Threads of Suspicion

by Dee Henderson

  “It’s a wonderful hope, David.”

  “It is.” He smiled at a memory, and his voice lifted as he said, “In the meantime, life goes on. Maggie certainly treats me as her fiancé. She wants our dates, and the flowers, and the movies watched together. She calls when the sink backs up and asks my opinion on her new song lyrics, gives her thumbs up or down on the latest shirt I’ve bought, and still gets flustered when I’m taking her over to dinner with my parents, knowing they are going to drop hints about grandchildren one day.” He grinned. “Anyway, thanks for listening, Evie. It makes it easier when people I work with know that background, especially when Maggie is going to be around often.”

  “I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Evie assured him. She considered what else she wanted to say, for the trust he’d offered in sharing was significant. She wasn’t ready to tell him her own past with as much candor, but she respected what he’d done. “You love her, David. You asked Maggie to marry you, and she said yes. If you broke your word to her, you’d be shredding something in your own heart and hers. You two are paused.” Evie nodded, because that felt like the right word. “God may have known this was the only way to one day win Maggie’s heart. Faith was relatively easy for you. But there are a lot of people in the world, like Maggie, for whom coming to accept the truth is not such an easy step.”

  “I’ve learned to understand that,” David agreed.

  Evie thought a good place to end this conversation was a request. “I’d like an invitation to the wedding, whenever that day comes.”

  David smiled and said, “I’m keeping a list current. I’ll be glad to add you, Evie.”

  They said their good-nights in the restaurant parking lot twenty minutes later. Evie set the carryout carton on the passenger seat and backed out. At just after seven, she decided it was too early to return to the hotel. Jenna’s journals could wait a bit. She headed back to the office suite. Working sane hours just meant living out of a hotel room longer, and that trade-off didn’t take much thought.

  Five

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you again tonight.” Evie set aside her interview write-up and stretched her arms. It was just after ten p.m.

  David set a laptop travel case on an empty desk. “It turns out one of my PI’s active cases is an open murder. Saul was working for a husband whose wife was killed.”

  “That goes some interesting places.”

  “Go searching for a murderer, that’s a nice way to get yourself killed.” David shook off his coat. “I wanted to see the full file on it, and morning was a few hours too many away.”

  Evie smiled, completely understanding that sentiment.

  David studied the aerial maps clipped on the second whiteboard she had rolled in. “They brought by your two map tubes?”

  “A patrol officer delivered them,” Evie confirmed. “Someone did a lot of my work for me.”

  She turned her chair to scan the maps. The first tube had contained aerial images of the area around the college, taken in the late fall or early winter, so there were no leaves obscuring the ground. When the images were placed side by side, she had about a square mile of visual info—fences and storage buildings, alleys and bike paths, the semi-hidden features in a neighborhood that a local would know about and might use. Detectives had marked various buildings with numbered dots. An accompanying sheet listed forty-two locations, places she was finding referenced in interview files.

  “I talked with a couple of Jenna’s friends by phone tonight,” she told David. “Her neighbor across the hall, plus a chemistry study partner. They both thought Jenna might have gone out for a walk that night and gotten shoved into a car or something of the sort, not been at the apartment when this happened. Jenna was known to take late-night strolls around the neighborhood, occasionally back to the campus. The student-union building and its coffee shop were open twenty-four hours a day back then—now it’s just six a.m. to midnight weekdays.”

  “That takes this away from her apartment.”

  “The search area keeps expanding.” Evie nodded toward a desk holding the contents of the second tube. She’d weighted down the corners of the oversize sheets to stop the curl.

  “The second tube was equally intriguing. Photographs of buildings around the neighborhood, laid out in order on hand-drawn street maps. Some detail-obsessed detective wrote down the building address, the apartment numbers, and listed names of the residents. Both sides of Jenna’s block are completely filled in. Blocks around Jenna’s are partially complete with building photos and names intermixed with empty squares for ones that hadn’t yet been researched. I’d kiss the guy who did that work if I could find him.”

  David laughed. “You’re having a good night.”

  “I am. I’m mostly reading interviews so I have in mind what people told cops nine years ago and can compare it to what I hear from them now.”

  “A smart plan.”

  It was late, he’d come back to chase a good lead on his own case, and she didn’t want to keep him from that. “I’m getting ready to head back to the hotel to start on Jenna’s journals. I hope your active murder goes somewhere productive. You can tell me about it over breakfast.”

  “If I solve mine tonight, I’m calling whatever time it is.”

  Evie laughed. “I’d do the same.”

  David turned to the conference room. Evie brought up the music playlist for Triple M to give him some background music.

  “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure.” Evie gathered her things together, paused by the desk with the hand-drawn street map and building photos. Some residents’ names had a checkmark beside them, others a circled C. According to the legend, the checkmark indicated an interview was on file, the circled C that the individual had a criminal record. The research work required to pursue various theories from her list had dropped by more than half.

  The nice thing about a visual like this was being able to trail interviews back across geography. If Bob said he had a steady girlfriend, the guy across the hall should recognize the woman’s photo as someone often around—this visual made it possible to determine who should have noticed something or who would be the person most likely to know something.

  Evie scanned the names. There were more women living in the buildings around Jenna than she would have guessed. Guys seemed to favor a few—if she had to guess why, probably better gym facilities.

  She traced a route Jenna might have walked that night, looking at names along the way she would want to re-interview. She needed someone who worked the late shift at a restaurant or local bar, someone coming home at midnight. If Jenna went for a walk that night, she would have been seen.

  She runs into trouble on her walk or . . . Evie traced her finger back to Jenna’s apartment building . . . or all this was superfluous because the crime was right here, and only here, in Jenna’s building.

  A question to pursue further tomorrow. Evie got out her car keys and headed out.

  Early Thursday morning, her phone showed one unread message. Expecting Rob, Evie pulled it up. David. Heading to the office. He’d sent it at 5:10 a.m. Ouch. She dropped the phone onto the second pillow. She was a morning person, but that was early even for her. She yawned and staggered into the bathroom, hoping a shower would wake up her brain, help her engage for the day.

  A good man, David Marshal, she thought, even more sure of it after hearing his story last night. He would give Maggie as much time as needed to make that decision of faith, showing himself faithful both to his God and to his word to Maggie. Evie thought he was handling it beautifully, given how the situation had developed. And it had to be unbelievably difficult for him.

  She was glad it was not her dilemma with Rob. He had been a Christian since high school. How he expressed his faith was different than she did, yet it was real for them both. David and Maggie deeply desired to be married but were caught in an impasse. Evie was in a limbo of a different sort. Rob loved her, had made it clear over Christmas that he’d
like a life with her. There was a marriage proposal waiting if she wanted to say yes. And she wasn’t there yet.

  She owed Rob a call to get dinner on their schedule. They were, for once, within an hour’s drive of each other. He wasn’t in the habit of sending texts, and she wasn’t the kind to send short messages either. She wanted eyes on him when they were talking, expressions, flow of conversation, not thirty seconds of information. They talked frequently enough that she knew the news going on in his family and heard anything unexpected that happened in his life. She gave him the highlights about her activities, but the rest could wait until they were together. So far it was a pace of a relationship that worked for them.

  She made a mental note to call him, then wondered what it said about her that she was okay making that call at the end of day rather than reaching for the phone now. Rob was a good man, important to her, but she hadn’t wrapped her world around his yet, wasn’t sure she was ready to take that last step. She wanted more time and couldn’t precisely say why, simply knew she needed it.

  Last night’s weather update announced another cold winter day—as if she needed a reminder in Chicago’s January. She pulled out the warmest dress pants she had with her and an expensive suit jacket to slip over a black knit sweater. Professional and approachable for interviews. As she quickly blow-dried her hair, she planned her morning.

  Jenna’s best friend would be a good place to start. The woman had been studying fashion. Odds were decent she might still be in the Chicago area.

  She would need to talk with Jenna’s family today, but pushing a formal interview with them off for a few days would be wise; she would have better questions when she did sit down with them. This didn’t seem like a family crime, but that possibility was pulsing to its own beat. Evie had seen too many fathers murder daughters not to leave it an open theory. Maybe a sibling collision—family member shows up at an unexpected hour, knocks on the door, Jenna leaves the apartment with them, trouble happens . . . it fit the facts as they so far existed, and she doubted cops had seriously explored the possibility.

  Interviewing Jenna’s boyfriend was also a priority. An older student than most, he’d been working at the campus newspaper, reporting on sports, been at an away game for the basketball team on the weekend Jenna went missing. Maybe he killed her, but the forethought to create an alibi good enough to hold up to scrutiny suggested a premeditation that didn’t fit the current appearance of the crime. Probably not the boyfriend. The case would have been solved by now if that was it. The cops would have gone back to take another look at Steve Hamilton every time they revisited the case. But he’d still be a good interview for her as he’d have a unique perspective on Jenna.

  Evie paused drying her hair to add another theory to her growing list.

  26. Was it an accident and a cover-up?

  Late night, Jenna’s out for a walk. “I was drunk, it was dark, I didn’t see her, I hit her with my car. I took her body away and dumped it.” A college guy, wanting to save his own skin, hid the accidental killing. If you grew up in this area, knew where to dump a body where it was unlikely to be found, it could fit the facts. Evie made a note to look at the aerial maps for rivers and lakes nearby.

  College kids got drunk and drove vehicles—that was policing 101 around college campuses. She might be able to find a vehicle damaged that night by an erratic driver, maybe a vehicle repair or an insurance claim—those got filed and lingered around in databases. Or maybe come at it from the other direction: which college student had abruptly entered rehab in the days after Jenna’s disappearance—killing someone would put a load of guilt on a guy. He could either become a raging alcoholic or get scared into going sober. There would be signs somewhere.

  A drunk driver kills Jenna, manages to hide the body where it can’t easily be discovered, or talks a friend into helping him hide the body. The combination of bad luck, accident, cover-up fit why this crime hadn’t been solved.

  The phone in her pocket rang, and Evie read the caller ID, said an absent-minded, “Hello, Ann.”

  “You’re working, I recognize that distracted tone.”

  “Thinking mostly. I’m glad you called. I chose a missing Brighton College girl as my case. Want to help out?”

  “It’s actually why I called. Today and tomorrow are looking free.”

  “I’d love your help canvassing the college area. Want to meet me at noon?”

  “Sounds like fun. You’re buying lunch.”

  “I like those kind of deals. I’ll text you a location. Thanks, Ann.” Evie pocketed the phone, pleased to have that arranged.

  She finished getting ready, then gathered up Jenna’s journals and her notes, car keys. This was the sweet spot of a case as facts and theories began to bubble up in rapid succession. She had information to piece together, ideas to pursue. It felt like a good beginning to the second day.

  Evie paused in the conference room doorway. David was reading what looked like one of Saul’s case files. “You like working early mornings.”

  David glanced around, smiled. “Habit. I’m awake, I might as well go to work.”

  “Had breakfast?”

  “Very early.”

  “I brought extra. Come join me.”

  “Glad to.” He pushed back his chair and got to his feet, reached for his coffee mug. “I’ll get a refill for this. Want coffee this morning?”

  “Sure.” She had chosen a desk not piled with her own case materials for a breakfast table. The carryout container she slid his direction held toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs.

  “Nice.”

  “I was hungry.” She opened a matching one for herself and shook her orange juice before opening it. “I read through Jenna’s journals last night. A normal life. She didn’t see it coming, whatever happened. She wasn’t worried about anyone, in a stressful relationship with someone, coming off a bad breakup, nothing about troubles at home. Life was good, in a routine of classes, studying, time with her boyfriend. Free time was music and concerts and hanging out with girlfriends. A normal college life.”

  “Anyone else besides the boyfriend interested in her?”

  “Nobody is standing out—not that she picked up on, anyway. I want the friend’s take on that. Who wanted to be noticed that Jenna was passing over?” Evie shifted the subject. “I’m dying to know—where did the murder case take you?”

  David spread jelly on his toast. “It may be my answer to this. The client is Nathan Lewis, a businessman in the city, wealthy, happily married for seven years. His wife, Caroline, was murdered in a grocery-store parking lot, middle of the day.” David grimaced just saying it. “She’s loading groceries in her car, she’s stabbed once, she bleeds to death. Devastates the husband. Her purse was left at the scene, along with her wedding ring, expensive necklace and bracelet. So maybe a failed robbery and a panicked suspect, but it reads to me like robbery wasn’t the original intent.

  “Freemont’s a middle-class neighborhood, a bit out of her normal geography, but she volunteered at a charity nearby and would often stop at the store to talk to an old family friend who worked for the in-store bakery.

  “The cops looked at a lot of theories. Random crazy guy, random murder. Someone fleeing another crime tries to take her car, knifes her, then runs when it goes bad. Maybe a kidnapping attempt gone sour. Or it was even more personal, someone hates the husband, kills his wife, or hires someone to kill the wife? She’s a stay-at-home wife, charity work, law-abiding. She wasn’t one you’d think of as a target. The husband falling apart may have been the goal.

  “Saul had been working the case about a month when he disappeared. He was looking for rumors in the neighborhood. Did someone see something, hear something, but not want to come forward to talk to the cops? Maybe my PI found the guy who murdered the wife and got himself killed in the process.”

  “Going to talk to the husband?”

  “He’s on my short list to interview today,” David confirmed. “His wife’s case is still
open. But I want to do some research first, see if the cops have a person of interest before I talk to him. It’s been six and a half years, but I bet he still flinches when I say I have some questions about Caroline’s death. I’d rather not do that to a guy without first doing my homework.”

  Evie could appreciate that. “Those open wounds don’t heal. I’d like to tag along when you do go see him.”

  “Sure. I’ll find you.”

  “Anything else looking hopeful?” she wondered.

  “The closed files are giving me a lot of possibilities, people with a motive for payback who might like to see him dead. I’ve got twenty-two names so far, and the list is growing. People who went to jail for a few years or who had to pay a hefty amount in a divorce settlement because of an affair my PI proved was going on.

  “He has some suspended files—the client decided to stop the work due to costs, or the PI and client were waiting for a new lead to show up before they started on it again. Saul could have been working a few of them on his own time, but those seem less likely as the source of this disappearance.

  “The other active cases are all interesting in different ways.” David consulted notes on his phone. “He was following a husband, a recovering gambling addict the wife thought might have relapsed. Saul’s notebook—‘My take—the wife would be more relieved to hear he is having an affair than get the news he’s gone back to gambling.’”

  “She sounds stressed.”

  “If her husband turned up dead, I’d be looking at the wife,” David agreed. “Saul was doing background checks for a vice-president job opening at a biomedical firm. Saul’s notebook—‘One has a wife with a cocaine problem, one is keeping a mistress and a wife, one is sleeping with the CFO of a rival company, and one is getting ahead by routinely claiming his research assistant’s work product is his own. Good luck with this hiring choice.’”