“Officer Streed, this is Clare Henry,” Creighton said after he opened a door and signaled me into a smaller room, obviously built to question suspects without distractions that might interrupt the interrogation. It even had the mirrored glass I knew was one-way only.
“Have a seat,” Officer Streed said without standing. He barely looked up from the papers on the table in front of him.
Creighton nodded at me and then closed the door, leaving me to fend for myself. I didn’t spot Jodie anywhere behind him.
I sat and remained silent.
Finally, after what seemed like a long, rude passing of time, Officer Streed looked up. He was probably in his forties, with a deeply receding hairline and heavy dark circles under his brown eyes. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him anywhere around Star City, and I definitely didn’t know him.
He pushed a button on a small digital recorder in between us on the table. “Clare Henry, this is to advise you that this conversation is being recorded.” He stated the date and then jumped into the questions. “Where were you the night of—”
But I cut him off. “I’m waiting for my attorney before I talk to you.”
“Whatever you want to do.” He clicked off the recorder and leaned the chair back a little. “I just have a few quick questions though. You could be out of here in a jiffy.”
“I’ll wait.”
The door opened before Officer Streed could fit in more motivational commentary.
“I’m Ms. Henry’s attorney,” said the man who came through the doorway.
Both Officer Streed and I were at an immediate loss for words. The man who came through the door wasn’t a man exactly. It was probably only last week that he was considered a boy. It looked like everything he wore—his suit, shirt, and tie—was too big for him, as if he’d had to dig though his father’s closet for the clothes. His short brown hair had been combed sideways, and it looked like he’d used some gel to keep it in place, but the effect was definitely more like spit from Mom’s finger. His pale skin and thin face made him seem even more youthful, if that were possible. I was sure that Officer Streed regretted sharing with me a look of disbelief, but he hid it quickly.
“All righty,” the police officer said before he clicked on the recorder again. “Come on in.”
“I’m Danny, I mean Dan Nelson,” he said as he shoved his briefcase under his left arm and extended his right hand to Officer Streed.
Officer Streed shook, but not without a suspicious squint at Danny, I mean Dan. Dan and I shook too. As we did, he smiled as if to reassure me he could handle this.
“You know my grandfather?” I said as he pulled back the chair next to me, noisily scraping the feet over the ’90s linoleum.
“Well, not really. My father knows your grandfather. I just recently joined my father’s firm. Dad’s fishing today.”
“Have you been to law school?” I said.
“Of course.” The smiled disappeared as he sat in the chair and scooted it forward.
“Passed the bar?”
“Yes. Just last month.”
“I see,” I said.
Officer Streed had the gall to smile big. I was surprised he didn’t lick his lips.
“Excellent,” Officer Streed said. “Let’s get started.”
“Uh, no,” Dan said.
“Why not?” Officer Streed asked.
“Because my client isn’t under arrest. She doesn’t have to answer any of your questions. She can leave if she wants to. Do you want to?”
“Wait. I didn’t have to come in?” I asked.
“No, you weren’t arrested,” Dan said. “Want to leave?”
I did want to leave. I also wanted to have some serious conversations with Jodie and Creighton regarding how I would never trust them again. But I was kind of curious too. What evidence did they have that made them want to question me? How could they possibly have anything?
“What are the questions?” I finally said to Officer Streed, but I turned to Dan then and added, “I’ll answer only what I want to answer. You tell me if I should skip something.”
They both nodded, Dan with a scared enthusiasm, and Officer Streed with impatient irritation.
Officer Streed began. “You first saw the murder victim when?”
“The day before he was killed—or is that the day of, if he was killed that night?”
“I understand what you mean,” Officer Streed said. And then he recited the dates attached to the events so they would be recorded. “Please give me the sequence of events as you remember them from that day.”
I saw no problem in relaying the sequence of events, and Dan didn’t stop me as I went through them step-by-step. Actually, I tried very hard to give as many details as possible, like the fact that leather man’s eyes seemed to be rimmed in red. Officer Streed didn’t interrupt and he didn’t take notes. He kept his sad-dog eyes on mine. He might not have even blinked.
When I finished, he said, “Before that day in The Rescued Word, you’d never seen the victim before?”
“No, never,” I said.
“Anywhere else?”
“No, nowhere else. Never.”
Officer Streed nodded and opened a file. “I’m going to show you some pictures.” He pulled out a small stack and fanned them in front of me. They were all of Mirabelle, Marion, and me in The Rescued Word.
“I’ve never seen these pictures before, but I know the people in them,” I said. “These were on the camera? I thought I saw a flash or something.”
“When did you see a flash?” Officer Streed asked.
“When Mirabelle and I were talking to Marion before we went to the back.”
“Why didn’t you mention that in the sequence of events?”
I swallowed hard. “I guess I forgot. These were on the camera?”
Officer Streed didn’t confirm or deny that these were pictures found on the camera that had fallen out of leather man’s grasp or pocket or wherever it had come from as he’d turned to escape from the store.
“How about these? Have you ever seen these pictures?” Officer Streed said as he pulled three more pictures from the folder and turned them over. One picture was me on my front porch, holding a cup of coffee. One was of me leaving Little Blue, stepping off the stairs and onto the sidewalk. I was holding a bag that I sometimes used to carry books back and forth if I didn’t want to leave them in the safe. There were just some books I felt shouldn’t be left at the shop. Chester understood this and never argued when I told him I was taking a book with me. The last picture Officer Streed turned over was the most bothersome one. It was of me at my kitchen sink. Whoever had taken this picture must have been up on the side of the mountain with a strong telephoto lens.
“This was the same day he came into the store. I had that bag and I know I wore that shirt.” I pointed at the middle picture. Then I pointed at the kitchen picture. “This is from that day too. I don’t remember that moment, but it must have been before I went into work. To answer your question though, no, I’ve never seen these pictures before. They bother me.”
Officer Streed nodded, but now his eyes weren’t glued to mine; he was looking down at the pictures.
“Where were you the night the murder occurred?”
I looked at Dan, who clearly wasn’t sure whether I should answer or not. I thought he might shrug, but he managed to look completely unsure of himself without needing the shoulder move.
“I was at The Rescued Word all night. I was working on a project, and then I fell asleep at my desk,” I said. Truth was truth, I decided.
“Did you see or hear anything unusual?” Streed said.
“No.”
“Did anyone knock on either the front or the back door?”
“No. Well, not that I heard.”
“What about your grandfather? He lives i
n the building, right? Was he there?”
“I . . .”
“Hang on, Clare,” Dan said. “Let’s let Chester answer that for himself.”
“All right,” Streed said. “When was the last time you saw your grandfather before you spent the night working?”
I looked at Dan, who did shrug this time.
“Earlier that afternoon. He left the store around six o’clock,” I said.
“And then when did you see him next?” Streed said.
“He woke me up the following morning.”
“You were sleeping—where?”
“At the worktable. That’s where he woke me up.”
“But you have no knowledge of where he was overnight?”
I thought for a moment. I didn’t have to answer. I could lie, but that wasn’t a good idea either. Finally, following Dan’s earlier lead, I said, “I think you should ask Chester where he was.”
“I will,” Streed said. “I wasn’t asking you where he was, though. I was asking you if you saw him.”
“I didn’t see him overnight,” I said. “He might have been in his apartment above the store though. He’s over twenty-one. I didn’t ask him. He doesn’t have to check in with me.” This was kind of a lie. We did check in with each other out of common courtesy, but not all the time.
Was that a good or bad answer? It seemed bad, but I didn’t want to make it worse by showing uncertainty or concern. I didn’t need to push up my glasses, but I did just to give myself a minute to regain my composure.
“And do you have any knowledge at all about what might have happened to the murder victim, the circumstances behind his murder?”
“Not at all.”
“You and your grandfather found the body.”
“Yes.”
“I’d like that sequence of events too.”
I did as he asked, taking him through seeing leather man’s shoes on the computer screen and then finding the body outside in the alley.
“Your cameras just go out that night?”
“No, in fact that was the first time they’d been on in a long time. We’d become spooked when the man came in earlier demanding the No. 5. We decided to make sure the cameras and sensors were on and the program was working. We didn’t do that very well, unfortunately.”
“Number 5?”
“The typewriter. An Underwood No. 5.”
“I recommend you get your system fixed.”
I nodded, but only a little. I didn’t want to agree with Officer Streed on much of anything at the moment.
“Any chance your grandfather turned off the cameras in the middle of the night?”
A thread of panic zipped through me, but again I tried to remain neutral. “No chance at all. My grandfather stays away from all that stuff. He doesn’t understand any of it.”
Officer Streed nodded coolly now. “Perhaps you or your grandfather were so scared by the man’s intrusion into your store that one of you thought you should take the law into your own hands?”
I knew this was the part where the person being questioned should see that the officer was just trying to shake things up, and the person being questioned should remain obstinately quiet.
However, I pulled in a breath as if to protest.
Fortunately, my attorney was better than his first impression had indicated. He put his hand over one of mine and said, “That is not really a question, Officer Streed, and my client will not be answering it or any more that you might have. We’re done here.”
I shut my mouth and let the air travel out through my nose. Of course, my nose whistled. Everyone in the room acted as if they hadn’t heard it.
“All righty, then,” Officer Streed said. “Until next time.”
He reached forward, clicked off the recorder, picked it up, stood, and left the room without any further comment.
“Thank you,” I said to Dan. I wasn’t sure what else to say. It occurred to me that he might want to know without a doubt that I was innocent and I was pretty sure that Chester was too, but strangely it didn’t seem like the right time or place to make such a declaration.
“You’re welcome. Sorry my dad couldn’t be here. He’s somewhere where there’s no cell phone coverage.”
“You did great. I’m glad you were available.”
“Well, I really did go to law school and I really did pass the bar, but only recently.”
“At least you passed,” I said.
I kind of expected him to say “barely,” but he didn’t. He just smiled.
“If they had any evidence, they’d keep you or arrest you. They clearly have nothing and are just looking for something, anything. The pictures of you at your home are probably the big reason they’re looking for a connection.”
“Those pictures bother me.”
“I can understand that, but though I think you should be careful, it appears the man who took the pictures is gone, and perhaps he was only taking them because of your connection to typewriters, the one he came in for specifically. Again, always be careful, but they probably aren’t any cause for alarm.”
“Okay,” I said, but uncertainty filled my voice.
“Can’t blame the police, really. They are trying to solve a murder; they gotta start somewhere. I’m here to make sure they don’t get out of hand. Here’s my card with my cell and my office numbers. Call me if they want to talk to you again, or to your grandfather.”
Dan stood, so I did too as I took the card. He shoved his skinny briefcase back under his arm and opened the door for me.
He followed me out into the big room, now populated with six officers attempting to look like they were doing something policelike. But I knew they were all watching me expectantly, wondering what this turn of events might do to my friendship and ex-relationship with two of their fellow officers. And I was sure they were also watching Jodie and Creighton with critical eyes. Would they do their jobs or would they cave because of our histories together?
I didn’t much care what the other officers, including Creighton, thought or did. I was only interested in letting Jodie know that I felt hurt and betrayed. I thought she should suffer at least a little.
When I stopped at her desk and she looked up at me with as even a glance as I’d held for Officer Streed, Dan stopped next to me. He looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“Oh, Jodie’s a friend. I’m not going to answer any of her questions either.” I sent her a much harder and more impatient look. She withered slightly, which wasn’t her style.
“Very good. Call me,” Dan said before he turned and left, nodding confidently at a couple of the other officers and seeming not to care that they didn’t return his friendly greetings.
“I will.” I turned toward Jodie when he was gone. “That was awful.”
“Coffee?” Jodie said as she stood. “Next door?”
She led the way out of the station. I followed behind, but not obediently. I tried to act as if she just happened to be going the same direction I was going. I glared at Creighton. He ignored me. I glared at Omar and Kelly. They didn’t ignore me, but they didn’t smile either. I glared at the two officers I didn’t know; they just blinked at me.
In only a few moments, we were next door to the police station, in a small coffee shop that was built more for drive-thru or walk-up business than for inside customers. But there were two small tables available for those who wanted to come in and sit.
Jodie ordered our coffees as I took a seat at one of the tables. Shortly, she brought over two very large cups and set one in front of me. Before she sat, she placed an envelope on the table next to her coffee.
“I had no choice, Clare. You had to be officially questioned,” she said as she scooted in her chair.
“No, I didn’t, apparently. I wasn’t under arrest. You couldn’t have forced me. I could have said
no. I feel tricked.”
“Fair enough, but you have to understand it was a necessary move on our parts, and if you’d said no, you would have looked guilty in the eyes of our chief. There are procedures we are required to follow, and we are searching for a killer. Omar, Creighton, Kelly, and I discussed the best way to handle it. It had to be done.”
“Why didn’t you or one of them question me?”
“Come on, you’re smarter than that. Think about it a second.” She took a careful sip from her cup.
I took a sip too. The coffee helped.
“All right,” I said a few moments later. “Conflict of interest.”
“Right. There was no way I or Creighton or anyone else you know for that matter could have talked to you. We all love you. There’s no way we’d be objective. We had to get someone to come up from Salt Lake City, and we asked specifically for someone who wasn’t a hard-ass to do the job. You weren’t even in there very long.”
The resentment that had balled in my gut was loosening a little, but that might have only been the coffee.
“Here, I’ve got something for you.” Jodie slid the envelope toward me.
“What is it?” I asked before touching it.
“Just open it.”
I lifted the flap and pulled out the few pieces of paper that had been folded inside the envelope. At first glance the papers looked official, but I didn’t zone in on any of the specific words.
“It’s a background check on your new boyfriend,” Jodie said.
My mouth fell open and I refolded the papers. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, not at all. While I was at it, I did one on that Mutt character too. He did ask me out.”
I couldn’t help myself. “And?”
“I’ll only tell you if you look at what I found on Seth James Cassidy.”
“It’s just awful that you did this,” I said. “Where’s the mystery? Where’s getting to know each other?”
“It’s still there. These reports don’t talk about all the legal bad habits people have, just the illegal ones. I’m sure learning about how they pick their noses or chew with their mouths open will still be delightful discoveries. All the report will tell you is if he’s ever been married, where he’s lived, and if he’s ever been arrested for anything.” Jodie sounded like both a police officer and someone who’d gone through a bitter divorce, so bitter that I wasn’t allowed to say (or even think, she’d said) her ex-husband’s name. I bit back the name now along with the desire to call her a cynic. If that’s what she was, she had good reason to be. Old what’s-his-name was a jerk to the highest degree.
To Helvetica and Back Page 11