Read Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission for Free Online

good enough—what do you expect me to tell the director?” A sour note of irritation now showed in an otherwise unflappable demeanor.
    Tell him any damn thing you want. Just get the hell out of my office!
    “Tell him things are progressing smoothly and that I’ll get back to him as soon as possible. Now, you’ll have to excuse me.”
    Ford’s face turned bright red. He started to speak, but instead, turned on his heel and marched out the door.
    “I guess I don’t have to tell you where he’s going,” Burnham said.
    “I’ll probably catch hell later, but it won’t be the first time. Let’s get back to work.”
    Officially, Ford was Sloan’s media spokesperson, and unofficially, his self-appointed administrative assistant. People in the department perceived him to be a self-serving climber who lacked significant corrections experience and as someone who hadn’t paid his dues in the field. Leaks to the press or divulging too much information might enhance his prestige and visibility while damaging our investigation. We couldn’t afford that.
    ***
    Burnham and I agreed to pursue leads from the angle that someone in our offender population was responsible for Vogue’s murder. Several tasks required our immediate attention.
    “Terry, why don’t you start by searching our computer database for inmates, past or present, who have ever threatened members of the Board of Pardons. While you’re at it, let’s identify anybody who has threatened or assaulted any member of the prison staff.”
    “Okay. I’ll get right on it. How far back do you want me to go?”
    “Six years ought to do it. There’s no point in going back prior to the time Vogue was hired as a parole board member.”
    “Okay. Anything else?”
    “Yeah, one more thing. Contact Gallagher at the Board of Pardons and tell him that we’re going to need a list of every parole case handled by Vogue from the time he was hired until his death. They won’t let the files out of the office, so you’ll have to review them there.”
    “I can do that. I’ll also cross reference Vogue’s parole cases against whatever turns up from our own database.”
    “Good idea. If you get lucky, you might just find a match.”
    I explained to Terry what I had learned at the Starlite Motel. I told him that I would discreetly attempt to determine whether Levi’s murder was in any way connected to his trysts at the motel.
    “You want me to begin putting feelers out among our inmate snitches?” asked Terry.
    “Not yet. I’d like to hold off on that until I talk to the director. Keep me posted on anything you learn. The Old Man is going to be all over me on this one. I can just feel it.”
    ***
    On my way back to the Starlite Motel, I detoured past the Gold’s Gym in Midvale. I was greeted at the front desk by a perky-looking brunette with well-toned muscles and less body fat than Kate Moss. She identified herself as the gym manager. Her name was Brandy Alexander, leaving me to wonder exactly what it was that possessed parents to name children the way they do. When asked about Bill Allred’s membership at the gym, she quickly produced his membership records.
    “Mr. Allred joined the gym almost five years ago,” she said, staring intently into the computer screen. “He visits regularly, three to four times a week, usually in the evenings.”
    “How about guests?” I said. “Is he allowed to bring guests?”
    She paused while bringing up a different screen. “Yes, it looks like Mr. Allred brought another gentleman by the name of Levi Vogue with him, let’s see, on nine different occasions over six months. Mr. Vogue came in often enough that we eventually got him to join.”
    “And when was that?”
    “Three months ago. It’s funny, though, my computer tells me that Mr. Vogue never came back after joining—not once in three months.”
    Alexander printed me a copy of the membership records and I left the gym wondering why Allred had chosen to downplay his