she said, “Well, let’s hope it gets better.”
Everyone had studied the file that Lieutenant Roebuck provided and made a list of forensic issues to discuss. I opened my laptop and played the DVD copy of the surveillance tape the lieutenant provided. I played the important segment of the recording a second time.
“As I looked at the file, I became interested in the tech report about the drill shavings from the safe-deposit boxes and the size of the drill bit used,” I said.
“I’m wondering about the other car,” Tobius said.
“Other car?” Everyone asked.
“Yeah. Remember, Lieutenant Roebuck said a Ryder truck was parked between two identical cars,” he said, looking at his notes, “2016 Lincoln Town Cars. We know about Benjamin Attell’s car. And the other car belonged to Mrs. Beth Bayce. Isn’t it a bit odd that two identical cars would be parked so close? Not impossible, but strange.”
“That’s a good point, Tobius,” Mark said. “I have several questions about the process. As we listened to Lieutenant Roebuck and read the file, it seemed like there were three entities here: patrol officers, investigators, and techs, but they didn’t seem to be talking to each other.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” Chie said, “and it seems like they’ve already reached the conclusion that this was a standard robbery. But, as you said, there seemed to be too many loose ends to reach a conclusion so early.”
The more Chie talked, the more impressed everyone became with her. Not only was she pretty, but 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 out of the boxes. The police recovered the money and the other items—cash, coins, jewelry, and a marriage license—but there’s nothing in the file about the other papers. It seems strange 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 didn’t they leave both briefcases if they were worried about escaping?”
“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 that. The robbers didn’t try to hide their faces or evade the security cameras. They must’ve 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’s a ring print, but no ring. Only one robber was wearing a watch, and in the only clear picture, it looked like a cheap, off-the-shelf thing. And did you notice that when they turned their backs to the camera, the stripes on one of the robbers’ jackets 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 an expensive shirt. When manufacturers are concerned about saving on material and production, they don’t stack the material so that the stripes will match in all the cuts. The robbers’ suits probably came off the rack at a box store. That would make it very hard to track.”
Again, I thought, wow, that is one sharp woman. I looked at Chie’s slacks, blouse, and light jacket. Sure enough, all the lines matched; even the weave on the pants matched.
Mark took notes in shorthand, a skill he told us he developed as an undergraduate at Southern Illinois University. He said he would type all these points into Codex and mark them as group discussion.
The conversation continued until Tobius said, “I have to run. It’s nine o’clock, and we have practice. I don’t want to be late because my brothers are hard to get along with if one of us is late.”
“I’ve got to run, too. I’m taking a shift in the emergency room at the hospital. Perhaps before we leave, we should make 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. After a few starts, Mary and Mark decided to meet Friday for lunch at the Wainright Student Center on the east side of the campus. The student center was a gift to the university by the late cattle baron Stephen Wainright, who attended Seaway University where he met his wife. Mark said lunch would be best for him, if it were okay with Mary, because he had a PTA meeting with his daughter Friday evening. “Oh, you have a daughter?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, Rebecca Helen,” Mark said.
“How old are your children?” Mary asked. She had heard him talk about his son, who had played basketball earlier that evening.
“John Michel is eight and Rebecca is six.”
“Okay, noon tomorrow,” Mary said.
After some light talk and chitchat, we wrapped up our meeting. “All right, we have each other’s contact information. Oslo said that we could use this room as often as needed, so we will meet next Thursday at seven. Is everyone okay with that?” Everyone agreed.
I felt that this was going to be a challenging group. Everyone was a serious student with proven research skills. But this was our first meeting, and already there were important forensic questions about the case that seemed to lack answers.
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