"Huh?"
"Where were you seen for your fall?" Kallie didn't look at the woman. She wrote nonsense in her book.
"County."
"And when was that?"
"A… early Thursday morning."
"Thursday morning like 6:00 or 7:00?"
"No earlier. Midnight-ish. A little after maybe."
"Wow, okay. Sorry, our definitions of morning are different." She chuckled and wrote a few notes. "How did that happen again?"
"I fell down the stairs."
"You live on the first floor." Kallie continued to write in her book. Her scribbles were nonsense as she listened to the woman in front of her.
"I was coming home from Dawson's."
"Oh. Okay. Did you stay with Dawson on Wednesday night?"
"Uh… yeah."
"Cool. What did you do? I can fill in two timelines with one question."
"Ah, we ate dinner and watched a movie. I went home after."
"What movie?"
"What?"
"What movie did you watch?" Kallie glanced up for a second.
"I don't know. Something on television."
"Okay. So when you went home is when you fell down the stairs and broke your wrist?"
"Yeah. That's when."
"Dawson took you to the hospital?"
"No."
Kallie looked up at that. "No? Your fiancé didn't take you to the hospital?"
Cynthia squirmed in her chair and shook her head. "He fell asleep, and I didn't want to bother him."
Kallie dropped her pen and leaned back in her chair. "Can you explain that?"
"Explain what?" The woman snipped. "What does that have to do with my statement?"
"Again, we are trying to establish where everyone was and when they were in those locations so we can deliver a complete picture to the District Attorney."
"I didn't want him to take me. Okay?"
"Why?"
"Listen, Dawson's not the smartest guy, yah know."
"Oh-kay?" Kallie extended the word and made it a question.
"Look, I'm not going to press charges or nothing, but he pushed me, and I fell down the stairs. I wasn't going to let him take me to the hospital and make things worse."
"So, Dawson pushed you down the stairs?"
"Yeah. He did."
"What time was that?"
"I don't know. Eight or so."
"And you didn't go to the hospital until midnight?" Kallie swung back to Cynthia's previous answer. The woman was digging herself deeper and deeper.
"Yeah, I thought I could shake it off."
"You thought you could shake off a broken wrist and a broken ankle?"
"I'm tougher than I look."
"Obviously..." Kallie stopped talking when the door opened. Davidson walked in and slapped the folder on the table. "We confirmed everything." He stabbed the folder with his finger and an evil smile spread across his face before he swung his eyes to Cynthia. Holy fuck, one day she wanted to sit in the observation room when the Lieutenant did an interview. It would be epic.
He turned on his heel and left the interview room. "Perfect." Kallie slid the folder to her and opened it.
"What did you confirm? Do you know who killed that guy?"
Kallie looked up and cocked her head. "I believe I do."
"Who? Who killed him?"
Kallie moved to the door. "You might want to have a seat. This is going to take a hot minute." She was gone before Cynthia could sputter a response. Brock exited the observation room.
"Dawson is up next." She nodded to the interview room.
"I'll take him." Brock slid his notebook from his coat pocket and flipped the page open. "Ready?"
"Go get 'em tiger." Kallie winked when she threw Brock's words back at him. The man gave her a lusty smile and waggled his eyebrows before he headed to the interview room door.
Brock winced internally at the sight of the beaten man. He listed to the left. Several butterfly bandages held together the cut over his right eye, and he could see an ace bandage wrapped around the man's ribs through the thin cotton of Dawson's t-shirt. "How are you doing?"
"Been better. Can we get this done with? I gotta..." The man stopped. "Hell, I don't know what I'm going to do."
"Yeah, sure. Dawson, can you tell me where you were this past Wednesday night?"
The man nodded. "Fire and Ice, over on West Hampton. I had dinner with my friends and spent the evening drinking and dancing." Brock held his surprise behind his professional demeanor. Fire and Ice was a gay club.
"All evening?"
"'From 9:00 p.m. to about 2:00 a.m."
"Who were you with?"
Dawson rattled off some names, and when Brock asked, he gave their cell numbers, too. Brock leaned back in his chair. "You and Cynthia didn't have dinner on Wednesday? You sure?"
"God, yeah, I'm sure. She threw her car keys at me and told me to get lost. She gets that way sometimes. Why?"
"Nothing, just checking. Are you gay or bi?"
"Bi." Dawson closed his eyes.
"When did you meet Samuel Treyson?"
"About four months ago? Cynthia got pissed at the old delivery guy and fired him, so I'd go in, get the machines ready for processing and then go do the collections. Thought it was weird that Treyson had more than one apartment." He chuckled, but the sound turned into a pained moan.
"He tell you why he stayed at more than one place?"
"Yeah. Pretty amazing set up, huh?"
"If you're into that type of thing, then yeah, it would be sweet." Brock leaned forward. "Tell me what happened between you and Samuel." Dawson opened his eye and stared at Brock. "I need to know, man, so I can get justice for him and now for you, too."
"Justice? Man, people like me don't get justice. We get pushed to the side or shoved down." Dawson's jaw worked, and he swallowed hard. "Life don't give people like me easy times."
"This time, life is staring you in the face and telling you to speak up. Believe me, I can protect you from whoever did this to you."
"It wasn't Cynthia."
"Didn't think it was. She couldn't swing a baseball bat that hard. Not with the cast." Dawson grunted in acknowledgement. "She said you pushed her down the stairs."
Dawson bolted forward and gasped in pain. "Fuuuck... I never. I wouldn't hurt her. Never. She hits me, bites me and treats me like shit, man, but I wouldn't lift a hand against her. I wouldn't."
"How did she break her wrist?"
Dawson shrugged. "She told me she was in a car accident."
"Wednesday night?"
"Yeah. She showed up at work the next afternoon with the casts. I went to the medical supply store to buy her the scooter."
"What happened between you and Treyson?"
Dawson stared at the tabletop for several minutes. "He was so nice to me. He treated me good, you know. Like I was someone. He..." Dawson cleared his throat. "He asked me out. I really liked the way he treated me. I met him for dinner. He told me he wanted to take care of me. Can you believe it? Me? He wanted me..." Dawson sucked in some air and continued, "Cynthia found out. She was so pissed. She beat the fuck out of me, but I never hit her. I swear." His eye popped up.
Brock saw the truth in the man's stare. "I believe you. How did Cynthia find out?"
"She saw Sam bring me home one night. We'd had dinner and then went to his place up in Briar Hill. A big house. We went in through the back. The kitchen was the size of the dry cleaners. Sam, he was a gentle lover. I really thought maybe something was finally going right in my life, you know?" He leaned forward and winced. "Anyway, after she found out, that's when she stopped me from doing pick-ups. She took my phone and... it was bad. I guess she went to visit Sam. Like I said, she took my phone. I didn't memorize his number, so I had no way of contacting him. I tried to go to one of his places, but..." Dawson closed his eye and a tear escaped down his swollen, bruised cheek. "I got nothing, man. Nothing. That job she gave me keeps me from living on the streets. I�
�ve been on the streets. I’ll do anything to keep a roof over my head." He shrugged his shoulder a fraction of an inch. "Then he showed up at the cleaners. I was working both the back and front that day. He said he was worried about me and came to see me. He brought his clothes in regularly after that. I tried to work up front. Cynthia doesn't like dealing with customers, so she let me. The last time he came in was last Tuesday. I thought he was going to ask me to come with him when he saw what she'd done to me. The bite marks and bruises. I would have left with him if he'd asked, but Cynthia, she came up from the back. She told Sam I was her fiancé and that I wasn't interested. She told him to leave and never come back or he'd regret it. She threatened to fire me, to put me on the street, and she threatened to out Sam. What could I do?”
"Were there any witnesses?"
"No. We were the only ones in the store."
"Is there a camera system at the front of the store?"
"Yeah, I think. I don't know if it works. I don't get to go into the office. It's locked."
"Okay, let’s go back, can we? You said you tried to go to one of his places. What happened when you went, Dawson?" Every instinct told him all the pieces to the puzzle were going to come into play during these interviews. He needed to keep the man talking.
"The guy he lived with got all up in my face."
"Can you describe him, the guy?"
"Sure, but I know who he is. Sam talked about him, and I'd seen him before. His name is Garrett."
"You saw him at one of Samuel's apartments?"
"Yeah."
"Who beat you, Dawson?"
"I dunno."
"You had to have let them into your apartment, or did Cynthia let them in?"
Dawson shrugged his shoulders. "Did you let him into your apartment?" Brock pushed the question again.
"No. He was there when I came home."
"Did he say anything? Do you know why someone would beat you?"
"To keep me from talking to you. He told me to keep my mouth shut, or he’d shut it permanently."
"Why didn't you call us? Report it?"
"What good would it do, man? He should have just used that bat on my head. If he killed me at least it would all stop."
"Dawson, do you know who killed Sam?"
The man shook his head. "I can only guess."
"Who would you guess?"
"Cynthia."
"Not Garrett?"
"No, he loved Sam."
"Why do you think it was Cynthia?"
"She's... She's threatened to slit my throat while I slept. One night I figure she'll do it. She's not right, Detective."
"Why do you stay with her?"
He shrugged again, a mere fraction of an inch. "Where the hell would I go, dude? Tell me. Where would I go?"
Brock hands rose trying to calm Dawson down. "Okay. Can I get you something to drink? I need to run through a few things, but I'll be back."
"Am I under arrest?"
"No. You are not a suspect at this time."
"I would never hurt anyone, Detective."
"I believe you, man."
"Detective?"
Brock turned at the door. "Yes?"
"She really said I hurt her?"
"Yes."
Dawson nodded and closed his eye. "I wish he would have killed me."
14
Kallie waited with Lieutenant Davidson in the observation room. Watching Dawson's interview had been enlightening. The man was broken. Absolutely broken, but broken they could work with. Brock stepped into the room with his cell phone pushed to his ear. He held up a finger quickly, "I'm calling the impound lot. If Cynthia was driving the car, we should be able to tell."
"How?" Kallie moved away from the table where she'd been leaning.
"Seat position for starters. Samuel Treyson was over six feet tall. She's what? Maybe five feet tall?" Davidson said quietly from the other side of the room.
"We need to ascertain if there was anything of Cynthia's left in the car. Phone, purse, coat, whatever. If she drove it over the bank and hurt herself, she was trying to save herself, not her shit."
Kallie pointed at Brock. "You said it was filled with mud."
"Yeah, that is what Brody said. He was going to have the techs go through it. Hopefully they've had time to shovel all that shit out." Brock held up a finger stalling their conversation and spoke for several minutes before he ended the call. "They are about halfway through mucking it out. They are documenting everything, bucket by bucket, so there are no questions as to how they found anything or what they found. So far, they can tell me that the seat was forward, but until they get it cleared out, they don’t know what size human would fit comfortably behind the wheel."
"Good. So, based on what Kallie has told me and what I just witnessed, what are your combined guts telling you?" Davidson assumed what Kallie was beginning to realize was his thinking stance. Feet shoulder width apart, hands in his pockets, and weight back on his heels.
Kallie sat on the table and sighed. "We need to validate Dawson was at Fire and Ice like he said he was."
"Agreed. The people he was with need to be interviewed, and we need the security feed at the club."
"Give me that information. I'll have Bettis and Hansen run that down. We can get that video and confirm his alibi. In the meantime, you hold both of them." Brock scribbled the information on a sheet of legal paper left on the table Kallie was sitting on. “Run with the assumption Dawson is telling the truth. The next time you talk to Ms. White or him, it is under rights advisement. We don't want anything to slip through the cracks."
"Roger that." Kallie acknowledged his directive. It wasn't needed. She wasn't going to say a word to Cynthia without Mirandizing her, but hey, he was the boss, and he was covering their asses.
Brock shook his head while staring at the toe of his boot. "I don't know how she'd slit his throat, though. Like you said, she's small. What could she possibly say that would put him to his knees–voluntarily?"
Davidson nodded. "The wound on Treyson mimics the threat Dawson alleges Cynthia made to him. That detail wasn't given to the media, so Dawson wouldn't know about it. Those threats are oddly specific to the crime." Davidson grabbed the handle of the door. "Work this hard. I'm going to give you high cover and keep this shit contained, but if the press gets wind you have two people in custody, they are going to start circling looking for a carcass."
"Roger that, sir," Kallie and Brock acknowledged at the same time.
After the door shut, Kallie bounced all the information through her head again, looking for anything to use. "Physically could she do it?"
"If he went to his knees voluntarily." Brock nodded. "Yes. All she'd need is a sharp knife and the element of surprise."
Kallie stared at her partner. "Why would he go to his knees though?"
"I got nothing." Brock shrugged. "I mean, Samuel is a stand-up guy, right? He knows Dawson is in a shit relationship."
Kallie flipped through her notebook, looking for any fragment of information that would give them an indication as to why Samuel would have willingly gone to his knees. "He was known for doing the right thing. What would Cynthia have that would put him to his knees?"
"One of his lovers?" Brock speculated.
"Or Dawson." Kallie countered.
Brock nodded his eyes fixed on hers. "She could have used Dawson to draw Treyson to that warehouse, but why there?"
Kallie drew her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth, trying to put puzzle pieces together. “Why would she bring him to the middle of nowhere?"
"Wait, the warehouse." Brock dropped to the chair and flipped through his notes. "Fuck, tell me you've got the name of the LLC that owned the damn warehouse." He continued to flip through the pages.
"Ah… wait, I've got it here somewhere. She licked her fingers and paged rapidly through her notes. "Yeah, here. Smartsmith, LLC." Kallie shifted her attention to Brock.
"We need to run down the ownership of that warehouse and
see if we can connect the owner of the warehouse to one of Samuel's lovers or Cynthia and Dawson. We ran it originally and couldn't tie it to Samuel."
"We should run it against the names Sebastian Treyson sent us, too." Kallie added.
"Call Bettis and Hansen. If they need help, they can ask Davidson for more manpower."
“Roger that.” She picked up the phone and made the call while she watched Brock watching Dawson. His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. After she hung up, she nudged him. Her phone vibrated. She picked it up and dismissed it quickly. Rich again. She leaned toward Brock. "What's eating you?"
"Why do people kill other people?" he asked, without taking his eyes from Dawson.
"The big three. Money, emotional ties, or power."
"With the exception of Dawson, we've alibied all of Treyson’s lovers."
Kallie nodded. "So, Dawson stays on the list of suspects."
"Right. Then there is greed. Who stood to benefit from Samuel's death?"
"His lovers. Not Dawson, though. He wasn't in the fold, and as far as we know, not in the will. But again, we have nothing indicating the lovers were involved."
"Right. And power? Who gains from this guy’s death?"
"His old man?"
"Nah, he already owns everything, but that guy is a royal bastard. It doesn't figure, Sebastian and Dawson, they are very unlikely bed partners, you know what I mean?" Brock rubbed his jaw and yes, she noticed the strong angle of his chin, but pushed that momentary lapse of professionalism to the curb.
"You need to talk to Dawson again."
Brock paused. "Why?"
Kallie flipped her notebook to the last page. "He said he was at Fire and Ice from 9:00 p.m. until 2:00 a.m. Where was he before that? If we go by the timeline established at The Waterfall, Samuel could have been at the warehouse by 7:30, even with fucked up traffic."
"Fuck. That's an excellent catch." He stood and turned, sitting on the table. "He could have killed Samuel for screwing with his only support system."
"Possible, or Cynthia could have killed him for messing with Dawson."
Brock shook his head. "I don't think she's that invested in Dawson. I don't get the sense she loves him enough to kill over him, you know. I don't get that passion from her. I think she likes to control his ass, but I don't see any passion. Do you? She doesn't seem entrenched, although she glares at him like she's afraid he's going to say something wrong."
A Hope City Duet Page 17
