“Most of the court-appointed lawyers are good,” she said. “Be honest with him. Tell him everything you can. It has to be a mistake. Did they say anything else?”
Kenny shrugged again and shook his head. “They found my blood and my DNA at the crime scene.”
“What?” Kate couldn’t comprehend how his genes could have made it there without him. “Did they say where the murder occurred?”
“No, but they asked if I had a car or access to one. He must live somewhere far from me.”
“When was the last time you drove?”
“I told them. About thirteen years ago. I sold the car to cover some of Lucy’s medical bills. I haven’t driven since, not even a rental car. Remember your graduation from the police academy? I took the bus then a cab to get there. Made it in the nick of time.”
Kate smiled and kissed him on the forehead. She remembered how much perspiration had been on his shirt that day. He must have run a lot as well after getting out of that cab. He had worn his best outfit: a short-sleeved beige shirt with vertical brown lines, a matching pair of brown pants, and a wide orange tie. But she also clearly remembered the smile on his face when he finally snuck his way to the family section of the reserved seats just as the guest of honor was delivering his speech. Kenny had been so proud of her.
He leaned toward her, his bony hands grabbing hers, and he said, “I’m not perfect, but I’m no murderer. I don’t want to die with this label added to the Murphy name. Our lineage has had enough of a bad rap. I still want to take you to Ireland before I die, you know? You need to see the Irish coast for yourself, see how green it is, how beautifully rugged the scenery is. You have to meet your cousins. Our family is bigger than you think. You’d love it there in Cork.”
They sat still, hanging onto each other’s hands as Kate let their physical bond temper the harsh reality.
The sound of a key in the lock brought her back to the here and now.
“Time’s up,” Reynolds said.
Kate gave Kenny one last hug and looked at him, “I love you. I’ll do everything I can to make this right and get you out, okay? Just be brave and patient, and we’ll fix this.”
He squeezed her hands, nodded, and, for the first time in the fifteen minutes she’d spent with him, she saw hope appear in her uncle’s teary eyes. She had to turn away before her own started to water.
After making her way back from the cells, she grabbed her things from the front desk and then headed home.
Kate sat alone in her apartment, realizing there wasn’t anything she could do until tomorrow. Nothing but hope that Capt. Cranston would tell her what was really going on and that their evidence wasn’t airtight.
In the meantime, she occupied her mind by Googling the victim’s name and found two articles that mentioned his death. There was no reference to her uncle... at least not yet. But chances were, his name would be in tomorrow’s headlines.
She had to find a way to prove his innocence, and fast.
Chapter Two
June 24, 2015
Kate Murphy
Roxbury Police Station, Boston
Kate sat in one of the four padded stainless steel chairs outside the district commander’s office, crossing and uncrossing her legs and picking imaginary dirt from under her trimmed fingernails.
His office door was open, but he was sitting at his desk, reading. Susan had told her that he was wrapping up a case, and then he’d see her.
“Murphy, come in,” his husky voice called out a few minutes later.
Kate got up and walked in. “Good morning, sir.”
His oversized body amplified the power that emanated from him, yet his gray hair and blue eyes, when accompanied by the smile he was beaming at her, turned him into a teddy bear. Maybe this was what they called innate charisma. His open hand pointed to the chair in front of his desk, and Kate took a seat.
“Fitting in nicely with the guys here?”
“Sure. No problem there, sir.”
“I got this note from Susan,” he said, waving a little piece of yellow paper in the air. “Why did you want to see me?”
“My uncle, sir. He was arrested yesterday for murder.”
The district commander raised his eyebrows, adding a few horizontal lines to his already streaked forehead.
“Heard about the arrest, but it didn’t occur to me that one of our own could be related to him. There are so many Murphys in town.”
“He’s the only relative I’ve got. He adopted me when I was thirteen.”
“I see. So, you’re here because you think he’s innocent?”
Kate shrugged. “I know he’s innocent. I’d like to prove it, but I don’t even know where to start. Maybe... I was hoping I could see the evidence we have against him.” She corrected herself as soon as she heard the words leave her lips. “No, I misspoke. I don’t want physical access to the evidence. I want to know what proof we have and maybe what possible motives they’ve come up with, that type of stuff. I know how it is, and I don’t want to interfere with the investigation. But, at the same time, I can’t just sit here and wait.”
He nodded his head toward a file on his desk. “Well, from the brief I got, they found his DNA at the crime scene, so that’s gonna be hard to refute.”
Kate sat still, not knowing how to push for more.
The district commander turned his attention to Kate’s file, which was sitting on his desk. He flipped through pages of notes, sometimes pausing to read entries. Probably stuff her previous supervisors had filled in, past evaluations, commendations and reprimands, or other things like that. She didn’t quite know what was in her file. Kate had only been in this district for two and a half weeks. She’d requested the transfer because she thought her chances of becoming a detective would be better here. She’d already been turned down four times at her previous district, and, although she hadn’t yet started the process here, she desperately wanted to. She’d aced the detective’s exam last year. The interviews were a different story, though. All of that was probably in her file.
“Tell you what, Murphy,” he said before leaning back in his chair, his eyes locked on Kate as if sizing her up and contemplating the consequences of what he was about to say. “I can see you really want to be a detective, and I can understand why you’d want to do everything you can to help your adoptive father. I admire that. And your last supervisor thought you could improve your teamwork skills and get more hands-on experience... So, here’s what I propose: I’ll let the detectives know that you’ll sit in on the case as a way to gain more experience, but”—he paused and raised a hand, as if he could put a speed limit on Kate’s fast-escalating hopes—“with two conditions.”
He lifted his index finger. “You can only do it in your spare time. I need you patrolling the streets and answering calls. We’re short-staffed as it is. If you feel like hanging around with the detectives, after or before your shift, that’s fine by me. However, this isn’t paid overtime. The department won’t be liable, and we can’t cover you should anything happen, so you’re not gonna do any real investigative work with them out on the streets after your regular work hours. You can only shadow them here in the building, all right?”
Kate nodded. “And what’s the second condition?”
His middle finger joined his index. “You absolutely cannot touch or come close to the evidence or be involved in changing the direction of the investigation. I don’t need to lecture you on the chain of evidence. Don’t go near it. If you pay attention to how the detectives talk, think, cooperate, and handle the case, you may learn a thing or two that will help you with your detective’s interview next time. But don’t get your hopes up for freeing your uncle. Their case is pretty tight.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As she moved to leave his office, he stopped her. “Hold on a sec before I forget.”
He picked up the phone and hit one of the pre-programmed buttons. “Fuller, Cranston here... I’ve allowed one of our new officers
to sit in on the McAlester murder investigation. Her name’s Murphy... Yep, she’s the accused’s niece and adopted daughter.”
Kate couldn’t hear the man’s exact words, but the mumbled voice that reached her ears had grown louder.
“I know, I know... but she won’t be able to do anything, only sit in. Think of her as a piece of furniture or wallpaper. Conduct your investigation as if she weren’t in the room.”
The voice at the other end of the line was now so upset that Kate could clearly hear words like “protocol,” “inside investigation,” “improper,” “irresponsible,” and “emotional.”
“Listen, I’m the district commander, and I’ve made my decision. When you talk to your team, you may want to present the idea as ‘detective training.’ She wants to become one anyway. I’ll send her down to your desk in a minute or two. Be nice.”
He hung up before lifting his head and looking her square in the eyes. “I’m doing this as a favor. I can recognize potential and passion when I see it, but these guys won’t be happy to have you around. Be as invisible as possible.”
“Of course.” Kate understood the meeting was over and got up.
“Fuller’s desk is on the second floor, on the right.”
“Thanks, sir. I really appreciate your help.”
“Don’t thank me. Just prove you’re worth it,” he said. “And close the door behind you.”
Small victory.
However, Fuller certainly didn’t want her there. Best get the introduction meeting over with before she lost her nerves.
She followed Capt. Cranston’s directions and stopped at the door labeled “Detective Lt. Mark Fuller.”
She knocked and waited.
Nothing.
Knocked again.
Nothing.
Didn’t Capt. Cranston just tell him she’d be down to meet him in a couple of minutes? Where’d he go?
She slowly pushed open the door. “Detective Fuller?”
Nobody was in the office.
She closed the door and walked down the hall until she reached a lunchroom. It was small: a fridge, kitchen sink, half a dozen cupboards, a vending machine, a coffee dispenser, and a few tables and chairs. Two boards on the wall were overflowing with colorful bulletins. An assortment of tea boxes, a container of sugar packets, and a jar of instant decaffeinated coffee occupied the small counter space. An odor of curry lingered in the air. The room was empty except for a couple of plainclothes men sitting at one of the three small round tables, stirring their coffees, a pint of milk sitting on the table between the two of them. She hadn’t yet been introduced to the detectives in this district, so she wasn’t sure who they were. They certainly looked like detectives in inexpensive suits.
The one in the light gray suit had matching hair, thick bushy black eyebrows, and a salt-and-pepper mustache. He appeared to be tall, reasonably slim, and probably in his early fifties. The other one seemed younger, in his late thirties or early forties, but not as fit. Seated, he looked like he had extra weight around his waist. Maybe he was just big-boned. His outdated brown suit and beige shirt had seen better days. Kate wondered if he’d slept in it. He wore black, plastic-framed glasses like Kate had seen her dad wear in his wedding pictures. The younger man had curly, dark blond hair and had a mischievous grin on his lips.
She decided to address the older man.
“I’m looking for Detective Fuller,” Kate said.
“His office is down the hall,” he replied, not even bothering to make eye contact with her.
He immediately returned to the one-way conversation he was having with his younger colleague.
Annoyed, Kate put on a smile and insisted, “I’m sorry, but I’ve just come from his office, and he’s not there. Is there anyone I could leave a message with?”
The man turned to face her, shaking his head and frowning. “Detectives don’t have secretaries. Just call him and leave him a message.”
He returned to his story about his neighbor’s lawnmower.
Really?
Kate clenched her teeth and smiled even wider. “I’m really sorry to bother you again, sir, but would you happen to know his number or extension?”
The other guy broke his silence. “Come on. Just do it, write it down for her.” His voice was surprisingly soft and velvety. He could have been a radio DJ for an after-hours jazz program.
The older man sighed, put his coffee mug down, and then retrieved a business card and pen from his breast pocket. He flipped the card over, wrote “x 679,” and then handed it to Kate.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” she said, taking the card off his hand. “Have a great day. Sorry to have interrupted your coffee break.”
She was glad to walk away from him and wondered if she’d ever met a bigger prick in her life. Matt, her ex-husband, immediately came to mind, so she shook the thought of him away.
Kate returned to the corridor she’d come from, flipped the card, and then stopped in her tracks. The front of the card read “Detective Lt. Mark Fuller.”
Jerk!
She decided to let herself into his office. He’d probably be back any minute now. How long could it take him to finish his coffee and laugh at her behind her back with his buddy? She left the door open, sat in one of the two chairs across from his desk, and waited. She noticed a piece of lint on her uniform and flicked it off. He evidently knew who she was. Her name tag said it loud and clear.
“He’s just an ass,” she muttered.
A few more minutes passed, and Kate focused on her breath. That was what the therapist had shown her to do whenever bad feelings or memories crept up, which they inevitably did.
1-2-3-4-5-6 in, hold it, 1-2-3-4-5-6 out.
1-2-3-4-5-6 in, hold it, 1-2-3-4-5-6 out.
She felt calmer now.
A minute later, a voice spoke from behind her.
“So, you figured out who I was then, Murphy.”
She turned around and shot him a sarcastic smile. He was much taller than she had expected. “I did, Detective. Thank you for so kindly giving me your contact information.”
He walked around his desk, sat down, and then scowled at her. “We both know you shouldn’t be on this case. Plain and simple. The last thing I want around is an emotional woman crying and whining that her uncle’s been wrongly accused.”
Kate leaned forward and lowered her voice, just to make sure she wouldn’t come across as anything close to emotional.
“I can assure you, Detective, that you won’t see or hear me cry or whine. I’m a police officer, and I will be a detective one day. Yes, my uncle is the accused here, but I will not take anything personally. I’m good at letting go of personal attachments, believe me.”
He waved his hand at her. “You can’t mess with our process. You’ll see we’ve got plenty of evidence to prove he’s guilty.”
“But what if his DNA had been planted by someone else? You wouldn’t want to accuse the wrong guy and let the real killer run loose, would you?”
“Why the fuck would someone want to frame your uncle?”
She did her best to remain calm and professional. “What motive would my uncle have for killing a stranger? He’s a frail old man who feels bad when he has to kill a fly.”
Fuller sat back and stared at Kate.
“Okay, you may have some valuable information on our prime suspect. We have yet to come up with a plausible motive, but you can’t speak unless we ask you a question. Capt. Cranston is forcing me here, and as he said, you’ll be invisible... You’ll be a fucking wallflower and nothing more, understood?”
Kate nodded. “Yep, understood.”
He got up, and Kate followed him down the hall to conference room two. It was relatively small for a conference space, but probably the perfect size for a team of detectives to work on a homicide case. One wall had windows looking outside, but the other three were covered from floor to ceiling with corkboards and whiteboards. Pictures of the crime scene and a map were pinned on the co
rkboard. There were also pictures of her uncle and other people she’d never seen before. Were they suspects? The whiteboard had a list of possible motives; many items like “financial gain” and “lover’s triangle” had been crossed off.
Lover’s triangle?
The thought of her uncle involved with a woman other than her deceased aunt made her cringe, but there was no point in thinking about it. It had been ruled out by the detectives.
Fuller turned around and made eye contact with her. “You can’t touch anything, understood?”
Kate nodded again and continued moving around the room. The map had two pins on it: her uncle’s house and another, which she assumed was the crime scene. File folders were piled on the table, and two computers showed the Boston PD logo floating and bouncing off the edges of their screens.
“The guys will meet this afternoon to discuss. They’re wrapping up another case in court this morning,” Fuller told her.
“I’m on patrol until 4 p.m. I’ll come in as soon as I get back.”
“Whatever, but come in plain clothes. I don’t want your name tag to affect the team’s judgment or behavior.”
“I understand.”
Kate was going to have to switch her schedule around and work evening or night shifts if she wanted to sit in and help her uncle.
Detective Fuller walked out of the room, and Kate followed.
He closed the door. “Remember to stay out of our way, Wallflower,” he said, heading back to his office.
Kate ran down the stairs two steps at a time and found her shift supervisor. He was easy to spot. At around 6′5″, he was the tallest uniformed man in the precinct.
“Sergeant, any chance I could switch shifts for a while? Could I get evenings? Or night shifts?”
Sgt. Anderson had files in his hands and a confused look on his face.
“What? When?”
“I need more time for personal stuff in the day, and I was hoping to switch shifts with someone for a day or two.”
The Last Hope Page 2