Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery) (4 page)

That was pretty much true everywhere, but I couldn’t believe the police, even in a backwoods town like Silver Creek, would be so slipshod as to ignore the facts. “They can’t arrest a person without grounds,” I told her.

“Please, Kali, just ask and see what you can learn. Benson was a friend of your father’s way back when, maybe he’ll talk to you.”

“Daryl Benson?”

She nodded. “He’s chief of police now.”

Benson had been a fishing buddy of my father’s years ago, a high-spirited, jowly man who would occasionally show up on Thanksgiving and family holidays. I was never quite sure whether my mother actually expected him, or if somehow he simply found his way to our doorstep at the appropriate time. I’d only seen him in uniform once — on Senior Prom night he’d pulled over a carload of us and delivered a lecture about reckless driving. By that time, however, he’d stopped coming by the house, and mercifully hadn’t recognized me.

“I haven’t seen him in years,” I told her. “I don’t think my father had seen much of him lately either.”

“Besides,” Nona continued, undaunted, “you’re a lawyer. That’s got to mean something.”

“It means they’d close the door in my face faster than ever.”

“Please, just try.” Nona’s knuckles were almost white.

“Why in the world would they suspect Jannine?” I asked. “They can’t build a case against her just because she’s his wife.”

Nona turned and went back to spreading tuna fish. “No,” she said thinly, “but it seems it was her gun that killed him.”

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I didn’t think the police would tell me much, and I was right. Daryl Benson wasn’t even at the station when I stopped by.

“I’ll wait,” I told the dour-looking woman at the front desk. Certain clients did this to me on a regular basis. It drove me crazy, but I knew it sometimes worked.

“No point waiting,” she barked. “He won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Can you tell me who’s in charge of the Eddie Marrero homicide?” I smiled pleasantly, but her expression didn’t soften in the slightest

“Doug Southern, but you can’t see him either. He’s up to his eyeballs in the investigation.”

“Is there
anyone
I could talk to then?”

“Not about that there isn’t.”

I smiled again. “Do they have any leads yet, any idea who killed him?”

The woman glared at me. She was maybe late forties, early fifties, it was hard to tell. A casting director’s dream for sit-com army sergeant. “It’s not my place to comment,” she said stiffly, turning back to her work and dismissing me with about as much grace as I roll out for the Jehovah’s Witnesses who ring my bell first thing Saturday morning.

I might have tried my luck with someone else, but there was no one else around. Wearily, I looked at my watch. Four-thirty. Waiting seemed like an exercise in futility, and I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since morning and then it was only the half-cup of coffee I’d managed to get down before opening the paper.

I headed for the door. I’d been about as successful as I’d expected, but that didn’t prevent me from feeling discouraged.

I’d have been a whole lot more discouraged, however, if I’d thought there was really anything to worry about. Given what Nona had said about the gun, it didn’t surprise me that the police had questioned Jannine. It sounded fairly routine. I was sure the whole thing would be sorted out in no time. Jannine was about as unlikely a killer as they’d find.

Mike’s Place, across the street from City Hall, was a combination bar and hamburger joint I remembered from my youth. I’d never been there myself, but it was, at that time anyway, the hot spot for swaggering, cheeky young men armed with fake IDs. The place looked as though it hadn’t been touched in the intervening years, but the aroma of fried onions enticed my stomach before my more fastidious side had a chance to protest.

The place was surprisingly crowded for that time of day and, not so surprisingly, very noisy. The pool table at the back seemed to be a major draw; those who weren’t playing were busy giving advice. A dart board next to the bar attracted a group that was somewhat smaller, though every bit as vocal.

I considered leaving, but the empty refrigerator at home meant stopping at the store on the way, a mission which required more energy than I had. I ordered a burger with a side of onion rings and a glass of white wine. The man behind the bar snickered ever so slightly and reached for a jug of generic Chablis. It had probably been open for months. “On second thought,” I told him, “maybe I’ll have a beer instead.” A change of heart which only made the snicker more pronounced.

Miraculously, I found an empty table in the corner, away from the bulk of activity. I brushed the crumbs off the chair, sat, and dug into my burger, which was actually pretty tasty. The noise didn’t bother me so much now that I’d gotten used to it. I was kind of drifting along, trying not to think about Jannine and her children, and the hundreds of ways, both big and little, that Eddie’s death would change their lives. I must have been pretty caught up in it because I didn’t notice the woman standing next to me until she set her tray on the table.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, sliding into the chair next to mine without waiting for an answer.

She caught me with my mouth full, so I gestured an invitation. Not, it seemed, that I had a choice.

The woman smiled tentatively, exhibiting a chipped front tooth. She appeared to be in her early twenties, dusty blonde, with the kind of pale skin that looks washed out and drab rather than creamy. She couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds tops, and the decidedly masculine cut of her grey shirt and trousers did little to enhance her appearance.

“I hate coming here this time of day,” she said. “The local studs from the construction company leering at me and all. They act like they’ve never seen a woman before.”

I hadn’t noticed anyone so much as glance in my direction, much less leer at me, but I guess it’s all in how you perceive things.

“Why do you eat here if it makes you uncomfortable?”

“It’s convenient” She unloaded her tray — a double burger, fries, milk shake and a piece of apple pie. The meal probably weighed as much as she did. “I work across the street at the police department. I’m a dispatcher.”

I nodded. That explained the drab pants and shirt. Who knows, maybe it explained the hairstyle and lack of make-up, too.

We munched in silence for awhile until my companion looked up and said, “It’s an important job, you know. I’m the one took the call about that coach. You read about it in the paper this morning?”

My mind leaped back from the hazy shadows where it had been drifting. “Eddie Marrero? The one who was shot?”

She nodded and took another large bite of burger. “Three times, in fact. I guess whoever killed him wasn’t taking any chances.”

“They have any leads yet.”

She picked at the piece of lettuce stuck on her front tooth. “Not really, except for the wife. Lieutenant Southern, he’s the chief investigator on this one, he’s betting she did it.”

The meat in my mouth suddenly tasted like rubber, and I had to swallow hard to get it down. “What makes him think that?”

“It was her gun. They found it a little ways from the body, under a pile of leaves. And she never reported him missing either. Seems he was shot Saturday, and when he didn’t come home that night she went to bed as though nothing was the least bit unusual. ‘I thought he was with friends,’ is how she tries to explain it, but when they ask her, she can’t come up with a single name. No alibi either, at least not one she can substantiate. There’s probably some other stuff, too. I don’t know the full story, only what I overhear from guys talking. It kinda makes you wonder though, doesn’t it?”

It did. I felt a flicker of doubt then brushed it aside. There had to be another explanation. “Why would she want to kill her husband?” I asked.

The woman shrugged and took a long sip of her milk shake. “Who knows? Cops leave stuff like that to the lawyers.”

There was some truth to that statement, but they didn’t simply disregard considerations of motive either. “Are they going to arrest her?”

“Not yet. Chief Benson wants to make sure they dot their ‘i’s and cross their ‘t’s first. He’s had some run-ins with the DA before. He wants to make sure this one’s by the book.”

I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Maybe it wasn’t as cut and dried as this woman made it sound. “They’re still keeping an open mind then?”

“I guess. I mean some witness comes forward, they’re not going to throw him out on his nose.”

It wasn’t a particularly reassuring testimonial. Reluctantly, I admitted to myself that Nona may have been right; the police were looking, but not very hard. It was with even more reluctance that I allowed myself to wonder, fleetingly, if they were on track.

My companion set down her milk shake and threw me a sharp, curious look. “Say, you’re not a reporter or anything are you?” It must have finally dawned on her my interest in the case wasn’t entirely perfunctory. “I could get in big trouble for talking to you.”

“No, nothing like that,” I assured her, wishing I could find some way to reassure Nona and Jannine as easily.