When we left Nel Modesto’s office, we headed straight for the police department. I called Jacque and told her to bring anyone she could and meet us there as well. Kate was already on the phone with Sergeant Corbin Russell, her partner.
We pulled in a few minutes later, Samson hopping out and tagging along, his tail wagging. The dog was as much a part of the police force as any of the other cops. And it didn’t hurt he was constantly lavished with attention when he wandered freely around the station.
Kate led us to a small meeting room, briefing Corbin on what Nel had told us, and just as she was winding up, Jacque and TJ walked in as well.
“Tim was conked out at his desk,” Jacque said. “Figured he must need the rest and, well, it wouldn’t hurt if we had someone in front of the computer if we need it.”
“We may,” I said, running quickly through what we had just learned. As I talked, I watched Corbin. The man was one of the most logical I’ve ever met. It was a hard thing for a person in his position and I appreciated his ability to always make the tough call. The wheels in his mind were clearly already turning and as I finished up, I looked across the table at him.
“You’re thinking it’s circumstantial, aren’t you?”
He sighed, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “You know it is, Harry. And you know what kind of a bind that puts us in. How many times have you been completely sure someone committed a crime, but been unable to prove it beyond the proverbial shadow of a doubt? Everything in here,” he said and gestured toward the file, “makes sense to you and me, but we have to think like a jury here. There’s no sense in dragging this woman into court only to have her walk back out even more confident than she already is.”
Heather started to speak up and then held back. I knew what she was thinking as well, that this case was obvious, that eventually enough coincidences became a kind of proof in themselves. But it was going to be a tall order to sit down with twelve people who’ve never been to the Heights, probably envied those who did get to live there, that there was anything other than jealousy and glamour surrounding the place. After all, why would a woman as well off as Collie Newman need to kill anyone? She could probably just buy whatever she needed. The fact that one of those purchases was more than likely an attack on me was entirely outlandish, but it was flimsy.
We spent the next hour coming at the case from every angle we could, yet continuously coming up against the fact that, while Nel had done some solid research and had put together a more than intriguing story, at the end of the day, that’s all it was. Just a complicated set of intrigues that sounded enticing but could also be nothing more than misunderstandings or smoke and mirrors.
“I know we’re all thinking it.” Corbin leaned back in his chair, pushing the pages toward the middle of the table. “But I guess I’ll be the one to say it. Any lawyer worth his or her salt would rip this thing to shreds in no time. If they were really feeling irritated, we might be looking at a libel suit. This Modesto woman likely knows that as well as we do, which is why she’s passing the buck to us, so to speak.”
“So we just hang back and wait for Collie Newman to do something else?” Jacque said, her annoyance clear in her voice. “We’ve got solid reasons to think she’s already killed two women. I’m not too keen on waiting for the third, or fourth, or however many it takes before someone basically catches her in the act.”
Corbin nodded, his eyes sympathetic. “I understand your frustration. And just because I’m not reacting as strongly, please don’t think I’m not feeling the same way. But…” He held his hands out, palms up. “We don’t have a lot of choices here. Two rich women got drunk and fell into their pools. I don’t know about you, but if that’s what a lawyer argues, I’d be tempted to believe it. It’s not unreasonable.”
Jacque folded her arms and sat back. She knew he was right; we all did. But it didn’t take the sting out of it. Just then my phone started to buzz in my pocket. I assumed it was Amanda checking in. The day was winding down already and I should’ve been in touch with her by now. To my surprise, the caller ID said Mason Willis.
“What can I do for you, Mason?” I asked, stepping to a corner of the small room to try and maintain a bit of privacy.
“I’m not sure…” His voice was strange, a mix of strong emotion tempered with what was maybe concern, or even embarrassment. I knew the tone well. I’d heard it more than enough times when I was on the force and twice as often once I’d opened my own detective agency. He was worried something had happened, but he was equally worried he was making the wrong choice by calling the authorities.
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” I said. “I’ll let you know if we need to do something about it.”
He sighed, gathering himself, trying to keep his emotions in check. “All right. I’m at Hattie’s right now. I came over to gather up a few of her things and some of the stuff I’d left here. Nothing important really… sentimental things. I don’t know what’s going to happen with the place, but I figured her folks will eventually sell everything they can.”
“Right,” I said, unsure of where this was going. “Nothing wrong with that. As long as it’s within reason.”
“Yeah, no. I mean, I know. It’s nothing of any value really. Letters, photos. Stuff you couldn’t sell and no one would really want.”
“Okay,” I tried to coax him forward. My head was starting to hurt again and this day was dragging on much longer than I needed it to.
“The thing is, since I’m here, I opened some of the windows. Kind of bring in some fresh air and… well, it sounds like there’s something going on at Collie Newman’s place.”
“What?” I held up a hand, gesturing for the others in the room to quiet down for a moment. “I’m going to put you on speaker, all right?”
“Sure. Whatever you need to do.”
I set the phone in the middle of the table, speaking clearly. “Mason, I have some of my team here, whom you’ve met. We’re also with two members of the Chattanooga PD. That’s nothing for you to worry about, but I wanted you to be aware.”
“Oh… look, Mr. Starke, I’m not even sure this is anything.”
I knew the presence of police made most people second-guess or clam up, but he deserved to know. “Just tell us what’s concerning you. I trust everyone in this room, both for intellect and discretion.”
“Well…”
For a moment, I thought I was going to lose him.
“Do it for Hattie,” Heather spoke up.
Mason sighed again and began speaking. “Well, everyone, I was telling Mr. Starke I came over to Hattie’s to get a few things. Nothing important really. But while I was here, I opened the windows. A place like this needs to breathe just like any other home. You’d be surprised how often…” I could practically see him shake his head through the phone, trying to stay on track. “The point is, there’s a lot of yelling going on over at Collie Newman’s place. I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, but it’s kind of hard to not hear it, you know? Anyway.” He took a deep breath. “Someone keeps talking about a spiked drink, and I guess maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but do you think that’s what happened to Hattie?”
Before I could even reply, chairs were scooting back from the table as everyone came to the same conclusion.
“Mason,” I said. “We don’t know anything for sure, but you did the right thing by calling. Stay where you are. Keep your head down. We’re on our way.”
I got off the phone with him and looked at Jacque. “Maybe we won’t have to wait as long as you thought.”
“Let’s just get there before the next person ends up in the pool,” she said.