Code 61 - Donald Harstad [41]
“Dittmans',” said a pleasant, woman's voice. His wife, Karen.
“Hi, Karen, it's Houseman.” I called there often enough that she knew just who it was as soon as I spoke.
“Oh, hello, Carl. Just a sec.” I could hear a muffled “Mike! Mike, it's for you,” as she covered the phone.
After a second or two, Mike answered. “Hello?” I could hear the click as she hung up the other phone.
“Mike, it's Houseman.”
“Oh, shit,” he said, only half kidding. “What's up?”
“We had a suicide call this morning. Lamar's niece, Edie Younger, remember her?”
“Oh, sure. Oh, that's too bad. She was getting her act together pretty well, wasn't she?”
“I think so. There's a complication, and we're probably going to need some legal advice.”
Silence.
“Dr. Peters is here. His preliminary finding is that it looks like murder.”
“Oh, crap. Oh, boy. Uh, Carl, it's my sister-in-law's birthday today, and we're just heading to Dubuque…. ”
“Okay,” I said. “Just wanted you to know, and let you know we're going to need to search the whole house. I think we have enough to justify a warranted search.”
“Which 'whole house' are you talking about, Carl?”
I told him about the location, and the other residents. I also told him that the owner wasn't there.
“Look, why don't you just go with a consent search, for now, if you can. I mean, I trust your work, but I'd be happier if you could go that route for now.”
I was positive I could get a search warrant application done well enough to stand any challenge, but I also knew that he was going to have to defend it if anything went wrong.
“Okay, Mike. But I just hate to do the consent searches, you know. I mean, if they deny permission, then we have to sit on everything and do a rush application. And in this one, any of the five can say 'no' to a request.”
“No,” he said, “go for a consent search. Any of them can consent to the common areas of the home. Individuals can only deny access to their own rooms.”
I knew him well enough to stop arguing. But I was disgusted. There are a multitude of ways to get the results of a consent search tossed out of court, and the resulting evidence right along with them. In a really serious case, there is absolutely no substitute for a warranted search issued from the district court. Besides, consent was the lazy way. The way you'd proceed if you wanted to go to your sister-in-law's party in Dubuque.
Hester could sense something amiss as I sat down.
“What?”
“Mike wants us to go with a halfassed consent search,” I said.
“That's no good, unless we're really lucky.”
“Tell me.” I shrugged. “I'm thinking in terms of a search warrant application, anyway.”
“Will the county attorney be up?”
“No, he's going to a party in Dubuque.” We both smiled at the same time. This was going to be a really fast case of “Do you mind if we search this property that is under your control?” I figured we could have an application in two or three hours, max, and be back in the house within four. If …
“Dr. Peters?”
“Yes?” He knew what was coming.
“We might need some preliminary notes, before you leave … ”
Just then, this strange dude walked up to our table. He was dressed plainly, in olive slacks and a flannel shirt. I didn't know him from Adam, and it didn't appear that either Hester or Dr. Peters did, either.
“Excuse me,” he said politely. “Would any of you be Deputy Houseman?”
“I would. And you are …?”
“William Chester. I spoke with your sheriff earlier today, very briefly. May I have a minute of your time?” He handed me a business card, which proclaimed him to be William Francis Chester, MA, of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Along with his post office box, phone number, and e-mail address was the title Anthropologist & Bioarchaeologist.
Well, at least he wasn't either press or an attorney. I fished out one of my cards, and handed it back. “Yeah. The office said you'd be up this way.” And I had totally forgotten he was coming.
As I spoke, he pulled up a chair and sat. “I'll just take a moment