“You have got one helluva mother-in-law.” Scofield dug into the box of fry bread, freshly made that morning. He placed two on a paper plate, then licked powdered sugar from his fingers. “You’ll be happy to know the first floor break room has been completed so now we have our break room to ourselves.”
Abby knew Jake would have a long day of interviews and prepared a five course breakfast and sent him off with a thermos of coffee, a cooler with his lunch containing two meat loaf sandwiches and a large box of fry bread. She always packed a sandwich for Frank.
“I am going to marry that lady when it’s legal to have two wives,” Frank said as flakes of powdered sugar dusted his shirt. Fry bread was a Native American treat of fried airy dough dusted with either granulated or powdered sugar.
With a piece of fry bread hanging out of his mouth, Scofield handed Jake a stack of pink message slips. “You have around twenty people stopping by starting at around eleven. Since they work the night shift you really didn’t think they would be sitting at our doorstep at eight, did you?”
“That’s fine. We’re going to go back to Donna’s apartment and look through it again so her relatives can clean it out.” Jake thumbed through the messages. Although they had the computer system, Scofield still preferred the age-old message pad. Scofield was of the mindset that the department was one good computer crash away from losing everything.
The elevator doors opened and Robinson stepped out, umbrella in hand, tie hanging around his neck. He took one glance at what Jake held in his hands and said, “My office, now, all three of you.”
“Me too?” Scofield said.
“No, that box of Abby’s specialty.”
By the time Jake made it down the aisle, half the box had been relieved of its contents. Lamon closed the door behind them and used the mirror hanging on the back of his door to tie his tie. It was like tying a ribbon around a tree trunk, his neck was so large. He never bothered to button the top button on his shirt either.
Frank relieved Jake of some of the items in his arms. He set the cooler on the floor, the thermos on the desk and the box next to the thermos. Robinson grabbed a cup from his back credenza, blew dust out of it, then held it out for Jake to fill.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Robinson picked through the box and grabbed the biggest piece of fry bread he could find. “Damn, stuff still feels warm.” He licked his fingers as Frank tossed him a napkin.
“Marian Oberweiss confirmed that Donna owned a seventy-five white Camaro convertible,” Frank said. “There’s an APB out for it. It’s too old of a model to have a GPS so we can’t track it that way.”
“Wow. Like to have that car. What else?”
“The brother looked pretty broken up. And I don’t think he had it in him to kill a garden snake let alone his sister. And what reason would he have?” Frank sank into a chair in front of Robinson’s desk.
“Are they staying in town?” the captain asked.
“Until the apartment is released and they can go in and clean it out. Forensics is going through it now.” Jake checked his watch. “We’re going to make a stop there before all of our interviews start. Donna’s co-workers should start streaming in here around eleven.”
“Don’t waste time interviewing any employees at the golf course. Concentrate on the ex-boyfriend. What about video from Bailey’s?”
“Ron is supposed to be searching through them to find the ones from the last few days Donna worked.” Frank pulled out a wet wipe from his pocket, ripped it open and wiped the sugar from his hands.
“Did Sam meet with Mister Johnson?” Robinson asked.
“She didn’t learn anything knew. Went over the timeline with him, reviewed the police reports, brought home a number of photo albums. Oh, and his wife’s cell phone. She had Beast look at the SIM card. It appears the last call the wife received was that morning and it came from a disposable phone.”
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While Abby’s favorite room was the kitchen, Sam’s was the Florida room. Here she could look out on the acres of blooms in the spring and summer, and the foliage in the fall. In the winter there were several bird feeders Alex kept filled for those birds that didn’t pack up and fly south for the winter. And although the Florida room may be her favorite room, her favorite spot was still one of the window seats in the dining room. They were cushioned and roomy enough to stretch out. It allowed the sun’s rays to warm her on chilly days and gave her a front row seat to the flag stone patio and all of its décor.
On the window seat past her feet Dillon was napping in his carrier, a thin blanket over his chubby body, his carrier turned so the sun’s rays weren’t hitting him full force. She opened the wedding album. Here was an example of a beautiful wedding put together on a shoestring budget. Marti’s wedding dress, a simple cream-colored sheath, hugged her slim figure in all the right places. She wore a choker of lace and pearls and long lace gloves. On her head was a simple headband of tiny white roses, identical to the ones in her bouquet. Forrest was dressed in a dark suit, cream-colored shirt and a gray striped tie. One rose was pinned in his lapel. The happy couple beamed for the photographer. Not an expensive studio photo either. A friend, possibly, had taken the snapshots but he did a good job. There were church photos with a scattering of friends and a female pastor where the happy couple took their vows. The reception looked as though it were in the church basement or rec room. Then the photos switched quickly from the reception to a southern location with moss draping tree limbs like gauze fabric. Marti stood in front of a sign that said Welcome to Savannah. Forrest had mentioned that they had honeymooned in Savannah, Georgia.
Sam set aside that album and picked up the next. It opened with pictures of Marti in various stages of pregnancy to delivery. An exhausted Marti, damp hair clinging to her forehead, beamed as she held her baby girl, a tiny pink ribbon affixed to the top of the baby’s head. Another picture with a beaming Forrest. Sam hadn’t known she was crying until the first tear hit the plastic sleeve of the album. She sniffed and swiped at her face only to open her eyes and find Abby standing over her holding a tissue and a cup of hot chocolate. Sam had barely heard the soft ruffling of Abby’s long skirt.
“Sad case?” Abby handed the cup of hot chocolate to Sam and then sat down next to her. “I remember reading about that one in the paper.”
“Heart-wrenching. He was so in love with his wife. And you should see their baby, Mom. She is adorable. Forrest says she still wakes up looking for her mom and now he has to struggle to raise her alone plus try to deal with why his wife committed suicide.”
“Do you believe she did?”
Sam sighed and took a sip of the hot chocolate. “My head looks at the evidence and tells me she did. My heart looks at these photos, at her husband and baby, and just knows there is something not right. Something drove her to do what she did but I’m clueless as to what that could be.”
“Did you pick up anything when you visited her husband?”
“Thought I did. Now I’m not so sure. It was just one word but I thought maybe I was imagining it.”
“That’s all our clues ever are, Samantha. Images, whispers, feelings. That’s the only way the spirits have to pass on messages to us. Listen with your heart, Samantha.”