“CSU finished at the vic’s house. They did get some prints that weren’t from Delamont, including a bunch of partials that weren’t in the system at all.” Alex hung up his desk phone as he spoke to her.
“Did they find any useful prints besides the vic’s?” Genevieve asked.
“They sure did. Back in the dark ages, we probably wouldn’t have gotten a hit on these because the only prints in the system were from criminals or military people.” He winked at her.
“Stop stringing me along and tell me already!”
“Sorry, I’m an old man that likes to enjoy his stories.” He looked at her wryly. “Turns out, the university started fingerprinting all of its employees a few years ago.”
“Let me guess. Whitham left prints in the house!” Genevieve exclaimed.
“Not just Whitham, but Hartfeld has some prints in there too.”
“That is interesting. We need to talk to them both again. Whitham has a pretty airtight alibi for the time of the murder, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved somehow.” She frowned. “None of the prints left in the office had a match, though. CSU said that they were all either Delamont or one other person. If Whitham and Hartfeld both have prints on file, then it can’t be either of them that left prints in the office.”
“Or they wiped all the ones they knew they’d left behind? Ugh. We could conjecture about this all day.”
“True and who knows when the fingerprints were left there? We need to go interview his neighbors. Maybe one of them saw something or heard something that can steer us in the right direction.”
Alex groaned. “Ugh! I knew you were going to say that.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say that I was right. I can see it on your face. I won’t even say it.”
“Say what?” He furrowed his brow.
“Well, if you insist. I told you so.” She smirked and grabbed the car keys off of his desk.
* * * * * * * * * *
Genevieve parked the car in front of Delamont’s house. The wind was blowing harder than it had been that morning. She zipped up her jacket to keep the chill out. Alex was taking forever to get out of the car. She started to knock on his window but saw that he was on the phone. She put her back to the wind while waiting for him to finish up. She wished that she’d agreed to stop for coffee on the way over. At least that would have kept her hands warm right now. Alex finally got out of the car.
“That was the ME. Yes, the tox screen included the whole gamut of things. It was all clean. No steroids, no drugs, no alcohol for the track kid.”
Genevieve nodded. “I guess we can set that theory aside. How do you want to do these interviews?”
Alex looked down the street. “Luckily, it’s a pretty short block, only a few houses on each side. How about you do the interviews on this side and I’ll talk to the folks across the street? If you think I need to hear something, give me a shout.” He shook his phone at her.
“Will do.” She turned and ducked her head into the wind. She had pushed for these interviews, but now that they were outside, she was regretting it. She looked between the houses and noticed an alleyway behind the backyards. Standing on tiptoes, she could see the campus buildings just beyond the homes. Something else caught her eye. “Hey, wait up.”
Alex turned back towards her. “What?”
“Are those frat houses on the other side of these homes? I think I can see some flags with Greek letters.”
“Makes sense. Now that you mention it, I think that is where the row of frat houses begins. The sororities are on the opposite side of campus.”
“We should interview them too.”
Alex grimaced. “Fine. We’ll go over that way after we finish up here.” He turned and finished crossing the street.
Genevieve walked up to the first house and rang the doorbell. A small black and white placard read NO SOLICITING next to the doorbell. While she waited for someone to answer, she looked in the flower bed to see if the home advertised a home security system. If they had a video feed, maybe it would have something useful. She didn’t see any signs near the bushes, though. Before she could get a closer look, the front door swung open, revealing an elderly man with a walker. He scowled at her behind his trifocals and bushy, white eyebrows. Small tufts of white hair sat above his ears, in stark contrast to his shiny bald head.
“No soliciting! Can’t you read?” He shouted at her and started to close the door.
Genevieve put her hand out to stop him while simultaneously pulling her badge out of her pocket. “I’m Detective Viacorte, sir. I’m not a solicitor. I’m with the police department. I just wanted to ask you some questions.”
“Finally! I called twelve hours ago about those kids behind my house. Music blarin’ and kids smokin’ pot and who knows what else in the alley. Drinkin’, drugs, all of it!” He stuck out his hand. “Ronald Peters.”
Genevieve cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Peters. Actually, sir, I’m not here about a party or noise issue.”
The man wrinkled his nose and glared at her. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”
“Um, as I was saying, I just have a few questions about your neighbor next door. Dr. Delamont? Did you know him?”
“The young dude? I hardly saw him. He was always on his phone. Talkin’ on it, drivin’ with it in his hand—that’s illegal now! He didn’t take care of his yard.” He frowned.
“Um, yes, it looks like he wasn’t into gardening much.” She tried a different tactic. “Sir, did you notice anything unusual about him last night or maybe this morning? Did he leave earlier than usual or have any visitors? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Why? Is he dead or something?”
Genevieve coughed to try and hide the shock from her face. “Unfortunately, sir, your neighbor was found dead in his office this morning. We’re investigating his death. Anything you can remember about last night or this morning could be useful.”
“I saw him come home last night. Normally, I can hear his speakers thumpin’ and bumpin’ every night when he gets home. He gets here around seven most nights, but last night I almost missed him getting here. If I hadn’t been sitting in the front room here, watching the cars go by, I wouldn’t have seen him. He seemed pretty upset about something.”
“Do you watch the traffic a lot, sir?”
“Somebody has to do it. These college kids speeding down our alley at all hours and you never know when you might see something useful. I gotta watch for the mail too. Damn porch pirates aren’t gonna get my packages or my mail.” He growled.
“Do you have a doorbell camera then?” She asked hopefully.
“Now what the hell would I do with that? Like I want someone spying on my house with some confounded piece of technology. They would steal my identity with that without me even knowing it. Hell no, I don’t have a camera out here. My eyes work just fine, young lady!” He snapped at her.
“Of course, sir. Did you see anyone else come to Dr. Delamont’s house last night? Or possibly this morning?”
“I saw you and your partner across the street come by earlier.”
Genevieve fought the urge to sigh. “Anyone else?”
“Well now, I don’t stay up as late as I used to, so anything after eight o’clock is going to slip past me.”
She nodded. “What about this morning? Anything?”
He squinted. “Like I said, I saw the two of you, but I wouldn’t have seen anything much earlier than that. Saturday morning bingo. I leave here at 7:30 every week and don’t get back until nine o’clock. Sorry.” He shrugged.
Genevieve sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Peters. Here’s my card if you think of anything else. I appreciate your time.”
She looked down the street to see how far Alex had gotten while she was speaking with the crotchety old man. He was already four houses down the block. Either people weren’t home right now or they hadn’t seen anything. She would never hear the end of it from Alex if they came up empty on their neighborhood canvas. She tugged her jacket around herself tighter and trudged along the sidewalk to the next house. Before she could knock on the door, Alex called her cell phone. She stepped back onto the sidewalk to answer it.
“What’s up?”
“I made it to the last house on this side. No one is home. I left my card with a note to call when they get home.”
“I thought we’d catch people at home on a Saturday afternoon. Shows what I know.”
“I’m crossing over to your side. We can meet in the middle. You talked to that first house for a while. Get anything useful?”
“No, it was a bust. I thought maybe I was going to catch an early break because the guy is a complete Looky-Lou about traffic on his street. He goes to bed early and then left early this morning too.”
“No cameras?”
“No, even asking about cameras made him angry.”
“Good times. I didn’t see anything that looked like a camera on my side, either. To be fair, we don’t know that anyone came here in the first place.”
“You’re right. We don’t, but we definitely won’t find out if we don’t ask! See you in a bit, Alex.”
She ended the call and walked back up the sidewalk to the house. Not only did it not have a doorbell camera, it didn’t even have a doorbell! She tried to open the screen door so that she could knock on the heavier, wooden door instead, but it was locked. She waited about a minute and started to knock again when Mr. Peters shouted at her.
“Young lady! No one lives there anymore! They moved out years ago, but didn’t sell the place. It just sits empty!”
She waved at him to show her thanks and walked back down the porch steps. The next house had a “For Rent” sign in the yard, so she skipped it. Alex was already coming down the steps of the fourth house on her side of the street. She let her head drop. This whole thing had been a bust. Maybe the fraternity brothers would be more helpful. Mr. Peters had said that they were having a party last night. She waited for Alex to catch up to her, then turned to match his pace.
“Mr. Peters, the old man in the first house, was complaining about a frat party from last night. It should be late enough that they would be awake by now, right? Maybe one of them saw something or heard something.”
Alex nodded. “I guess it’s possible. We’ll give it a try before we head back to the station.”
Genevieve got in the driver’s seat before Alex could beat her to it, and they drove around the corner to the frat houses. The four houses lined a cul-de-sac and had several cars parked along the curbs. She saw a spot in the middle and decided to chance parallel parking in front of Alex.
“Whoa, what are we doing here?” He looked at her incredulously.
“Learning why I should always be the one who drives,” she told him as she spun the wheel around and looked over her shoulder.
“Should I get out to help guide you? This is a pretty tight spot.”
She ignored him and concentrated on positioning the car near the curb. Their vehicle had a backup camera, but she didn’t need to rely on it to get the car in the spot. Soon, she was pulling forward and putting the car in park. She looked over at Alex with a smug grin on her face.
“Did I get close enough to the curb for you?” She laughed.
“Well done.” He slow-clapped as he got out of the vehicle. “I cannot believe you just did that. I didn’t think anyone from your generation learned how to drive, let alone park!”
“Hush. We’re both millennials and you know it. You’re just an elder-Millennial.” She laughed and put the keys in her pocket after locking the car.
“Elder-what? Do NOT start with that.”
“Oh, sorry. Are you Gen-X, then?”
She looked up at the house nearest them and saw the blinds slip back closed. Someone had been watching them pull up to the house. She nudged Alex.
“Someone’s home and awake. We’re being watched.”
“You saw that too, huh?”
They walked up to the house and knocked on the door. A lanky kid with stringy, blonde hair answered the door. He was wearing a t-shirt with Greek letters that Genevieve couldn’t quite remember over a pair of ragged blue jeans. His feet were bare.
“If this is about old-man Peters complaining again, I swear! We did not drive through the alley, and our music wasn’t even that loud!”
“Relax. We’re not here about your party. We’re detectives.” Alex held up his badge. “I’m Detective Runimoss and this is my partner, Detective Viacorte.”
“Mr. Peters did mention a party last night. We were hoping maybe someone here might have seen something useful. Are you familiar with the man who lives in the house on the corner over there?” Genevieve asked, pointing over his shoulder to the left.
“The sports medicine guy? He’s nice. Keeps to himself mostly, but he’ll wave if he’s in his backyard and sees us out back. He never yells at us either. Wait, did something happen to him?”
“Unfortunately, Dr. Delamont was found dead in his office early this morning; Mr. uh, what did you say your name was?”
“Jeremy. Jeremy Halifax. Dead? What?”
“Mr. Halifax. Visitors? Did Dr. Delamont have any friends over regularly?” Alex tried to refocus the young man.
“Oh, sorry. Um, you know maybe? Let me ask Tommy. He pays more attention to things like that than I do. He’s our president. Hey, Tommy!” He shouted over his shoulder. “He’s awake. Don’t worry.”
Genevieve heard a muffled shout from the interior of the house, followed by what could only be described as a herd of elephants running down the stairs. She looked over Jeremy’s shoulder to try to get a better view of Tommy, but the door was only partially opened into the house. A moment later, Jeremy took a step back and opened the door more, revealing a stocky young man with a big grin. He was shorter than Alex by five or six inches, but probably weighed just as much. His t-shirt was stretched tight across his muscled chest, and his neck was almost as thick as his head. He had short, dark hair and brown eyes. Genevieve noticed that he was also walking around barefoot in the house. He put his hand out to introduce himself.
“I’m Tommy. And you are?”
“Detectives Viacorte and Runimoss,” Genevieve said, shaking his hand. “We understand that you knew Dr. Delamont?”
He shrugged. “No more than anyone else here. Why?”
“He’s dead.” Jeremy whispered, causing Tommy’s eyes to grow to saucers.
“Over there, right now?”
“No, sir. Mr. Halifax told us that you might remember if he had any regular visitors over. Anything you can remember could be helpful.” Genevieve told him.
“Visitors? Hmm. Well, there was one guy that came over pretty often. I can’t imagine that he’d be involved though.”
“If you’d let us be the judge of that,” Alex prodded.
“Right. Okay. Well,” he stammered. “Dr. Hartfeld came over pretty often. He’s my biochemistry teacher, though. Oh wait, was Dr. D poisoned?” His eyes got big again.
“Obviously, we can’t discuss the details of the case with you. Please try to refrain from conjecturing about what happened. How often would you say Dr. Hartfeld came to Dr. Delamont’s home?”
“I mean, probably every week, though sometimes he wouldn’t come over for months at a time. They seemed to be good friends.”
Genevieve nodded. “When was the last time you saw him over here?”
Tommy looked up as he thought. “You know, I think I saw someone there this morning, but I’m not sure if it was Dr. Hartfeld. I wasn’t paying that close of attention. Normally, I wouldn’t be up early after one of our parties, but it was my turn to make coffee and we were out. I had to run to the store. I saw a car pulling up to Dr. D’s house on my way by.”
“And what time was that?”
“Probably 6:45 or so. One of our guys had an early morning practice and woke me up at 6:15 wanting coffee.” He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes the officer perks are not all that they’re cracked up to be.”
“What kind of vehicle was it?” Alex asked.
“Dark sedan. Four-door. I can’t really remember much more than that. I was barely awake. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. Was the party last night just at your house or was the whole cul-de-sac involved?” Genevieve asked.
“I thought you said…” Jeremy began suspiciously.
“Oh, sorry. We were going to try to interview some of your neighbors too, but didn’t know if they would have been awake this morning or not.”
Tommy grinned sheepishly. “Definitely were not awake, ma’am, er, Detective. You didn’t hear this from me; I’m not admitting to anything, that is, but the party was over here and over here only. I, uh, helped several of our neighbors to their beds last night. No one was getting up this morning from any of these other houses.”
“No one else had the early morning practice?” Alex asked.
“We don’t have a lot of jocks in the houses this year. The university asked us to give priority to our rooms based on academic performance; we lost a lot of the athletes that way. Not that the athletes aren’t academically gifted or whatever, great guys, all of them. They just have other things to balance, right? Uh…” He trailed off.
“I understand.” Alex nodded. “Here’s my card. If you think of anything else, no matter how trivial, please give me a call.”
Genevieve followed Alex back to the rounded sidewalk. “We might as well try talking to them. We shouldn’t just take his word for it.”
“Let’s split up then. You go right, and I’ll go left.”
Genevieve walked up the sidewalk to the neighboring house. She had only taken a few steps when a foul odor stopped her in her tracks. Glancing to her right, she saw the source: a funky pile of vomit. She covered her face with her arm and continued past it. Probably not a good sign, she thought.
Just as she suspected, she was barely able to rouse anyone to the door. The two kids who answered had bags under their eyes and squinted at her as though the brightness was too much. They had all been snoozing until she knocked on the door. They couldn’t remember when they came home, much less whether they saw anyone drive past the house. She thanked them and walked back to the car. Alex was already headed her way.
“Anything?”
He shook his head. “I do not miss hangovers like that. Ouch. That must have been some party.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Cari returned to her office to finish her article. She didn’t have the evidence yet that backed up her theory that Ithaca had died under suspicious circumstances. Rather than get herself and her paper in trouble, she decided to keep it somewhat vague and wrote that the athlete had died of unknown causes. The murder of the sports medicine doctor would obviously be the front-page story. She wondered if she could get the lead reporter on the story to talk to her. Maybe she could share her theory that Delamont was somehow involved in the athlete’s death, which led to his own downfall. She checked the news board to see who was covering it. Her shoulders slumped as she read the name. It was that pompous jerk, Lionel Cardian. He would never collaborate; he was such a fool. She needed someone to bounce ideas off, though. And then it hit her. Genevieve had made detective recently. She sent her old friend from high school a text.
Are you working the Delamont case?
Cari tapped her pencil on her desk while she waited for her friend to respond. They had been really close friends before graduating from high school. Then Cari went to NYU to get her journalism degree and Genevieve went to a different school to get a criminology degree. Cari winced, realizing she couldn’t even remember where her friend went to college immediately. Syracuse? No. SUNY Cortland, that was it. Cari got her master’s degree, finishing in five years, while Genevieve went straight to the police academy. It was no wonder she made detective so quickly. She was brilliant. Her phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Cari, why do you ask?
She thought for a moment. It’s not like she and Genevieve were best friends anymore, but they did keep in touch and would grab a coffee or a drink now and then. Would Gen share details from the case with her?
I’m doing an article on Stephen Ithaca. Have a theory that the deaths are related.
She waited while the cursor blinked, indicating that Gen was typing something back.
I can’t really discuss an open case with you, Cari. I’m right in the middle of it now.
Cari grimaced and tried a different angle.
I learned something today about Dr. Hartfeld that I think you’ll find interesting. Give me a chance, Gen.
She hit send and hoped that Genevieve would listen. After a few minutes, she had all but given up when another text came through.
I’ll call you later. Can’t talk now.
Cari shot her fist into the air. She texted Gen back and suggested their usual spot near the university at 9:30 that evening. Then she went back to finishing up her article for the editor.
* * * * * * * * * *
Genevieve slipped her phone back into her pocket. She could tell that Alex was getting annoyed with her. He probably thought she wasn’t paying attention to the case, but she just wasn’t sure how he would react to her interacting with a reporter. She was a sports reporter, though, not that creep Cardian. She knew Alex hated Cardian, as did everyone else at their station. She glanced over at Alex and saw him quickly looking away. He grunted.
“I hope I’m not keeping you from something,” he said to her.
“Sorry, Alex. A friend was just texting, wanting to catch up. I think I got her squared away.” She hated lying to her partner but didn’t know what else to say yet.
He grunted again. “Okay, so the facts that we know: Delamont went to his office a little before six this morning. He made it into the building and to his office. He met with someone, they got into some sort of argument, and his visitor brained him with the trophy. Did he get any calls or texts this morning or the night before?”
Genevieve pulled up the file with the info the techs had pulled off of Delamont’s phone. “He made a couple of calls the evening before; there are a bunch of SMS texts last night, but nothing from this morning.”
“Let’s pull the numbers of those phone calls. See who he was talking to.”
Genevieve typed the numbers into their database and waited for the names to pull up. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“What?”
“He called Bryan Hartfeld last night. Hartfeld didn’t mention that. Maybe we should bring him in for some more questioning.”
“I don’t think we have enough to bring him in yet. He would have to agree to come because we definitely don’t have enough for an arrest warrant.”
“True, but…” Genevieve paused, wondering if this was the right time to bring up Cari. “Okay, here’s the thing. The person who was texting me earlier? That was my friend Cari. She works for—”
“The Beagle. Gen, are you kidding me? You’re leaking to a reporter?” Alex hissed.
“No! What? No! She texted me. She’s writing an article on Ithaca and thinks the deaths are related. She said that she has some information on Hartfeld that we might find interesting. She’s a sports reporter. She’s a good person. She won’t burn us, Alex.”
He glared at her. “I don’t like it, but I would like to know what she has on Hartfeld besides that he wasn’t exactly forthcoming when we interviewed him. When’s the meet?”
“So now you want to come too?”
“No. I didn’t’ say that. I don’t mix with reporters. Period. I’ll take their information though.”
“Later tonight. We’re meeting for a drink.”
“Speaking of Hartfeld, what kind of car does he drive? The frat guys mentioned a dark-colored sedan. Could that have been his car?”
Genevieve shrugged. “Why don’t you figure out what kind of car he drives while I figure out what Cari knows.”