by John J. Lamb
“Sure.” Marie pointed the remote at the TV and pressed the mute button. Then she picked up a package of chocolate-dipped Oreos from the end table and fished out a cookie. “So, what do you want?”
Taking a deep breath, Tina said, “We’re here about your husband. There’s no easy way to say this, but he was found murdered earlier today at the museum.”
Marie’s eyes widened with shock and she dropped the cookie into her lap. “What?”
“He’s dead, Mrs. Merrit. We’re very sorry for your loss.”
“You’re sure?” Marie looked from Tina’s face to mine, searching for some sign of hope.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh dear God! How did it happen?” she sobbed.
“We’re still investigating that.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“Not yet, but we’re hoping you can help us.”
“How would I know who killed him?”
One of the most crucial tasks of a police interviewer is to listen carefully to how a question is answered and Marie’s last comment struck me as mighty peculiar. In essence, Marie had replied to Tina’s unspecified request for assistance by denying knowing the identity of her husband’s killer. I hoped that Tina had noticed the unusual response, but her next question told me she’d missed its significance.
Tina said, “There are other ways you can help us. For instance, did Mr. Merrit have any enemies?”
“He never said anything about any problems with anybody,” said Marie, and I noted the second straight passively evasive response.
“We also think there’s a possibility that his death might be related to some counterfeit antique items at the museum. Did he ever mention them?”
“No.”
“What time did he leave for work this morning?”
Suddenly the television picture vanished and was replaced by a text message saying that the satellite dish wasn’t receiving a signal. That meant there was heavy rain falling to the south. Then came a strong gust of wind and the branches of a tall shrub thumped against one of the living room windows. Lightning flared, immediately followed by an ear-splitting blast of thunder. We all jumped.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” said Marie and I noticed she looked far more frightened than distraught and I had a nagging sense that it wasn’t because of the thunderstorm.
“What time did Mr. Merrit leave for work?”
“I assume at about eight. That’s the time he normally went to the museum.”
“But you don’t know for sure?”
“I was asleep. I suffer from severe chronic fatigue syndrome.” Marie sounded both whiny and cantankerous.
Glancing at the filth, I thought, Lady, you aren’t sick, just lazy.
Tina wrote the information down. “Did you talk to him on the phone at any point in the morning?”
“Frank was far too busy to call me.”
That was the third devious answer in under a minute. Marie was technically telling the truth, because Merrit hadn’t called her, but someone in this house had telephoned the museum shortly after ten A.M. However, with as busy as we’d been at the murder scene, I’d forgotten to tell Tina that. Some pieces of the puzzle seemed to be coming together and it was time to jump into the interview.
Clearing my throat, I said, “Ma’am, this is a terrible time for you and that can have a way of scrambling your brain. Are you sure you didn’t talk to Frank?”
“Of course, I’m sure.” Marie grabbed a wadded-up ball of paper towel and unfolded it to dab at her eyes.
“But somebody called the museum from here earlier today. Could it have been your son?”
Although I knew Tina was surprised, she gave no sign of it. Outside, the rain was beginning to crash in waves against the house. There was another lightning flash and a blast of thunder.
Marie buried her face in the soiled paper towel. “Oh God! I forgot. I was calling a friend and accidentally pressed the speed-dial number for Frank’s work.”
“Did he answer?”
“No, I hung up before he could. He didn’t like to be disturbed at work.” Marie’s shoulders began to quiver. “And…and…I missed the chance to tell him one last time that I loved him.”
Marie began to wail and I shot a look at Tina that said, This chick is yanking our chains. Tina nodded for me to continue, but I had to wait until Marie temporarily stopped crying and blew her nose.
I said, “I know this is hard, but we only have a few more questions. Have you been home all day?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“Because one of our most important jobs is eliminating innocent people from consideration. Otherwise, some scummy defense attorney can claim that because you can’t account for your whereabouts, you might be the killer.”
“I didn’t kill my husband.” Marie was beginning to grow irate.
“No one said you did. We just want to know if you went anyplace today.” Tina jumped back in.
“Yes. I went to some yard sales in Elkton.”
“Were you alone, or did you go with a friend?”
“Not knowing I was going to need an alibi witness, I went by myself.”
“Gee, I’m sorry that you think you need an alibi.” I said, giving Marie a bland smile. “Just a couple more quick questions: Did you drive into Remmelkemp Mill or go by the museum?”
“No.”
“When did you leave home?”
“Just after ten, and I got back around noon.”
I wasn’t quite certain what to make of her answer. If she’d murdered her husband, she’d just created major problems for herself by admitting she was away from home within the time frame when Merrit was killed. Although I was convinced she wasn’t telling the complete truth, her motive for doing so or what she hoped to conceal was a mystery.
Outside, the rain seemed to be building to a crescendo. I let another roll of thunder pass before saying, “There’s paperwork at the museum that says Massanutten County issued your husband a personal computer to do museum work from home. We’re going to need that as evidence.”
Marie sniffled and hid her eyes behind the paper towel. “The only computer in this house belongs to us.”
“Did Frank have an office here at home?” Tina asked.
“Yes, in the garage.”
“Could we go out there and maybe look for the computer? It might help us to identify your husband’s killer.”
“No.”
“Would you mind telling us why not?” I kept my tone gentle and nonjudgmental.
“There’s no computer out there and I don’t want you poking around my house. In fact, I’m getting tired of being grilled and I want you to leave.”
Tina said, “But Mrs. Merrit—”
“That’s okay, Sheriff,” I said. “Mrs. Merrit is overwrought and in pain. In fact, your right shoulder is really hurting, isn’t it Marie? How’d that happen?”
“I said, get out!”
“Of course, but in the immortal words of the Governator,” I now switched over to my best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice: “We’ll be back.”
Ten
The rain was pelting down hard and blowing sideways as we went back to the patrol car. However, the storm-line was pushing rapidly eastward and there were already patches of brilliant blue sky to the west. It was perhaps twenty degrees cooler than a half hour earlier, but I knew it would soon grow hot again and be even muggier than it had been before the storm.
Once we were in the car, Tina said, “Did I miss something in there?”
“Sorry for jumping in like that, but that was the most blatant job of stonewalling I’ve seen in a long time.”
As Tina started the car and backed from the driveway, I briefly explained the verbal and visual cues that had told me Marie was concealing information. Tina hit the brakes, stopping the car in the middle of the road, and said, “Do you think that she might actually be the killer?”
“I don’t know. She was unequivocal when she den
ied killing him, but we know she’s a first-rate liar—and also tall enough to fit the suspect profile.”
“And she might have injured her shoulder swinging the hammer. God, I’m so stupid for missing that.”
“No, you’re not. It’s just that I’ve worked about a thousand more murders than you have. Don’t worry, you’ll learn.”
“I hope so.”
“And we can’t jump to conclusions about Marie. She may be a slob and acting hinky as hell, but she isn’t stupid.”
“I’m not following.”
“She admitted to being alone and away from her house during the time when Merrit was murdered. If she did kill him, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Because she’d be implicating herself. I see. So, what do we do?”
The rain abated for a moment and I looked back over my shoulder at the house. “Right now, we’ve got no leverage to make her tell the truth and there really isn’t any physical evidence linking her to the murder.”
“Unlike the Yakuza.”
“Exactly. So, we need to roll by the museum to make sure they’ve finished processing the crime scene and then get to work on the search warrant affidavit.”
Tina eased up on the brake and let the patrol car start rolling down the road. “Sounds good, but do we have enough time for me to go home and feed my kids some dinner?”
I looked at the dashboard clock and was stunned to see it was nearly five P.M. We’d been so busy, that I’d lost track of time and had assumed the only reason I was feeling hungry was because I’d missed lunch. I said, “Absolutely. We’ll eat and meet back at the station.”
The rain had stopped and wispy tendrils of steam were rising from the roadway by the time we arrived at the museum. As we turned into the driveway we saw a remote van from the Harrisonburg television station parked in the lot with its satellite boom elevated into the sky. There were a handful of journalists standing on the lawn and they all noticed our arrival. Obviously, news of the murder had finally leaked out.
“The tragedy mongers have arrived,” I said.
“What should I tell them?” Tina sounded glum.
“As little as possible. I’d limit it to saying there was a murder and you’re investigating, but nothing else.”
“They’re going to want more than that.”
“And people in hell want ice water. We’ve got to keep the elements of the crime scene a secret.”
Tina got out of the car to talk to the reporters and I limped toward the museum. One of the journalists followed me as far as the crime scene tape, but gave up when I refused to say anything. Inside, I found Allsop and we made one final inspection of the building. He’d done a fine job processing the crime scene and I commended him for his efforts. I looked out the front window and saw that Tina was still talking to the reporters and she looked as tense as a nudist in a cactus garden. Finally, they let her go and she took me home.
Ash was sitting on the porch with Kitchener and they both came out to meet us. “You guys look solemn.”
“That’s because Mrs. Merrit decided to play truth dodgeball and complicated everything by turning herself into a potential suspect,” I said, climbing from the car. “Thanks for the ride, Tina, and we’ll meet you at the station at seven-thirty.”
“I’ll be there.”
Tina backed the cruiser down the driveway as I gave Ash a kiss and then limped toward the door. Kitch followed, snuffling at my legs. He seemed to like the scents I’d brought home from Merrit’s house, which really wasn’t surprising considering that one of Kitch’s favorite pastimes is rolling in deer dung.
Ash paused to look at our house. “I noticed that you didn’t sound entirely convinced when Tina dismissed the connection between the murder and our burglary.”
“I’m not,” I said pensively.
“Could the SUV we saw leaving that night have been a Hummer?”
“We can’t rule it out, especially since we don’t know how long the Yakuza have been in the country and I never got a look at the Hummer’s taillights today.”
There was a pause before Ash said, “So, they could come back.”
“I don’t think it’s likely. After having been seen in town and then committing a brutal murder like that, they’d be crazy to stay in the area,” I said, wondering which of us I was hoping to reassure.
“I suppose you’re right.” She took my hand. “I’ll bet you’re hungry.”
“Famished and, oh my God, do I smell your famous tequila-lime chicken with pasta?”
“I knew you didn’t get any lunch.”
I took her hand. “Mark this down as yet another reason why you’re the best homicide partner I’ve ever had.”
I made a pot of coffee while Ash scooped the pasta onto plates. As we ate dinner, I told Ash about our visit to the Merrit house and conversation with Marie.
She said, “Maybe Marie found out that Merrit was having an affair. That’s a pretty good motive.”
“But why would she kill the guy who was holding down two jobs so that she could sit on her fat ass and watch TV?”
“Where else was he working?”
“The museum was only a weekend gig. Gage told me that Merrit’s main job was as a professor at some junior college in Waynesboro.”
Ash made a sour face. “Maybe Merrit had a girlfriend there too, who found out about Linda the lust monster.”
“Murdered by a jealous lover? It’s certainly a possibility and something we’ll explore in the unlikely event we end up eliminating the Yakuza and Marie as persons of interest.”
“So, why was Marie withholding information?”
“I don’t know and for the moment we’ve got to put her on the backburner. She seemed genuinely surprised when Tina made the death notification.” I used my fork to scoop up the few droplets of the delicious cilantro, garlic, and tequila pesto on my empty plate. “My compliments to the chef. This was fantastic.”
“You’re welcome, and there’s more for lunch tomorrow.”
“Let’s hope we’re here to have it. Did you have any trouble finding that old computer disc?”
“No. I put it on the coffee table.”
I got up to help Ash clear the table. “Thanks. And on a lighter note, do you want to know a juicy little secret that doesn’t have anything to do with murder?”
“Of course.”
“Sergei is infatuated with Tina and is getting ready to ask her out on a date.”
“Well, it’s about time.”
“You don’t seem surprised.”
Ash put the pot containing the leftovers into the refrigerator and then turned to give me a pat on the cheek. “Honey, for someone with amazing powers of observation, there are times when you’re absolutely clueless.”
“It’s a guy thing. Since it’s obvious you knew, how could you tell?”
“All you have to do is watch Sergei’s eyes whenever Tina’s around. They kind of remind me of yours when you look at me.” She leaned over to give me a kiss.
Breaking for air, I said, “And now I realize why you gave me that amused look this morning when we were talking about the bear I’m making for Sergei. You guessed it was a gift for Tina. By the way, he about had a stroke when he found out that the bear looks like him.”
“Tina will love it.”
“That’s what I told him. So, assuming you’ve talked to Tina, how does she feel about her secret admirer?”
“There’s a reason why she goes to the Brick Pit almost everyday for lunch, and it sure isn’t because she loves barbecue.”
“So she likes him.”
“Of course, but she wishes he’d do something other than gaze at her.”
Although I hated doing it, I put Kitch back in his crate and we headed over to the sheriff’s department. Tina’s patrol car was already in the parking lot and we found her in her office. She looked up from the computer screen as we came in.
“Ready for round two?” I asked.
“Absolutely. Let me cl
ose this document out and we can get started with the affidavit.”
Tina got up and I sat down in her chair. Slipping the disc into the computer, I accessed the boilerplate subpoena dueces tecum warrant for digital information and began filling in the blanks. My typing was a little rusty, so I didn’t finish until a few minutes after eight. Then Ash proofread the document for errors, and it’s a good thing she did: there were a number of mistakes, the most glaring being that I’d accidentally typed “County of San Francisco” when describing the location of the crime. I corrected the errors, printed the final draft, and Ash read it one more time.
We then drove out to Judge John Skidmore’s house to have him read and issue the search warrant that would compel Olympus Rent-a-Car to activate the Hummer’s GPS unit and tell us where the vehicle was. Remmelkemp Mill is a tiny place, so I knew Judge Skidmore and liked him both as a person and as a no-nonsense jurist. Skidmore lived in a modest house on the east side of the river, about halfway up the Blue Ridge Mountains foothill the locals call “The Giant’s Grave.” As we pulled into the driveway, we saw a mama skunk and her brood of youngsters marching Indian-file across the lawn and we made sure they were gone before getting out of the car.
Tina had called in advance and Skidmore met us at the door. We retired to his den where we sat on a leather sofa while he carefully examined the affidavit. About forty-five minutes later, he issued the search warrant and we were on our way back to the sheriff’s department to fax the document to the corporate headquarters of Olympus Rent-a-Car in Delaware.
I said, “So, do we have any idea when Olympus is going to tell us where the Hummer is?”
Tina tried to stifle a yawn. “They said that once they received the fax, one of their lawyers was going to have to review it to make sure it was valid before they complied.”
“And you can bet that lawyer isn’t working at ten o’clock on a Saturday night.”
“I know, but they have an on-call attorney and they said they’d forward the warrant to him. Still, we probably won’t hear anything until late tomorrow morning.”
