“What?” the father repeated.
“Don’t worry. Nobody ever saw that key! I put it there in the middle of the night, and I’ve never had to use it since. It’s probably all rusty anyway.”
“We’ll look into it. Thank you, Mrs. Davis. But, just to clarify, you said you’d lost your keys before. How long ago was that and any possibility someone could have used one of those lost keys in the past?”
The Davises looked at each other, then Mrs. Davis spoke. “I… I don’t think so. Wouldn’t they have stolen something? And why now?”
“How long ago did you last lose your keys?” Murphy repeated.
Mrs. Davis shook her head while exhaling. “I don’t know. Two years ago?”
“Was there any identifying tag on your keys? Something that could point to your home address?”
The woman shook her head.
Rosebud made note of her reply on his pad as Murphy got up. “I’ll get someone on the spare key right away.” She grabbed the photo and exited the interview room.
“Do you think my key could have been used by the killer?” Mrs. Davis asked Rosebud as horror morphed her tired face.
“That’s not what we’re saying, but we need to look at all possibilities. We’ll see if that key is still there, if there are fingerprints on it, if it looks like it’s been used at all in the past week.”
“Oh my god! Did my silly habit of misplacing my keys kill my daughter?”
Mr. Davis wrapped his arm around his shaky, weeping wife. “Don’t do that to yourself, Fran.”
Rosebud once again cleared his throat, not enjoying how the interview was unfolding. “I agree with your husband. Don’t blame yourself. We’ll find whoever did this to your daughter, but we need your help. Would you like a cup of coffee or something?” he asked as he got up, manila folder in hand.
“No, thank you,” the man said as his wife silently shook her head. Nothing except sobbing came out of her.
“I’ll go and get myself a cup, give you both a few minutes to collect yourselves. I’ll be back shortly, and we’ll start looking at photos, all right?”
“Thank you,” the man said. Rosebud exited the interview room to walk into the smaller room that oversaw it.
Wang sat there alone, a steamy cup of green tea in front of her. “Hard to get info from them, isn’t it?” she told Rosebud after he closed the door.
“Can’t blame them for being emotional. I just have to give them time or they’ll be totally useless.”
“Why don’t you go and get yourself that cup of coffee you talked about?”
“Could you have Murphy head in whenever she gets back?” Rosebud asked.
“Will do. She said she was going to get Chainey to recover that spare key.”
“Great. Thanks, Wang.”
Fifteen minutes later, his manila folder and a large cappuccino from the deli across the street in hand, Rosebud reentered the room.
“How are we doing now?” he asked.
Although the Davises remained quiet, they looked a little less worse for wear.
Rosebud sat down in front of them and reopened his photo folder. “Ready to continue?”
“Yes,” the couple said in unison.
“We’ll start with the easiest things, like the rest of your home.”
As he finished his sentence, the door opened, and Murphy joined them again. She, too, had grabbed a cup of coffee, but a crappy one from the lunchroom’s machine, according to the cup’s label.
“Okay,” the mom said. She made a noticeable effort at swallowing while reaching for a tissue from the box on the table.
“Your house was extremely orderly when we arrived at the scene. We don’t know if it’s how you leave it, or if the killer could have cleaned up after him or herself.”
“Herself? You think a woman could have killed my baby girl?”
“We really don’t know anything at this point, so we don’t want to eliminate half the suspect pool.”
The dad spoke up next. “So, that means that… she wasn’t…”
The mom’s breathing became erratic.
Rosebud looked at Kate in silence, knowing the trap they faced. Kate broke eye contact and spoke to the mother. “We’re still waiting for the full autopsy report…”
“But? Say it, please!” the father begged.
“Based on what she wore and the autopsy we just—”
“Murphy,” Rosebud interjected, closing the folder in front of him.
She turned to him, “I know I’m not supposed to state anything since it’s not confirmed yet but…” Kate reached out to grab the woman’s hand. “The body had begun the decomposition process—”
“Decomposition?” Tears burst forth from the mother like a fountain.
Rosebud moved the box of tissues closer to her.
When the mother got herself under control, Murphy spoke again. “The medical examiner stated that, based on the lack of bruising in that area and the state of the clothes she had on, it didn’t seem as though she had been raped, but more tests will be conducted.”
The woman continued weeping.
“This isn’t an official statement by me, anyone at the Boston PD, or the medical examiner. This is just from one woman to another, and I ask that you keep this detail within the confines of this room. If this belief changes based on the test results, we’ll let you know.”
“Thank you,” the mother said before reaching for another tissue.
“So, can we begin looking at photos now?” Rosebud asked after re-opening the manila folder in front of him.
The couple nodded.
He spread out various shots taken in the living room.
“Do you notice anything different. Either out of place or perhaps missing?”
The dad glanced at them all, a slight line between his brows. “Looks normal to me.”
“It’s always this tidy and organized?” Rosebud prompted. “No books, magazines, or anything on the coffee table?”
“Yeah, that’s how we keep it. Hold on!” the mother said before grabbing one of the photos to take a closer look.
“Anything on that one?”
“The bookcase. There’s a gap…” She brought the photo closer to her face, most likely trying to read the spines, then she finally lowered the photo. “Our Bible is missing!” She handed the photo to her husband.”
“Why would someone steal our Bible?” he asked, agreeing with his wife’s findings.
Murphy ruffled through the photographs and pulled out the close up of the Bible that had been left on the vic’s body.
“Is this your Bible?” Murphy asked.
“Yes!” they exclaimed, their eyes widening with relief. “But what horrendous fabric is that underneath it? We don’t have anything orange with yellow flowers like that.”
Rosebud was grateful that the close up didn’t reveal enough of the fabric for them to realize it was the gown their daughter had on. He knew that they were entering slippery territory, one more fact could mean their minds would re-enter the shock zone where they would no longer be able to offer any valuable information. So Rosebud tried to squeeze out a few answers first by being vague. “It was on a piece of clothing we found. It’s not something either of you, or your daughter would have in the house?”
“Most definitely not,” the woman said.
“Let me show you other rooms,” Rosebud said.
A few minutes later, after going through the rest of the living room, kitchen, two bathrooms, and their master bedroom, the parents hadn’t spotted anything that would help the detectives.
“Now, the next photos will be more difficult. Tell me if you need more time or if you’ve seen too much and we’ll stop. Obviously, the more you can help us, the better.”
“Okay,” the mother said.
“I understand,” the father said.
“Is there anything out of place on her desk?” Rosebud asked as he slipped a picture in front of them.
Both parents raised
their shoulders.
“Was your daughter always aligning things like this or could this have been done after her death? We saw a similar display in her closet, with hangers evenly spaced.” Rosebud added a new picture next to the previous one.
“No, that’s our little girl. She’s always liked things tidy and organized.”
“Very well, and the limited color selection in the closet?”
“Also her, she only wore shades of pink.”
“When we found her, she wore a nightgown made with the orange and yellow fabric we showed you earlier.”
“She doesn’t own anything like that.”
“How about a rosary?” Murphy asked.
“She has a gorgeous one, made out of pink pearls. It’s something we brought back from a trip to China years ago.”
“How about this one?” Rosebud slid a new picture and took away the previous ones. “Did it come from anywhere in your house?”
The photo the parents looked at was a close-up shot of the rosary in the evidence bag.
“This blue thing?” the mother asked.
Kate nodded.
“No way. We never bought one of those, and most definitely not in blue.”
“So you’ve seen rosaries like this before?” Rosebud asked.
“Of course. Lots of them. Our church fundraises to help some of our poorer parishioners. That’s one of the items they make and sell.”
So much for the one thing that could have been a good lead.
Chapter Sixteen
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. My last confession was a week ago,” whispered a female voice.
“Talk to me, my child,” the father said, his voice strong and reassuring, even though his tone was hushed within the confessional.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
“You can clear your conscience today. Through me, the Lord will forgive you.”
A deep and long, ragged exhalation later—as though the woman was fighting tears—she spoke again. “I feel responsible for my friend’s death.”
More ragged breathing could be heard before the father spoke, prompting the woman. “Go on.”
“I couldn’t keep my tongue tied. Maybe I was just proud to be better than her for once.”
“I’m not sure I follow, my child.”
“She wasn’t the perfect little prodigal daughter anymore. For once, I was better than her. Purer. I hadn’t committed her sin of the flesh.”
“What sin are you talking about?”
“She had given herself up. To a boy. Before marriage.”
Another pause. “And you, my child, what sin are you here to confess? What have you done?”
More ragged breathing followed, as though the woman struggled to get herself together.
The father spoke up again. “Take your time. Facing the truth can be hard sometimes.”
“I’ve told on her. Last week, I spoke evil of her. Here, during my confession, and with a few close friends afterwards. I’ve… I’ve ruined her reputation. Then, after she…” This time, her sobbing could be heard very clearly.
“Go on.”
“After she… died…” More sobs and ragged breathing. “… I flirted with her boyfriend. She was my best friend. How did I dare do that? She hasn’t even… been… buried yet!”
“Breathe, my child. The Lord will forgive you. Is there something else you’d like to confess today?”
“No,” she said before snorting back her tears.
In a more solemn tone, the priest continued. “God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
“What is my penance, Father?”
“Say one Our Father and ten Hail Mary’s, then have a conversation with God in your prayers. Examine your life, my child, but do forgive yourself because the good Lord forgives you.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Remember to give thanks to the Lord for He is good.”
“For His mercy endures forever.”
The door creaked as she exited the confessional.
Chapter Seventeen
Without a doubt, David Dempsey could state that he’d just had the worst week of his life.
While the month had started on the biggest high he’d ever had—his first sexual encounter—the following days and weeks had been… much less stellar, to say the least.
The death of his girlfriend had just…
Well, it had destroyed him. It had torn out his soul, ripped it away from him. It had taken his heart and shredded it into a thousand pieces. Pieces that could no longer be reassembled into a cohesive organ.
It’d only been hours since he’d found her. Since his life changed forever.
Hours.
Not even a full day.
He did his best not to think about her. About her death. About what he’d discovered after breaking into her home. The sight of her decomposing body. The reeking stench. He hadn’t managed to sleep one bit the previous night.
This morning, when the sun peered through his bedroom window, his eyes hurting from crying his heart out, he’d decided to stop the pain in whatever way he could. He’d rummaged through his parents’ medicine cabinet and tried everything in there to numb himself. To numb the memories.
He’d ended up taking something that had been prescribed to his mom. Something ending in zone. Something that managed to shrink the size of the gash in his heart. He didn’t feel much at all. But he couldn’t say that his thoughts were the clearest they’d ever been.
The two detectives sitting in front of him—a chubby man and a blonde woman—now forced him to re-hash what he’d already explained the previous day.
“As stated earlier, I’m recording the audio, could you please state your name for the record?” the woman asked.
“David Dempsey.”
“Please repeat exactly what happened the last time you saw Lori,” the chubby, curly-haired cop asked. His dark-framed glasses and spare tire didn’t make him a believable-looking cop—at least not compared to those cops with buff bodies he saw on TV. But a badge was a badge.
“Like I said yesterday, I last saw her on Friday night, June 1st.”
“That was over two weeks ago. What did you do with Lori that day?”
“Evening,” David corrected the man.
“What time did you meet and where?”
“Like I said before, I met her at her house.”
“Do you have keys to her house?”
“No! Why do you think I broke in yesterday?”
“You tell me,” the chubby cop prodded.
“I was worried sick! I knew she was supposed to go pick up her parents at the airport that night. And…”
“And?” the female cop repeated.
“And since I hadn’t heard from her for two weeks, I was scared that something had happened to her.”
“You’ve been dating for over two years,” the woman said, after flipping through a small notepad she kept referring to, jotting notes as he spoke.
“So?”
“You’ve been together for a while. Yet you can let two weeks go by without contacting her once?”
“It’s… complicated.”
“Enlighten us,” the woman said.
David concentrated, trying to come up with an explanation that would appease the detectives without revealing what had really happened. Nobody needed to know that. Especially now.
“David,” the woman resumed. “You just lost your girlfriend. The two of you were exclusive, right?”
David nodded, unsure where she was going.
“I know it’s tough, the libido of young men such as yourself can be quite… active.” She looked down at her notes. “You’re twenty-two years old, ju
st like she was. You guys probably got busy, right? That’s just nature, if you ask me.”
“What?” David had feigned offense the best he could. “Lori and I were in a chastity club. We were saving ourselves for marriage.”
“David… David…” The woman shook her head.
David felt sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. His heartbeat had increased. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken his mom’s medicine. “What?”
“I’ve been there. Rosebud has too.” She turned to the chubby cop, who spoke next.
“Come on, man. Tell me. Lori was a very pretty girl. You’ve been dating for two years! Her parents were away…” The chubby cop shrugged. “I lost my virginity a bit late in the game, but it was still gone the first opportunity I got.”
David couldn’t believe what the detectives were saying. How could they tell? Was his sin printed on his forehead in big crimson letters?
“David, I’m going to offer you one chance to do the right thing, to not add perjury to your record,” the woman said. “The medical examiner performed the autopsy this morning. He took a swab. I’ve already spoken to the parents. I’ve seen the strong religious theme going on in their household. I’m not going to go and rat you out to them. But I want to know the facts going in. We have your DNA and we have your fingerprints. If we find evidence of Lori having had a sexual encounter, and then have that swab we took analyzed for DNA, are we going to find yours?”
“You could find that? So many days after?” David asked.
“Are you telling us that you and Lori had sex?” Rosebud asked.
David cracked his neck once, twice, three times. He had no way out. His heart had never beat so fast. His mouth was dry. He made fists with his hands. Perhaps the pills were making him weak-willed, but he was still clear-headed enough to know that he had to confess.
He stared down at the stainless steel table, not daring to look either of the detectives in the eyes. “Yes, I had sex with Lori. But you can’t tell her parents.”
“David, thank you for your honesty,” she said. “Her parents don’t need to know about it. But did you see her between the time you had sex with her and the day you discovered her body?”
The Last Amen Page 6