“See?”
“Look, we got a dead guy, and so far haven’t found anyone who admits to really knowing him. Melanie Upton is the one person we know who talked to him, and not just to say hi. It’s the best we got right now.”
“You still think Gruse might have been the one who assaulted Upton?”
“It’s still possible. We’ll know more when we get the DNA test back. In the meantime, maybe we can press Upton, find out what she and Gruse were fighting about. Even if it’s nothing, she might know some of his friends.”
“Doesn’t look like he had many.”
“Which makes it all the more important to talk to Upton.” Ryder gave him a look suggesting he was unconvinced, so Winter pressed, “Maybe Gruse was asking Upton about drugs. And if it was Gruse who did the assault, you’d have one hell of a screenplay.”
“Now you’re playing dirty,” said Ryder, but he got up. “Let’s go see Upton.”
“Before we do that, maybe we talk to the sister again, Gigi? See if she knows anything about Gruse.”
“Not a bad idea. She did tell me about Melanie and Jason. But she won’t talk to us at work, she’s skittish about cops being around. She’s worried about losing her job.”
“Let’s go to her place after work.”
“Don’t you ever sleep?”
“It’s overrated,” said Winter. “Don’t worry, I’ll get Logan to okay your OT.”
If Ryder hadn’t described Gigi Doyle to Winter, he might not have recognized her as Melanie’s sister. The features were similar, but the package had a different wrapper. Ryder had called her mousy, which certainly fit. She was wearing a white blouse, buttoned to the neck, with a long gray skirt.
Her eyes grew so wide they threatened to fill the frames of her small glasses. “Oh, hi.”
Ryder said, “Miss Doyle, we—this is Detective Winter—have a few follow up questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ve already told you everything I know.”
“This will only take a few minutes,” said Winter. “Maybe you’d prefer to do this inside?”
Doyle looked over her shoulder, then at Winter, then back over her shoulder again before opening the door all the way. Winter was careful stepping past her, but Doyle shied away anyway.
Melanie Upton was half lying on the sofa in the living room, reading a magazine. She was barefoot, wearing a scooped tank top and jeans. If she was apprehensive about seeing Winter and Ryder she hid it well. “Are you two following me?”
“We’re here to ask your sister a few questions,” said Ryder.
“That sounds so ominous. You aren’t asking me to leave, are you? After all, it’s about me, isn’t it?”
“Maybe it would be better—” said Ryder.
Winter cut Ryder off before he went full bore into formal cop mode. “We’re actually following up on a case that might be related.” He would have preferred to talk to Gigi separately as well, but the two sisters together might actually be an opportunity. Winter headed off any objection from Melanie by waving his tablet like a magician redirecting the audience. He pulled up the photo of Gruse and showed it to Gigi, angling the tablet so that Upton couldn’t see.
“Do you know this man?” asked Winter.
Gigi’s eyes darted from her sister to Winter to the tablet. Winter nudged the tablet a few inches closer. Gigi squinted at the photo, took off her glasses, squinted some more.
“Who is that?” asked Melanie. “Jason?”
“No,” said Gigi.
“No, you don’t know him?” prodded Winter.
“I don’t think so,” said Gigi. “Mel, it’s not Jason.”
Winter had the sense that Gigi wasn’t as good an actress as her sister, but he couldn’t be sure. If Melanie hadn’t been in the room he would have asked Gigi if she’d seen Gruse with her sister, but that wouldn’t work now. He turned to Melanie. “It’s the same guy I showed you a photo of, the photographer.”
Upton’s eyes swung to her sister. “Why are you asking Gigi about him?”
“Maybe you should take another look,” said Winter. “Both of you, actually.”
Upton tossed her magazine aside and stood up. “Sure.”
Winter picked up a subtle interplay between the sisters; Melanie confident and at ease, Gigi reticent and anxious, looking to her sister for guidance. As Melanie looked at the tablet Gigi shrunk back, just as she had when Winter had passed her at the door. These sisters were unalike in more than just looks.
Melanie gave the Gruse photo a quick glance. “That’s the same photo you showed me when you were at my place, isn’t it? By the way, thanks for installing my air conditioner, it works great.”
Winter felt Ryder’s testosterone rising, and marveled at how Melanie had offhandedly left the impression that Winter being at her apartment was inappropriate. She’s trying to play us off one another, he thought. Two can play that game . . .
“Since you said you didn’t pay attention to photographers, we thought Gigi might have remembered seeing him. Maybe when the two of you were at some event?”
“We don’t go to many events together,” said Melanie. “Do you have another shot of the guy? Sometimes it’s hard to tell from one photo.”
Winter had photos of a very deceased Gruse, but this wasn’t the time to shoot that bullet. “Maybe this will help. I’ve talked to a few people who said you had an argument with him.”
Melanie pursed her lip. “Argument?” She pointed at Winter. “Why are you talking to people about me? I’m the victim, remember?”
“You said you couldn’t remember much about that night,” said Ryder.
Melanie spun on him. “Not you, too. So what if I can’t remember it all? Why are you asking around about me?”
“We weren’t,” said Winter. “We were asking about him.” He pointed to the photo, then stuck the tablet in his cargo pocket. “Some people saw you two together.”
“I can tell you, he’s not someone I was with,” said Melanie. She crossed the living room, picking up a bottle of wine off the coffee table and dangling an offer. “Can I pour you some wine?”
“We’re on duty,” said Ryder.
Gigi, half pressed against the wall, came alive. “Water? Tea? I can make coffee.”
“No, thanks,” said Winter. He took Gigi’s offer as an invitation to amble into the living room. Melanie had settled back into the couch, giving of an air of extreme indifference, which Winter thought odd. Wouldn’t a victim’s first question for two policemen who showed up be about her assailant?
“So you don’t remember any photographer you had a—disagreement with?”
“If I did, it would be about some photos, and I don’t remember any disagreements with my photographers.”
“So this guy didn’t photograph you?” asked Ryder.
“Not that I know of,” said Melanie. “Of course, I’ve been at parties, events, there are always photographers there. I don’t really pay attention to them.”
Winter strolled around the room, doing a casual recon. The place was spotless, about as different from Melanie’s apartment as could be. No clothes strewn about, no dirty dishes, framed prints of flowers. A glass table along one wall was filled with photographs, a younger Melanie and Gigi with who Winter assumed was their mother. Even as preteens the different personalities of the two sisters came through in the photos, Melanie out front, comfortable, Gigi in her mother’s shadow. No man in the photos.
“Maybe some other kind of disagreement?” Winter said, not turning. “Personal?”
“I still don’t know why you are asking us these questions,” said Melanie.
“The man is a victim—also a victim,” said Ryder. “We’re talking to anyone who might have known him.”
“Might have? Did something happen to him?”
Winter winced. He missed Brooker, they were always more in sync during interviews. He and Ryder should have prepared. “Yes,” he said, but didn’t elaborate. He turned and hoped Ryder
picked up on it. “So if you have any information, it would really help us.”
“Does this mean you’re not working on my case?” asked Melanie. “Is this guy more important?”
“We didn’t say that,” said Ryder. “I am the lead detective on both these investigations. Detective Winter is helping out.”
“While Detective Ryder is bringing you up to date on your case, maybe I could use your bathroom?” asked Winter.
“Of course,” said Gigi. “It’s just down the hall.”
“Great, thanks. If it’s not too much trouble, can I take you up on that offer of coffee? I’ve got an insulated cup in the car, I could take it to go. It might be a long night and I hate the stuff at the station.”
“Sounds like you don’t want decaf. How do you take it?”
“Black is fine,” said Winter, over his shoulder.
The last thing Winter needed was more coffee, but he wanted to get Gigi busy in the kitchen area, where she wouldn’t be able to see down the hallway. Melanie was not telling the truth about Gruse, he just couldn’t figure out why. All she had to do was say he was a photographer she had met, nothing suspicious there. It made him curious.
In the bathroom he did his usual rifling of the medicine cabinet and vanity. He always thought that you could learn as much about a person from their bathroom as you could reading their diary.
There were two toothbrushes on the vanity, one in a stand up holder, the other lying on the edge of the sink. The holder was squeaky clean, which took dedication. A fold down makeup kit hung over the back of the door. Winter didn’t need to even unzip the pockets, they were all open. Perfume, lots of makeup, three different hairbrushes with gobs of hair caught in the bristles, five condoms, two different brands. On the vanity, one hairbrush that he doubted held a single hair, a pump dispenser of chemical free moisturizer, and a jar of makeup remover.
The drawers on the left side of the vanity were organized with military precision, a small array of makeup in one, a hairdryer in another, cotton balls and the usual assortment of bathroom items in the third. The top two drawers on the right side were the same. The bottom drawer was a nightmare, a drugstore mishmash, perfume, nail clippers, more matted hairbrushes, a jumble of makeup, a few brands the same as what was in the zippered kit.
Winter sat on the edge of the tub. The bathroom reflected the two sisters, one concerned about her appearance, but a bit sloppy, and the other pragmatic, organized. The makeup kit and the one messy drawer were undoubtedly Melanie’s, suggesting she often stayed at Gigi’s. That was odd, given she lived just on the other side of town. Of course, Gigi’s place was nicer, and Melanie hadn’t had air conditioning. Maybe she had hung out here on hot days.
Winter took advantage of the toilet, took one last look around as he washed his hands, and slipped out the door. He could hear Ryder droning on in the living room, no doubt trying to impress the sisters with his investigative prowess. Winter didn’t mind at all, he’d have a few more minutes to look around.
Two more doors led off the hallway. Directly across from the bathroom the door was ajar enough for Winter to see a queen sized bed with a lavender spread, a closed door to what was probably a closet, and a short rack of neatly lined up dress shoes, mostly low heels. Winter stuck his head in another foot. On the dresser another family photo, this time just Gigi and Melanie. Gigi’s bedroom.
The door at the end of the hall was closed. Winter risked a quick look. A small bedroom, a single bed along the wall, made up, a row of shelves filled with see through storage bins, each carefully labeled. A maple table against the wall held a laptop docking station. A home office and a guest room, probably where Melanie slept when she was there.
Winter was keeping track of time in his head, in another minute someone would no doubt wonder where he’d disappeared to. He looked back down the hall, thought Fuck it, stepped into the room. The storage bins were likely Gigi’s and didn’t interest him. Next to the bed was a small nightstand, and Winter eased the drawer open. Inside was a neat stack of travel brochures for Toronto and the Caribbean islands. A yellow sticky note said, Need passport for some islands. In a brown envelope Winter found an unused passport belonging to Gigi.
He straightened up the pile, eased the door shut, and walked back into the living room. Ryder had shut up, or maybe he was catching his breath. Melanie gave Winter a glance, but it was more of a thank god you’re back as opposed to what were you doing in there look, so Winter ignored her and went over to the counter. Gigi had laid out a full coffee service, mugs, Styrofoam to go cups, matching creamer and sugar bowl, polished silverware. Another difference between the sisters, Gigi as hostess.
“Thanks,” said Winter. “Smells great. I’ll just take some to go, if that’s okay.” Bustling over the coffee, Gigi looked comfortable for the first time since they had arrived. Winter turned back to Melanie. “Where were we? The arguments you had with Mr. Gruse?”
Melanie wagged her finger at Winter. “You’ve been talking to Tiffany.”
“We’ve been talking to a lot of people.”
Melanie curled her legs up under her on the cushion. “Now I remember. A guy in the restaurant was hitting on me—they do it all the time. Tiffany was always bitching that no one asked her out, though, so I pointed him at her. That must have been the guy, what did you say his name was? Gruse? I don’t remember him mentioning being a photographer, I tune all that out. Tiffany was pissed, so she made it sound like I was having a fight with him.”
“Why was she pissed?”
“Because the guy was a loser. I figured they were made for each other.”
Winter hated to waste the coffee, but if he drank it he’d be up all night, and not just from the caffeine. He took a sip in penance then poured the rest out on the street, down below the level of the car, in case Gigi was looking out the window.
Ryder, who’d come in his own car, paused with his door open. “Melanie sounded pretty convincing. Gruse was just hitting on her, like a lot of other guys. A woman that good looking, they probably don’t even register. Your witness was just jealous.”
“Tiffany isn’t the only one who saw her with Gruse. There’s the bartender at the Hilton.”
“So she goes to the Hilton bar. Big deal. And if Gruse was the one who assaulted her, she’d want to tell us about it. Hell, if she was hazy about the particulars, just showing her Gruse’s picture should have rang an alarm in her head. I’m telling you, there’s nothing there.”
Winter wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTER 37
Winter was in court all the next morning, the lawyers taking turns asking for short delays that turned into hours. Before he even got called to the stand a plea bargain had been worked out.
Back at the station Gracie handed him a stack of phone messages. “Andie left something on your desk.”
Winter flipped through the messages, nothing that couldn’t wait. He said hello to Cindy in her cubicle, nodded to O’Dowd and Ryder, and got some coffee from the break room. He never drank coffee before court, and he needed a hit. As he poured the station swill he regretted dumping out the coffee Gigi Doyle had made, he could have saved it for iced.
The blue folder report from the lab was on his desk. A sticky note cautioned Preliminary with three underlines. Winter read through the technical jargon for an entire two minutes, a record for him, then punched Andie up on speed dial.
“Don’t tell me,” she said, “you finished reading, and have a question on what locations they are going to do the tagging on for the PCR run.”
“You could have another career as a stand up comic, as long as your audiences are filled only with geeky lab technicians.”
“Hey, be glad I know some lab technicians, otherwise we wouldn’t have even got that prelim. It hasn’t gone through review, so you can’t really use it for anything.”
“But you gave it to me anyway.”
“Right. The full DNA match is not done, but there are useful findings. First, as you know, your
Upton victim definitely had recent sex. There is foreign—meaning not belonging to her—DNA from her swabs. Second, there was lubricant from a condom. There was no semen on the internal swab, but there was some on the external swabs.”
Winter processed it. “So she had sex the night before, probably within twelve hours, give or take?”
“See? You don’t even need me. I’ll just have the lab send you the final report.”
“Is this where I’m supposed to say something about how indispensable you are?”
“At the least. A raise would be nice.”
“Not my department. So what we are waiting for now is—”
“The DNA typing. That’s what they’ll compare to the Gruse sample, which they are already tagging.”
“Can you get me the preliminary results of that before it goes through all the review process?”
“I guess you do need me, after all. I’ll have to put my stand up career on hold.” Andie sighed and hung up.
Winter put his feet up on the desk. So Melanie Upton had been with a man during the night, or prior evening, of her reported assault. That didn’t exactly prove she was assaulted, but it certainly led some credibility to her story. It could have been Jason Ayers who’d she been with prior to the assault, or Ayers could have been the man who assaulted her. But without her specifically naming Ayers as her attacker, Winter had no way to compel Ayers to give up his DNA.
Winter stuck his head in Ryder’s cubicle. “Preliminary report from the lab confirms Melanie Upton had sex the night before she called 911. Too early for a specific match to Gruse or anyone else.”
“I’m betting it’s in the anyone else category. As in anyone else but Gruse.”
“Could be. I’ll go back at the witnesses, see if Upton’s story holds up. Tiffany didn’t mention anything about Gruse getting sent to her by Upton. If Tiffany thought Upton played a trick on her, she might be mad enough to say Upton and Gruse fought.”
“It still could be Ayers,” said Ryder. “I called the bed and breakfast where Ayers and Mance supposedly hooked up that night. They are very protective of the identity of their guests. We’ll need a subpoena, and right now I don’t see how we’d get one. I’m going to go back at Ayers, see who booked the room. Won’t tell us much, though, unless a witness will put Ayers there all night.”
Random Revenge Page 40
