Chapter 9

By the time we walked back into the office Sergeant Clancy was standing inside his office, glaring out the large glass window in our direction. I knew he wanted some answers. Hell, I did, too.

“Oliver, what do you have for me?”

I tugged at Jones’ shirt sleeve to pull him into the glass fishbowl of an office with me. Misery loved company, but I wasn’t sure who was more miserable. Me, because I didn’t have this case ready to close, or the Sergeant, because I didn’t have this case closed already.

I conveyed what the lab had told us on our prior visit. Then I told Sarge that we went back over the apartment.

“What the hell for?” He gave me this look, like he was questioning my sanity. “Did you find anything?”

“Two coffee cups and a hair in the bedroom.” I cleared my throat. “Based on the conversation I had with the widow one of the mugs probably belonged to her, and I guess the other may have been the victims. We also talked to the neighbor who had talked to me briefly the day we were all there. He had some interesting information for us. It appears all four of our persons of interest were in that apartment the day Effridge was killed.”

“What’s your next move?” Sarge glanced over at Jones, who stood picking at his finger nails before turning his gaze to meet mine.

“We have two more people we need to talk to right away: Larissa MacDonald, who’s Effridge’s’ mistress and baby momma, and McKenzie Sims. Sims is a model and has worked for Dupree’s design house. She’s also suspected to have been involved with Effridge, or at least that’s the story according to Jonathan Calhoun.”

“What a cluster-fuck.”

“You can say that again. This guy was screwing anyone and everyone.” I crossed my arms over my chest and exhaled.

“Keep me posted. If you need anything, let me know,” Sarge said.

“Thanks, Sarge. I’ll let you know how things go with the interviews once we get them cornered.”

Jones and I left the fishbowl and walked back to our desks. We weren’t there more than five minutes before Jones’ phone rang.

“Detective Jones.” He had a pleasant-sounding phone voice for a guy, but was very abrupt with his words. He quickly put his phone on speaker.

“Good afternoon, Detective. I understand you and your partner want to talk to me.” The voice was sugary-sweet. I imagined an angelic figure holding the phone.

“Who is this?”

“Larissa MacDonald. I have some time this afternoon. Can you come over to my place? I don’t have a sitter for my baby, and I’d rather not drag him down there to the station.”

“Yes, ma’am, we can come to you. And we’re sorry for your loss.” I listened to what I could hear of the remainder of the conversation and watched Jones write the address in his notepad. When he hung up the phone he relayed all the information I already knew, with the exception that she seemed quite emotional. Then we left to go get her story.

When Ms. MacDonald led us through her apartment, I took note of how tidy the entire place was. She was either a compulsive neat-freak or had just cleaned up everything. I was leaning toward the neat-freak theory.

My male senses were drawn to her shapely form as I walked behind her. It was very obvious how Effridge had found himself in the predicament he had. This woman was quite breath-taking. Her curves were hypnotizing, bordering perfect. And her blonde-brown mane hung loosely from a messy ponytail. Her hair was the only thing in this house that wasn’t perfectly neat. And, coincidentally, it was also not the color of either of the hairs Skip mentioned from the scene.

We made our way into her gourmet kitchen and were instructed to have a seat at her table. My eyes roamed the space and confirmed my original suspicion that she was a compulsive cleaner.

She joined us at the table and worked hard to silence her low-toned sobs. “I’m so sorry, my mind has been all over the place since I heard the news about Chase. I can’t believe he’s gone.” Her voice was soft and pleasant, unlike the rasp of Carlotta’s. She sniffled again and used the crumpled tissue in her hand to dab at her tears. “Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?”

“Water, please.” I replied.

“Thank you for taking time to talk with us,” Jones said.

“I didn’t think I had much of a choice, as I had to clear my name. I want you both to know I loved Chase very much, and still do. I probably always will. I could never do something like that to him.” She made her way over to the table and set a glass of water down in front of Jones, then one in front of me.

“Where would you like me to start?” she asked.

“Tell us how you came to know Mr. Effridge.”

“As you probably already heard, I worked for his wife, Carlotta Dupree. I was her secretary.” She fidgeted with her fingers. “It seems kind of strange saying that. I can only imagine what you must be thinking of me.”

Jones interjected, “We aren’t here to judge you, ma’am. You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” Her tone wasn’t as convincing as her words. Her red-rimmed eyes didn’t convey the hint of a smile on her face. And although it seemed odd hearing her say that she was involved with her boss’ husband, that wasn’t our business. Our business was to find out who murdered Effridge, period.

“How long had you known Mr. Effridge?”

“Oh, for about four years. I met him right after I accepted the position with Carlotta.”

“How long had the two of you been in a relationship?”

“I guess it’s been a little over two years now. I would see him when I’d run errands and sometimes had to drop off things at their apartment, like Carlotta’s dry cleaning, or things she may have purchased at lunch.” A slight smile spread on her perfect mouth. “What started out as the everyday cordial ‘hi and bye’ eventually led to more. We realized we had a lot in common, and spent a lot of time talking.” She stared off and a tear trickled down her face. She wiped at it and sniffled. Her voice crackled when she began to talk. “I didn’t mean to break Jonathan’s heart, but we were already growing apart before I began dating Chase.”

“Were you concerned about Mrs. Dupree and how she’d take it when she found out? You having an affair with her husband?”

“It wasn’t supposed to go that far. I never intended to fall in love, it just happened. I was so terrified of how she’d react when she found out. She has a really bad temper. Jonathan, too.”

“They both seemed so calm when we talked to them.”

“Don’t believe that for a minute. They’re cut from the same cloth and are anything but calm. They’re both very vindictive people.”

I glanced at Jones, who was jotting in his notepad. He must have felt my gaze and raised his head, looking over at me with eyebrows raised.

“Tell us about your break-up with Jonathan,” Jones said.

“Oh my goodness. That was just awful.” Larissa’s eyes filled with wetness but she somehow kept the tears from tumbling down her cheeks. I was glad she showed such restraint. I hated seeing women cry. She inhaled deeply, shook her head, and had a look of complete fear on her face. “He was livid. He screamed and cried, then threatened that he’d never let another man have me. He grabbed me by my arms and slammed me into the wall. When I told him I was pregnant, he let me go, but went ballistic. He called me every terrible name in the book and stormed out.” The tears that she had been holding at bay tumbled down her face. “He called me later that night when he got home. He was in tears, apologizing and begging me to come back to him. He swore he’d help me raise the baby if I put his name on the birth certificate and promised to let him be the baby’s father.”

“How did you respond?” I asked.

“I knew he was crazy. I told him over and over that we were done. We had grown apart and there was no need trying to hold on to us because there was no us anymore.”

“Did he know who you were seeing at that time?” I asked.

“No, but he told me when he found out who it was he’d make sure that guy could never get his hands on me again.”

I didn’t want to give her too much of the information we’d garnered from her ex or Mrs. Dupree, so I chose my questions carefully. “We know he stalked you and eventually found out. Did he have any other contact with you after that?”

“He called several times. He tried to blackmail me into leaving Chase and coming back to him. He told me he had hired a private investigator and was going to prove to me that Chase wasn’t right, and wasn’t faithful. He sent pictures of Chase and me to my work address. He said if I did what he wanted, he wouldn’t tell his mother.”

“What do you think was the significance of that threat – to tell his mother?” Jones asked.

“He knew if he told his mother about the affair I’d lose my job for sure. I’m sure he hoped Chase would be thrown out, and possibly fired from his job at the university. Jonathan hated Chase, and he wanted to ruin both of us.”

“Do you think your ex is capable of murdering someone? Effridge?”

“He’s crazy and has a real mean streak. Yes, I think he could.”

“Did you see Mr. Effridge on the day he was murdered?”

“I went by the apartment to see him; he had left his wallet on my dresser the day before. He was in a hurry to leave that Thursday evening because he was expecting Carlotta to come over. When I stopped by his house on Friday morning, he told me Jonathan had stopped by. We didn’t talk long; he said he had errands to run.”

“When did you see him last on Thursday, and what time did you stop by to see him on Friday morning?” I asked.

“He left just a few minutes after nine Thursday night. He probably got home around ten o’clock. He wanted to get into the house before Carlotta got there.”

“Did he say when his wife was expected?”

“I believe he said she was planning to come over just before ten. Is that important?”

“Right now, everything’s important. We’re trying to put together a timeline of what happened from Friday morning leading up to his body being discovered,” I said.

“What time did you say you stopped by on Friday morning?” Jones asked. His pen was ready to write down the details.

“It was probably nine-thirty. I didn’t stay long. I needed to see Chase. I needed to know everything was okay after his meeting with his ex.” Larissa twisted her cup around on the table.

“I didn’t realize they were divorced,” I said.

“Well, technically they aren’t, or weren’t. But Chase assured me he’d never get back together with Carlotta no matter how much she begged him. He loved me. He wanted to be with me and our son.” She sniffled, and a tear was wiped from her face by the crumpled tissue.

I nodded at Jones, who immediately began writing in his notepad.

“Did he say anything else to you about his conversation with Mr. Calhoun?”

Larissa was staring off into space. I wasn’t convinced she’d heard my question. “Ms. MacDonald?”

“Sorry,” she said. She slowly returned her gaze toward us. Her eyes were welling with unshed tears. “No, he didn’t normally tell me about their run-ins. I really didn’t want to know.”

“Thank you for your time. We may need to contact you again if we have any additional questions,” I said.

“That’s fine. I have a lot of time on my hands since I’m no longer working for Carlotta.” She twisted her mouth into the tiniest of tiny smiles.

We stood from our chairs and followed her through the house to the door. Just as we were about to leave, Jones turned and asked a question. “Do you know anything about McKenzie Sims?”

Larissa let out a sigh and her mouth fell open, yet no words came out. It took her a second or two to speak. “McKenzie, yes, she’s one of the new models. She’s also dating the photographer, Billy Clark. What makes you ask about her?”

“Her name was mentioned in our conversation with your ex.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to date her, but Billy is really possessive and jealous. Jonathan wouldn’t want to tangle with him. Billy might be one of the few people who is more unstable than he is. I guess I never really realized how irrational the people around me were until now.”

“Thank you again. Have a nice day,” Jones said.

“Good luck, Detectives. I hope you catch whoever did this to Chase. He didn’t deserve to die. He was a good man. Now my son has to grow up without his father.” Her sobs grew louder as we crossed the threshold.

“We’re doing everything we can, ma’am,” I said. We stepped outside and Jones pulled the door closed behind him. We heard the lock click immediately.