Natalie walked into the interview room and tried to gauge Russ Swinton’s mental state. He didn’t seem nervous, so much as tired. His eyes were bleary. He had his attorney with him. Shadows drifted across the floor. The days grew shorter in November.
She was glad Russ had representation. He would need protection because she and Luke were going to add up all the missing details and memory lapses. Russ would have to stay on message. The way the system worked, the truth didn’t always come out and justice didn’t always prevail.
Introductions were made. The attorney’s name was Tim Hooks, and he emphasized the esquire at the end of his name. Everyone took a seat. Natalie began the interview.
“We found human remains in the park,” she said. “Identified as Lily Kingsley.”
Russ turned his glassy eyes on her. His face was raked with sadness.
“What’s the question?” the attorney asked.
“Were you in the park at any time since last Friday when you judged the Monster Mash contest?”
“No,” Russ told her. He didn’t flinch or look away.
“At any time, did you place the remains there?” she asked.
“Certainly not.”
“The bartender at the Village Idiot told us you had a couple of drinks on Sunday night,” Natalie said. “But you said you only had a nightcap.”
“A nightcap or two,” Russ responded dully. “I don’t remember exactly. I had a few drinks at the party also…”
“You don’t have to explain,” Hooks told him quietly. “Just answer the question, yes or no.”
“Perhaps it was two drinks.”
Natalie didn’t get it—why would Russ kill a young patient in such a gruesome fashion after all these years of hiding behind a mask of normalcy? She could’ve understood date rape or abduction, but not homicide. Not the way those body parts were staged.
“Lily Kingsley had an appointment with you at the conservatory clinic about a year ago. You treated her for wrist strain. You sent her to a physical therapist and saw her for a follow-up appointment a couple of months later. And yet, when I asked you recently, you said you didn’t remember treating her.”
Russ slumped in his chair and looked at his hands.
“It’s okay,” his attorney told him. “You can answer the question.”
When he looked at her, the muscles around his eyes twitched a little. “I’ve seen thousands of patients over the years … I don’t remember every single one.”
“You don’t remember Lily Kingsley?” Natalie repeated. “I find that hard to believe, because she disappeared six months ago from the conservatory, and it was all over the news. Your colleagues must’ve mentioned it.”
“I’ve never been particularly good with names and faces. They all become a blur after a while. I remember their files, though. If you showed me her file with a description of her injuries, I might’ve remembered.”
“You lied several times about Morgan,” Natalie said. “Why?”
Russ lowered his eyes. “I was embarrassed.”
“Is that it? Because you told me you went home directly after the party,” Natalie reminded him, “but then, later on, you said you went out for a drink. Then you changed it to two drinks. What is it?”
He looked up. “I had a couple of nightcaps.”
“Why would you lie about that?”
“Like I said, I was nervous.”
“So you know how bad this looks?”
“Yes.” He sighed resignedly.
“And you have no idea what happened to Morgan Chambers that night?”
“No.” He rested his shaky hands on the table.
“Do you know anything at all about her disappearance?”
“I swear to God, I’d never hurt her, for crying out loud,” Russ blurted.
“Just answer the question,” Tim Hooks said.
Natalie felt sorry for him. It was unfair, what she was doing—trying to trip him up, to catch him in another lie. So far he was guilty of having a midlife crisis and dating a young patient, and that was creepy enough, but it wasn’t a felony. “What else can you tell me about the party? About Morgan?”
Russ folded his hands on the table. “She seemed upset that the record producer didn’t show up for the party. I went to refresh her drink, and when I got back, she was gone. Someone told me she called an Uber.”
“Who told you?”
“An employee.”
“And how long did you stay after she left?”
“About half an hour.”
“The tapes show you leaving ten minutes later.”
“That could be.” He shrugged. “I don’t like parties when I’m alone.”
Natalie decided to take a different tack. “You were a judge in the contest. Did you know any of the other finalists?”
“No.”
“Did the judges mingle with the finalists, before or after the contest?”
“Mingle?” He shook his head, perplexed. “No.”
“Did you notice any strange behavior? Anything the other contestants might’ve said or done?”
He chewed thoughtfully on his lower lip. “No.”
“Did they all accept the judges’ final decision?”
Russ glanced at his attorney, then told Natalie, “I don’t understand.”
“Just answer the best you can,” his attorney advised.
“Well,” Russ said, “you could see the disappointment on some of their faces. But nobody threw a tantrum or acted out, if that’s what you mean.”
“So if we talk specifically about the party, is there anything else that stands out?”
“No, nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
He leaned forward and blurted out, “I didn’t hurt her. You know that, Natalie. I’ll admit I tried to cover up a few things out of humiliation and embarrassment. I mean, look at me. I’m a middle-aged guy dating somebody decades younger than himself, and that was a mistake. I won’t repeat it. I’m a doctor. I’m trained to save lives. That’s all I’ve ever known. Why would I hurt anyone? I liked Morgan a lot. She was a delightful young lady. You’ve known me your entire life, Natalie. You know I didn’t do this. I’m completely innocent.”
“Russ, that’s enough,” his lawyer told him. “Is there anything else, Detective?”
She decided to lay it all out there. “As a doctor, you’re at risk for chemical dependence and substance abuse. It’s been statistically proven. Have you ever had access to illicit drugs like GHB or ecstasy?”
“What?” He drew back. “No, certainly not.”
“He’s answered all your questions,” the attorney said. “We’ve cooperated fully. I think we can conclude our meeting here.” By interrupting, Swinton’s attorney was only trying to prevent his client from sticking his head in a noose.
“One last thing,” she said. “Did you ever treat Bella Striver for a wrist injury?”
“Who?” he said, looking befuddled.
“I’ve told you about my friend Bella who went missing on the night of my high school graduation,” she said angrily. “I’ve mentioned her at least a couple of times. You don’t remember?”
“He said he doesn’t remember,” Tim Hooks said, gathering up his paperwork and briefcase. He stood up. “Let’s go, Russ. Thank you, Detective.”
Natalie was heading back to her office when her phone rang.
It was Dennis the dispatcher. “Someone named Poppy Chambers says she needs to talk to you.”