by E. M. Parker
“The tenant in apartment 612 was discovered by the building superintendent.”
“You mean that creep, Tisdale? Is he dead?”
Sullivan couldn’t believe the callousness of her tone. “Yes, he’s dead.”
“And from the sound of it, you really don’t care,” Greer added.
The woman shrugged. “Should I?”
Sullivan sighed. “What’s your name?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Why are you being so evasive?” Greer countered.
The woman hesitated before answering. It was clear that she was accustomed to dealing with people on her own terms, and wasn’t about to change that for a couple of homicide detectives.
“Natalie Shelby.” She blew a tuft of dirty blond hair out of her face as she fortified her defiant stance. “Why are you talking to me about Donald Tisdale’s death? I barely knew the man.”
“It sounds like you had pretty strong opinions about his character,” Greer said. “What was it you called him, a creep?”
“A lot of people thought that about him. Doesn’t mean I knew him.”
“But you must have had your own reasons for agreeing with the sentiment,” Sullivan said.
Natalie shrugged off the statement. “Just a feeling I had.”
“Based on what?”
“Am I being interrogated or something? Because I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We’re not implying you did anything wrong, Ms. Shelby,” Greer said.
“We’re simply asking questions, the same as we did with other tenants in the building,” Sullivan followed. “There weren’t many who knew Mr. Tisdale. From the sound of it, you did. All we want to do is gather as much information about him from you as we can. There’s no reason to be hostile.”
Or was there?
Natalie crossed her arms, a clear sign that she had no intention of letting her guard down. “Fine. Ask your questions.”
Greer looked to Sullivan this time. She promptly took the cue.
“Do you live here alone, Ms. Shelby?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Could you please just answer the question?”
Natalie let out a guttural sigh before answering. “No.”
“Who else lives here with you?”
“My kid.”
“Anyone else?”
An eye roll, then, “My boyfriend.”
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
“Noah.”
“Did Noah know Mr. Tisdale?”
“The only person who really knew him was Arthur Finley, the maintenance guy. Why don’t you go ask him questions?”
“Because we’re busy asking you,” Greer pushed back.
“I’ll repeat it, Ms. Shelby. Did your boyfriend know Mr. Tisdale?”
“Barely.”
“Did you or Noah ever have any problems with him?”
“Problems?”
“Confrontations? Disagreements?”
“Is this the standard question you asked everybody?”
Sullivan looked at Greer as she contemplated a suitable answer.
“Yes,” Greer lied.
“So, based on your questions, Donald was murdered and you’re thinking somebody in this building did it. Am I right?”
Sullivan looked at Greer again. His eyes made it clear that he wasn’t bailing her out a second time.
“No, you’re not right. Like Detective Greer said, these are standard questions.”
“Okay, so you’ve asked your standard questions. Does that mean you’re done with me now?” Natalie already had one hand on the door, ready to close it.
“Just one more thing,” Sullivan said.
Natalie tensed. “What?”
“Do you recall an incident between Donald Tisdale and Noah that involved your daughter?”
“Who told you that?”
Sullivan thought about Arthur Finley and the promise that both she and Greer had made to him. She fully intended to keep that promise, though she understood the potential ramifications he might suffer through the mere mention of the incident, and she wished it didn’t need to be brought up at all. But Natalie’s contemptable attitude forced her hand.
“We talked to a lot of people, Ms. Shelby. Stories tend to float around pretty easily in a place this size.”
Natalie’s piercing eyes bulged with anger. “These assholes can tell you stories until they’re blue in the face, but they’re lying. My family, and what happens in it, is nobody else’s business, because I don’t make it anybody else’s business.”
“Based on what we’ve heard, you made it other people’s business that day. They said that Noah practically broke Donald Tisdale’s door down, calling him names, threatening him, all because he wanted to invite your daughter over to his apartment to see some art work. Do you think that was justified under the circumstances?”
“Yes, I do,” Natalie answered without batting an eyelash. “You know what else I think? That you two have asked enough questions and it’s time for you to leave my doorstep.”
“Ms. Shelby, please wait,” Greer asked in the calmest, most reasoned voice that he was capable of.
“How dare you come here to ask about some random incident that occurred between my boyfriend and that man over three years ago. Believe me, if Noah wanted to hurt him, he would have done it then. But he wouldn’t hurt him because he’s not that kind of man. So screw you for implying it.”
“Ms. Shelby, you’re only making things worse by acting this way. Don’t allow your mouth to cause the situation to escalate,” Sullivan warned. “It won’t work out for you.”
“Unless you’re going to arrest me, we’re done. Please go away.”
Natalie abruptly concluded the questioning by slamming the door.
Sullivan and Greer looked at each other in stunned silence. It took Sullivan a few seconds to collect herself enough to speak. “You know what I usually say when an interview goes this south this fast.”
Greer nodded as he started knocking on the door. “Smoke?” It was the code word they used whenever something, or in this case someone, provided the crucial first lead that was always necessary in breaking an investigation.
“No,” Sullivan answered as she too began knocking. “Fire.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FIONA HAD DRIFTED OFF TO SLEEP on her living room futon when the sound of muffled yelling woke her. At first, she thought that Olivia’s mother was tuned in to another one of those foul reality shows that she seemingly spent her entire day watching. But as she listened closer, she realized that the argument was not happening on television, but in the hallway. The loudest voice was the most familiar. Olivia’s mother. The other two voices, a man and woman, were unfamiliar, but they were no less heated.
She put an ear to the door to get a better listen.
“I already told you, unless you plan on arresting me, I don’t have anything else to say!”
“Ms. Shelby, you have to calm down.”
“I won’t calm down! You’re accusing my boyfriend of doing something that he didn’t do and I’m not going to stand here and listen to it!”
“We didn’t come here accusing anyone of anything. But the more you yell at us, the more it makes us wonder.”
As she listened more closely, Fiona had come to recognize the second female voice as Detective Sullivan’s.
“When are you expecting Noah back? Maybe we can get a more reasoned response from him.”
She shuddered at the mention of Noah’s name. Did this mean that the police were actively looking for him? Could it be in relation to Donald Tisdale? It had to be, Fiona quickly concluded. Why else would Detective Sullivan be here?
She opened the door just wide enough to see Sullivan’s partner in the hallway. He stood away from the door, near the wall, clearly agitated. When Fiona opened the door wider, it creaked loud enough to interrupt the exchange. With the attention suddenly on her, Fiona slinked ba
ck behind the door, but it was too late. She heard Natalie’s voice before she saw her face.
“See, this is what I’m talking about. Nobody around here can mind their own damn business.”
Fiona’s heart practically leaped out of her chest. She felt guilty, embarrassed, and fearful all at the same time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
Sullivan’s partner cut her off. “It’s okay, miss. We apologize if we disturbed you.”
Detective Sullivan stepped away from Natalie’s door just enough for Fiona to finally see her. “Hello Ms. Graves.”
Fiona nodded. “Again, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I was just heading out,” she said, a lie fueled by her embarrassment.
“Really, she just happened to be leaving? Please, she’s barely even dressed. Fucking nosey, like all the rest of them.”
Fiona still couldn’t see Natalie’s face, but she could certainly feel her voice. It reverberated off the walls and settled painfully inside her bones. She imagined what the sound of that voice had done to Olivia over the years; how much pain it caused, how much fear it inspired. It was this thought that brought her into the hallway, against all better judgement, against all common sense. This conversation was none of her business, just like Natalie said. But it also gave her the perfect opportunity, one that she may never get again, and she had to seize it.
She approached Detective Sullivan. “Have you spoken with Olivia yet?”
“Who is Olivia?” Sullivan asked.
Before Fiona could answer, she got her first glimpse of Natalie. Standing all of five-foot-one and weighing next to nothing, Natalie Shelby was certainly not impressive physically. But what she lacked in size, she more than made up for with her voice; and right now, its raw strength was in full force. Unfortunately for Fiona, that raw strength was directed squarely at her.
“What did you say?” Natalie barked as she took a step toward her.
Detective Sullivan blocked her path. “I said who is Olivia?”
“She’s Natalie’s daughter,” Fiona said.
“Who the hell are you to bring my daughter up?”
Detective Sullivan turned to Fiona, waiting for an answer to the question.
Cat’s out of the bag now. May as well let it roam free. “I talked to her.”
“What? When?”
Fiona kept calm. “Twice in the last twenty-four hours.”
Natalie bristled. “No you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did,” Fiona said to Sullivan. “And she told me things.”
Natalie was still yelling, but Fiona tuned her out, keeping the focus on the detectives instead.
“What did she tell you?” Sullivan’s partner asked.
“I’m sorry, Fiona, this is Detective Marcus Greer,” Sullivan said.
Fiona acknowledged him with a nod before answering his question. “Among other things, she told me that she knew who killed Donald Tisdale.”
Her words took the air out of everyone in the group and for a long moment, no one spoke. Natalie was the first to break the silence.
“You’re a goddamn liar!” Natalie approached Fiona again. Thankfully, Detective Sullivan’s size and obvious strength created a significant physical deterrent.
“You need to calm down, Ms. Shelby. Right now.”
Something in Sullivan’s tone must have hit the right nerve, because Natalie stopped dead in her tracks. This time when she spoke, the octaves were lowered significantly. “She’s lying. There’s no way she talked to my daughter.”
“I assure you, I did,” Fiona insisted.
“How?” Detective Greer asked.
“Through the wall in my apartment. My bedroom is adjacent to hers. She actually called out to me first.”
“Through the wall? Jesus, do you know how weird that sounds?”
“There’s nothing weird about it. Your daughter obviously needed someone to talk to.” Fiona turned to the detectives. “Maybe you should ask her what her daughter has experienced that would make her say the things that she did.”
Sullivan turned to Natalie. “Where is your daughter now, Ms. Shelby?”
Natalie didn’t answer.
When Fiona looked over her shoulder into the apartment, she saw something move. A small shadow disappearing behind a corner. As she waited for the shadow to return, Fiona heard Detective Sullivan’s question again.
“Where is your daughter?”
Natalie finally answered. “She’s not here.”
Fiona’s eyes remained focused on that corner.
“Where is she?”
Then she saw it. A tiny head peaking from around the corner. It was bathed in shadow, but Fiona knew exactly what she was looking at.
“She’s right there!” Fiona pointed inside the apartment. As soon as she did, Olivia disappeared. She couldn’t imagine how much all of this had frightened her.
“What are you talking about? She’s at her father’s house,” Natalie said incredulously.
“She looked right at me,” Fiona countered. “She was standing right behind that corner.” Fiona pointed to the spot again, but nothing was there.
“We’d really like to talk to her, Ms. Shelby,” Detective Greer said. “If she knows anything about Mr. Tisdale–”
Natalie cut him off. “She doesn’t.”
“Why don’t you let us find that out,” Detective Sullivan said.
“Because she’s not here!”
“I’m telling you, I saw her,” Fiona reiterated.
Sullivan turned to Greer. They nodded in silent agreement.
“Why don’t you let us take a look, Ms. Shelby,” Sullivan said as she gestured to the apartment.
“Absolutely not!”
“Then call her out here,” Greer demanded.
“I can’t call her because she isn’t in there.”
The detectives looked at Fiona again.
“She’s there.”
Sullivan nodded. “Ms. Shelby, I’m just going to have a look.”
“Like hell you are.” Natalie made a move toward Sullivan but was restrained by Greer. “This is illegal! You can’t just go in there!”
“Ma’am, we’re performing a welfare check on your daughter, which means we can absolutely go in there.”
Sullivan slowly entered the apartment. “Olivia? If you’re here, can you come out sweetie? We’re with your mom. Everything is okay. We just want to talk.”
Fiona could feel the heat of Natalie’s venomous stare. She refused to look back, keeping her eyes instead on Detective Sullivan as she combed the apartment; stopping first in the living room, then the kitchen, before finally making her way toward the back corner of the apartment.
“Olivia?”
Fiona held her breath as Sullivan disappeared behind the dark corner.
“Are you in here, sweetheart?”
Light suddenly filled the dark corridor. Fiona could see a shadow, but couldn’t tell if it was Sullivan’s or Olivia’s. Within seconds, the light was off and Sullivan had emerged from behind the corner.
“Well?” Greer said as she approached.
Sullivan shook her head. “There’s no one else in there.”
Fiona’s mouth flew open in shock. “What? That can’t be.”
“I’m afraid it is, Ms. Graves. I checked every corner of the apartment, including the girl’s bedroom. There was no indication that she’d been there.”
“I told you,” an emboldened Natalie shouted. “Now can you please leave?”
Fiona was too stunned to move. “I don’t understand. I know I saw something.”
“You didn’t see anything,” Natalie scoffed.
“But I talked to her not even two hours ago.”
Sullivan looked at her with eyes that were surprisingly sympathetic. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“We would like to speak with your boyfriend, Ms. Shelby,” Greer said. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“He works crazy hours, so I hardly ever know when h
e’s coming home. He may not show up until next week for all I know.”
“Well, whenever he does show, have him call us.”
Greer gave Natalie a card, which she snatched out of his hand.
“When will Olivia be back?” Sullivan asked.
“Like I said, she’s with her father, has been for the past week. I don’t know when she’ll be back. But you’d be wasting your time anyway. She doesn’t know the first thing about what happened to Donald Tisdale.”
Fiona shouted liar in her mind, but kept quiet.
“Fine,” Sullivan said. “Just make sure you have Noah contact us. We’re still in the midst of our investigation, so we’ll be around the building. It won’t be difficult to contact us.”
“Wonderful,” Natalie replied dismissively. “Anything else?”
“No, but we need to make sure that the situation is okay here before we leave.”
Natalie looked at Fiona. “Everything is fine.”
“Is that the case, Ms. Graves?” Greer asked.
Fiona hesitated. “Yes.”
“The last thing we want is to be called back out here,” Sullivan said to Natalie. “If we are, I can guarantee you we won’t be happy.”
Unfazed by the detective’s words of warning, Natalie made her way back inside her apartment. “Can I go now?”
Sullivan nodded. “Thank you for your time.”
Natalie’s narrow, angry eyes focused squarely on Fiona as she closed the door.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Ms. Graves?” Greer asked.
“I honestly don’t know.”
“What did you see in there?” Sullivan asked.
“Apparently nothing.”
Sullivan persisted. “You’re positive about that?”
“It’s been a tough few days. I’ve barely slept, and it’s obviously getting to me.”
Sullivan and Greer exchanged a look.
“You made some serious claims about Ms. Shelby’s daughter and Donald Tisdale.” Greer said. “Why don’t you tell us a bit more about that?”
“I only know what I heard her say.”
“That she knew who killed him.”
Fiona nodded.
“When did she tell you this?” Sullivan asked.
“Earlier this afternoon.”