The Disappearance of that F****r Ray Gricar

The phone suddenly pierced through the quiet night. Dixon had been asleep on the couch. His dog barked startled at the sound. It was close to midnight. Dixon’s eyes flew open. Calls coming this late at night were usually indications that a major crime had occurred. Groggily he picked up the phone.

“Dixon,” he said into the receiver.

The caller hesitated for a moment, and then began, “Hello Chief Dixon, this is Patty Fornicola,” her voice cracked. He sensed she was emotional.

“What is going on?”

“I am not sure this is an emergency,” she said, “But I can’t find Ray. His phone has been off for hours and hours.”

“How many hours?”

“About six hours” she replied.

This was unusual. The District Attorney Ray Gricar was very responsive. The only time he didn’t answer his phone was during the day, and that was usually an indication that he was tied up in court. Initially, he suspected perhaps this was a domestic dispute. If that were the case he did not want to be involved. He told her to hold and put the phone down, calling Ray’s cell phone personally from his mobile. It had gone straight to voicemail. This puzzled him.

“When did you last hear from him?” he asked.

“He called around 3:00,” she replied. “He did not go to work today. He took a drive up to Lewisberg to go shopping for antiques. I am just beside myself with worry. I was thinking of driving up there myself. I think he was going to the antique mall.”

“What else did he say on the call?”

“He told me he would be home late,” she answered. “Then he reminded me to walk the dog.”

“Did you argue today with Mr. Gricar?” asked Dixon, searching his mind for an explanation.

“No, nothing like that,” she sounded desperate and emotional, “Everything was perfectly normal except that he skipped work.”

Dixon looked at the clock on the wall. It was two minutes to midnight. He had known the District Attorney for close to 20 years. Ray Gricar had a pension for women, it was vice of his. Law enforcement knew about this, he was frequently spotted around town. But since he had moved in with Fornicola, this habit had seemed to die down. Still, it seemed the only viable explanation.

“I do not think Mr. Gricar would want you driving to Lewisberg at this hour,” he said to her very carefully. “The likely case is he is running late and his phone needs charged.”

She sighed, “Can you send a car to check the parking lot?”

“Let’s give him time and he will be home,” he replied decisively, “If he is not home by morning, please give me a call.”

“Alright,” she said with a dismissive air. He can tell that she did not like his answer.

Dixon hung up the phone and stood in the kitchen. A strange eerie feeling had come over him. Perhaps it was an instinct. If there was one person who knew Gricar, it was Steve Sloane, the Assistant District Attorney. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was after midnight. Still, something was unusual about Gricar’s phone being totally off. It didn’t sit right. Impulsively he picked up the phone and dialed the Assistant District Attorney, but Sloane forwarded the call to voicemail. Dixon stood there thinking for another minute, trying to decide if he should send a car. Gricar was a private man who would be displeased at any exposure of his personal life. At that thought, Dixon decided to leave the matter alone. It would be resolved by morning, of that he had been suddenly reassured. Dixon went into the bedroom and pushed the dog out of the way so he could lie down with his sleeping wife. For a while, he had laid there in the dark wondering about the strange call, eventually able to fall asleep.

At 0530 the house phone rang again shrilly from the kitchen. Dixon’s eyes flew open and he looked at the clock at his bed side. He almost went back to sleep, and then suddenly he remembered the call from the previous evening and got up and went to the kitchen.

“Dixon,” he said into the phone.

“Chief Dixon?” she began, but he interjected.

“You got him?”

“No,” she said flatly, and Dixon could hear she was irritated.

“Did he contact you anytime between 3 p.m. tonight and right now?”

“No,” replied Patty. “Not a word. I’ve been calling all night and the phone keeps going to voicemail. I am desperately worried. I did not sleep at all last night.

“Alright,” answered Dixon. “I will send a car and get back in touch shortly.”

“The State Troopers have an officer driving there now,” she replied.

“Why did you involve the Troopers?” he asked, knowing Gricar would not like that.

“Because I was worried,” she said defensively. “I called Trooper Davie last night. Davie called Steve Sloane and Sloane told Davie not to send a patrol car to check. Davie said he might do it anyway, but I don’t suppose he had. He called me about thirty minutes ago to follow up asking if I had heard from Gricar. When I told him I hadn’t he dispatched a car. I am just consumed with worrying about this,”-

He had cut her off, “I’ll coordinate with Davie and return your call.” Dixon quickly hung up the phone and called Davie.

Davie picked up his phone on the first ring, “Hello.”

“This is Dixon. I’m calling regarding the District Attorney,” Dixon spoke quickly, but without much urgency. He still was not fully convinced this was part of some private domestic disagreement, the emotional state of Patty had led him to think this was a private affair. “I hear you have a patrol car in route to Lewisberg?”

“I’m driving there now,” Davie replied. “I spoke to Patty Fornicola late last night at around 1:30 a.m. who gave me a rundown. Then I spoke to Sloane, who was insistent that we did not send a car, so I backed down.”

“You are driving up to Lewisberg personally?” asked Dixon surprised. As the head of the local State Troopers Division, Davie tended to do more administrative work. He had stopped patrolling the streets several years ago.

“Fornicola was hysterical,” he explained. “Something didn’t feel right about it.”

“I’m sure you are aware of Gricar and his women friends,” said Dixon cautiously.

“That thought crossed my mind too,” Davie affirmed. “I believe that is likely the case, but I wanted to confirm given this is the District Attorney.”

“Yes, probably a good call,” Dixon relented. “It’s unusual for Gricar’s phone to be off.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Davie. “I never call him.”

The local State Troopers had a habit of investigating cases and not keeping the District Attorney fully in the loop with information, which caused a lot of confusion and tension. Gricar also stepped on the toes of the Troopers by dropping or adding charges to the cases that they turned over to Gricar for prosecution. The Troopers found this to be controlling, and they resented Gricar’s removal of their discretion.

“Keep me posted if you find anything,” Dixon had said. Then as he was showering, his wife came to the door.

“Trooper Davie called,” she said through the steam. “I told him you were in the shower, and he said to tell you he found the car.”

Dixon opened the shower curtain and furled his eyebrows. “What do you mean they found the car? Did they find the District Attorney too?”

“What?” she asked looking bewildered, “He did not say anything about the D.A. He just told me to tell you that he found the car.”

He called Davies as soon as he got out of the shower, but Davies had forwarded the call to voicemail. Dixon decided to drive to Lewisberg. On the way he tried a few more times, but Davies did not answer. Dixon felt a surge of irritation as he drove the 45 minutes through the Pennsylvania countryside.

As he pulled into Lewisberg, he spotted a group of patrol cars. Several State Trooper vehicles, and the Lewisberg Police were also on site. Dixon got out his car and sauntered up to Davies with a look of annoyance.

“I’ve been calling and calling,” Dixon said with exasperation.

“I’ve been on the phone all morning trying to track this clown down,” replied Davies. The Lewisberg Police were standing around curiously, four of them total.

Dixon looked around at the scene. The red Mini Cooper was parked discretely in a shadowy corner of the parking lot. He approached it and circled it. He saw a water bottle, and then a sight that had given him chills. Gricar’s phone was lying there on the front seat of the car. Dixon knew that to be unusual, Gricar never went anywhere without his phone. The water of the Susquehanna roared loudly behind him and mist wafted up over the gravel parking lot and partially obscured the sun as it rose. There was an eerie emptiness to the entire scene. Something had given him pause.

“Davies, lets get a locksmith to the vehicle,” he looked at the Lewisberg Police standing around. “We’ll take it from here,” he said to them.

“I have a locksmith en route,” Davies informed. “And let them stay. I am not getting a good vibe from this whole scenario. Something feels off to me. If they want to stay, let them. We may need the extra hands.”

“Wait a minute, don’t get State College Police involved. Don’t start any commotion quite yet. You know how Ray hates any drama. I’ll call down to Lewisberg and have them check the parking lot at the Antique Mall for Mr. Gricar’s car.”

Dixon thought about this and in his mind he agreed, but if more men were to be on site he wanted his guys, the Bellefonte Police. He went to his car and radioed the station requesting all active cars come to the Lewisberg bridge. As he got off the phone he saw Davies with his door hanging open on his radio and overheard him activating a statewide BOLO for Ray Gricar.

“That’s going to cause a big stir,” Dixon said disapprovingly. “The District Attorney is not going to like that drama, and that will cause alarm.”

Davies put a dip in his mouth and looked at Dixon incredulously, “Given what we have, I think this is cause for alarm.”

Dixon walked away without saying anything, looking along the woodline of the parking lot. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, and ultimately he found nothing. Their attention was diverted was a loud Mustang came roaring up on the scene and skidded on the gravel. Dixon approached the car, recognizing it to be Steve Sloane’s vehicle.

“What is the status?” demanded Sloane, and Dixon quickly approached him as Davies approached. Another patrol car from the State Troopers pulled up, and then another as they spoke. The State College Police had also arrived, and now at least a dozen cars were sitting in the parking lot and officers standing around.

Davies wrinkled his nose and nudged Dixon to look at Sloane, who stood their with red bloodshot eyes.

“You are drunk,” Dixon said to Sloane.

Davies moved for his car, and Dixon saw him reaching for a breathylizer and strode quickly over to Davies.

“Let’s hold on that,” he urged.

“That’s a DUI if I ever saw one,” Davies replied indignantly.

“Look at this scene,” Dixon urged again. More police from surrounding counties were arriving on the scene in response to Davies’ statewide BOLO. “As a matter of professional courtesy, I am asking that you not arrest the Assistant District Attorney in front of 20 officers while the District Attorney is still missing.”

Davies looked combative for a moment and then looked at Dixon who looked back at him earnestly. “Alright,” he finally said. “But put him in your car before another one of these officers smells him. If I don’t arrest him, one of these guys will.”

“Let’s try and put the dogs to rest while we work on this case,” Dixon replied. “I know you guys would love to shake up the D.A.’s office but lets skip the politics for now, given the circumstances.

Davies spit some dip in the parking lot defiantly, “Why the f**k is the Assistant District Attorney drunk on my crime scene? Don’t you find that odd? And I would have moved on this last night except Sloane adamantly told me not to. I also find that odd.”

“What do you make of this?” Dixon inquired, changing the subject.

“This looks f*****g bad,” replied Davies. “A thousand people have reason to retaliate given all the cases this guy has prosecuted in the past 20 years. I am worried it’s foul play.”

“I think that’s a bit dramatic,” replied Dixon. Still the phone on the front seat flashed before his mind. “But I don’t feel good about it either. He never goes anywhere without his phone, and its never off.”

“Did you call Sloane and tell him to meet you here?” asked Davies.

“Stop being distracted by that 20 something year old shithead,” Dixon retorted. “He isn’t the problem right now. Ray Gricar is our problem. And no, I didn’t call him. He showed up probably out of concern, he knows not to leave my vehicle.”

“I got a question for you,” Davies spit over his shoulder. “How did he know to come here?”

“Probably Patty Fornicola,” Dixon assured him. Then they both spotted the locksmith.

“Look,” Davies spoke in a low tone so the other precincts would not overhear. “I realize this is your jurisdiction and I’m not stepping on your toes. I just want this done right.”

“Let’s take a look at the phone and see who he last called,” Dixon replied. “That will at least give us a starting point. I think he is holed up with some woman.”

“Agreed,” answered Dixon. They watched for a moment as the locksmith opened the car. “I am working with you Davies. Work with me here.”

“I don’t trust the Bellefonte Police to do it right,” Davies replied. “Nothing about this looks good. If we don’t hear anything by noon, let’s get the press involved.”

“That will piss Gricar the f**k off,” answered Dixon.

Davies shrugged, “Then it is his damn fault for causing this cluster f**k.”

“Can’t argue with you there. I got better things to do today.”

The door popped open and Davies and Dixon stepped forward to retrieve the phone. Davies picked it up and a strong stench of cigarettes hit him. It was a powerful odor coming directly from the car.

“You smell that Davies?” asked Dixon.

“Does he smoke?”

“No, he says he is allergic to the smell. He pitches a fit if my guys come into his office and smell at all like cigarettes,” Dixon said.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you all morning,” Davies said under his breath. “Something about this whole scene f*****g spooked me. The entire thing doesn’t sit right with me. And now you tell me about the cigarettes, and let me tell you something here: My alarm bells are ringing Dixon. Something stinks like s**t here.”

“I’m going to get my guy up here to process the vehicle into evidence,” Dixon replied.

“My guy is five minutes out,” Davies was two steps ahead of Dixon. “Last call was to Patty Fornicola and all these numbers from yesterday are guys from the county. Take a look at it. I don’t see anything strange. I don’t see any foreign numbers or names I don’t recognize. Doesn’t look like he even sent any texts yesterday. Everything looks to be related to casework.”

Davies handed him the phone, and approached the Trooper to begin processing the car. “We’re going to cordon off the crime scene,” he said loudly. “Treat this as you would a crime scene. Be mindful of the evidence. Bag anything in the parking lot you find and book it into evidence. Pick the cigarette butts up. Let’s go ahead and book those too.”

He walked up to Dixon as they taped around the car. “I know that probably looks like drama to you.”

“At this point, I’m right with you,” Dixon whispered diplomatically. “I don’t see anything that would raise eyebrows on this phone, but let’s get it down to the station and have your guy take a look at it,” he paused hesitating, “You think I should update Fornicola?”

“Its your case, Dixon,” Davies looked serious, “But I wouldn’t. At this point she is the immediate family member of a missing person. So right now in my mind, she’s a suspect.”

“Yep,” Dixon agreed.

“Christ there must be 75 officers who responded to the BOLO. Look at it. I wished they reacted to missing persons cases like this when they weren’t elected politicians.”

The sun was coming up. Birds had begun chirping. They stood and waited for the processing of the car.

“You want to interrogate your drunk prosecutor in the car?” asked Davies. “I got fliers coming. We can coordinate a search for witnesses. I think those shops should be opening any minute.” He looked at some troopers standing around, “Search the riverbed and look around across the bridge,” he ordered, looking at Dixon he noted, “At this point, I think we might be looking for a dead body.”

“Let’s canvas the antique mall and see what we can find,” Dixon replied. They walked down to the small antique market as the shopkeepers had been trickling in.

“I want the surveillance footage and any credit card receipts,” Davies announced.

Officers wandered through the antique mall with fliers and were not having much luck. Dixon saw an old man arranging some baseball cards on a table. He and a mustache and pair of glasses, and hadn’t been paying much attention to what is going on. He looked around the antique booth and didn’t see a flyer, and had not remembered him when they had initially passed through.

He put a flyer in the old man’s hands, “You see this guy yesterday.”

The old man looked down at the flyer and studied it for less than a second, and said, “Oh yeah. He was here yesterday. He stopped in. Had his wife with him, they looked at my spoons.” He pointed to a wall of antique spoons.

“Davies, come here Davies,” Dixon said loudly, and then turned back around, “What do you mean he had his wife with him?”

“Real pretty woman, a lot younger it looks like,” the witness told him.

“Are you sure about that?” interjected Davies.

“I’m positive as the day is long,” the witness repeated. “They were shopping and carrying on. They were in here for a good while.”

“Carrying on?”

“Laughing, you know, just relaxed and shopping in here. Just looking at stuff.”

Dixon and Davies looked at eachother, and Davies got excited looking back at the wintess, “And what did she look like?”

“She had dark hair, real tall lady, real nice looking,” nodded the witness.

“Was it short dark cropped hair, like a boy’s cut,” interrupted Dixon believing it might be Patty Fornicola, as she had dark hair.

“No, it was long, maybe with some streak of blond or white right up front. Pretty girl, very attractive young lady.”

Davies eyes narrowed, “And they were laughing? Did you see them touch each other? Were they holding hands?”

“No but you could tell they were together. You could just see how they acted. They acted like a couple,”the witness said.

“Did he appear to be in any distress?” fired off Davies.

“No, like I said they were just shopping, having a good old time.”

Davies looked at a Trooper standing nearby, “Get a witness statement from him and his contact information. I want everyone to go through the antique market one more time and check with everyone in here once more to see if they can recognize Gricar,” lowering his voice he said, “Dixon, let’s go outside.”

Stepping outside they both looked around with an expression of surprise. Their crime scene was now flooded with law enforcement officers from the surrounding counties. Many were just standing around, staring at the red vehicle by the bridge trying to decide what to make of it.

“What the hell do you make of that guy?”

Davies looked at Dixon, “You mean do I believe him? Yeah. He was positive. He didn’t hesitate.”

“We got another one, we got another witness,” a Trooper approached with a statement carbon copy. Davies read it quickly and handed it to Dixon, “Exact same account,” he remarked bemusedly.

“Is that the media?” asked Dixon.

Davies ignored that, “Two witnesses saw him with a dark-haired woman. She’s the one probably smoking. You know what I think? I think he’s holed up with some woman, just like you said. I bet he turns up. All the same,” Davies said sticking a dip in and looking at his watch, “We are now going on almost 24 hours. I think we activate search and rescue. We got 100 men just standing around. Let’s get it started.”

“I agree,” Dixon replied.

“And I think we involve the media,” Davies went on. “I think we go ahead and get the press involved. Maybe we ain’t looking for a dead body. Think about it. He told Fornicola exactly where he parked the car.”

“I hear you,” agreed Dixon.

“Hell,” Davies said. “I’d be surprised if he didn’t turn back up. Now I’m thinking we aren’t looking for a body, we’re looking for a missing person. I think we coordinate the search and then you and I take off and go get Fornicola.”

“Is that the FBI?”

“F**k yeah it is,” Davies looked out at three unmarked patrol vehicles, “Damn. This is going to f*****g blow up. He’s going to regret this if he is holed up somewhere.”

“You think I should brief them?”

Davies thought for a moment, “I don’t like those fuckers poking around in my case too. But think about this, if this is a missing person, or if he went running off with some woman like a goddamned idiot, then we gotta expand this thing nationwide. We got a sitting elected district attorney that we can’t find. This is real big, Dixon. Real big. And none of it looks good. This don’t look right at all. I said that last night, and now I’m really saying. This whole scene just f*****g spooks me.”

“I agree. Something ain’t right here,” as they walked Dixon remembered Sloane, “What do I do with the Assistant District Attorney.”

“Lets get someone to run him home. I thought about him too. He’s just a damned fool,” Davies was annoyed. “He’s just trying to play cop like his boss did. He don’t know a damned thing. Keep him out of it. We can go by his house and interview him when were done with Fornicola when he dries out.”

Dixon and Davis walked through the crowded parking lot towards their cars, when a young looking plained clothes officer suddenly strode across quickly recognizing Davies. He had caught up with them, and he had started to speak when Davies stopped him.

“Yep. We’re going to involve you to, don’t you worry about that. Dixon and I were just talking and we got some witnesses. We can’t eliminate the fact he might have skipped town.”

“There is no signs of a struggle,” Dixon clarified. “Sounds like he left voluntarily and planned this. Told the girlfriend, and then we got two witnesses inside who saw him with a 30-something-year-old girl shopping and having a good old time.”

“The car has been processed,” asserted Wilson. “According to your Trooper there were only four prints, partial prints.”

“Bullshit,” said Davies.

“That’s exactly what I said. So I sent my agents down there to supervise as they rechecked the car and still nothing,” continued Wilson. “Our interpretation of the vehicle is that it was wiped clean of any fingerprints. Someone wiped it down.”

“Now what in the hell? What do you make of that Dixon?”

“I don’t know what to make of that,” Dixon was perplexed by that, and his mind was quickly thinking.

“Did you talk to the spouse?” asked the FBI agent. “My names Wilson by the way,” he said shaking Dixon’s hand.

“We are heading there now,” said Davies.

“Let’s go ahead and get a warrant,” demanded Wilson. “Let’s get a search warrant for the spouses -

“First thing,” Davies interrupted, spitting over his shoulder, “They ain’t married. Patty Fornicola is a live in girlfriend. She also works for him. She’s a paralegal up at the D.A.’s office. Second thing, is where do you get off barking orders on our crime scene, unless you have some sort of angle that gives you any jurisdiction? From what I can see its Dixon’s case.”

“You just got done asking for the help of the FBI-”

“I didn’t ask for s**t. I said we would involve you,” interrupted Davies.

“I don’t think we need a warrant,” Dixon began.

Davies cut him off, “He might be right about that. She’s the immediate other of a missing person, and not just any missing person but a D.A.”

Dixon hesitated, as he knew Patty Fornicola pretty well, and then thought better of it, “I’ll get you a warrant. I don’t want a zoo at that crime scene, she’s going to be upset.”

“And we got evidence to think of,” agreed Davies, “This is now a big case. We don’t need a bunch of gawkers looking around disrupting evidence. Let’s keep this investigation tight,” looking at the FBI agent he said, “Don’t you be bringing a mountain of people up in there poking around. Four guys max. And don’t forget whose running this show. You can ride along for now. We’ll let you know if we need you.”

“Who is that?” asked the FBI agent.

“That f****r,” Davies looked on to where the agent has been pointing. “That f****r is Steve Sloane. He was supposed to wait in the car. That’s the A.D.A. up here trying to play cop. We’re going to get him out of the way. Dixon I’ll meet you down at the Fornicola house.”

Helicopters had started to be heard from overhead circling.

“Wait a minute,” says Dixon. “State College has their K-9 unit here.”

“Ain’t that interesting?” Davies seethed with sarcasm, “When’s the last time you’ve seen those idiots solve a crime? They don’t know their a*s from a hole in the ground.”

“It looks like she is getting her dogs out,” replied Dixon.

The three watched on curiously as two dogs excitedly smelled what looked to be a ball cap from the back of Gricar’s vehicle. The dogs circled the Mini Cooper for a few minutes and began playing with each other, pulling at the leads and romping around.

“F*****g State College cops,” said Davies. “Incompetence at its very finest.”

They watched for a few minutes, and then one of the dogs hooked a trail, sniffing at the ground vigorously. The other dog soon joined in, and they began to bark following a trail.

“Well I’ll be damned,” said Dixon from the hillside as they watched.

“That trail is going away from town. Ain’t nothing in that direction for miles,” Davies mused. “Where the hell did he walk off to.”

They watched as the dogs followed the scent out of the parking lot and entered the shoulder of the roadway and kept going.

“And…” Dixon stared. “And they lost it. Right there. Look at that. They stopping. Yep. Scent dried up.”

Davies stared in fascination, “What in God’s name?”

“Yep, we’re seeing this right, I’m looking same as you.”

“He walked up the shoulder, and then he got into another vehicle,” chimed in the FBI witness.

“No s**t captain obvious,” snapped Davies.

“But whose car… Whose car would he have gotten into?”

“Stinks to high heaven don’t it. The whole thing just got a lot smellier. You know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking he got a ride somewhere. And when you put it all together. The woman, telling Patty, and now we got these dogs…. S**t Dixon, I think he walked off. Ran off with that woman. You see it?”

“I see it, but don’t think you’re right about that,”Dixon replied. It was a sinister thought. “This is a D.A., he ain’t gonna just walk off.”

“If you ask me,” said the FBI agent. “The crime scene does strike me as strange. The whole thing looks very odd. It looks like it was staged.”

“Well nobody asked you did they,” Davies slammed opened his patrol car. “Dixon, I’ll see you in Bellefonte. Don’t bring the State College cops up in there. I’m in no mood for the bullshit today.” He slammed his car and started it.

“Do you have an address for this house?”

Dixon gave the address to Wilson. “Four men max down at that house,” he warned again. “This could very well be a crime scene. Let’s treat it like one. I got someone waiting there with warrant and it don’t say FBI on it. It says Bellefonte Police.”

“Thank you,” said Wilson. “We’ll meet you there.”