Riverside's Perfect Murder

Meet The Professor

Joe tried to reach Rita several times but decided he would check out the plant by himself. He hoped Rita was OK. If she didn't want to be reachable, it was her business. As long as she was all right.

The plant was located twelve miles outside of town on Route 37. On his way, Joe passed many cars going in the opposite direction. He assumed they were coming from the plant as it was closing time. He turned towards the gates at five fifteen in the afternoon.

Joe pulled up to the gates, and an armed security guard came to the car carrying a clipboard. He did not look friendly. "Yes?" he said crisply.

"Office Joe Powell to see Professor Wright," Joe held up his badge.

The name on the security man's shirt read "Brown." He looked at Joe's badge and checked the clipboard before asking in a most unfriendly voice, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No. I am afraid I don't."

"Then I am afraid I can't let you in," Brown said mockingly.

Joe was starting to get angry, "OK. How's this sound? How about I call in about fifty officers, and we go in and arrest Professor Wright, you and anyone else we can find? You have about ten seconds to call him and find out if he can see me now," Joe accented the now.

Brown opened his mouth to say something, but the look on Joe's face changed his mind, and he only said, "Please wait."

Brown came back a few minutes later and said, "Professor Wright will see you now."

Joe was still seething but chose to say, "Thank you."

"I'll open the gates, go up the drive, and it's building number three," Brown pointed the way. "Go to the middle door."

Joe slowly passed the sizeable lighted sign that read, "Wilcox Chemical Manufacturing." As he drove, he noticed the large parking lots that were now devoid of cars and people. The buildings were huge. Each was four stories high and had to be two-hundred yards wide — all brick with no windows, only three doors facing the drive. Before today, Joe had no idea of the size of this facility.

Joe parked alongside building number three. He got out of the car and slowly looked around. Not seeing another soul in a place this large was unnerving. Joe slightly jumped when the middle door opened noisily, and a man with a hair cap, a blue lab coat and booties on his feet stuck his head out and asked, "Are you the officer who wanted to see me?"

Joe was walking up the seven steps to the iron platform in front of the door when he said, "Yes, I am Officer Powell. You must be Professor Alfred Wright," Joe extended his hand.

"Al, please," he said smiling. Al was fiftyish, slightly balding, stood all of five foot two, and sported thirty extra pounds. He had a natural easiness about him. "A boyish charm" Joe would tell Rita later.

"Ok Al, and you can call me Joe." Joe liked Al immediately. 

Al was holding the door open and bid Joe enter. They walked down a long hallway before arriving in a small lobby area with chairs, a round table, and a few couches. There was a chalkboard on wheels standing in the corner with some diagram on it. Joe thought it looked like a chemical compound.

"How can I help you, Joe?" Al asked.

"I understand you run things here?"

Laughing, Al said, "Well, that depends on who you ask. I am responsible for science research and production in these buildings. The board room would tell you otherwise. And Mr. Coe, the CEO, would be happy to tell you he is always in control of everything."

Joe could understand having all the responsibilities and none of the authority, "Are you familiar with Dimethyl mercury?" he asked.

"Yes. It is an organomercury compound. Extremely dangerous. One of the original chemists died of exposure through her gloves. Very nasty stuff." Al was shaking his head.

"Through her gloves? I don't understand. How is it handled?"

"It's not much anymore. We produce it because it has some good qualities, but after the chemist died, the science community developed safer chemicals. The compound can leach through regular latex gloves. We have special equipment when we are using it."

"Is it still being made?" Joe asked.

"Yes. We manufacture here but only in limited quantities. As I said, there are safer chemicals. Dimethyl mercury still has some uses in research."

"How easy would it be for someone to get ahold of some?" Joe asked, taking notes.

"Very difficult, I would think. It is all locked up but they're a few of us with keys. Why do you ask?"

"We have reason to believe a homicide was committed using the stuff," Joe answered.

"Oh, how ugly? Are you sure?"

"Yes. Could I get the names of who would have a key?" Joe asked.

"Of course. Would tomorrow morning when the offices open be early enough?"

"That would be fine. One more thing and I will get out of your hair; I noticed that everyone is gone, and you are still here. Doesn't your family mind you are working late?"

"I have no family Joe," Al said sadly. "My wife died several years ago and I," he took a deep breath, "I recently lost my only child. My precious daughter was taken from me."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Joe said and meant it. "I'm going to go now, is it alright if I contact you if I have any more questions?"

"Yes, of course. Call or stop in anytime. I am usually here."

"Ok. Thanks." Joe shook Al's hand and left.

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The next morning Joe and Rita were talking in her office when Frank burst in all excited.

"Hi Rita, want to hear something?" Seeing Joe, he said, "Oh. Hi Joe."

Joe nodded and smiled.

"What?" Rita didn't like to be interrupted.

"I went out last night with some buddies, and after a few drinks, we were talking about different cases and such, you know like we all do. My buddy Alan says he hears some poor shmuck gets blown away in the bank. So he wants to know what's what right." Joe takes the four files in Franks' hand and starts to flip through them.

"Anyway, he hears that the vic's name is Dave Wilkes and asked if it's the same Dave Wilkes that they like for beating a girlfriend and possible rape and homicide. I don't know anything about this so this morning I came in early to dig around. What I find is our Dave linked to four dead girls, all beaten, by Dave reportedly."