Chapter 27

I made a phone call to Keyes, Ms. MacDonald’s attorney, and let him know we needed her to come down to the station again. He wasn’t happy to be coming back in to talk to us, but when I told him we had the gun he said he’d be right here with his client.

Johnson went to call the co-ed, Megan Green. We agreed he would interview her for the final time, and I would handle Ms. MacDonald and her attorney. We also both agreed we weren’t pulling any punches this time around. We had evidence that we could finally act upon and make arrests.

It didn’t take long for Keyes and Ms. MacDonald to walk through the door. Her legs appeared stiff, and she was holding her arms across her body, tight, clenching the fabric of her shirt around her elbows. She didn’t look in my direction at all.

Keyes’ eyes met mine. His normally-jutting chin and irritating smirk were missing. His shoulders hunched slightly instead of his normal, perfectly-straight posture. His head was held lower than normal. It seemed like he’d lost his cockiness, or at least that was what I surmised from his demeanor.

“Hello. We’re going to be in the conference room this time,” I said as they both eyed our interrogation rooms.

They followed me up to the room where ADA Wallace was waiting for us to join her. Once we all entered the room and I had the door shut, Keyes spoke up.

“What’s this all about, Detective? I thought you got your questions answered already.”

“Third time’s a charm, Counselor. I have some very specific details I’d like to talk to Ms. MacDonald about.”

“Go ahead, ask away. She may or may not answer, that’s her right.”

“I completely understand. It won’t change the ultimate outcome, but I understand.”

“Don’t speak in riddles, just ask your questions.” He huffed out a breath. “Please.”

“Ms. MacDonald, I want you to think hard about the day Chase Effridge was murdered. Tell me where you were again, and tell me what happened,” I said.

She sighed and tilted her head to look at her attorney. He nodded at her.

“We’ve been over this. I went to see Chase in the morning. He’d left his wallet at my home and I was taking it back to him.”

“Did you get into an argument?” I asked.

“Why would you ask that?” she questioned me.

“We know your ex, Jonathan Calhoun, had pictures sent to you. We know the more innocent-looking pictures were of him with McKenzie Sims. The ones that were more telling were of him and one of his students. Did you see them?” I asked.

“I saw them,” she ground out. “I saw her at the apartment that morning, too.”

“That really pissed you off, didn’t it? Your lover had moved on and was leaving you behind. He was treating you in the exact same way he’d treated his wife when he got involved with you,” I said. I wanted to get her pissed off. I was counting on it.

“That’s enough, Detective,” Keyes said. I glanced at him and saw his lips were pinched and his jaw clenched tight.

“You got those photos, and you were pissed. He was cheating on you, with a younger woman to boot. Am I right?”

“Detective,” Keyes hissed.

“Yeah, okay? I was furious! How could he do that to me?”

“You don’t have to say another word,” Keyes said to his client.

“So mad you shot him, right?” I asked.

“No! I didn’t shoot him. But I was mad enough that if I’d had a gun, I would’ve. I’d have unloaded the gun in him. That’s just how damn mad I was!” Her tears flowed down her face.

“Jeez,” Keyes said. He rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath before releasing the air like a steam engine.

“What did you do to him?” I asked.

Keyes touched her arm, “Not another word.” She didn’t speak. She was so close to telling me everything. Fuck!

“What are we talking here? I mean, my client was obviously under a lot of emotional distress and was impulsively acting out of character. She’s not a murderer. She’s a devastated woman, and mother, whose judgement was clouded by her partner’s unfaithfulness.”

“We can talk about plea deals after we hear the entire story, Counselor. You know how this works,” ADA Wallace interjected. “Are we going to hear it or not?”

He gave Ms. MacDonald a nod, indicating for her to continue.

“As Mr. Keyes said, I was under a lot of emotional distress. I was beside myself,” she said. I held up a hand interrupting her lame speech before she could utter another word.

“When did you get the photos in the mail?” Wallace asked.

“I got them on Wednesday.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to Chase before Friday? Why wait so long?” she asked.

“I didn’t believe what I was seeing at first. Then on Thursday, when he came over, I didn’t want to start a fight in front of the baby. So I made arrangements for my mom to watch him while I confronted Chase on Friday.”

Before another question could be asked, Johnson opened the door and motioned for me to step outside. “Excuse me.”

“How’s it going? Did she show up?” I asked.

“Yep. She showed up and lawyered up immediately. I read her her rights and sent her to booking for the formality. Murder, that’s the charge. How’s it going for you?” Johnson asked.

“Come on and sit in. She’s talking, and Keyes is hoping for a plea. That’s Wallace’s call, but I’m thinking they’re barking up the wrong tree. She got the pics on Wednesday. That gave her two days to stew and think about what she was going to do. She made the conscious decision to commit murder, despite Keyes’ attempt to say otherwise,” I said.

“Come on, let’s go get this finished up.”

We walked back in the room to hear Wallace and Keyes discussing the difference between premeditation and heat of passion. Keyes was desperately searching for anything to help Ms. MacDonald out. I felt bad for the woman, and for her son. The poor child had already lost his father at the hands of his mother, and now he was going to lose his mother to prison. This was how some kids turned into adults with mental disturbances and could easily find themselves on the wrong side of the law, too. As sad as it was, she had to pay for her crime.

“Come on! She’s a mother. What’s her son supposed to do?” Keyes said. He was coming unhinged.

“Your client should have thought of that before she decided to kill her son’s father. Listen, if you can provide proof that she never considered killing the man that day, that things just escalated in the heat of the moment, we can talk, but honestly I don’t believe that’s the case,” Wallace said. “And a plea isn’t on the table until we hear the entire story.”

“Okay, okay! I’ll tell you,” Larissa said. Her tears flowed down her cheeks. “The pictures confirmed my suspicions. I’d suspected Chase of cheating well before they arrived; I just wasn’t sure with whom, and I had no way of proving it. But that morning when I went to confront him, I saw her. It was the young girl from the pictures. She was so pretty.” She sniffled, and took a few minutes to try to gather her composure. “I was sitting in my car. I’d just left Chase in the apartment, when I saw her. I watched her go into the building. She didn’t stay for very long. I’d planned to eavesdrop at the door, but she was running down the stairs as I was making my way up them. We passed each other and our eyes met. It was at that point that I became even more distraught and enraged. He’d discarded me like a piece of trash. He disregarded that I was the mother of his child and found someone prettier and younger.”

“What happened when you got to his apartment, Ms. MacDonald?” I asked.

“I knocked on the door, but he never answered. I tried the door and it was unlocked, so I let myself in. That was when I saw him. He was lying on the floor, with a pool of blood around his head. For a second I thought about calling 911. I swear, I really did. But I changed my mind. I wanted to save him, but I didn’t want to save him. I knew he was going to leave me anyway. I couldn’t live with myself if I saved him and he left me anyway, for her. He didn’t appreciate me anymore. He never would again. I took the knife out of my purse, the one I’d brought from my father’s old tackle box, and I stabbed him.”

“Do you remember how many times you stabbed him?” Johnson asked.

“No,” she mumbled. She rocked back and forth in her chair, arms tightly crossed at her chest. Keyes looked sick. He knew his client was in trouble.

“There was a shoeprint near Effridge’s head. It was a man’s shoe. Was there someone else in the apartment with you? Did you see anyone when you left?”

She cleared her throat and lowered her head. “I put on Chase’s shoes before I stepped closer to his body. Before I left, I threw them in the closet.”

“So the day we saw you in the apartment, you weren’t looking for keepsakes,” I surmised.

“No,” she said. “I went to get the shoes, hoping no one found them yet.”

“Ms. MacDonald, can you take a few minutes and write down your statement for us?” I asked.

She nodded her head. I reached for a pad of paper and pulled a pen from my shirt pocket. I purposefully set the items in front of her, angling in the direction a right-handed person would prefer. She grabbed the bottom of the pad of paper and shifted it to her left. She held the pen in her left hand and began writing. Johnson and I looked at each other and smiled. We definitely had our stabber. One more confirmed piece of evidence to seal her fate.

When she finished writing, I took the paper and pen from her.

“Thank you. Now, please stand,” I said. I walked over to her and pulled the cuffs from my belt, securing them on her left wrist first, then her right.

“Larissa MacDonald, you’re under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you …”