Dark Water Under the Bridge

by P. D. Workman

  “Why don’t you tell me about your wife?” Margie said. “I know you’ve already made an official report. Filling out all of those routine questions. But that doesn’t give me a real taste for the person that she is. There is so much more to a person than just the physical description and what their last movements were.”

  Warner nodded. “Yeah. That’s so true. Patty is… a wife and mother first and foremost. We have two young children…”

  “Was she a stay-at-home mom?” Margie asked, already knowing the answer was negative.

  “No. But not because she didn’t want to be. If we’d been able to afford it, then of course we would have. But they have a good daycare, and Patty is really good at her job. She loves teaching at the education center. She was thrilled to be able to put her degree to good use. She was passionate about the environment.”

  “She sounds like a really special woman. Tell me about her movements? When did you see her last?”

  “When she went to work yesterday morning. I picked up the kids from the daycare after I got off work, like I usually do. She gets home after me… then we have supper, put the girls to bed…”

  “But you became concerned when…”

  “She didn’t get back from work when she normally would. I called her cell phone a few times, but she wasn’t answering. I know she doesn’t answer if she has a class or tour, or if she is in a meeting with her boss. But when it got to be a couple of hours… well, she’s never done that before. She’s always at home, never more than an hour late. And even if she was running a few minutes late, she would have called to let me know that she was late, and when she expected to be home. She was very good about that. Better than me.” His voice cracked a little.

  And he was the one who was supposed to be picking up the kids. Margie didn’t imagine it went over very well if he were running late and forgot to inform either the daycare or Patty.

  “No calls at all? Had you talked to her during the workday?”

  “Yes. Once or twice. I don’t remember specifics. You know, we just check in with each other now and then. Ask the other person how it’s going or call to vent about our jobs.” He rolled his eyes. “Even if you love your job, there are still those days when nothing goes right.”

  “Of course. So, you don’t know what times you talked to her?” Margie nodded to Warner’s phone. “You can check your call log…?”

  “Oh… I would have called her from my work phone. Not this one.”

  Margie let that sit for a minute before going on. “Okay. So maybe a couple of times during the day. Have you called anyone at her work? To ask what time they saw her last or when she left?”

  “No. I don’t know her coworkers. I know first names, of course; she talks about different people she is teaching with, or who she likes or doesn’t like. In a superficial way. She didn’t hate anyone, of course. Some people would just rub her the wrong way, get on her nerves.”

  “How about her boss?”

  “Uh…” He looked blank. “I really can’t tell you. I know her supervisor… that’s… Sally something. And of course, the director, that guy.” Warner shook his head, blinking and trying to recall. “Fink? Barney?”

  “Arby Finkle.”

  “Yes. Him.”

  “Did they get along? Or did she have problems with him?”

  “I think they got along okay. I know that she and some of the other workers… well, they made fun of him a little. Behind his back, not to his face.” He shrugged. “Not mean-spirited or anything. Just like you do at an office. Blow off some steam talking about the stupid things your boss does.”

  “Sure,” Margie agreed in a neutral tone.

  “I guess he was kind of… I don’t know. Fussy. Maybe a little…” He gave a limp-wrist gesture. “You know.”

  Margie looked at him, head cocked to the side slightly. “What?”

  “I don’t think that he was, but they talked about him a bit. About maybe he was… closet gay. Like… Tinkerbell-Finklebell.” Again he tried to shrug it off. “Just all in fun. Not serious.”

  “I see.” Margie didn’t write anything in her notebook, but continued to look at him, waiting for more.

  “I don’t know. She got along with everybody okay. And she liked the job. It was important to her.”

  “You weren’t able to contact anyone from her work. So what did you think had happened? Did you think that she was still at work, or that something had happened to her on the way home? Or just that she was out running errands and might have stopped in to see friends?”

  “I thought… maybe an accident on the way home. That’s why I was calling hospitals.” He rubbed at the corners of his eyes. Margie couldn’t see any tears, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t any threatening. Or that he wasn’t grieving just as much as the spouses who came in weeping like fountains.

  Margie nodded. “She wouldn’t normally have been anywhere else between work and home? Stopping at the grocery store? Gas station? Did she ever go out with friends for a drink or coffee?”

  “No. She came home. We did errands at other times. She would come home to help with the kids. Making dinner and putting them to bed.”

  “Who made dinner?”

  He looked at her like she was crazy. “What?”

  “Did you make dinner or did she?”

  “Yesterday?” he asked blankly.

  The night before, he had obviously been the one to make the evening meal, if he were telling them the truth.

  “Normally. Did you alternate? Did you make it because she got home later than you? Did you agree on certain days?”

  “Well, no, Patty was usually the one who made dinner. I was so tired at the end of the day, you know, and I brought them home from daycare, so when she came home from work, it was her turn. I just wanted to relax in front of the TV for a while.”

  Margie nodded. “So she usually made dinner arrangements. Or maybe if she knew she was running late, she would tell you to go ahead or would pick something up on the way home?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “So, you had to make the dinner instead last night.”

  He nodded.

  “How did that make you feel?”

  His eyes widened. “How did it make me feel?” He demanded, his voice startlingly loud. “I was sick with worry! I made the kids some KD and gave them a cookie when they were done, but I couldn’t eat a bite. I was just… I could barely function. I didn’t know what to do. Who to call. I was alone there, just the kids and me, and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “That must have been difficult.”

  “It was! You have no idea what it’s like just to have someone… not come home one day.”

  Margie nodded slowly and made a few notes in her notebook. “We would like to talk to the kids. Where are they?”

  “They’re… I took them to daycare. I didn’t want them around here. I knew I would be waiting around and they would be bored. And I don’t want them… wondering what’s going on.”

  “What do they think happened to their mother?”

  “They don’t know.”

  “I mean, what did you tell them? What explanation did you give them?”

  “I just told them that she would be home later. They wanted her to get home, but they didn’t really ask about what she was doing. Just when she was coming home.”

  “And when did you tell them she was coming home?”

  “Soon. I didn’t want to say anything specific.”

  “We would still like to talk to them. How old are they?”

  “Two and four.” He shook his head, scowling behind his mask. “They’re too young to be able to tell you anything. All they know is that Mommy didn’t come home last night. You talking to them… it’s just going to traumatize them.”

  “We’ll be very careful. I’ll have Detective Cruz help out. He has young children at home.”

  In truth, Margie didn’t know how old Cruz’s children were. But she imagined they wer
e young. Either way, he was a dad. He was understanding of his son’s anxiety rather than being impatient and macho about it. He was clearly good with kids. He would treat Warner’s children kindly.

  “No.” Warner shook his head. “I don’t give you permission to talk to my kids. I don’t have to, right? You can’t talk to them without my permission.”

  “It depends on the circumstances.” Margie made a note in her notepad. “We’ll do what we can without them, but I’d like to be able to discuss this with them too.”

  “They’re too young. They don’t know anything, and you’ll just confuse and upset them. I’ve heard of how police can plant false memories.” He stared at her accusingly, as if she had already told his children that it was his fault their mother was missing. “I don’t want anything like that to happen.”

  “I understand that. Of course we’ll be very careful not to traumatize them or to plant any suggestions—”

  “No. I already told you no. No way. There’s no way you’re talking to my kids.”

  His expression was fierce. Margie remembered the homeschooling dad at the park and how casual he had been about protecting his kids near the water. On the other hand, this father was not taking any chances on exposing his children to something that might be harmful to them.

  She nodded and went on. “You’ve given a description of your wife’s car in your report?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Have you had any car trouble lately, anything that might make you more concerned about a traffic accident? Or maybe a stall beside the road, leaving her stranded?”

  “Just the usual. You know how it is with cars. Something always needs to be fixed.”

  “How was your wife’s mental state lately?”

  “I don’t know…” He thought about it. “Okay, I guess? I mean, everyone has stress in their lives…”

  “She hadn’t had any unusual stresses lately? Any signs of depression? Drug or alcohol use?”

  “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Is it possible that your wife could have harmed herself?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” His answer was certain at first, then less so. He stared off into the distance, thinking about it. “She had her down days, like anyone else. But she wasn’t always down. She didn’t talk about killing herself.”

  “Not everyone does. Has she been moody lately? More impatient? Wanting to be by herself?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do you have contact information for some of her friends? Her family? People who she might have talked to? Maybe even a doctor.”

  “She was estranged from her family. Doctors… I don’t think she even has a GP. She just uses a walk-in clinic if she needs to get something checked out for herself. She has a pediatrician for the girls, but it’s so hard to get a good family doctor these days…”

  “Friends? She must have had someone she talked to.”

  “I’ll see if I can get into her computer. I honestly don’t even know last names, let alone phone numbers.”

  “You didn’t do anything with them? Double dates or group things?”

  “Sometimes, but Patty was always the one calling them. I’d call a couple of my friends if she wanted a bigger group, but she was the… social director in the family.”

  “Don’t try to get onto her computer. Bring it in here. Along with any other devices she might have. Tablets, cameras, sports watch, anything that will help us to build a picture of where she was going and what she was doing. Do not try to get onto them. Leave that to us.”

  He was reluctant, but nodded his agreement. “Okay.”

  “You don’t know what kind of security measures she might have. Some of these devices will wipe if you enter the wrong information too many times.”

  “She wasn’t that security conscious. Her password is probably one of the girls’ names,”

  “If you could write down their names, birthdates, any important birthdays or anniversaries, her parents’ and siblings’ names, your phone numbers, anything like that.” Margie pushed a pad of paper and a pen across the table to him. They would probably be able to access her various accounts by subpoenaing them from the service providers, but she was interested in seeing what he would write down. How much did he know? Was he the kind of person who kept track of important dates and bits of information or not? She already suspected not. Patty was the one who had managed their social lives; he didn’t even bother to know the names of her friends.

  She watched him puzzle over the information.

  “Was Patty having problems with anyone? Any arguments? Threats? Phone hang-ups?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. Not that she mentioned.”

  “You say she was estranged from her family. Why is that?”

  “She…” he looked for a way to answer the question politely. “They didn’t approve of all of her choices.”

  Margie considered. The woman’s body had not had any tattoos, significant scars, or multiple piercings. Patty had married and had two children. She had a good education and was working in a good, respectable position that utilized her strengths. Any parent she could think of would have been delighted with her choices. She was not a free-spirited rebel.

  “Does that mean they didn’t like you?” she asked baldly.

  Warner turned white. He looked at her and tried to decide how big his lie would be.

  “They didn’t, did they?” Margie pressed. “For whatever reason, they took a dislike to you. We’re going to talk to them. And that’s what they’re going to say. So you may as well be truthful about it. Lying will only make it look worse.”

  “Okay, yes. You’re right. They didn’t approve of me and of her marrying me. They didn’t think I had much going for me. But I’ve always been devoted to her and the girls. I’ve always worked to help support the family. I’m not some kind of deadbeat.”

  “Sometimes, people just rub each other the wrong way. Maybe they liked the guy she dated before you, so they were disappointed that she dumped him. People are emotional creatures more than logical.”

  He nodded along with her, the tension around his eyes relaxing. “I wish there was something I could do to make them like me better. But they don’t, and Patty didn’t want to do anything with them because of it. So we never really had a chance to make it up.”

  He twisted the wedding ring on his finger.

  And it was too late now, whether he knew that or not.

  Chapter Eight

  Margie met with the rest of the team after she was finished her interrogation with Warner. They did not tell him that they knew Patty was dead. She hadn’t been properly identified yet. She might not be who they thought. Once they had confirmation that it was her, and had everything they could get willingly through Warner, they would let him know and see how he responded. She suspected that he knew she was dead already. Even if he hadn’thad anything to do with her death, he knew when she didn’t come home that night. She had either walked out on him and the children or something bad had happened to her.

  “It sounds like there might have been some issues at work,” Cruz suggested, leaning forward on the conference room table. “He can say all he likes that making fun of Finkle and telling stories on him behind his back is good fun, but the fact is, Finkle probably knew about it. A guy like that might not look dangerous,” he raised one brow at Margie to solicit her opinion, “but if you push him too far and he blows…”

  Margie nodded slowly. “It has, unfortunately, been my experience that everybody has a breaking point. You can drive anyone to violence if you push them hard enough. And Finkle was pretty distressed today. I thought at the time that it was just the discovery of a body in ‘his’ park and then seeing her picture. But it could also be due to a guilty conscience.”

  “We should dig a little deeper there. Maybe get him in for an interview. Check out his background, social media,” Siever suggested. Margie had found his suggestions and careful documentation of the
ir evidence to have been very helpful in the other cases she had worked on. He was a serious man, not as inclined as the others to joke and make sarcastic remarks. The kind of guy who tended to keep to himself most of the time, but was always watching and cataloging everything.

  “Yeah. Definitely. Where are we on getting Patty’s phone records? I’d like to start talking to some of her friends. And this should help us track down her family.” She pushed the page of possible password details she’d had Warner write down into the middle of the table where others could see it. He might have denied knowing her friends’ last names, but he had written down her parents’ full names. No birth dates, but it was enough to get them started.

  “We need to get a positive identification,” Jones advised. “We’re tracking down dental records. Without much help from Mr. Warner, I have to say. If we can get her electronics from him, she probably has her dentist in her contact list. He’s probably right about her using one of the kids’ names for her password. It’s pretty common.”

  “Do you want to make arrangements to stop by the house and get them? I’m afraid if we wait for him, he’s not going to move on it. Or he’ll try to crack them at home and we’ll lose important information.”

  “Sure,” Jones agreed with a brisk nod. “No problem. I’ll get over there right away.”

  “Okay, well…” Margie looked at the list of items to follow up on in her notepad. “We’ve got a lot to do, so we’ll just keep moving things forward.”

  It didn’t feel like they had accomplished much at the end of the day, but Margie knew that she had been working hard on it ever since she’d received the call early that morning. It felt like she had been working for three days straight, so when MacDonald prompted her to go home and get some sleep so she’d be able to be productive on the case the next day, she admitted she was too exhausted to do anything else on it and packed things away.

  Christina had beaten her home and had already eaten supper by the time Margie got there.

  “I’m sorry,” Margie apologized. “It’s been a bear of a day.”