“Good. Because I’m being framed here. I mean, think about it, how else would the police know to show up so quickly after I had arrived at Paul’s place unless the killer had seen me approach and had put a call into 9-1-1 to tip them off? Kaitlin Doherty could have done this. Or Jack Sprague. Henry Mankiewicz even.”
That was a solid point. The timing of the police’s arrival at the scene was curious. And, considering all I had learned in previous cases that I had investigated, it did seem consistent with having been staged by the killer.
There were still questions that I wanted Sophie to answer, but I suddenly found my attention drawn elsewhere as I saw Detective Wright walk by the cell block. I quickly excused myself and ran off to flag the detective down.
Chapter Four
I caught up with the detective shortly after in the hallway of the precinct. He did not look happy to see me. Then again, he didn’t look like he’d smiled in years. Detective Todd Wright had the look of jaded big city cop who had seen the worst of humanity and had subsequently lost the ability to see the good in people anymore. While he was dealing with modern crimes, the fifty-two-year-old detective had a very retro look.
Detective Wright was sporting a fedora, a trench coat, and a thick mustache. I couldn’t pretend that his tough outer shell was an unfamiliar sight to me. That seemed to be the default look for law enforcement officers. I’d seen it plenty of times with my own brother, who was also a police detective back home.
That gruff exterior was meant to keep the crimes and suspects they dealt with on a daily basis at arm’s length. Emotional detachment was important in their line of work.
The difference was, my brother was not nearly as jaded as he led on. I felt like the same could not be said for this detective. Ultimately, that was neither here nor there. Regardless of the detective’s demeanor, there were matters that needed discussing, and I wasn’t going to stop until they were addressed.
“Detective Wright, I’d like a word with you.”
The detective had no interest in speaking with me.
He brushed me aside. “Ms. Hadley, I don’t have time to argue with you.”
Detective Wright kept walking at a brisk pace. Fortunately, he ran out of real estate when he reached his desk. That’s where I made my move.
“Who is arguing?”
I made sure to say that in as calm of a manner as possible. To him, that was just semantics.
I clearly wasn’t the first civilian to try to point holes in one of his cases. Although, he obviously hoped that I’d be the last.
He stopped me before I could go any further. “I know what you’re going to say.”
That was presumptuous. A lot of detective’s had serious egos about them. It was a delicate dance, not just navigating those egos, but also making my point without disrespecting an officer of the law. The feminist in me wanted to chew him out for patronizing me. I refrained from doing so, mostly because I knew that would only succeed in derailing the conversation and turning it into a tug of war for respect.
Instead of going down that road, I tried a different approach, indulging his bull-headed opinion.
“Fine. What was I going to say?” I replied.
“That you don’t think your friend is guilty.”
That was when I usually laid down the hammer, asking how he could possibly jump to such a grim confusion so quickly? Once again, I found restraint and went with a subdued, yet pointed response.
“It’s safe to say that I have my doubts. So should you.”
The soft glove approach wasn’t working. He was a stubborn man who was immune to picking up the subtleties in my responses. His answer made me realize how fruitless my efforts truly were.
“Well, before you come at me, examine the facts. Your friend clearly told you she didn’t do it, but facts tell a different story. I know which one I believe. Now, I have work to do.”
He directed his attention to the papers on his desk. I was only a few feet away from him, but he ignored me like I was invisible.
Did he really think that would work? If so, he was a fool. I wouldn’t be cast aside that easily. I knew all the tricks.
I stood my ground. “Detective, we’re not done here.”
Detective Wright didn’t look up. He just continued to scan a paper on his desk. “I told you I’m really busy here.”
I held firm. “Do you really think it’s wise to arrest my friend presumptuously?”
The detective did not like my tone. He wanted to put me in my place.
Detective Wright groaned, looked up, and stared me down. “Don’t push me. It’s not presumptuous. There’s a good reason she’s behind bars.”
“There are still a number of questions that need to be answered.”
“Ms. Hadley, I know you’re just being a good friend, but I have a job to do.”
“Then make sure you’re doing it right.”
His stare turned into a glare. “I warned you not to talk to me like that. You are her friend. Of course you’d say that. Look at it from my perspective. We found her at the scene of the crime. There was no one else around. As far as I’m concerned, this is a rock solid case.”
Those were all good points, most of which I could dispute. That being said, there was a lingering question in the air.
“Except, how did you know to come to the scene in the first place?”
“We got a call about suspicious circumstances at the location. When we arrived, we found your friend there.”
He made it seem so open and shut. What he failed to acknowledge was that his answer led to another question.
“Who was this call from?”
“They didn’t give their name.”
“So, you got an anonymous call?” I asked.
The detective didn’t directly answer my question. Instead, he deflected. “They were right.”
I wasn’t going to let myself be thrown off. “That’s not what I asked. The call was anonymous?”
“Technically.”
I waited for him to continue and was surprised when he didn’t.
I filled in the blanks for him. “Well, doesn’t that seem curious?”
“Not everyone wants to attach their name to things.”
“If the call just came from a neighbor, what do they have to worry about? If the person calling had nothing to do with the crime, what would they have to worry about? Unless, the killer was the one to call in order to frame Sophie.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “You’re basing your entire argument on that?”
“Don’t diminish my point. Tell me it doesn’t reek of a setup.”
“Look, I feel for you. You care for your friend and she’s staring down spending the rest of her life in prison. You want to defend her. But there’s one thing you’re forgetting—some things are indefensible. Admit it, she did this.”
I groaned. “You just want this case to be wrapped up. It’s easier for you if this case is cut and dry, but you have to remember that it’s your duty to investigate all angles.”
“You seriously want me to reopen this case because the call we got happened to be anonymous?”
“That’s not all. I have more questions.”
“Like what?”
“Like, did you find fingerprints on the murder weapon?”
“No, but we didn’t need to in this case. We already had enough on your friend to arrest her.”
“So, an anonymous call brought you to the scene, where you found a murder weapon but no fingerprints. Those are two pretty big points. Haven’t you even thought about who else might have wanted Paul dead? Do the names Kaitlin Doherty, Jack Sprague, and Henry Mankiewicz mean anything to you?” I asked.
He’d heard enough. If I thought he was gruff before, he lost all semblance of manners right then.
The detective laid down the law. “No one wants to believe their friend is capable of murder. But, given the right circumstances, anyone is capable of it.”
I had heard that exact state
ment before coming out of my brother’s mouth. That must have been one of the lectures they taught at the police academy. Joe had said that exact phrase to me too often for my liking. As many times as I had heard it, I didn’t believe it was true. Mostly, because, no matter what the circumstances were, I couldn’t commit murder. If that was true for me, it had to be true for others as well.
I stood firm. “I don’t believe that.”
“I don’t care if you believe it or not. It’s the truth.”
He tried to go back to looking at his paperwork, but I kept my eye contact with him. As I stared, I saw something in his eyes. He waited a moment, saw that I hadn’t left, then stared at me with a deep sadness in his eyes.
I didn’t know if he was going to try to hide it or if he’d come out with it.
The detective then opened up to me. “I had a partner once. He killed someone. It was a case of excessive force against a perpetrator. I was convinced that it was an accident, but it wasn’t. My partner had killed the perp on purpose.” He stopped as he got choked up.
I went to offer my sympathy, but the detective got control of his emotions and finished his point.
“Here’s the thing—just because I couldn’t admit that my partner was guilty didn’t make it any less true,” Detective Wright said.
His story pulled at my heart strings. What a wrenching tale. It was nice to see the human side of him. That being said, it didn’t change what was occurring here.
“I’m very sorry about that.”
“So am I,” he said.
“With all due respect, this is different,” I replied.
“Ms. Hadley, examine the facts. Your friend’s motive is simple. She was sleeping with her boss. When she broke it off with him, he fired her. In a fit of rage, she killed him.”
We’d reached a stalemate. That was all-too-clear now.
Seeing how I wasn’t getting anywhere with him, continuing the conversation would be akin to smashing my head into a brick wall. I only had two choices—I could move on, or stay there and grow more frustrated. To me, the choice was clear.
Chapter Five
I had solved a number of cases in the past, but none was as murky as this one. Typically, when detective acted so quickly, they had done sloppy or haphazard detective work. I would often find that they had been in such a hurry to close the case that I’d be able to find a flaw in logic or poke a hole in their theory.
This time was different. Sure, the anonymous call was suspicious, but the rest of Detective Wright’s case work was pretty solid. Unfortunately for Sophie, she was found near the body with the murder weapon present at the scene. As much as it pained me to admit, I could see why the police had arrested her.
Even so, my mind kept going back to that anonymous call. What if the killer saw Sophie going to approach her boss and put the anonymous call in to frame her for the crime?
It was a possibility. If you were the killer, what better way to deflect from yourself than to cast the blame on someone else?
There was another possibility. One that was far more difficult to come to grips with. What if the detective was right? What if Sophie was a murderer? I hated to even entertain the thought.
Detective Wright planted the theory into my brain, and I just couldn’t seem to get it out. Grr. Go away already. I wished that I could dismiss him outright, but he wasn’t irrational nor was he acting the least bit insane. Still, that didn’t mean that I wanted to believe him.
I could feel my body tense up. My breaths shortened. This case was really getting to me. I stepped outside to get some air.
Could Sophie really have done this? When it came to the old Sophie, the one I had grown up with in Florida, the answer was most certainly no. This new one that was jaded and full of bitterness, I wasn’t so sure about.
Unfortunately, the fresh air wasn’t enough to soothe me. Probably because the air wasn’t exactly very fresh. Los Angeles had practically coined the term “smog.”
Being alone with my thoughts wasn’t enough. I needed to hear a familiar voice.
I called my boyfriend back home and described the whole situation to him. As expected, he responded with empathy.
“I’m so sorry,” Daniel Jacobsen said over the phone.
While I liked the sympathy, that wouldn’t solve this case.
I groaned. “This is a real mess.”
Daniel reached out further. “If I can do anything to help, you know I will.”
If only. Unfortunately, from three time zones away, there was only so much he could do.
I acknowledged his offer anyway. “Thanks.”
He must have heard something troubling in my voice because he immediately mentioned it.
“Hope, you seem more frazzled than usual. Do you want to talk about it?”
Actually, it was the one thing I didn’t want to speak of. It was bad enough thinking it, no less saying it out loud.
“Not really,” I replied.
It turned out I didn’t have to say the words. Daniel was already thinking them. He floated the question in the air.
“Are you worried that Sophie could get convicted, or that she should get convicted?”
His question just lingered, thickening the air like a dense block of Florida humidity.
That was the thing about dating Daniel. Sure, I had good investigative instincts. But when it came to being able to read my emotions, no one did it better than my boyfriend. He knew what I had been thinking just by the tone of my voice. It was almost impossible to hide things from him.
“That’s the problem. I’m not sure about this one. I want to believe Sophie’s innocent, but I just can’t tell.”
“It’s hard to be objective when confronted with such a subjective situation.”
He brought up a good point. When investigating a case, objectivity was crucial. Solving a case was about analyzing information and discerning the truth impartially. Emotions had no place in an endeavor like this. Yet, no matter what I did, I couldn’t help but be emotional when it came to my friend.
“Don’t remind me how subjective this situation is,” I said.
“As hard as it is, you have to find a way to detach your emotions. The truth requires it.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“No one ever said it would be easy. Why do you think there are so few detectives in the world?”
“I just wish the detective assigned to this case was willing to follow up on the other leads.”
“That detective may not be willing to do it, but I know one who will. Why don’t I call your brother? I’ll bet he’d be happy to do some research on the suspects.”
“That’s a good idea,” I said.
“Text me the names and when we get off the phone, I’ll ask him to do some digging.”
“Daniel, you’re the best.”
“Hold your praise. I haven’t done anything. Besides, your brother is going to be the one to do the work.”
I corrected him. “Trust me, you’ve done plenty. You’ve been there for me, just like you always are.”
“Of course. I love you. That’s why you have to take care of yourself. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”
“Good luck.”
I sighed. “I’m going to need it.”
Chapter Six
When I walked back into the police department, an officer escorted me back to the cell block where Sophie greeted me with wide eyes.
“Were you able to talk some sense into the detective?” she asked.
Seeing how excited she was, I hated to be the bearer of bad news. Unfortunately, there was no good news to share. The question became, how to break the bad news to her?
I could have gotten truly bleak, but I decided to spare her the grim details. She was going through enough already. Besides, I had other things to tend to.
“I’m afraid not,” I replied.
The discouragement on her face was undeniab
le as she lowered her head. At that moment, I stayed away from discussing how long the odds were against her. She was panicked enough to begin with.
I had to try to mitigate the damage to keep her from losing her marbles. The small chance she did have of being exonerated hinged on me being able to get some information from her and I couldn’t very well do that if she folded like a tent in the wind.
I urged her to dig deep and find whatever strength she could muster. “Sophie, there’s no time to fall apart. If I’m going to help you, you need to help me first.”
She was shaking like a leaf now. I wished that I could hug her, but the best I could do was reach between the bars and take her hand.
She looked at the resolve on my face and took a deep breath.
“Okay. Just tell me what you need.”
“Tell me more about Kaitlin Doherty, Jack Sprague, and Henry Mankiewicz.”
“What do you want to know?”
“You said either of them could have put the anonymous call in. Why them?”
“Well, with Kaitlin, it’s simple. She used to date Paul.”
My eyes opened wide. “Really?”
She nodded. “Oh, yeah. He pushed her aside when Paul and I began dating.”
“I’m sure she was angry about that.”
“Kaitlin was furious. She still is,” Sophie said.
“There’s a motive for you,” I replied.
“As a matter of fact, she hated both Paul and me.”
I moved on to the next possible suspect. “How about Jack Sprague? What’s his deal?”
“Jack and I used to date before I got together with Paul.”
“Let me guess, you broke up with him?”
“I sure did.”
“I’ll bet he didn’t take it well,” I said.
“He took it horribly, actually. To this day, he still calls me, desperate for us to get back together,” Sophie replied.
“Ah, nothing like a jilted ex.”
“I’ll say. Although, I made it clear to him that there’s no way we’re getting back together.”
“Maybe he figured if he can’t have you, no one can.”
Hope Hadley Eight Book Cozy Mystery Set Page 42
