Chapter Twelve #2
Wed morning, two weeks ago. WHY?
Ronan sighed. “Same girl. I need to tell Penny the bare basics.”
They hadn’t notified Kasey’s parents yet. They hadn’t been home. Ronan planned to go back to see them after he was finished interviewing Elle.
He dialed his daughter, and she picked up right away. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “Where is Kasey?”
“She’s dead, honey. We found her body this afternoon.”
Penny gasped. “What?”
“I’m so sorry. I need to put you on speaker. I’m here with Howard and Gary.”
“Hey, Pen,” Howard said. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Same,” Gary said. “You need us to call someone for you?”
“No,” Penny said thinly. “I’ll be okay. This is just a shock. How did she die?”
“Coroner hasn’t released a cause of death yet,” Ronan said.
Because the body was so decomposed and bloated that COD wasn’t immediately obvious. The coroner had been able to say that the body hadn’t been in the water long. A week at the most, based on the way the water was smelling.
She’d also said that the body had done a lot of decomposing before being dumped in the well.
It was too cold for the body to have achieved that level of decomp if it had been stored outside, plus the water in the well would have been icy cold, delaying the decomp even further.
So it made sense that the body had not been thrown in the well immediately after the murder.
“Did you talk to Kasey’s parents?” Ronan asked.
“Yes. They contacted the college, worried sick, so I called them. They said that leaving so abruptly was out of character for Kasey.”
“Did they tell you when they last saw their daughter?” Howard asked.
Ronan was glad Howard had asked. They’d ask the parents the same questions at the notification, but having that information would be useful when he interviewed Elle.
Elle Randolph had not killed Kasey Arnold. Ronan was certain of it. Not unless she was the best liar in the universe. He didn’t think she’d faked her reaction to learning that it was Kasey’s body in the well.
He didn’t believe she’d killed Steve Garfield or Dianne Foster, either.
So why were their belongings in her room at Judith’s inn?
That she was being framed was the most obvious reason. But why? And by whom?
“They said they saw her Tuesday morning, two weeks ago. That she was leaving to give a guided tour to two women…” Penny trailed off. “The bounty hunters. It was them, wasn’t it? Is this connected to Dianne’s murder?”
Ronan stared at the ceiling, wishing he hadn’t read so many Nancy Drew mystery books to her as a child. That had been very poor planning on his part. “Can’t say right now, honey, and her family hasn’t been notified yet, so you can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yes. I’m safely home and the doors and windows are locked. Puff is at my feet.”
“Good girl.” Because he’d been about to ask that very thing. “I’ll call you later. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye.”
Penny ended the call and Ronan met the gazes of his boss and fellow detective. “I don’t think that Kasey sent those texts.”
“I was thinking the same,” Howard said. “Gary, did you find Kasey’s cell phone in the Randolph woman’s room?”
“No, but we can go back and look.”
Howard nodded. “Do that after you’re done interviewing her. Ronan, get the victim’s cell records. Find out where the phone physically was when those texts were sent.”
“Could have been spoofed,” Gary said. “Would have looked like the messages were coming from Kasey’s phone. That’s not hard to do.”
“I know,” Howard grunted. “Still, see if any texts were sent from her phone.”
“We will,” Ronan promised. “Are we ready to talk to Ms. Randolph?”
He couldn’t call her Elle anymore. Not until she was cleared.
“No, not yet,” Gary said. “I’ve got one more item to show you.” He held out an evidence bag. “We found this under Steve Garfield’s body when the coroner took him.”
In the evidence bag was a smaller plastic bag in a very familiar color. “What the fuck?” he whispered.
It had once held candy cap caramels. The same brand that Eunice sold at the pharmacy.
“What?” Howard asked. “What is it?”
“Elle eats candy cap caramels. She buys them at Eunice’s store.” And eats them while we talk on the bluffs every night. “This is just like the woman in San Francisco.”
“What are you talking about, Ronan?” Gary demanded. “What woman in San Francisco?”
Ronan told them about the call he’d received from the SFPD lieutenant, about Elle’s hair lying next to the woman’s body. About how they’d explained it away and how she’d had an alibi. “I bet we’ll find Elle’s fingerprints on that bag,” he said grimly.
“Already checked,” Gary said. “You’re right.”
“Ronan,” Howard said slowly. “What’s going on here?”
“A, it’s a coincidence. B, she’s an amazing actress who’s really a killer. Or C, someone is trying to set her up.” Grimly Ronan stared at Elle through the glass. “We’re going to find out which one it is.”
Ukiah, California
Monday, February 2, 6:45 p.m.
Elle looked up when the door to the interview room opened. Ronan came in with another detective, the former flashing her one quick look of regret before he walled off his expression.
The other detective was watching her with what appeared to be curiosity.
Elle sat up straighter.
This is a nightmare.
But it was happening.
“Not a word, Elle,” Alexis murmured. “I’m serious.”
Elle nodded, swallowing back nausea. This day kept getting worse.
Of course it was even worse for Kasey Arnold, Dianne Foster, and Steve Garfield.
Because we talked to them. She and Sara.
“I’m Alexis Hellier,” Alexis said. “Ms. Randolph’s attorney.”
“I’m Detective Gary Simpson. This is Detective Ronan Clarke.” Simpson and Ronan took the chairs on the other side of the table. “We have some questions.”
“I’ve advised my client to say nothing,” Alexis said.
Ronan shifted in his chair, his only sign of discomfort. “She’s not under arrest.”
“I know.” Alexis smiled like the shark she was. “I’d like to keep it that way.”
Elle was grateful that Alexis had dropped everything and driven up from San Francisco. All it had taken was a single phone call.
She had good friends.
It had been Alexis who’d encouraged her to take the California bar exam so that she’d have options should she decide being a bounty hunter wasn’t the career she wanted. Options were good to have.
Unless I get arrested. Then I’ll never practice law again.
She’d had those same thoughts the night Todd had died.
When the cops had immediately assumed she’d been drinking.
She couldn’t blame them. She did smell like a distillery because of the booze Todd had thrown on her dress.
And, courtesy of the mild concussion she’d had from the accident, she had been moving erratically and slurring her words.
It had all turned out all right. Her blood alcohol was zero since she’d merely walked around holding a drink that night at her ex-mother-in-law’s party. She hadn’t taken a sip.
And the cameras in Todd’s car had done the rest. Still, when she’d been sitting at an interview table in Sarasota three and a half years ago, she hadn’t known it would be all right.
She’d wanted to vomit that night. Just like now.
Don’t throw up. Do not throw up.
“Where were you the night of Tuesday, January twentieth between midnight and four a.m.?” Simpson asked.
Ronan remained silent. Watchful.
“You can answer that, Elle,” Alexis murmured.
Elle closed her eyes. “I’ve told you already.
Several times. I was checked in to a hotel in Willits.
I have the receipt. I was sharing a room with my business partner Sara.
We were asleep. The cameras at the hotel show that our car was in the lot all night.
My business partner has corroborated my alibi. ”
“Your business partner,” Simpson said, “who also interacted with all three of our victims.”
Elle exhaled quietly, opening her eyes to meet Simpson’s steady gaze. “Yes.”
Simpson didn’t appear malevolent. She wasn’t sure exactly how he did appear. He was kind of vanilla. But he didn’t seem unkind.
Good cop, she thought.
But wasn’t that Ronan?
Don’t trust the cops, Sara had told her too many times to count. They’ll lie. They’ll cheat. They’ll plant evidence just to make themselves look good.
They don’t care about you.
Elle recited those words in her mind over and over as Simpson continued to watch her.
He was freaking her out. Which was probably his intent.
“Do you have the key card to your room at the Harbor View Inn?” he asked, and she blinked, caught off guard.
“Yes.”
Simpson tilted his head. “Are you certain?”
Alexis held up one hand, keeping Elle from answering. “What’s this about?” her lawyer asked.
Simpson only smiled. “It’s about what we found during our search of Ms. Randolph’s room at the inn.”
Elle gasped. “You searched my room?”
“We had a warrant,” Simpson said cheerfully. “Signed by a judge. Just like your father.”
Her father. Elle wanted to cry. He was going to be so upset. Not at her, but for her. Her dad would never believe she could do this. She didn’t want him to know she was being questioned once again for murder.
She’d almost called him when Ronan had brought her into the precinct in Ukiah, but her father had a bad heart.
She was not going to scare him into a cardiac event.
So she’d called Alexis, a much better idea.
But she still missed the sound of her father’s voice.
He could make her believe everything would be fine.
“Your point?” Alexis asked, injecting a fair amount of nastiness into the words.
“My point is, a judge agreed that we had enough cause to search. It’s all legal.”
“And?” Elle asked quietly. “What did you find?”
This wasn’t going to be good.
Under the table, Alexis squeezed Elle’s thigh. It meant she needed to be quiet, just as they’d agreed.
“Three things so far,” Simpson said, his cheer completely gone. “One laptop, which we believe belonged to Steve Garfield. One brooch, which we’ve positively identified as belonging to Dianne Foster. And one textbook, belonging to Kasey Arnold.”
No, no, no.
Nightmare. Not happening.