Chapter 24

“Oliver.” My phone rang as soon as I stepped out of the car at the precinct.

“It’s Skip. I have good news and bad news.”

“Hold that thought. I have something else I’d like you to do for me so I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“See you soon.”

“Hey, I’m going to take this bag of shoes to Skip. He said he also has some news for us,” I said to Johnson.

“Let’s go find out what it is.”

We walked into the lab, and Skip was surprisingly at his desk. That was rare for him.

“Skip,” I said.

“Gentlemen, ready for the news now?” He glanced down and saw the bag in my hand. “What’s that?”

“It’s a bag of Effridge’s shoes. One of our persons of interest was in his place earlier like the tiptoe burglar. She said she was taking them as a remembrance of him. We aren’t buying it. Can you check them out for us?”

“Sure, no problem.” He picked up the plastic bag containing the knife. “Good news or bad news first?”

“Give us the good,” I said.

“Good news, this is the knife used in the stabbing of Effridge. It’s the perfect size for the cuts all over his chest. And you see this?” He pointed at a few brown spots on the knife. “This is his blood. Without a doubt, this ridiculous filet knife was used by your murderer.”

“Okay, so what’s the bad news?” Johnson asked.

“The bad news is I wasn’t able to get a good print from the handle. But, there was a small amount of blood that didn’t match Effridge.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It may be that of your killer. Maybe in their stabbing frenzy, they cut themselves. We tested it against Billy’s hair and it wasn’t a match. So, I’m pretty confident Billy at least wasn’t the stabber. However, when we compared the DNA to the other hair we got a match. Now the big question is, who does the blond hair belong to?”

“That’s a good question. We got a DNA sample from one of our persons of interest earlier. Any word on it yet?”

“Nothing yet. We’re still working on it,” Skip said.

“Great job, Skip. Every little bit helps. Keep up the good work,” I said.

“I’ll be in touch,” Skip said. We turned and left the room.

“I’m going to make a phone call to Larissa’s lawyer. We need her in here to talk to us today,” Johnson said.

“Sounds good. And if there’s any possible way to get a DNA sample from her, we need to get it.”

“I agree. I don’t think it’s going to be easy though.”

“All we can do is ask.”

We traveled back to the office and got situated at our desks. I could hear Johnson on the phone, but couldn’t make out everything he was saying. I pulled the murder binder on Effridge out of the box sitting on my desk, and began reviewing it again when Rodriguez sauntered over, breaking my concentration.

“Anything I can help out with?” she asked.

“Slow day?” I asked.

“I’m bored to tears. No calls, and all my reports are up-to-date. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks for the offer. I will. I’ve got to figure out how I’m going to get this woman’s DNA if she doesn’t agree when she comes in. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” She smiled, then turned and walked away.

My eyes followed her each step of the way back to her desk, and her swaying hips hypnotized me until she sat back down in her seat. I heard Johnson clear his throat. I smiled before I turned and looked at him. He shook his head, but didn’t say a word.

“The lawyer said he and MacDonald are going to come in,” Johnson said. “What can we use to try to get her to talk?”

“We have the knife. I wish we had the gun, too. And we have her caught red-handed in Effridge’s apartment without Dupree’s permission, which, since her name’s not on the lease, would be considered trespassing. And we have the bag of shoes.”

“We need something more solid that that. Any fingerprints?”

“Her fingerprints were everywhere in the place. She used to be Dupree’s administrative assistant, so she had a key. We really have nothing on her that ties her to the crime scene unless we can get a match to her DNA and the blood on the knife.”

“Okay, well, we still have our work cut out for us. This isn’t going to be easy, you know,” Johnson said.

“Yeah, I know.”

I’d almost given up on Ms. MacDonald coming in when she and her attorney, a tall well-dressed man with salt and pepper hair, arrived. She looked stunning and he looked determined. She pointed in our direction and the pair walked over.

“Good morning,” the attorney said. “I’m George Keyes, Ms. MacDonald’s attorney. Where are we going to talk?”

Normally I would have appreciated his brashness, but knowing he was representing our suspect left me feeling concerned. I had no idea what she was hiding, but was pretty sure there was something.

“We’re going into room one,” I said. I gathered my paperwork and my notepad, then Johnson and I walked behind them. I reached for the door to open it, then followed them in and closed it behind us.

“So, what’s going on, Detectives?” Keyes asked.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re investigating the murder of Professor Chase Effridge, your client’s boyfriend/fiancé,” I said.

“I am aware. And I believe you’ve already talked to her once, so I need to know why we’re here.”

“Honestly, I’m baffled at your presence. We haven’t charged Ms. MacDonald with anything, we just wanted to talk to her. But it’s her right to retain you. We’re here because we have a few more questions,” Johnson said.

He nodded, giving us his approval to proceed. What a cocky ambulance-chaser, I thought.

I asked questions from the first time we’d met, and again that day. Her answers didn’t change, but her level of emotion had. She no longer seemed anywhere near as distraught, whereas the first time she had been inconsolable and couldn’t stop crying.

“Do you mind if we take a short break?” Ms. MacDonald asked.

“No, that’s fine,” I replied.

“I remember where the restroom is. I’ll be right back.”

“Is there a plan to charge my client? Or is this all just a guessing game still?” Keyes asked with a smug look on his face.

“We have a few more questions. I don’t think we’re at a point where we’re ready to make an arrest, but there are some things we need to find out. You don’t object, do you?” I couldn’t have said it in a more professional-sarcastic tone if I’d tried. And I meant for it to come out that way. His presence was irritating me.

“No, go right ahead. Ask whatever you think is appropriate. Just know, Ms. MacDonald may or may not give you an answer,” he snarked right back at me. What a clown.

After Ms. MacDonald returned and took her seat, I decided it was time to hit her with a couple of hard questions.

“Ms. MacDonald, can you please tell us again, for clarity, what you were doing in Mrs. Dupree’s apartment, and why were you collecting Mr. Effridge’s shoes in a trash bag?”

“Well, I was … I guess I thought ...” She stopped talking when the attorney touched her arm, and turned her head to face him.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he said.

“No, I want to. I already told them once what I was doing.” She turned back to face us. “I wanted to have something to remember Chase by. I know it seems weird, but that’s what I wanted.”

“Why shoes? Why not a favorite piece of jewelry or a photo?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Johnson asked. That got the attorney’s attention.

“Hey, now, let’s be nice or we can walk right out of here,” Keyes said.

“I was just asking a question. I meant no harm,” Johnson backtracked nicely, but I knew he had a specific reason to ask that question. We both had been wondering why she would be after shoes.

“I guess we all have our idiosyncrasies, right? Fortunately, Mrs. Dupree doesn’t know about the shoes, or you being in her apartment. That’s trespassing, and it could potentially be seen as theft,” I said.

“I didn’t walk out with the shoes. You took them, remember? Anyway, when will I get them back?”

“Is there something special about the shoes?” Johnson asked.

“No,” she replied.

Keyes looked uneasy in his seat. “Gentlemen, can we wrap this up here? I have somewhere else to be, and I’m sure Ms. MacDonald would like to get back to her son.”

“We understand. Before you leave, is there any way we can get a DNA sample to eliminate you as a suspect?”

“Why would I be a suspect?”

“We found the knife that killed Effridge. We’re trying to match the other person’s DNA. We suspect that person may be the killer.”

“I’ll give it some thought and let you know. I don’t think I want to do that today.”

That’s fine. We’ll be in touch,” I replied.