Chapter 21

I made two phone calls. The first one to Larissa MacDonald went unanswered. The second was to the co-ed, Megan Green. Megan answered the phone and reluctantly agreed to meet with us at her dorm room. Within a minute of hanging up, she called right back to say she’d rather come to us instead. My mind began churning and immediately wondered if she was trying to keep us away for some reason. The question was definitely on my list to ask.

“Do you remember seeing the shoes for our victim? I’m just curious because the men you have on the list don’t wear New Balance, and their foot size doesn’t match the print,” Johnson asked.

“I didn’t bother to look at that. We checked the closet for weapons, but I never paid attention to his shoes, other than to notice he had a lot of them.”

“I’m going to call his wife. We need to know what size shoe he wore and what brand of sneakers he was most likely to wear.”

“You know he couldn’t have made a print in the blood himself.” We both chuckled.

“No, that’s not what I’m thinking. What if he left shoes at someone’s house and they somehow trudged over in them instead of their own? That would be weird, but would definitely throw off the investigation.”

“It would be a de-railer for sure. But it seems hard to imagine, honestly,” I replied.

“You’re probably right. Then the question remains, how did a man’s size eleven sneaker make a print in the victim’s blood?”

My eyes felt like they were crossing looking at the murder binder. My head hurt and I had a pain behind my eyes. I rested my head in my hands and closed my eyes for a few minutes. Reviewing the notes was really taking a toll. When I looked up, I saw Megan Green walk in.

“She’s here,” I said. Johnson turned and looked in her direction.

“Let’s go do this,” he said.

I grabbed a notepad and my recorder and met her just as Rodriguez was pointing in our direction.

We walked in her direction and met her halfway. “Good morning,” I said. I stretched out my hand and she hesitated to shake it. She’d reached out, but pulled back a few inches as she stared at me. After inhaling, she slowly let her hand meet mine. “I’m Detective Oliver, and this is my partner, Detective Johnson. We’re sorry for your loss.”

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Megan. Thanks.”

“We have some questions we’d like to ask you. Let’s step into room number one where we can talk,” I said.

“Okay.”

As soon as we walked into the room, she spun on her heels to face me. “I’m not under arrest, am I?”

“No. We don’t have any reason to arrest you.” I held out my arm and motioned to the empty seat for her. “Why would you ask that? Did you do something that you think we might arrest you for?”

“Well, no. I mean, I’m in college and do stupid stuff sometimes. I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“We actually want to talk to you about Professor Effridge,” I said.

“Oh. I didn’t really know him that well, I guess. He was my professor and he tutored me.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe she was going to lead off the conversation with a lie. “We noticed you at the funeral.”

“Oh, yeah. A few of us from school went together. It was really sad.” She pursed her lips into a pout and lowered her head.

“Did Professor Effridge tutor the others? Or just you?” I asked.

“I think just me. I was really having a hard time understanding his lectures. He was nice enough to agree when I asked him to help me. He was making sure I understood and passed. Now I don’t know what I’ll do with him gone and all.”

Johnson and I looked at each other. “So, you had no contact with the professor outside of school work?” I asked.

“No, not really. Maybe we’d say hi if we saw each other on campus.”

“Maybe you can help us with this then.” I slid the photos of her and Effridge from the back of my notepad and laid them in front of her.

“Oh, wow,” she muttered. Her eyes never moved from staring at the images.

“We’re a little confused. These pictures look like you may have known the professor just a bit more than you’re telling us. Is there a reason you’re covering up your relationship?”

“Where did you get these? This is, like, an invasion of privacy. Someone should be arrested.”

“Actually, Ms. Green, it’s not. People have the right to photograph you in a public place. If these were taken of the two of you inside your apartment without your consent, that would be different. But since you’re clearly outside, in the open, there’s no violation.”

“Well, isn’t there something you can do? Can’t you fine someone? You won’t show them to my parents or anything, will you?”

“No. We’re not showing your parents. The person who took them was well within their right to do so, though, so we won’t be fining them or doing anything about the pictures. We’re investigating the murder of Professor Effridge. That’s our concern right now. We’re trying to figure out who murdered him and why,” I said.

“So why talk to me? I … I didn’t kill him.” Her face became a deeper shade of pink with each of her remarks.

“You also just told us you only knew him in passing. That he was nothing more to you than your professor and tutor. That wasn’t true, obviously, but that’s what you told us. So now, we’re not exactly sure what to believe, Ms. Green,” Johnson said. His voice boomed and his tone was powerful. She slid down in her seat a couple of inches like a scolded child, and still didn’t look up at us.

“But, I swear,” she sniffled. “Can I tell you something? Promise you’ll never tell my mom.”

“Yes, please tell us.”

“See, I, Professor Effridge and me, well, we were, um …” Her mouth twisted as she fought to get the words out. “We never meant for it to be more than a hook-up. But, um, we kind of fell in love.”

“Did Professor Effridge tell you that he loved you?” I asked.

“Chase, that’s what I called him. He told me he loved me a lot of times. This picture here,” she pointed at the one where she was standing in front of him. “He told me he loved me that day, too. He told me he was getting divorced from his wife and then we could be together all the time.”

“Did you know about Ms. MacDonald?” I asked.

“He told me an ex-girlfriend got pregnant and that they had a son together. He said she was like a stalker, but he went to see his son and still had to deal with her.”

Before I had a chance to ask my next question, my cellphone rang. “Excuse me.” I retrieved it from my pocket and saw it was Larissa MacDonald. “I need to take this. Detective Johnson will continue talking to you.”

Once outside the room and with the door closed behind me, I answered. The conversation was cut short. She told me any further conversations or contact should be made with her lawyer.

“Oliver,” Patrol Officer Bates called to me. “Come here for a minute, please.”

“I really need to get back in to continue my questioning.”

“You’re really going to want to see what I have.”

I walked over, not exactly sure what I’d find. Bates was known for pranks, and I didn’t have time for that right now. When I was within a couple of feet from him, he held up a clear plastic evidence bag and waved it back and forth.

“Where did you get that?” I asked. My mouth hung open at the sight of the contents.

“We got a call earlier. A couple of kids were playing in an open field on the other side of town and spotted it. They swear they didn’t touch it. Should I send it to the lab for you?”

“Yes, please. Ask them to put a rush on it, too.”