Black Silk. Metsy HingleЧитать онлайн книгу.
right, Captain,” Charlie added. “I’m not sure what to make of the cash, credit cards and other jewelry that’s missing. But robbery is not what’s behind the Hill woman’s murder.”
“Damn! This is not going to play well with the press or with Stratton,” the captain informed them. “Any leads?”
Charlie told him about the people on the surveillance video at the apartment, as well as about the gap on the tape. “We’ve spoken to the staff at the apartment building, to some of the neighbors, to Mr. Stratton and one of his sons. We’ve got someone running down addresses on the minister and girlfriend who visited her that night, as well as Cole Stratton. And we’re trying to locate the ex-boyfriend, Schwitzer, and bring him in for questioning. We’re also still trying to identify the other woman on the tape and the mystery guy with the shades.”
“What about the victim’s family?” the captain asked. “Any help there?”
“Not so far. There’s a mother in Arkansas. We’re still trying to locate her,” Charlie responded.
“Forensics is going over the sheets, clothing and glasses from the crime scene to see if we can get a hit on any of the prints. I’m going to have the new kid Mackenzie try to run down the manufacturer on the stocking we found at the scene. It’s a long shot, but there’s a chance we’ll get lucky and be able to trace it back to the buyer.”
“Anything from the M.E. yet?” the captain asked.
“No, but we’ve asked for a rush and we’re on the hook to her for a dinner at Commander’s Palace,” Vince told him.
“What about cause of death?” he asked.
“The preliminary exam indicates death was due to strangulation,” Vince told him.
Charlie released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when Vince made no mention of the stocking’s possible connection to her sister’s murder. She’d hated taking advantage of their friendship. And she felt guilty asking him to remain silent or to do anything that might jeopardize his career. But the need to find Emily’s killer had outweighed her guilt. If it fell apart, she would make sure that Vince didn’t take the fall with her. It was she who had made the decision to withhold the information about her sister’s murder. She’d swear on a stack of bibles if need be that Vince knew nothing and that she’d done it on her own. But she prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Lying wasn’t something she did often and she didn’t do it well. But if it was the only way she could stay on the case and try to find Emily’s killer, then she would do it.
“Any suspects?” the captain asked.
“The ex-boyfriend is at the top of the list. And word is the victim didn’t get along with Stratton’s daughter. There was some kind of incident at the restaurant where they had the rehearsal dinner last night. Mackenzie is checking into it and getting statements about what went down,” Vince said. “And depending on how J. P. Stratton’s will is structured, I say we look at each of his kids since a new stepmother could impact their inheritance. My guess is that Stratton isn’t going to like us questioning them.”
“Anything else?” the captain asked.
“It’d help if we weren’t being asked to walk on eggshells while we do our job.”
“Point taken, Detective.” He steepled his fingers, saying nothing for a moment. “I’ll handle the chief and Stratton. You do your jobs and find me the killer.”
After exiting the captain’s office, Charlie said, “Thanks for backing me up in there and for not saying anything about the stocking and my sister’s case.”
“I told the truth—just not all of it.”
“You did more than that, Kossak. And I won’t forget it,” she promised as they approached their desks.
For the next hour, they worked the phones and attempted to track down Francesca Hill’s neighbor who had reportedly been out of town on vacation for the past week. They also tried to located Cole Stratton, the minister and the ex-boyfriend, Marcus Schwitzer. Charlie placed a call to Aaron Stratton and pressed him for the names of the dinner guests. She came away with several names to check out. In addition to Aaron Stratton, Jason and Phillip Stratton, J.P.’s twin sons from his fourth marriage, had attended the dinner party. Also present was Reverend Lawrence, Danielle Marceau and Judge William Findlay who was to serve as best man.
Vince stood and stretched. “I’m going to head over to Forensics and see if I can sweet-talk Pam into pushing our stuff up the line.”
“Who’s Pam?” Charlie asked, looking up from her notes.
“I swear, Le Blanc, sometimes I think you live in a cave. Pam is the brunette that came on board almost a year ago.”
“The one with the tattoo?”
“That’s the one,” Vince responded. “She works the late shift.”
Mention of the late shift made her glance at her watch. It was almost seven—which meant she was going to be even later getting to her parents’ house than she’d originally thought. She also had hoped to grab Anne before she headed to their folks’ and demand an explanation from her. Realizing that she’d have to wait only served to annoy her more. “I gotta go,” she said and began shoving papers and files into her bag to review at home.
“Got a hot date?” he teased.
“Hardly.” The truth was it had been more than two months since she’d been on a date. And that one had been a fiasco. Not that it was the guy’s fault. It wasn’t. She doubted if many guys would like being left in a five-star restaurant with two pricey entrées on the table because his blind date had been called to a murder scene.
“So what’s the big hurry?”
“I’m having dinner with my folks. And then I’m going to toss my sister Anne off a bridge.”
Five
Anne looked up from the sink in her parents’ kitchen as Charlie came through the door, carrying the plates following dinner. She plopped them on the counter next to the sink. “You rinse and I’ll load the dishwasher,” she said in that same brusque tone she’d used with her all evening.
Anne started to argue, but decided against it. “Fine. But I set the table and did the salad because you were late, so you rinse and load the dessert dishes by yourself.”
“Girls, quit fussing and finish the dishes. Your father’s already setting up for the bananas Foster,” her mother called from the next room.
But not even the prospect of bananas Foster—one of her favorites—did anything to lighten her mood. And it was all Charlie’s fault. Fuming silently, Anne scraped the remains from the plates into the disposal. She’d known Charlie was angry with her the minute she’d come through the front door. Her sister had trained those blue eyes on her and looked as though she’d wanted to strangle her. Then she had barely said ten words to her all evening. And when she’d mentioned her coup—being the first reporter to break the news about the cancellation of the Stratton/Hill wedding—Charlie had ruined the moment by cutting her off. Since Charlie was working a case that involved Stratton, she couldn’t discuss or listen to any of the society drivel that she reported if it involved J. P. Stratton.
Society drivel, my fanny, Anne thought, her irritation growing. Just because Charlie was a police detective and she was a TV reporter didn’t mean her job was a piece of cake. Maybe she didn’t put the bad guys in jail, but she worked her rear end off just the same. Besides not all of her stories were fluff. More than a few of them had resulted in improved conditions for people caught up in the red tape of bureaucracy or forgotten by the system. Why, she even had a file folder thick with thank-you letters from people whose lives had been changed for the better as a result of her investigative reports.
Continuing to stew over her sister’s unfair attitude toward her, she attacked the next plate with a sponge and dishwashing liquid.