Every trace of sleepiness left her as adrenaline kicked in. This time Dana didn’t have to consult her cheat sheet. Twelve-fortynine Adam meant a possible homicide.
“Eleven-twenty-five,” Dana responded. “Burnside and Division—I’m about five minutes out.” Hitting her lights and siren, Dana flipped a U-turn and headed back to Troutdale.
Dispatch came back in with, “Eleven-twenty-five, reporting party is standing by. We have a DOA in his vehicle. Detectives are paged out, request you secure the scene.”
“Eleven-twenty-five, copy, en route.”
Seconds later, Dana’s patrol sergeant called on the radio asking her to go to open, or what they called the gab channel.
She did. “What can I do for you, Sarge?”
“Are you sure you want to do this one, Dana? A few minutes ago you told me you needed some shuteye.”
“Not a problem. I’m wide awake and ready for action.”
“Okay, have at it.”
REACHING THE DOOR to Joe Higgins’s duplex, Mac assumed the role as lead detective and knocked. The door opened slowly and there stood Joe Higgins, again wearing the black sweatsuit. His hair was loose this time, with black curls hiding most of his face.
“Hello, Detectives. C’mon in.” Higgins’s Adam’s apple shifted up and down in a nervous gesture.
“Thanks for meeting with us,” Mac said. “This shouldn’t take too long, just a few more questions.”
“Sure, have a seat on the couch. Make yourself at home.” Higgins settled into the brown recliner, leaving the large sofa for Mac and Kevin. The coffee table provided an effective barrier.
Mac noted that the pornographic magazines had been removed from the base of the coffee table. Higgins sat forward in his seat, as though he were ready to run if necessary.
“Joe, I’d like to record this interview if you don’t mind.” Mac pulled a tape recorder from his coat. “It saves me time, not having to take notes and all.”
“Sure, suit yourself.” His eyes darted from the device to Kevin, to Mac, and to his feet. The action negated the indifference in his words.
Mac activated the tape recorder, setting the device on the coffee table. “All right, for the record, my name is Detective Mac McAllister, Oregon State Police. Also present is Detective Kevin Bledsoe, also state police. We are in an interview with Mr. Joe Higgins. Last name spelled H-i-g-g-i-n-s. Mr. Higgins, are you aware that we are recording your conversation?”
Higgins nodded and Mac reminded him to reply audibly, which he did.
“Detective Bledsoe, you are also aware?” Mac added.
“Yes I am.”
“Mr. Higgins,” Mac continued, “before we get started, I just want to make it clear that you’re not under arrest and we have no intention of placing you under arrest at this point. If at any time during our conversation you feel that you don’t want to answer a question or want to terminate the interview, you’re certainly welcome to do that. Do you understand all of that?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Joe curled his fingers and examined his nails.
“Good,” Mac said. “I don’t have a lot of questions, Mr.
Higgins. But before I get started, do you have anything you’d like to ask me?”
“No, I just want this to get over with so I can go about my life and not have the cops showing up every few hours.” Higgins leveled a sharp glare at them.
“That’s what we would like to accomplish also,” Mac said.
“For the record, could you briefly go over your relationship with Megan Tyson again? Just give us the Reader’s Digest version.”
“First of all, we didn’t have a relationship,” Higgins said, leaning over to the tape recorder when he spoke. “I just lifted at the gym where Megan worked. We went out once and there was no love connection, so there’s nothing else to say.”
“You went to dinner, then ended up at her place during the date?” Mac asked.
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a date, just a couple of friends getting together,” Higgins corrected. “But yeah, like I told you guys before, I thought I could get some that night, went for center field, and struck out. That doesn’t mean I killed her.”
“Of course it doesn’t, Mr. Higgins, just trying to give a little history here,” Mac said.
“Right, well, don’t stress that too much for the record or whatever,” Higgins warned. “I don’t know where we’re going with this. Maybe I need a lawyer . . . I don’t know.”
“If you murdered Megan Tyson, then yeah, you’ll need a lawyer,” Mac snapped, stealing one of his partner’s lines. “But if you had nothing to do with this, then I suggest you cooperate with us.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Joe lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Please go on.”
“You’re positive there was no sexual contact between you and Ms. Tyson?”
“Positive.” Higgins pressed his lips together.
“So there would be no reason we would find any trace evidence on Ms. Tyson’s remains that belongs to you?”
“No.” Higgins sat back in his chair.
“What kind of bed do you own, Mr. Higgins?”
“It’s a king-size,” he said. “A real monster, a waterbed actually.”
“You had that in your old place in Troutdale?”
“Yep, I’ve had it for quite a while.” Higgins got to his feet. “Say, do you guys want a Pepsi or something?”
“No thanks,” Mac answered. Kevin shook his head.
“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like one.”
“Sure, go ahead. We just have a few more questions.” Mac tensed. Did Joe intend to flee?
“Okay, just let me know if you want anything.” Joe disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared with a can of soda. He popped the top, taking several swallows.
“Thanks.” Mac picked up the tape recorder to see how much room was left on the tape. “Tell me about Mitch Wallace again.
The two of you celled together in FCI Houston, right?”
“You got it. Mitch came up to visit, said he was just out of the joint. He got picked up by you guys—well, not you two, but the cops out in Gladstone.”
“Yes, you mentioned that before.” Mac watched the guy’s face.
“And remind me where you two were going when Wallace was arrested.”
“Just heading home. We hit the bars and caught a few shows,”
Higgins replied.
“Have you had any contact with Mr. Wallace lately?” Mac asked.
“Nope, none at all,” Higgins answered without hesitation.
“Did Mr. Wallace have a key to your apartment in Troutdale when he was staying with you?”
“No way! You think I would trust that guy? He’s a thief.”
Higgins bit the inside of his cheek. “I kept the keys to my pad.
Mitch came and went with me.”
“Would you consider Mr. Wallace a good friend?” Mac asked.
“I suppose, but I still wouldn’t trust him,” Higgins added.
“Would you lie to protect him?” Mac asked bluntly.
“I might. I wouldn’t take a murder rap for him, if that’s what you’re asking.” Higgins came back across the room and sat down.
“Did Mitch get into more trouble while he was staying at my pad?
That stupid son of a—”
“Would you tell us if Mr. Wallace was involved in Megan’s death?” Mac interrupted.
“In a New York second, man, without hesitation.”
“Good, I may remind you of that.”
Higgins leaned back into the chair.
Mac moved closer to the edge of his seat. It was time to confront him with the blood evidence. “Detective Bledsoe and I went over your old apartment with a fine-tooth comb, Mr. Higgins. Not just us, but a team of forensic scientists. You did a good job cleaning up, but not good enough.”
Higgins turned an unflattering shade of gray. “What do you mean?”
“We f
ound blood in your bedroom, Mr. Higgins. A lot of blood.”
“That’s not possible. You guys are messing with my head. You think because I have a prison record, you can dump this thing on me. Well, I’m not falling for your tricks.”
With a voice as solid and controlled as he could manage, Mac delivered the final blow. “Megan Tyson died in your apartment, and we intend to prove it. If you had nothing to do with her death, I suggest you tell us who did. If Wallace killed her, you might want to think twice about lying for him.”
“This interview is over.” Higgins glared at Mac, then Kevin. “Turn that thing off. From here on out you can talk to my attorney.”
“If you say so.” Mac pressed the “stop” button on the player and, following Kevin’s lead, headed for the door.
“You guys are not going to pin this thing on me.”
“Remember what the detective said, Mr. Higgins,” Kevin delivered a parting shot. “We’ll be in touch.”
Higgins stood there staring at Kevin with such a hateful look in his eyes, Mac expected him to erupt in flames. Or, at the very least, slam one of his clenched fists into Kevin’s face. Sliding his hand under his jacket, Mac gripped the handle of his Glock pistol.
“Are you going to make trouble, son?” Kevin straightened slightly, showing his extra height and stature.
Higgins hesitated for a moment. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He backed inside and slammed the door, sliding the deadbolt back into place.
“That went well.” Mac blew out a long breath as he and Kevin walked back toward the car.
“Extremely. We almost had him.”
“I thought for a minute there I was going to have to pick you off the floor. I tell you, partner, Clint Eastwood’s got nothing on you.
Man, I thought you were going to tell him to make your day.”
Kevin chuckled. “I almost did.”
“Let’s head south, to the gray-bar motel, Mac,” Kevin said when they reached the car. “We need to have a little talk with Mitch Wallace. Maybe he’ll tell us where all that blood came from.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Mac started the car and gripped the wheel. They were getting close.
“Eric paged me while we were in session with Mr. Higgins. I’d better get back to him.” Kevin dialed the number as he spoke.
“Hey, Red, what happened to you? Thought you were meeting us out at Joe’s old apartment.” There was a pause, then he said, “No kidding.” Kevin shot Mac a look of surprise. “How long ago?”
“What’s going on?” Mac mouthed.
Kevin held up a hand. “Okay, we just finished an interview with Higgins and were headed to Salem to talk with his buddy, but we’ll hold up on that.” Kevin paused again. “You got it.”
Kevin put his phone back into his jacket pocket. “Head on back to Troutdale, Mac. We’ve got another murder.”
Mac frowned. “Another female victim?”
“Nope. Gordon Reed.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mac leaned against his car, watching the deputy medical examiner and Russ and Philly process the scene. The sight of the bloodied corpse wasn’t what made his stomach churn. It was being yanked back to square one. Another murder, another slashed throat—Gordon’s death was obviously linked to Megan’s. Had they been going after the wrong man? When he’d first seen Gordon’s face, he’d immediately thought of Tim Morris, not Joe Higgins.
“What are you thinking, Mac? You look like you’re ready to do someone in yourself.” Kevin stood beside him, arms crossed, legs slightly apart.
Mac rubbed at the creases on his brow. “Just trying to make sense of it. My first reaction is that Tim figured out who Gordon was—wouldn’t have been all that hard. We told him about the poly and all he would have had to do was to stake out the police parking lot. Maybe he saw him at the funeral and went crazy.”
“I hear you, partner. As far as I can tell, he and Cindy are the only people involved in the case who knew about Gordon.”
“I feel like we ought to be looking at Higgins—you know, with the throat slashing, but if I wanted to get rid of a guy in public, I’d probably use a knife rather than call attention to myself by using a gun.”
The M.E. moved away from the body and Gordon’s car. “Due to the lack of rigor I’d say he was killed within the last couple of hours.” Mac did a little calculating. “After the funeral, that’s for sure. We went over to Higgins’s old apartment. And got that call from Tim.”
Kevin gave Mac a wry smile. “And we cut him loose.”
Eric, who had just joined them, said, “Let me get somebody on the fiancé. Unless you two want to run him down.”
“Excuse me,” Dana interrupted. “I’m off patrol duty right now. I could track this guy down for you. Just tell me what to do.”
Eric grinned at her. “What are you looking for, a promotion?”
“Hey, with the budget crunch, all the departments are shorthanded. There’s a lot going on and too few people to handle things. I’m not doing anything right now, so use me.” Her cheeks dimpled with that irresistible smile of hers. “And, yeah, I’d like to move into homicide.”
It didn’t take long for the detectives to take Dana up on her offer. Providing her with pertinent information, including a photo, rental car description, and destination, the detectives wished her luck and sent her off, asking her to check in with them often.
“And, Dana,” Eric added as an afterthought, “be careful. He may have passed the lie detector test with flying colors, but that doesn’t mean he’s innocent.”
“Right.”
Mac gave her a thumbs-up sign as she drove away. Turning to his partner, he said, “So what’s our next move?”
“What do you think we should do?” Kevin slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“Is this a test?” Mac looked back at Gordon and tipped his head back. “Mitch will keep. I think we should have a talk with Cindy—see if she can tell us anything about Tim and make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m with you.” Kevin nodded. “Give her a call.”
Mac flipped through his notes for Cindy’s number and dialed.
A woman answered, but Mac didn’t recognize her voice. “Is Cindy there?”
“Who wants to know?” The woman sounded frightened.
Mac introduced himself.
“I’m Cindy’s roommate. I’ve been thinking of calling you guys. Cindy didn’t show up at the reception after the funeral and she hasn’t come home. I thought I’d check at the cemetery first, then swing by her and Megan’s old apartment. Tim came to say goodbye and seemed upset that she wasn’t there. Said he might try to find her but had a plane to catch.”
“Why didn’t you call us sooner?” Mac’s heart shifted into overdrive. Kevin gave him a what’s-up look and Mac covered the mouthpiece to explain. “Cindy may be missing. The roomie says she didn’t go to the reception.”
Kevin groaned. “What next?”
“It hasn’t been that long,” the woman said. “I was going to call if she wasn’t at the cemetery or her old place.”
“Okay. I take it you were at the funeral with her.”
“Yes. I was with her the entire time until . . .”
“Until?”
“She was talking to people after the interment. I had to go back to the church to help set up, and when she didn’t come, I got worried.”
“Who did she talk to?”
“Um . . . some guy named Gordon. He said he was really sorry about Megan and that he’d liked her a lot.”
“Was Tim with her at that time?”
“Yes, now that you mention it, and he was sort of rude to the guy. I just figured he was, you know, grieving. There was a guy with black hair—he had it in a ponytail. He gave Cindy some earrings that Megan had commissioned him to make. Neat man. He could have insisted she pay, you know? But he just gave them to her and Tim. Said Megan had designed them and he thought they might want them.”
“How did Tim react to that?”
“He seemed impressed. They were gorgeous—had to be worth some big bucks. Tim offered to pay for them, but the guy, I think his name was Joe, said he couldn’t take the money in a situation like that. Tim and Cindy thanked him and he left.
None of them came to the reception.” She hesitated. “Um, there was a guy at the reception looking for Cindy, though. He said something about Megan giving him some things—a TV set and stuff—and said if Cindy wanted it she could have it. He was leaving town and didn’t plan on taking it with him.”
Matthew DeLong. Mac could hardly breathe. His fuses were all lit and he felt as though he’d explode any minute. He thanked the roommate for her help and briefed Kevin and Eric on the conversation. “Oh, man.” Eric rubbed a hand over his short hair. “This thing is getting out of hand. I’m not sure I’m up to it. Whose idea was it to let Frank go to Hawaii? I tell you, when this thing is over—if it ever is—I’m going on a long cruise.”
“Take it easy, Eric.” Kevin slapped his former partner on the back.
“All we have to do is clone ourselves and be at four places at once.”
Mac rubbed the back of his neck, trying to regain his composure.
“My grandmothers used to tell me that when a problem gets too big, like this case has, you have to step away from it or it sucks you in and you can’t accomplish anything. You think of it in terms of pieces— like working a puzzle, you put it together one piece at a time.”
“Good advice, Mac,” Eric said. “It’s easy to forget that.”
Mac checked his notebook for phone numbers. “I’m going to call Matthew’s sister and see if she knows anything.”
“Smart thinking.” Kevin nodded his approval. “We can put out an APB on him and let the troops bring him in.”
“Okay,” Eric said. “Dana is covering the fiancé—let’s hope he’s clean and she doesn’t have a fight on her hands.”
“Who knows?” Mac said. “Maybe Cindy decided to go to Florida with him. They did seem pretty chummy. I know he passed the polygraph test, but maybe he and Cindy killed Megan so they could be together.”
Kevin groaned. “Maybe you ought to be writing mystery novels instead of solving crimes.”
Secrets, Lies & Alibis Page 30
