“Did you find any prints on Julian’s belt other than his own?” Carter asked.
“No. But we did find remnants of a latex material, most likely from latex gloves. The lab is still analyzing the sample.”
“If the killer used latex gloves, we’re looking at a premeditated murder.”
James nodded. “So my next question to you both is this. At any point last night, do you remember seeing anyone with a pair of latex gloves?”
I wracked my brain but could come up with nothing. Neither could Carter.
“Is Madeline Kinlaw a suspect?” I asked.
“According to Carter’s testimony yesterday, Madeline wouldn’t have had enough time to leave the community bedroom and strangle the victim. We spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Brice this morning, and they also confirmed that Madeline had left the room less than a minute before they heard her scream. We have no physical evidence that she caused or in any way contributed to his death.”
“Is it possible someone broke into the bedroom window and got inside?” Carter asked.
“We checked that out, too. No shoe prints outside the window. The latch on the window hadn’t been tampered with either. We’re ruling out that theory.”
“So who are you looking at?” I asked.
“This is where it gets tricky. Bob and June Porter give each other an alibi. They claim to have been alone together when it happened. Same goes for Zeb Nichols and Sandra Dotson. Which leaves only one person without an alibi during the time of death.”
“Me,” I said, certain that the detective didn’t believe I strangled Julian Pike. “So does that make me a suspect?”
“Not in my eyes, but you’re the only one without an alibi. The DA is breathing down my neck for a suspect, and I can’t ignore the facts.”
Something occurred to me. “The Porter’s next door neighbor. She was watching me through the window in the kitchen, which I had never left between the time Julian went into the bedroom and his death.” I noticed by Carter’s expression, that this was news to him. “I never mentioned it because it had slipped my mind until now. Earlier in the night, while I was in the kitchen, I saw the woman in the window looking inside the Porter’s kitchen. When I mentioned it to June, she said the neighbors were gone. Less than an hour later, I saw the same woman looking out the window. We made eye-contact. She’s my alibi.”
James didn’t seem convinced. “One way to find out. Maybe she’s still there.”
Chapter 7
As we drove up Borthwick Lane in Glendale Heights, we noted the two vans parked across the street from the Porter residence. I could understand how the Porter’s felt outraged with the unwanted attention from the media.
We parked in the house next to the Porters. The mailbox bore the owners name: The Dunbars.
The detective approached the front door, rang the doorbell, and the three of us waited.
“No cars in the driveway,” I said. “Looks like nobody is home. June Porter seemed pretty certain that they were out of the country on vacation, but I swear, there was a woman I saw in that house.”
Detective James got on his phone. “I’ll work on finding a mobile number for the Dunbars.”
Carter spoke up. “I’ll bet the Porters have a cell phone number for them. We can go next door and ask to save some time.”
James looked at me and Carter sternly. “You two need to go back and wait in the car. I can’t have you guys tromping through my crime scene over there.”
Though he said it half serious, I couldn’t help but feel offended by the remark. I raised my hands. “Wouldn’t want to contaminate your crime scene.”
James didn’t respond as he turned and headed toward the Porter’s house.
As we headed back to the detective’s vehicle, Carter put an arm around me. “Don’t worry about this, Sarah. We’ll find the woman. Bottom line; there are only four people who could’ve crept into Julian’s room last night and killed him. Zeb Nichols, Sandra Dotson, or Bob and June Porter.”
“Well, I think we can cross the Porters off the list,” I said. “It had to be Zeb. Revenge for hurting Madeline last week. Which means Sandra lied for him. Maybe Zeb convinced her to lie for him.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Carter said. “James won’t let us talk to Sandra. If he finds out we’re tampering with witnesses, won’t be cool. I think we should focus on finding this mystery woman you saw in the window.”
When James returned to the car, he held up his cell phone. “I got the Dunbar’s mobile numbers. According to the Porters, they’re on a Mediterranean cruise. I just tried calling them. They didn’t answer, so I left a message.”
My patience was beginning to wear out. “What do we do until then?”
“Let’s head back to the station. Kristina Pike is in my office waiting for me.”
“Julian’s wife?” I said.
“Yep. She flew home this morning from Chicago when she got the news about her husband.”
* * *
Kristina Pike was an attractive woman in her mid-forties with long black hair, a slender figure, and stylishly dressed. She was waiting by the detective’s office, a tense look on her face, scrolling her phone like she was checking email. No tears of sorrow for her dead husband, apparently.
Carter and I were not allowed in his office while he spoke with her, but we lingered close by in anticipation.
“Julian’s wife seems more annoyed by the inconvenience of his death, rather than heartbroken over losing her husband,” I said. “I wonder if Julian had life insurance.”
“Hey,” Carter joked. “Maybe she snuck into the house last night and killed him herself.”
“No evidence that anyone tampered with the window, remember? Besides, it sounds like she has an alibi if she just got back from Chicago.”
“Doesn’t mean she couldn’t have paid someone to kill him.”
I could tell by the look in Carter’s eyes that he was formulating a theory. He got on his phone. “What do we know about Zeb Nichols, other than the fact that he and Madeline are close friends?”
I pictured him in my mind. At the party, I had nicknamed him the vampire because he wore all black, and his skin was pale. He wasn’t exactly handsome in a traditional sense, but I could see how the opposite sex might find him intriguing. “We didn’t have a chance to talk very much at the party. He and Sandra left the group right after we got there. Basically, they were in a private room the whole night.”
“That’s true,” Carter said. “Neither of them came into the community room at any time.”
“Don’t you think that’s strange? I mean, why would Zeb want to spend his whole evening with Sandra? The point of going to swing parties is to swap partners, right?”
“Good point.” Carter must have found some information. He pointed to his phone with a satisfied smile. “Zeb Nichols has a record. Assault and battery charges from 2012.”
“Did he spend time in prison?”
“Doesn’t look like it. If it was a first time offense, he probably got off with a hefty fine and probation. Hey, at least we know he’s capable.”
“Depends on the situation,” I said. “Maybe he didn’t instigate the assault. Can you find out the details?”
“Might take some time, but I’m on it.”
Ten minutes later, Kristina Pike emerged from the detective’s office. She wasted no time in heading for the exit.
James closed up his office and joined us in the lobby. He, too, seemed to be on a mission and not in a sharing mood.
“What did she have to say?” Carter asked.
“Not much,” he said, checking his watch. “She freely admitted to the fact that she despised her husband and was in the process of hiring a lawyer to get a divorce. She’s not surprised that someone killed him, but if she knows or has any idea of who did it, she’s not talking.”
“Is there a life insurance policy?” I asked.
“No. Mr. Pike had a policy last year, but he’d stopped paying the pre
miums. Mrs. Pike will get the house and cars, but that’s about it. According to his bank statements, Mr. Pike had less than three grand. His credit card balances equaled over ten grand. The guy was in debt.”
“For a hot shot defense attorney, I thought he’d have more saved,” I said.
“He took a massive hit when the stock market crashed. Overextended on the house. Mrs. Pike says she’ll have to sell the property now. In a nutshell, she had no financial motive to kill her husband. Besides, she has an alibi.”
Carter said, “Did you know that Zeb Nichols has a record of assault and battery from 2012?”
James seemed surprised. “No, I hadn’t gotten around to checking everyone’s background.”
“Might want to get him back in here, find out what that was all about.”
“Telling me how to do my job?”
Carter shook his head. “No sir, just trying to help.”
If the detective was really annoyed, he didn’t show it. “Look, I have a meeting with Mr. Pike’s staff at his office. Let’s touch base about this later.”
When we got home around noon, Carter made us lunch. Too bad I was not in the mood for food. “If you don’t mind, could you save my sandwich, and I’ll eat later.” I grabbed my purse and car keys.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the Dunbar’s house. I have a feeling that woman might return.”
“What makes you think she will?”
“Just a hunch. She has to be a family member, right? Who else? Unless she’s a housekeeper, or someone the Dunbar’s hired to keep an eye on the place while they’re gone. Besides, I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Not while I’m still a suspect.”
Carter gave me a look. “James does not think you murdered Julian Pike. But you know how he is. Everything by the book.”
“Until I have proof, there will be doubt in his mind. I can’t have it.”
Chapter 8
Parked across the street from the Dunbar residence, I munched on a granola bar to keep my energy up, waiting and hoping for the mystery woman to return. Two hours had already gone by, and I was losing faith she might return.
The news vans were gone from the street. I wondered if the Porters had scared them off, or if the reporters had simply gotten bored with the lack of excitement.
Which made me curious. I went on my phone to check online for any recent news stories about Julian Pike’s death. There were tons of hits. Several articles made Julian out to be a sexual deviant with a serious drug addiction, and of course, the way he died, fodder for many jokes and slams. One article mentioned the Porters hosting sex parties at their house, where devil worshiping and other evil practices were being performed.
I had to roll my eyes. These lowlifes in the media industry exaggerated everything. The Porters must have been going crazy.
As 3:30 rolled around, I had just about given up on the woman. With my luck, she probably wasn’t coming back.
Just as I turned the engine on and was about to leave, I noticed a person heading up the sidewalk with a backpack slung over her shoulder. She rounded the bend and eventually headed up the stairs of the Dunbar residence. I recognized her face.
I emerged from my car and caught up with her just as she was about to enter the house.
“Excuse me,” I called out.
She turned around and gave me an annoyed look. With her dark hair and bushy eyebrows, I was ninety-nine percent sure this was the woman I’d seen in the window. She was dressed in baggy jeans and a grey hoodie, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail.
She sighed impatiently. “What do you want?”
“Do you live here?”
She hesitated. “No. Who are you?”
Clearly, this was going to be like pulling teeth, so I decided to get right to the point. “Are you aware of what happened last night at the next door neighbor’s house?”
She glanced over to the Porter’s house and shrugged. “No. What happened?”
“A man was murdered last night, in the house. Around the same time that I saw you in the window. Do you remember seeing me in their kitchen?”
She narrowed her eyes as if this might be a trick question. “What time was that?”
“Around 9:30 to 9:45.”
“Sorry. I don’t remember.”
I knew she was lying when she averted her eyes. “The cops will want to question you,” I said. “They will ask you why you were here last night. The owners of this house are out of the country for an extended vacation. They never let people stay here when they’re gone. So, why were you here last night?”
“Maybe I wasn’t here.” Her tone was becoming more guarded, and I knew that if I pushed too hard, she’d shut down completely. I decided to change my tactic.
“Look, I really need your help. I just need an alibi for last night. Is there any chance you’d be willing to tell the police that you saw me in the kitchen between 9:30 and 9:45 last night?”
She shook her head. “Sorry. I never saw you. Not sure what else you want me to say.”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
A long pause as she eyed me wearily. “I don’t have to tell you anything. Now, I gotta go.” She retreated into the house, and the door closed in my face.
I trudged back to my car, dialing the number of Detective James, then stopped myself. I wasn’t supposed to be questioning potential witnesses, but he needed to know that she had surfaced. I decided to call Carter and ask his advice.
“Where are you, Sarah?”
“I found her, but she’s not being helpful. Claims she was never here last night, which is a lie.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “It could be a different person.”
“No, it’s the same person. I’m sure of it. She’s feigning ignorance because she knows she might get in trouble for being at the house while the owners are away.”
“Did you get her name?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
After a few seconds, Carter said, “Can you give me her license plate number? I can get her name through the registration.”
“No vehicle. She arrived on foot. Maybe someone dropped her off at the end of the block, but I didn’t see anyone else. What should I do?”
“Look, Sarah, you will never be arrested for Julian’s death with or without this woman’s alibi. If you piss her off any more than you already have, it will only make matters worse, especially if James finds out you approached her.”
I sighed in frustration. “Great.”
“If the woman has a key, then she probably knows the owners. Once the detective gets in touch with them, I’m sure they’ll cooperate.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dark-haired woman emerge from the house with a dog on a leash. “Hold on,” I said. “I think I figured it out.”
“What?”
“She’s a dog walker. The owners probably hired her to take care of their pets while they’re gone.”
“If that’s the case,” Carter said, “she probably has to go there several times a day at least.”
“I’m gonna give it one more try. If she blows me off again, I’ll call it quits.”
“Tread lightly, okay?”
“I will.”
I caught up to the curly haired woman at the end of the block.
“I know I’m being a pain in the ass,” I said, holding out my hand. “Can we start over? I’m Sarah Woods.”
She glanced at my hand but made no effort to shake it.
I got the hint and took a step back. “Aren’t you the slightest bit interested in what happened last night?”
“It’s none of my business.”
“Really?” I chuckled. “You seemed pretty interested last night when you kept looking in the window.”
She shrugged. “Told you, wasn’t me.”
“Look, I get it. You’re not supposed to be staying at the house when the owners are away. I’d think they’d be pleased to know that you’ve been putting in extra hours
to make sure their pets are being cared for.”
She gave me a tentative glance like she knew it was bullshit. “I can’t afford to get mixed up in your mess.”
“If you’re worried about getting fired, I totally understand that, but you know, the owners don’t have to get involved. If you tell the police that you saw me in the kitchen last night, that’ll be the end of it.”
“Why is it so important?” she asked. “Have you been accused of murder?”
“No, but if I had an alibi, it would make life much easier for me.”
We both watched as the dog sniffed a rose bush. “You mind telling me your name, at least?”
She sighed loudly, letting me know this was a chore. “Molly Fisher. Okay? You satisfied now?”
“Thanks, Molly. It’s nice to meet you. Now, are you willing to help me out with the alibi?”
“Fine,” she said, begrudgingly. “What do I have to do?”
“Go to the police station and speak with Detective James. I can drive you there right now, if you don’t have a car.”
Molly turned around and headed back toward the house. “Later. I still have to give Lucille her medicine.”
“Lucille?”
“The cat. She’s almost fourteen years old and she has feline diabetes.”
“How many pets do they have?”
“Just Goober and Lucille. I’m supposed to visit them twice a day to give Lucille her meds and walk Goober.”
When we got back to the front porch, I told her I’d wait in the car and that she could come out when she was done taking care of the animals. She nodded and disappeared into the grand entrance with the dog.
I called Carter and told him about Molly Fisher. “Looks like I have my alibi. She’s going to cooperate.”
Chapter 9
Molly Fisher was not much of a talker. On the way to the police station, my questions elicited one word answers. When I asked her where she lived, she just shrugged and said, nowhere.
Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 6) Page 25
