Kate stared grimly at the computer printout from the Network Communication System. The arrest record of Roland James Quillin contained a single entry: Summerville, Fresno County, California, July 7, 1964, violation of California Penal Code §288, seventeen counts. Charges dismissed in Fresno, November 9, 1964. Penal Code §290—registration of a sex offender—would apply on conviction, Kate knew, and she murmured this information to Taylor who whistled softly, tunelessly as he examined the printout.
Kate shook her head, marveling at the ironic clue Dory Quillin had left to point to her killer. Section numbers from the California Penal Code—the provisions by which every criminal suspect was arrested, tried, convicted.
Taylor admitted, “I don’t know section numbers offhand like you do, Kate.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
Eight years a homicide detective, he would be less likely than most to know them. Patrol officers readily recognized a good many of the hundreds of listings in the Penal Code; the numbers were radioed to patrol cars to describe the nature of a crime in progress or one newly committed. But detectives tended to be most familiar with those in their particular area of assigned investigation.
“Two-eighty-eight,” she said, “lewd and lascivious acts against children. Two-ninety, automatic registration of a sex offender. I know those numbers well, Ed. From Juvenile. They were familiar to Marietta Hall for the same reason—she’s been involved in so many cases with children. Even the S Dory made was a clue—it was misshapen because she didn’t know how to write the section symbol. Everything was right there, I knew it was there—I just didn’t see it.”
“It would’ve come to you,” Taylor said confidently. “But there was a third number, Kate.”
“Section two-eighty-five,” she replied. “Incest. She applied that one to herself. Remember Neely Malone telling us Dory wanted to sue her father, and she was serious about it? We’ll have to piece together where Dory went when she drove up to Summerville, but she had to ask questions to find those section numbers. Somehow she learned enough to end up at the courthouse in Fresno looking at the public record of that trial.”
“Maybe Roland Quillin still has relatives up there, Kate.”
“Possible,” Kate agreed. “Koerner mentioned a Paula Jankowski—maybe Dory found her, too.”
“I bet she went to the library looking for newspaper accounts.”
“And to find out everything she could about these section numbers.”
“Kate, we got a lot to talk about now.”
“Let’s get some food. I’ve been wanting bacon and eggs ever since—all day long.”
* * *
They sat in a booth at the coffee shop in the mini-mall close to the station. Taylor added a Denver omelet onto Kate’s order and then said, “Quillin—he’s enough to make me puke. The guy comes down here, right away marries sad sack Flora who probably figures she’s lucky to get such a prize catch when she’s not a spring chicken anymore, and then she presents him with just exactly what he’s always dreamed of—a little girl he can do anything he wants to, whenever he feels like it.”
With effort Kate put images of Dory Quillin out of her mind, to concentrate on assessing the information at hand. “Motive is the clearest thing we’ve got, Ed. Dory came back from her trip all primed, with all the goods on him.”
“Yeah. And you can bet your badge nobody down here knows he got busted up north, much less what for.”
Kate said soberly, “Including his wife.”
“Especially her. And so Dory comes back from Summerville and he finds out he’s in shit right up to his eyeballs. Dory all of a sudden has enough dynamite piled around him to blow the lid off his marriage, his livelihood, his whole fucking life not to mention his diseased dogshit pecker.”
Remembering Quillin’s anxiety to keep secret any details about his disgraceful daughter, Kate added her own angry sarcasm, “And besides, what would all the neighbors think?”
Then she had a new thought, and felt suddenly bleak. In the high excitement of adding this vital new piece to the puzzle, she had not stopped to look at the whole. She sipped her coffee, gathering her thoughts in a search for a new perspective.
“Motive is really all we’ve got, Ed. No witnesses, no prints, no physical evidence other than Dory’s list of numbers. Plus a wife who won’t see what’s going on around her and doesn’t have to testify against her husband no matter what.”
Their food arrived; Kate looked at hers without appetite. Taylor dug into his omelet. “Yeah,” he said, “even so we still got damn good probable cause for an arrest.”
“Let’s look at this realistically, okay? That arrest record of Quillin’s is the only solid evidence we’ve got. Is it admissible? No. A jury would never even be allowed to know about the single arrest of a man who was never convicted. And what else have we got besides that? If we arrest Quillin I think we’re looking at a case that’ll end up a sure D.A. reject.”
Taylor’s deflation was visible. He lowered a forkful of egg, stared down at it. Then he gestured with the loaded fork as he spoke. “Hey, we still got one good chance, Kate. Maybe he’ll cop to it.”
Not likely, she thought. No confession had been forthcoming when he was arrested up north.
“Let’s pick up the son of a bitch,” Taylor said. “Twist his pecker up behind his ass. See what he does.”
Reflecting on Taylor’s words, feeling her hope and her appetite return, she picked up a half of her English muffin and nibbled at it; it was crisp and warm and buttery. She attacked her bacon and eggs.
A few minutes later, re-energized by the food, she said, “I think we ought to talk to both the Quillins. Together.”
“You do?” Taylor looked up from demolishing his hashbrown potatoes. “Why her?”
“If she doesn’t know what Dory found out up north, it might sink in more effectively if she hears it when we spring it on him. What’ll she do when she finds out he not only molested Dory but killed her too?”
“You mean you want her there when we lay it on Quillin?” Taylor was incredulous. “Jesus, I don’t know about that, Kate. We could have all kinds of problems with that.”
“What’ve we got to lose? If she comes over to us, we could be looking at a case with whole new possibilities.”
“Having her there when we put it to him.” Taylor said the words as if chewing over them. “You know, it could be real interesting, Kate.”
“It would put an enormous amount of pressure on both of them.”
“Yeah, but it’s so off the wall—even if they are husband and wife. You sure we wouldn’t be violating somebody’s constitutional rights?”
Kate grinned. “Why would we? Aren’t a husband and wife one legal entity? A properly timed Miranda warning should take care of constitutional rights quite nicely.”
Taylor finished the last of his food and pushed his plate away. “I have to tell you one thing, Kate. Nineteen years a cop, I never investigated or arrested anybody for messing around with little kids. I mean, I want to kill this creep.”
“I have my own strong feelings about him.” Kate looked at her watch. “Let’s get back. It’s only three thirty, we’ll contact law enforcement in Summerville and get a clear picture of what’s in Quillin’s case file. Then we’ll plan our very careful approach to Mr. and Mrs. Quillin.”