Chapter Twelve
After Dr. Trulo left, Sam gathered her hair into a twist that she secured with a clip, grabbed a half-empty bottle of water and her notebook before joining her team in the conference room.
“I saw you were with Dr. Trulo, so I took the liberty of updating everyone on what we have so far,” Freddie said.
“Thank you. Unless anyone has a better idea, my plan is to see the sons’ football coach next. I have no idea if he’ll have anything to add, but we’ll check that box.”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Cameron said, “and I keep coming back to how she was killed. There’re really only a few things that would spark the kind of emotions that would lead to that kind of murder—love, money, sex, power.”
“Very good thinking,” Sam said, impressed as always by the sharp young detective who’d joined them after Detective Arnold was murdered.
“Let’s take them one by one.” They’d started a murder board for Pam, with photos of her in life and death, as well as a time line of what they knew so far.
She went to the second dry-erase board and wrote the words love, money, sex and power across the top.
“What do we have under love?” she asked.
“Her family,” Jeannie said. “Her friends. Her business. Her community.”
Sam made notes of each one of those things. “What else?”
“I can’t think of anything else we’ve learned about her that wouldn’t be covered by one of those things,” Freddie said.
“How about money?”
“We ran the financials for both her and Bob,” Cam said.
“We found nothing out of the ordinary. An upper-middle-class existence with the usual bills and expenses that come with having three children, one of them in college in Boston. There were no unusual deposits or withdrawals in the last six months.”
“I checked her business accounts,” Jeannie said.
“The business made about three hundred thousand last year and was on track for a bigger year this year. According to the testimonials on her website, she was the best at what she did, and a wide variety of organizations relied on her to provide flawless events for their members and stakeholders.”
“Next is sex. What stands out?”
“She was happily married,” Freddie said. “Everyone we talked to mentioned how solid she and Bob were as a couple and all of them were as a family. Nothing like the vibe we picked up right away that something was rotten when we were investigating Ginny McLeod’s murder.”
“True,” Sam said. “That family was in a class by itself.” She pointed to the final column on the dry-erase board. “We’re left with power.”
“I haven’t picked up a sense that either she or Bob were power hungry,” Freddie said. “They seemed like the types to keep to themselves and their kids and the people closest to them.”
“One thing to consider,” Cameron said. “The sons are elite football players. Freddie said Lucas is on track for a scholarship with a D-1 college program. That’s big time. We might want to do some digging into the dynamics of his football situation.”
“That’s a thread,” Sam said.
“I’d suggest speaking to each of the kids individually,” Jeannie said. “Sometimes teenagers pick up on tensions or arguments or things that they’d keep to themselves unless asked directly.”
“That’s a good idea, too,” Sam said. “We’ll do that after the football coach. In the meantime, the rest of you can stay on the computers, digging into each member of the family. As you know, no detail is too small. I want reports on the kids’ social media as well.”
“We’re on it,” Gonzo said. “We’ve got a few things to talk about from Stahl’s files, too.”
“Like what?”
“A missing teenager who was never investigated, to start with.”
“Ugh,” Sam said. “Tell me that’s the worst of it.”
“That’s the worst of what we’ve found so far,” Gonzo said.
“Is it safe to assume it was a Black teenager?” Sam asked.
“It is, a girl.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that?”
“Because Stahl was a scumbag, and now we’re finding out he was even more of one than we thought.”
“He was a racist scumbag on top of all his other charms,” Jeannie said fiercely. “With your permission, I’ll dig into that unsolved case.”
“Please do,” Sam said. “Keep me posted.”
“I will.”
“All right, everyone, let’s get to work.”
Sam and Freddie found Mark Ouellette at a nondescript office on Rhode Island Avenue with several employees working at desks in the outer office. Although he immediately recognized Sam, he didn’t overreact, but he did seem nervous.
“You’re here about Pam,” he said. “We’re all just shocked and heartbroken.”
“How did you find out about her death?”
“My son, Aidan, heard it from some other kids on the team. He plays with Pam’s sons, Lucas and Justin.”
After he closed the office door, he gestured for them to sit in visitor chairs on the other side of his messy desk.
“Do you own this business?” she asked.
“I do. I have to make my own schedule to accommodate my second job as a football coach. What happened to Pam? No one has been able to find that out.”
“She was found bound and gagged in her minivan in Southeast.”
“Oh my God.” He rubbed a trembling hand over his face. “And you’re sure it’s her?”
Sam gave him a perplexed look. “Of course we’re sure.” After a beat, she continued. “I have to be honest with you, Mr. Ouellette. Your reaction seems intense, considering we’re talking about the mother of some of the kids you coach. You seem incredibly upset.”
“I am incredibly upset. Pam was a wonderful person. She helped so much with the management of the team. I’ll be lost without her.”
“And that’s all it was between you and her?” Sam asked, working a hunch. “The management of the team?”
He gasped with outrage. “What’re you asking?”
“You know what I’m asking. Were you involved with her beyond the team?”
“No, I wasn’t. She’s happily married, and so am I. I have a wife and four children. She has three kids and has been with Bob forever. Our families were connected through football for many years. I considered her a close friend, so yes, I’m very upset that she’s been murdered.”
While his words were convincing, the tingle that attacked Sam’s backbone told her to look closer, to dig deeper.
She’d learned to trust those tingles. “I’m going to say this once and only once, Mr. Ouellette.
If you know something that might be relevant to this investigation, I urge you to come forward with it now.
If we have to come back here, the next visit won’t be friendly. ”
He swallowed hard enough that his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. For a long moment, he said nothing as he stared blankly at the wall behind them. When he shifted his gaze back to her, he said, “I’d like to speak to an attorney.”
While he made the phone call to the attorney, Sam texted Freddie. Didn’t see that coming.
I know, right?
My backbone was tingling.
Ew.
No, listen, that usually means I need to pay closer attention. It’s like my intuition system or something.
Well, you and your tingling backbone were right. Something’s up.
What do you think it will be?
I have no idea. Her marriage with Bob seemed solid.
At least HE thought so. Who knows what she was up to?
“My attorney will be here in fifteen minutes.”
Sam was thrilled to hear someone was on the way. Waiting for attorneys to arrive could take half a day or longer sometimes. “I’m surprised you were able to get someone that fast.”
“He’s my brother-in-law.”
“Does he specialize in criminal law?”
Ouellette blanched at the word criminal. “No, he doesn’t, but I don’t need a criminal lawyer, because I haven’t committed a crime.”
Sam wanted to tell him he was a fool to trust something like this to a lawyer who didn’t regularly work with the police, but she wasn’t paid to hand out free legal advice. So she kept her mouth shut and read a text from Freddie.
He’s a fool to trust this to a hack.
Sometimes it freaked her out the way he read her mind. Was just thinking the same thing. But that’s not our problem. He knows something. I want to know what that is. He wants a lawyer present, so we’ll wait.
How long? I’m starving.
Sam hoped the glare she sent his way sent the message that he needed to shut up about being hungry. He was always hungry. There was never a time when he couldn’t eat a full meal, even if he’d just had one. Dreaming about the day his shit diet caught up to him gave her something to look forward to.
She received a phone call from Captain Malone and stepped outside to take it. “What’s up?”
“That’s what I’m calling to ask you. Where are we with the Tappen case?”
“We may have something, but I won’t know for sure for a bit.”
“What’ve you got?”
She explained about Ouellette and his request for an attorney.
“Interesting. If he’s worried about having a lawyer there, it must be something.”
“Your thought matches mine, which is why Cruz and I are waiting for the brother-in-law lawyer to get here.”
“All right. Let me know what it turns out to be.”
“Will do. I also gave McBride the green light to dig into one of Stahl’s unsolved cases—the disappearance of a Black female teenager that was never investigated.”
“Son of a bitch,” Malone muttered. “What the hell was wrong with him?”
“It’d take all day to list the things that were wrong with him.”
“That’s for sure. You heard about Ramsey getting the ax?”
“I did. Assume he’s going to appeal it through the union?”
“He already has and said he’s going to spill a lot of dirt on the department and its so-called stars if we try to get rid of him.”
“What dirt does he have?” Sam asked.
“We don’t know, but we’re not backing down. The chief has had enough of him.”
“No one is happier about that than I am,” Sam said.
“Just because he’s no longer on the force doesn’t mean you should let down your guard where he’s concerned.”
“I’m aware that he’ll remain a powerful enemy, but I’m thankful he’ll no longer be collecting a paycheck to be a waste of space.”