Laraine Day F.B.I

By Raymond Paul Boyd

FBI Special Agent Laraine Day had been assigned to unravel the torture and murder of federal Judge Lucy May Blow—hated by all defense attorneys who had the misfortune to represent their clients before her. Each had expected that Judge Blow would abide by the letter of the law and would dispense leniency when applicable. The guilty and the innocent found that either wasn’t to be. Thus, amassing a list of suspects.

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Endowed with a genius IQ, she achieved her ambition of being accepted into the renowned agency of the FBI. Their motto was fidelity, bravery, and integrity. Laraine Day was totally in accord with it. This is her remarkable story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984546791

Raymond Paul Boyd

At the naive age of four, I was impress by all that I saw in the movies. Fascinated by the musicals, westerns, and gangster film. The films were govern by a code of ethics that righteousness would always prevail over wrong doing. My life experience to my chagrin proved to be a fallacy “But several Epiphanys has restore my faith.”

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Copyright © 2018 by Raymond Paul Boyd.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2018909748

ISBN:                  Hardcover                          978-1-9845-4681-4

                            Softcover                            978-1-9845-4680-7

                            eBook                                 978-1-9845-4679-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 02/06/2019

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1    Retribution

Chapter 2    Laraine Day

Chapter 3    The Assignment

Chapter 4    The Road Not Taken

Chapter 5    The Wish List

Chapter 6    Wedded Bliss?

Chapter 7    Electronic Ear

Epilogue

FBI special agent Laraine Day had been assigned to unravel the torture and murder of federal judge Lucy May Blow, hated by all defense attorneys who had the misfortune of representing their clients before her. Each had expected that Judge Blow would abide by the letter of the law and dispense leniency when applicable. The guilty and the innocent found that either wasn’t to be, thus amassing a list of suspects.

Endowed with a genius IQ, she achieved her ambition of being accepted into the renowned agency of the FBI. Their motto was fidelity, bravery, and integrity. Laraine Day was totally in accord with it. This is her remarkable story.

Dedicated, as always, to the memory of my wife, Gloria (9/10/34–8/18/2000)

To all that read for the sheer enjoyment of it, thereby complementing all authors

PROLOGUE

T his is the intriguing montage of events dictated by emotions that are often contrary to the law of the land, motivated by self-interest. There isn’t any crime that many would omit to achieve their goal. But for the dedication of those in law enforcement, society at large would be in chaos. Laraine Day and Flora Dee, members of the Federal Bureau of Investigation; Jack Wayne, assistant director; and Captain Charles Chuck Starrett of the Philadelphia Police Department—their lives entwined with the obvious conclusion that the perpetrators of crimes were continuous.

Following her successful training under an alias at Quantico, Virginia, Agent Laraine Day, along with Special Agent Flora Dee, had been sent to the birthplace of the Mafia, Italy, to solve a murder and infiltrate the stranglehold on the modeling industry and the models. The assignment was hazardous. Due to Day’s ingenuity, they both escaped death at the hands of their quarry.

Returning to the States, Special Agent Day was assigned to one of the FBI’s most baffling cases: The torture and murder of a federal judge in her home in the city of New York and the murder of a family member of three federal judges had convinced almost everyone connected with the case that a serial killer was the culprit, as the evidence indicated. Special Agent Laraine Day—notwithstanding the unequivocal fact, the evidences—disagreed, stating that there are two independent killers but that only one was guilty of the homicide of the judge.

Laraine, Flora, Jack, and Charles had agreed they would resign, following the apprehension of the person responsible for killing federal judge Lucy May Blow and two daughters and son of three federal judges, to pursue a life of happiness. Neither of them had foreseen that fate would drastically alter one of the couples’ determination to enjoy a life of solace together.

CHAPTER 1

Retribution

F orty-two-year-old Bruce Gordon, the assistant medical examiner for the Borough of Manhattan in the state of New York, arose with a sigh after a cursory examination of the mutilated body of forty-nine-year-old federal judge Lucy May Blow. I would say not more than five hours, he said in reply to the question asked by Detective Sergeant Dan Forman, a fifteen-year veteran of the homicide division. John Garrett, the police photographer, having taken eight pictures of the nude body, asked Sergeant Forman if he could turn the body over to its side so that he may photograph the back of the victim. It had been obvious that her arms had been restrained behind her. As she was turned over, they saw that it was a twelve-inch strip of plastic that had been used to bind her; also, she had been shot in the left buttock. She had worn only a pair of men’s jockey shorts, which had been split in half by the killer.

*     *     *

A blue 1990 Toyota Camry glided to a stop among the six police vehicles. Officer Tom Powell, a ten-year veteran, had just ushered twenty onlookers to the opposite side of the street from the rows of three-story brownstone homes, one of which was the crime scene. Two detectives were separating those that lived in the immediate area, questioning if they had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary during the hours between 8:00 and 10:00 a.m. Officer Powell then turned his attention to the driver that had exited the vehicle. I am sorry, lady, you must move your auto elsewhere. This area is reserved for official cars only, he said with a commanding tone.

I am aware of that, Officer. She then lifted the flap of her black leather shoulder bag, revealing her FBI identification. Although Officer Powell was unable to read the printed name and signature, he had seen the name and title: Special Agent Laraine Day. Who is in charge here? she asked.

Detective Sgt. Forman, Officer Powell replied.

Thank you, Officer. Agent Day then proceeded to walk to the opposite side of the street.

Agent, he’s inside, Officer Powell advised as she glided past him.

One of the detectives was engaged in a conversation with one of the spectators. And you are? the detective asked.

She stopped a few feet from him and the person he was speaking with. Agent Day, FBI. Please do not let my presence interrupt, she said with a slight smile. That was intended to convey to the detective that he was in charge.

Pleased that she wasn’t going to interfere, he then introduced sixty-four-year-old Charles Hyman, explaining that Mr. Hyman resided three doors from the victim. As was his custom at 8:00 a.m. every Saturday, he had walked around the corner to the delicatessen to purchase half a dozen bagels. Now that he had been asked if he had seen anything unusual, he did think it odd that a United Parcel Service truck had been double-parked in front of the judge’s home and that the driver had been leaving when he returned from the delicatessen; Mr. Hyman hadn’t returned home for about fifteen minutes.

Mr. Hyman was then asked by the detective if he could describe the driver. I would say he was about five foot eleven, slender built. I didn’t see his face, his cap was pulled down. But I did see his hand holding his cap down. The driver is white, that’s all I can tell you, sir.

Thank you, Mr. Hyman, you have been most helpful, said the detective, as he extended his hand in gratitude. Mr. Hyman didn’t believe he had been helpful at all; after all, he couldn’t identify the driver. What he had done, unknowingly, had been to establish the approximate time of the murder.

Minutes later, as Agent Day viewed the body, she learned that Dr. Gordon’s time of death coincided with the time Mr. Hyman had seen the UPS truck. After introductions, Inspector Laraine Day informed Detective Sergeant Forman that the investigation was under the jurisdiction of the FBI by virtue of the fact that the victim was a federal judge. Detective Forman said it was fine with him, as he had several other cases that needed his attention.

Addressing Dr. Gordon, Agent Day asked if she would be correct in assuming the death was caused by strangulation, based on her observation that the strip of leather tied around the victim’s neck was rawhide. When wet, it shrinks. Also, I believe a razor or scalpel was used to cut her from the crotch to the navel, but the cut was not deep enough to cause death or the shot in the buttocks. Gordon replied that she was correct.

Detective Sgt. Forman inquired, Why did the killer place the judge’s robe under her head and a book between her legs?

Day replied, "It’s not just any book, it’s Black’s Law Dictionary. It’s significant to the perpetrator, and he was sadistically conveying that to the judge. He used the robe to elevate her head in order that she could see her body’s blood being absorbed by the book. I would guess it was his way of telling her what she had done to the law, or his case."

That sounds logical to me, and I wish you luck, Agent Day, Detective Sgt. Forman said.

Officer Garrett announced that he had completed his task; therefore, he had no need to stay any longer. Aside from that was the fact that he found the stench emanating from the corpse nauseating. My sentiments also, said Detective Sgt. Forman. He addressed Agent Day, stating that he was also obliged to take his leave, and if there was anything his department could do, she was free to call on him. She thanked him and assured him that if the need arose, she would certainly do so.

On the chance that there are fingerprints on the book, I’ll have the lab examine it. Also, I haven’t spoken to the judge’s lover, twenty-eight-year-old Shonda Williams, as she was too distraught to be questioned. I have Officer Ann Rich with her in the bedroom. She did say it was she who called 911.

Agent Day went to the bedroom. She observed that the woman was sufficiently calm enough to be questioned, due to the efforts of Officer Ann Rich. I am Special Agent Laraine Day of the FBI. I’m sorry for your loss, and I can assure you the agency and I will do all we can to apprehend whoever is responsible, Agent Day said. She first thought to dismiss Officer Rich but realized she had been instrumental in preparing the petite fifth-grade history teacher for questioning.

I know you were not here when this terrible thing happened, Agent Day said with certainty, based on her observation of an overnight bag with the initials S. W. in stainless steel. The bag was approximately four feet from the entrance and ten feet away from the body. Also, had Ms. Williams been home, she no doubt would have been a victim as well, although without question, the judge was the intended victim. Revenge is the motive, Agent Day reasoned. Miss Williams, can you think of or do you know anyone that may have done this?

I know she was not popular among her peers, and some were jealous because she had been appointed by President Jimmy Carter. There was no doubt she was hated by those she sent to prison. I’m sorry there isn’t anything else I can tell you, Agent Day.

Thank you, Ms. Williams. I have just one more question. Did the judge seem to be concerned for her safety?

No, Agent, we were to be married, she tearfully answered. Her lightly powdered face was unable to absorb the flow of tears that cascaded from her eyes onto her cheeks.

Agent Day was aware of Judge Blow’s unsavory reputation as a jurist. Judge Lucy May Blow was loathed at large by the legal community. Her work ethics were incompetent. The judges that presided in the Court of Appeals, more often than not, had to render a verdict by law in favor of the petitioner. Also, her behavior in the execution of her duty was erratic. Agent Day surmised that the homicide was vengeful.

The FBI’s forensics team arrived, at the request of Agent Day. She also informed Ms. Williams that she would not be permitted to remain in the home at present. I can stay with a neighbor, Ms. Williams replied.

And whom might that be? Agent Day quizzed.

She is a former wrestler. She has been retired due to an injury she got ten years ago. She was only twenty-two years of age, Ms. Williams replied in a tone that was obviously sympathetic.

Not one to overlook any bit of information that may be pertinent to an investigation, thinking there may be the possibility of a connection, Agent Day was about to inquire as to the neighbor’s name and the nature of the neighbor’s injury. Officer Tom Powell’s six-foot-five frame stood at the open door of the bedroom. Excuse me, Agent, there is a Ms. Toni Nelson demanding to see Ms. Williams, saying she is an attorney.

Please have her come in, Officer Powell.

A moment later, Agent Day had the answer to her second question. The first was the name of the neighbor, which had been announced by Officer Powell, as Ms. Toni Nelson entered, minus her right arm. Agent Day then recalled having known, by reputation, Ms. Nelson, an advocate for abused women. She was known as a formidable wrestler, and equally so in her latter profession. Her appearance, once robust, was now a bit frail, due to a weight loss of forty pounds after an accident that happened while she was performing a routine stunt of being thrown out of the ring, which resulted in her breaking her right arm. The arm later became infected, thus causing it to be amputated. A prosthesis-substituted at age twenty-two, five foot nine, the buxom redhead was compelled to retire. Six years later, Ms. Toni Nelson earned a degree in law.

As she hurried into the bedroom, she was oblivious to the presence of Agent Day as she embraced a tearful Shonda Williams with her left arm. She didn’t have her prosthesis on. You shouldn’t feel bad. I’ll take care of you, just leave everything to me, she counseled. The bitch is out of your life. Shonda responded with a lingering, passionate kiss.

Agent Day mused that ordinarily Ms. Nelson would certainly be a person of interest. But she was content that Mr. Hyman’s statement that he had seen the UPS truck pointed her in the right direction. All she had to do was apprehend the person who drove that truck, which without a doubt, had been stolen.

With reluctance, Ms. Nelson released Shonda from her embrace and asked if her client was free to leave. Also, will there be further questions?

She may leave, and there will be no need to speak with Ms. Williams again, Agent Day replied with a smile. She won’t be permitted to stay, as the forensics team will be here for several hours, so I suggest Ms. Williams take only the overnight bag she came in with. Agent Day thanked Officer Rich for her assistance.

Shortly thereafter, upon returning to FBI headquarters in Manhattan, she assembled a task force of two. She explained that their focus should be on the cases Judge Blow had presided over, with emphasis on defendants that had threatened her. Also stating that that was what, in her opinion, would give them the identity of the killer, Agent Day acknowledged their assignment would be tedious, given the fact that Judge Blow had been disliked. She then asked if anyone had any questions.

Agent Ray Wilson, a fifty-two-year-old veteran with the agency, was two years from his announced retirement. He was an expert