Chapter 2

My mind was all over the place on the drive back to the station. Excited didn’t even come close to describing how I felt. I would have been happy to assist one of the other detectives, but this assignment was amazing! A smile crept across my face, then I’d tried my damnedest to wipe it off. I hadn’t felt that keyed up since my football days in college. But I was nervous, too. I didn’t want to … no, change that. I couldn’t blow my big opportunity.

In the Academy, they taught us to consider close family and friends as suspects until they were determined not to have been involved by strong alibis. This wife gave off a vibe that made her seem like a really cold-blooded person. I had no idea how many times the professor had been stabbed, but that type of action was usually done by someone who was emotionally attached. I could picture this wiry woman, his wife, wielding a knife, burying it in this guy’s chest over and over.

Mrs. Dupree was devoid of emotion, too, and it sent a chill up my spine. She was hard-hearted, like she didn’t give two shits about her husband’s life, or death. How could a wife not give a damn that her husband, or estranged husband as she referred to him, had been murdered? She was the #1 suspect in my book. She was going to have a hard time being ruled out.

Since I’d been instructed to begin the interview, I got us set up in an interrogation room. I’d be joined by Jones, my partner, once he returned from the scene.

“Can I get you anything to drink, Mrs. Dupree?” I asked.

“Water is fine.” She waved her pack of cigarettes in the air. “Can I get an ashtray?”

“There’s no smoking in the office, ma’am. Sorry.”

“Oh, my gosh. Really?” She pursed her lips and shook her head at my news. “I thought this was a public building.” She gave more of a reaction to not being able to smoke than she had to finding out her husband was dead.

“You can have a seat in this room; I’ll be right back in with the water.” I exited the room, pulling the door closed behind me.

We had room number two occupied. I made sure Officer McDaniel’s, at the front desk, knew so he could tell Jones where to find me. After grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator, I returned to my interrogation.

After closing the door behind me I went over, set her water on the table next to her pack of cigarettes, and took a seat across from her. “I’m Detective Brad Oliver,” I said. I extended my arm to shake her hand. I expected her hand to be cold and clammy, like her heart, but it was unusually warm. I quickly released her hand so we could get down to business.

I rubbed the back of my neck and cleared my throat. My mouth and throat seemed to go dry. I felt a warmth rush through my face and there was a fluttery feeling that took up residence in my stomach. Stop overthinking this, Oliver, I thought. I’d sat in on questioning before, but never had been the one to get things started. I opened my bottle of water and took a couple small sips, then took in a deep breath before I was able regain my composure and begin. “This is really unofficial right now. We’re not charging you with anything, Mrs. Dupree, we just want to get your statement and get an understanding of what you know, or what you might be able to help shed some light on for us. But I will need to record our conversation.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I told you, I have nothing to hide.”

I told her she was allowed to decline speaking with us and could get an attorney if she chose, but she declined and reiterated that she had nothing to hide. “When was the last time you saw your husband alive, Mrs. Dupree?”

“Friday morning, just before I left to go to work. He was still asleep when I left the house. That was also the last time I saw him, I might add.” Her lashes fluttered as her eyes slowly closed; then just as slowly, they reopened.

“I thought you didn’t live there anymore.”

I don’t.” Her statement was abrupt. I’d have to come back to this later.

“How do you know he was still alive when you left the house that morning?”

She rolled her eyes. “He was lying in bed next to me when the alarm went off. I kissed his forehead and his body was still warm. He was still breathing when I left to go to work.”

“I thought the two of you were separated. Did you move back in?”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like in the dating world for a woman my age, Detective? I’m not exactly a prime candidate. Men aren’t clambering to be with me. Age has taken its toll. My boobs sag, my ass isn’t tight and firm, and my skin isn’t taut – not exactly a dream to most men who are looking for that Barbie doll arm candy. My husband said he wanted to see me Thursday night, so I went over to the apartment. I wasn’t planning to spend the night, but I wasn’t going to refuse his offer, either. Is that a crime?”

I felt my face heat up and flush as the vision of sagging boobs and a saggy ass flashed in my mind. I couldn’t help but think of the old woman in room 237 from The Shining. From my quick assessment, I thought Mrs. Dupree was selling herself short. She was a nice-looking woman. “No, ma’am, it’s not.” She picked up the bottle of water, looked at the Deer Park label, then set it back down on the table.

“What time did you leave your house Friday morning, Mrs. Dupree?”

“Seven-fifteen, I had to get home to shower and get myself ready for work. And to answer your question before you ask: no, I did not kill my husband before I left.”

The door opened and Jones joined me, taking a seat in the chair next to me. I welcomed him and did the introductions before he asked me to step out into the hall for a moment.

“How’s it going? Do you feel comfortable so far? Is there anything I can do?” Jones asked.

“I’m doing okay, I think. So far, she’s saying she didn’t kill the guy, but she did stay the night on Thursday and left Friday morning at seven fifteen.”

“Okay, let’s keep her talking and see what else she says,” Jones said. “The medical examiner and his team showed up before I left. He thinks our victim died on Friday sometime. He gave us the obvious – a gunshot to the head and multiple stab wounds. They’ll get back to us with anything else they find. I told Skip to call you.” He swatted his hand against my arm, then smiled at me. “Let me know if you need anything or want me to jump in to ask some questions. I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I felt more comfortable now that my partner was here. His years of experience would help ground me and I knew he’d help me if I needed anything.

We returned to the room and I continued with my questions.

“Sorry about that, Mrs. Dupree,” Jones said.

“No problem.”

“Do you know if Professor Effridge went to work on Friday?” I asked.

“He doesn’t teach on Fridays this semester,” she replied.

“He had on a suit. It seemed to me he was going somewhere,” I said. “Did he say he was going out? Maybe he had an appointment?”

“I have no idea what he did or was planning to do after I left the apartment. Did you check his computer? He keeps his appointments on his calendar there. I stopped concerning myself with Chase’s whereabouts when I moved out.”

“Do you know if your husband had any other close relatives, besides yourself?” I asked.

“His parents both died years ago, before I met him. He was an only child.”

“Hmm. Thanks.” I rubbed my fingers over my low haircut while contemplating the next question.

“Did your husband have any enemies? Anyone who was so angry with him that they’d want to kill him?” Jones asked.

“Besides me? I’m sure he did. I think he may have burned a few bridges at the university. My son was definitely no fan of Chase’s, but I can’t imagine him doing anything like this,” she said. “My son is no murderer.”

“I have to ask this question, Mrs. Dupree. Where were you all day Friday?” I asked.

“I was at work until seven o’clock in the evening. It was a fairly busy day. I had lunch ordered and delivered,” she said. I felt like I was getting nowhere.

“If you don’t mind, can you tell us how you met Professor Effridge? And help us understand the dynamic of your relationship with him?”

“I don’t mind at all; I think about our meeting every single day. It’s probably one of the better memories I have of him.” She uncapped the bottle and took a drink of water, then replaced the cap, screwing it on tight.

“We met nearly ten years ago. I was sitting in a bar with one of my colleagues after work, Melissa, not that her name is of any consequence. Anyway, as we were talking, he walked in. He walked past me and his arm brushed against my back. I never knew if it was intentional or if it was because it was a little crowded in there. I never asked. Either way, the feeling that rippled through my body made me raise my head to look at him. As I did, he looked down at me. Our eyes met. He grabbed my interest immediately. He was absolutely gorgeous.”

She fidgeted in her seat, then crossed her legs at the ankles. “I should have known right then and there to stay away, but I was so enthralled by him and his incredible good looks.” She uncapped her water bottle and took another sip before recapping it and continuing. “He walked over to the bar, ordered his drink, then turned and stared at me. His gaze was like that out of a cartoon, you know where you see the hypnotic rays coming across to you with the finger waggling, encouraging me to come to him.” Her lips relaxed and the corners of her mouth turned up while her eyes closed. “It was like that. I was hypnotized by him.” Her eyes popped open and the smirk dropped from her mouth into a scowl, like she had tasted something really disgusting.

She uncapped the water and took a large gulp. “Melissa and I spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes talking about the exceptional man who had nearly knocked me over when he bumped into me.

“I excused myself from Melissa’s company, using the ‘I need to go to the restroom’ excuse. She said she needed to leave anyway, and she did. I felt compelled to walk over near him. His stare stayed on me as I walked in his direction. Once I was within a foot or two of him at the bar he grabbed my hand and pulled me around the corner into a dark little hallway over by a storage closet.”

“Did you scream? Were you frightened?”

“I didn’t scream and I wasn’t scared. My stomach was doing flip-flops. He pressed my back against the wall. His hands slid down the length of my arms until they reached my wrists. While holding them firmly in each of his hands he lifted them above my head and held them tight against the wall with one of his hands, and his other arm wrapped around my body. There were no words exchanged. There didn’t need to be any words exchanged.” She inhaled and her eyes drifted close. As she exhaled she raised her hands and pulled her hair back, letting it cascade over her shoulders. She looked tranquil as she reminisced.

“Did you feel threatened at any point?”

“Oddly, no. He towered over me. His physical presence made me weak. He leaned in close as if he were going to kiss me, but he didn’t. His lips just grazed mine. His hand worked its way down until he reached the small of my back. He pulled me forward not letting go of my hands that he held tight to the wall. His knee pushed between my legs, parting them.”

I noticed Jones was twirling the pencil around on the table. I think we both would have preferred to have been anywhere except in that room listening to this encounter, but this was my job. And I was dumb enough to have asked the question. Telling the sergeant we let our #1 suspect go because we got sick of hearing her erotic encounter would not end well for me. So, I sat up straighter in my chair and looked at her. “Please, go on.”

“Are you sure you boys want to hear this?”

“We’re men and, yes, Mrs. Dupree, we need to know for the investigation.”

“Please, call me Carlotta.” She flipped her hand through the air and smacked her lips.

“Carlotta.” I smiled at her.

“As I was saying, things got pretty hot and heavy back in that private little nook area. He pressed himself into me flattening me on the wall, making sure I could feel him.” She inhaled deep through her nose, then exhaled between those red lips of hers. “I wanted him. I wanted him because he wanted me. I didn’t think I looked bad for my age or anything, but it was obvious looking at the two of us that I was older than he was.”

“How did the dating begin after such an intense first meeting?”

“I guess it’s called, um, stalking. I made it my business to get to know as much as I could about him, and I made sure to coincidentally have a presence in the places he frequented. We began dating shortly after he’d seen me a few more times. He’d recently graduated with a degree in education. I offered to help him since I have contacts throughout the city. And that …” she pointed her index finger first at Jones, who wasn’t paying as much attention, then toward me. “… is what got him into his job at the college.”

She sat in silence for a few minutes, staring at us. As I looked back at her, I still saw no emotion on her face. No nervousness. No feeling whatsoever. I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer we’d have to talk before she said something, anything, that would confirm my gut feeling that she’d killed her husband.

“What else can you tell us about your husband?”