Whether it was surprise or shock that played across my face, Barbara got a kick out of my expression.
“Now I know how you idolize me, darlin’, but I wasn’t the one that figured out who John Doe really was. That sketch the news was showing brought in his girlfriend. She went to the police, and after they took her statement, they escorted her here to make a positive identification.”
“When was this?”
“Late, a little after midnight. I wasn’t here. My assistant, Max, left me his notes. But Dean won’t be making an official announcement until they can notify Charlie’s parents, children—you know, living relatives. And he’s waiting for me to tell him the actual cause of death. Standard procedure.” Then she laughed to herself. “But you probably know all of this better than I do.”
“I did put in a lot of hours trying to ID victims. So do you think Charlie was a typical hit and run?”
“Nothing typical about it. More like a hit and backed over and ran over again. This was no accident; I can tell you that for sure. Whoever the driver was wanted to make sure the poor guy was good an’ dead. But just because he was wearing the same kind of jacket as the man with Nathan doesn’t mean he’s connected in any way.”
“Well, you know what they say about coincidences . . .” I couldn’t help rolling my eyes.
“Oh, horse doody. People see what they want to see. Like that woman in Mexico who saw Jesus in a tortilla. ’Member her? Our brain is geared up to make familiar images out of scrambled eggs. Logic is what leads the cops to a killer . . . or kidnapper. Gather enough hard-core evidence, and you have a direct path to the bad guy.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. But for now, it’s all I’ve got.”
Barbara chewed on a cookie as she reached for her notes. “Maybe something in here will help you. Max requested the police file before he left for the day. Very thorough young man.” She lowered the reading glasses tucked in the short hair above her forehead. “Let’s have a look-see. Hmm. Charles Kerrigan served a year for assaulting his wife. He was released three months ago. From the look of the tattoos on his hands and arms, I’d say he’s been in and out of trouble his whole life. First there was juvie, then jail for carjacking, lewd and lascivious behavior, and selling drugs. He’s got records in Indiana, Michigan, and Wisconsin.”
“And his girlfriend lives here in Edina?” I asked.
“I called Max this morning to go over his notes. As adorable as that boy is, his handwriting’s atrocious! He went on and on about how surprised he was when Charlie’s girlfriend walked in. Come to find out he’d gone to high school with her. She was one of those popular cheerleader types that all the fellas had a crush on. And if that wasn’t enough, her daddy’s loaded. Max just couldn’t get over a girl like that hookin’ up with someone like Charlie.”
“What was her name?” I asked.
“Ashley Knight.”
I thought a minute. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“No surprise there. Our kids were out of school and on their own when her people moved here. Lizzie wouldn’t have known Ashley. But I bet you’ve seen those cheesy ads on TV. Her daddy’s wearin’ a suit of armor, chargin’ up on a white horse. Then he looks into the camera and, ever so dramatically, says, ‘Do you need rescuing?’ He goes on an’ on about his construction company having a spotless record an’ call his eight-hundred number if you need a hero.” She leaned back in her chair and laughed. “Really makes the most of the Knight name.”
“Nope, I’ve never seen them. But then, I zone out when a commercial comes on.”
“It’s good for a laugh.” The more she thought about it, the funnier it got. “When that horse gets spooked and starts backing up, that fella looks so scared. And that crazy helmet of his goes crooked on his head . . .”
Her laughter was contagious, and I couldn’t help myself. Soon we were both trying to catch our breath, dabbing tears away with napkins.
“Come on now.” I tried sounding serious. “Back to Ashley. Do you know anything else about her?”
“Spoilsport.” Barbara wrinkled up her nose when she realized I didn’t want to play anymore. “Well, she told Max she met Charles at a bar, and there was this instant connection—brought on by booze, no doubt—and within a week, he moved in with her. She’s the one who got Charlie his job, workin’ construction with one of her daddy’s crews.”
“Aside from broken bones and internal injuries, did you find anything that the cops can use?”
“Blue paint. Pieces of it were embedded at the point of the first impact. The vehicle must have been low to the ground because he sustained a lot of injuries from the waist down. I’d say it was a sports car. Oh, and there was something sticky on the fingers of his right hand. Smelled like varnish or paint, which would be reasonable considering the work he was doing. But I won’t be sure until we test it.”
“The witness I spoke to said a man was standing by a sports car that night. She couldn’t be sure of the exact color, but it was dark.”
“And you think that guy was Charlie?” Barbara asked seriously.
“If he owned a car, there’ll be a record at the DMV. I gotta go, Barb. Thanks for everything.” As I started to get up, Barbara came around the desk and hugged me.
“You’re gonna find Nate, don’t worry. An’ when you do, I’ll have John whip up a big ole cake.”