The Poll Bearer Part 18 see more novels at www.writemeamystery.com

CHAPTER 14

            When Ron finally arrived at 9:30 PM, Dan immediately cornered him.

            “Can you run a fingerprint through a national criminal database for me,” Dan asked.

            “Sure, no problem,” Ron replied. “If we had the equipment, which we don’t, I’d need a hand scanner to get the print, then I could hack into the FBI database and run it.”

            “What do you need?” Dan asked. “Better yet, where can you get it fast.”

            “This isn’t something you can buy at the dollar stores,” Ron replied smugly. “You’d need to order it and that would -.”

            “Who has one now?” Dan interrupted. “I mean other than the cops, who would have such a device now?”

            “The government, a top notch security company, major insurance companies,” Ron answered.

            “Anybody easier that we could contact?” Dan asked.

            “Some hospital emergency wards have them,” Ron answered. “Wait a minute. My laptop has a fingerprint recognition to lock out unwanted users. Let’s see if I can monkey around with it to accept a print. Then it would be easy to use it to hack the data base. I assume you already have a print for me to try.”

            “Richie told me that a professor at the college would be able to pull a print off this juice bottle,” Dan said. “That’s the print I want to run.”

            “That’s be Professor Cornicotis. Why not see if he can run it as well?” Ron asked.

            “This has to be kept in house,” Dan said trying to get across that he didn’t want anybody to know. “Will he lift the print and then you take it?”

            “I know one of the students in his class,” Ron said. “For ten bucks, he’ll lift it and make me a copy and keep his mouth shut. But, I won’t get it until tomorrow, so you won’t have your answer until then, if I can get my laptop to receive it and then send it out.”

            “Get me the results as soon as possible,” Dan said showing urgency in his voice. He emptied the contents of his small waste basket and carefully, using the piece of paper, put the juice bottle inside. “The prints are on the bottle. Carry it in this basket so you don’t have to touch it.”

            As Ron took the basket and left the room, the phone rang.

            “Yah…Security…you say he’s leaving his house at this time…keep me informed where he goes…I’ll be here no matter what time it is…make sure you call if he stops anyplace for any length of time.”

            Hanging up the phone, Dan was worried. Slate was going out at this late hour, something that disrupted his normal routine. Now Dan wasn’t the only one monitoring him. The boys in the van were following him and the guy at the monitors downstairs was watching his every move. If Slate was the killer and he was about to strike again, there would be too many people who knew and this whole average American would blow up in Dan’s face. The police might even charge him for not reporting what he knew about the first crime. It was going to be a long troubling night.

            Two hours later, the phone rang again, and Dan immediately answered.

            “Hello…security…he’s parked on Oak Street…he’s been there for an hour…what’s he doing…nothing, just staring out…can you see at what…then can the van get any closer…no…is he saying anything, did he make any calls…just staring…did he drive directly to the spot…he just seemed to drive aimlessly then stopped…do you think he saw the van tailing him…you say he just started his car and is moving off…stay with him and let me know where he goes next.”

            Dan hung up the phone. Apparently Slate never left his car, then what was he doing so far from home on

Oak Street

this late at night? Mr. Average American was being anything but average right now.

            Twenty minutes went by before the phone rang again. Even though he was expecting the call, Dan jumped at the sound, his nerves were on edge.

            “Hello,” he said. “He’s back home…okay. Thanks for keeping me updated.”

            A suspicious trip in the night amounting to nothing, Dan was hoping it would stay that way.

            The next day was busy with more clients seeking Dan’s services. Borley had really been spreading the news now that his commercials had begun running with overwhelming response by the buying public. The demand for Santana hair spray after one showing had many stores re-ordering product immediately. Yet, despite signing up a number of new accounts, Dan’s thoughts were squarely focused on Ron and the fingerprint identification. Finally, in late afternoon, Ron showed up at the office.

            “I did it,” he said triumphantly. “Here’s the paperwork on the print.”

            He handed it to Dan who took it, sat down, and was about to read it when he saw Ron still standing in front of the desk.

            “Did you look at any of this?” he asked hoping to receive a negative answer.

            “Just the name and a little on this guy’s profile,” Ron answered. “Who is he and how did you get his prints?”

            “A friend of mine in another city sent me the bottle in the mail and asked me to do a favor,” Dan lied. “He thought he’d recognized this guy from a want ad in the post office and asked me to check. He didn’t want to go off half cocked and report an innocent man. I’ll call him and let him know he’s got the right guy. Thanks a lot. Remember, don’t tell anybody about this. The cops in the other town might want to stake this guy out first. You know what I mean.”

            “I forgot about it already,” Ron said as he left the room.

            The booking photograph Ron had provided was of a man with a heavy beard and long hair; it was easy to see why Ron hadn’t recognized him as Andrew Slate. As Dan read further, pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. The suspect’s name was Alan Gordon, and he came from Omaha. His father, Frank, was a mortician; and Alan was listed as an employee. Frank must have been Wyatt Slate’s friend; and Alan probably assisted in handling the cremation, that’s how he knew about Andrew Slate’s death. He had an extensive criminal record dating from his early teens when he was involved with stealing a car. Charges were dropped after the father reimbursed the victim. Later, Alan went on to selling drugs, breaking and entering, assault, intimidation of a witness, and suspicion of arson. He was out on bail at the time of Andrew Slate’s death. Apparently, Frank was also a person of interest in the disappearance of two sisters when he vanished. A warrant was issued for his arrest, but he couldn’t be found. A week later, the burned body of a man was discovered in a field outside of Zanesville, Ohio. Alan Gordon’s driver’s license was lying a few feet from the body, amazingly untouched by the flames. DNA had come back inconclusive, so authorities were unsure if the dead man was Alan or if he had killed the man. After that, it was as if Alan Gordon had dropped off the face of the planet with no further reports or sightings.