Needle Work: Battery Acid, Heroin, and Double Murder(39)

The bottle was placed in a large envelope and transported back to the police department, where it was tagged as evidence. Then, following procedure, Helton took the piggy bank over to the Michigan State Police Crime Lab at Northville, where it would be tested for latent prints, blood, fiber and other substance analysis. Later that day, Helton received the results.

There had been a positive match for Nancy’s blood; Carol’s prints were also on the bottle. Helton was batting a thousand.

The kids, Jessie Jr. and Jesseca—what did they know about the murders? Were they witnesses? Had their mother said anything to them? The police needed to know.

Helton picked up the phone and called Maddie Marion, Jessie’s sister. The kids were staying with her while Carol was in jail. After the usual introductions, Helton requested an interview with the kids. But Marion was very concerned about the children’s well-being. She didn’t think it a good idea to be interviewed by the police. Neither, it seems, did Carol.

The night she was placed by Helton in Haven, she made calls to her sister-in-law. She knew Maddie to be a great person, a responsible person. And Carol knew she was in deep trouble.

Carol had done everything she could to keep her kids away from the line of fire, from the actual murder and the cover-up. Admittedly, she had left them home alone when she and Tim disposed of the body on Thursday night, November 13. But wasn’t that at least better than taking them along?

What was she supposed to have done? Tell Collier, “Tim, I need a baby-sitter. I can’t leave the kids alone while we go to Flint to get rid of the body”?

Wham! The barrel of Tim’s automatic would have cracked across her cheek and she’d have a broken face like she’d given Nancy. Then where would she be? Maybe Tim would get nuts; he’d go upstairs and do Jessie Jr. and Jesseca, too.

“No witnesses,” Tim always said.

No, Carol had done the right thing. As soon as Nancy was out of there, Carol sent the kids to Jessie’s sister. For safekeeping. She made plans that if she faced incarceration, Maddie would take Jessie Jr. and Jesseca in. And she had. Now, Marion was telling Helton over the phone that she didn’t want the kids to be interviewed.

Helton thought for a moment.

“Mrs. Marion,” he said after a long pause. “I understand how you feel and sympathize. I’ve got kids of my own. What about this? Why don’t you meet me at Pete’s in West Bloomfield? It’s a family restaurant. We can have a cup of coffee there and talk.”

Marion thought that was a good idea and agreed.

At the appointed hour, Helton saw a middle-aged, attractive black woman walk into the restaurant. Maybe it was the attitude or the sport jacket, the type cops wear in real life and in the movies, that identified him. Whatever it was, she introduced herself first; they got a table and some coffee.

“The kids,” Marion explained, “they’ve had a rough time of it. Their father died about six weeks ago.”

“I know,” said Helton sympathetically.

“I feel the children have not recovered emotionally from their father’s death, and to question them about a murder, well, that’s probably more than they can handle.”

Helton explained that this was a very serious situation. They may have knowledge of the murder and he promised to be tactful and understanding when he questioned them.

Marion certainly understood the police’s need for information, but the kids hadn’t said anything about what had been happening in their house. Certainly, nothing unusual. And they seemed to be okay.

If the kids had been traumatized, Helton felt sure Marion would have mentioned it, which indicated they probably knew and saw nothing. Carol had done a good job of keeping them out of it. Of course, she had killed their father, too.

“Let me know if they make any mention of what took place in their home,” said Helton, rising and taking the check.

Marion said she would.

Back in the squad room fifteen minutes later, Helton sat down in his cubicle. His was the one closest to the door. Maybe when he got a little more seniority, he’d get one in the middle of the room. Or maybe an office? He had to smile; he’d need another promotion for that to happen.

The next thing for him to consider was tying Collier in forensically to Billiter’s body. Helton called Judge Edward Avadenka from the 48th District Court for the purpose of swearing to a search warrant for blood, saliva and hair samples from Tim Collier. He faxed the warrant to the judge, and after swearing to the fact and signing it, the judge faxed over a signed copy.

Helton took Collier to a local hospital, where he provided the police with hair, saliva and blood, which would be used for DNA comparison tests with any unknown fluids found on Billiter’s body and, in particular, her anus.

He went back and reread the autopsy report. On page 4, halfway down, there was the following statement from the medical examiner:

“There is dried blood within and around the anus with superficial tears present at the 9 o’clock and 12 o’clock positions of the anal ring.”

Anal tears didn’t happen by accident. They happened when a person was sodomized. Contrary to Giles’s statement, what if Collier used an object to sodomize Billiter before she died? Or was it his penis?

They needed the results of Collier’s DNA testing to rule the latter out, which would leave only the former as the logical conclusion.