40

Melissa St. John sat with her chin up, pointed towards the window, and her arms crossed. She barely blinked when Lauren and Nolan came in. Ben Lema had read Melissa her rights, leaving the white printed card on the table next to her.

“Let’s get this over with,” Melissa said as they settled into their seats across from her. Her sparkly green eye shadow glittered under the overheard light. Combined with the cream-colored sweater she had on that was generously sprinkled with tone-on-tone sequins, she reminded Lauren of some half-assed, overaged fairy princess wannabe.

“You don’t have to talk to us,” Nolan reminded her. “This is a voluntary interview. You can get up and leave whenever you want.” Lauren and Nolan had agreed before the interview started to only concentrate on the dead and missing women and only talk about Reese’s shooting if Melissa was the one who brought it up.

“What I want,” she said enunciating every word, “is for the police to stop harassing me and my boyfriend. He came in, voluntarily. I’ve come in, voluntarily. After today, you better lock me up if you want me to step foot in this building, because I’m done.”

Lauren launched right in, before Melissa decided to revoke her cooperation, such as it was. “Do you know where David Spencer is?”

“Right now? At this very second? No.” She locked eyes with Lauren. “He went to work yesterday and he never came home. I’m worried sick that he’s okay. I don’t know where he is.”

“Would you tell us if you did?” Lauren asked.

“Sure, I would. If I knew, which I don’t. Why wouldn’t I? Has he done something wrong?” The corners of Melissa’s lips turned up in a hint of a smirk. “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Not rising to the bait, Lauren pressed on. “David doesn’t have a job. He’s gone at all hours of the day. He switches cars all the time. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?”

Now she gave Lauren a full sharp smile, as if her answer itself would cut her. “He does have a job. He works for me. And that requires him to switch out vehicles and be out all hours of the day. And night.”

“He works for you?” Lauren wanted her acknowledgment of her employing him clarified for the camera, so there was no doubt.

“Yes. Off the books.” She threw her hands in the air in mock surrender. “Okay. I’ve confessed to tax evasion. Call the IRS and have me put away.”

“What does David do for you?” Nolan asked. He was obviously going to try to play the good cop in this scenario.

Melissa leaned back in her chair, slouching a little. “Whatever needs to be done. If a tenant has a leaky pipe, he goes over to the property. Electrical problems at four in the morning? I send him along.”

“Now David’s a plumber and a master electrician?” Lauren asked.

Melissa’s eyes narrowed. Her voice got tight. “No. But he can call one on his cell and wait at the property for them to show up. Some things he can do himself, like install new batteries in all the smoke detectors or winterize certain unoccupied properties. It’s not rocket science.”

Lauren wasn’t convinced. “And you pay him for this?”

She nodded. “Cash. In my business, flipping properties, a lot of transactions are strictly cash.”

“How convenient.”

Melissa didn’t even bristle at the sarcasm in Lauren’s voice. “I know you want to believe David is some criminal mastermind,” she countered, “but the fact is he’s just a young guy, working odd hours for his girlfriend, and trying to get his college degree. I wish our lives were more exciting, but they’re just not.”

Lauren wasn’t willing to accept that answer. “Oh, come on. David never came home late? Maybe with weird stains on his clothes or smelling like another girl? He doesn’t shut his laptop when you walk in the room? You’ve never seen him with a strange phone, maybe a burner phone, and thought ‘What’s up with this?’”

“What my partner is trying to get at,” Nolan swooped in, trying to rescue the interview with his calm, even voice, “is whether you’ve seen anything in the last year that’s made you suspicious?”

“That’s a broad statement. You keep saying the word suspicious. What’s considered suspicious? He’s never come home smelling like sex. I’ve never seen a strange phone. Does he tell me every move he makes? No. But I don’t nag him about it, either.”

“Ever see him on a computer cruising online dating sites?”

She snorted back a laugh. “Oh, please. Do you think he’d still be in my house if I found out about something like that?” She leaned forward toward Lauren and told her, “And I’m a jealous person. I admit that, okay? So I do check.”

Lauren reached under her chair where she had stashed a folder before the interview started. She produced four pictures: Katherine Vine, Amber Anderson, Isabella Colon, and Brianna McIntyre. “Have you ever seen any of these people before?”

Melissa took the glossy 8x10 pictures from her and looked at each one. “Only on the news,” she replied, handing them back.

Lauren took a deep breath and circled away from her attack mode. “You know what he went to trial for, right?”

Melissa’s mouth pulled into a tight smile. “You got him off on a murder charge. A jury of his peers looked at all the evidence and found him not guilty. Thank you for that.”

“That jury didn’t know about his dead girlfriend, Amber Anderson.” It was Nolan again, with the soft touch. “Did he ever talk to you about Amber?” At Amber’s mention, Lauren held up her picture.

Melissa’s hand flew to a beaded, crocheted rose pinned to her shoulder. “We talked about that. She ran away all the time. They weren’t going out anymore when she took off. And you guys don’t even know how she died.” Her fingers plucked at the beads.

Lauren tried to match Nolan’s tone. “She was too decomposed.”

Melissa’s confident mask slipped for a second as both of the detectives sat silent, letting her absorb that last statement. She pulled so hard at her flower one of the beads popped off. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” Her voice sounded small as she tried to stuff the bead in her front pants pocket.

“We want you to be safe,” Nolan was leaning in, forearms on his knees, hands clasped together in front of him. “You have guns.” It wasn’t a question.

“Legally. I have guns legally for my protection, and I’ve had them since before I knew David Spencer.”

“You have a pistol permit.” Nolan held up the document. “Do you also have long guns? Rifles or shotguns?”

She scratched at the side of her nose with one long, manicured nail. “Two rifles. Those were my father’s. My dad was a hunter and so are my brothers.”

“Is one a .22?” Lauren asked.

“I think one is a .22, but you can go into any sporting goods store and buy one of those without even having a permit.”

“Do you carry often?”

“Not really. Some of my properties aren’t in the best neighborhoods. Only when I know I’ll be dealing in cash.”

“Does David take them with him when he goes on jobs?” Nolan asked.

“No, he doesn’t take them with him on jobs. That would be illegal. And we both know someone who’d love to catch him carrying without a pistol permit.” Her eyes slid sideways to Lauren, then back to Nolan. “And yes, before you ask, we’ve both shot them at a shooting range. My brothers belong to a rod and gun club.”

“Where are your guns now?”

“In my gun safe. Like I said, I only take one out with me when I’m going to collect rents. I’d tell you that you’re welcome to come in my house and look, but I think I’d rather have you get a search warrant.”

“With all these bad things happening and his name coming up”—Nolan inched his chair as close as he could to her without actually touching—“you don’t wonder if David might be involved?”

Tears should have been welling up in her eyes; Melissa should have tearfully shaken her head and told them in a tiny voice she couldn’t believe he’d ever do such a thing. Instead, Melissa seemed to rally her strength. “If you had any evidence, you’d arrest him. You don’t have shit if you’re talking to me.”

“A lot of people around David seem to get hurt,” Nolan said.

“No,” she shot back, pointing a glittering nail at Lauren, “a lot of people seem to get hurt around her. Now her partner is shot. So let’s pin that on David too. Right? This is bullshit.” She stood up.

“Sit down.” Lauren’s last nerve snapped. She jumped from her chair, partially blocking Melissa’s way.

“No.” Melissa tried to maneuver around to get out the door.

“Where is David Spencer?” Lauren demanded.

“I don’t know,” Melissa hissed, then looked up into the camera. “I want a lawyer. I don’t want to talk to any cops, now or in the future. Let me get out of here.”

“Relax. You can go.” Nolan got to his feet, reached past Lauren, and opened the door for Melissa.

They followed her out into the main Homicide office, where Melissa grabbed her coat off the rack and headed for the door. Lauren’s anger bubbled up as they trailed behind her all the way to the elevator. Melissa stabbed the down button five times with her ridiculously long fingernail.

“I just want you to know,” Lauren told her as the doors bonged open, “that I think it’s pathetic, the way David uses you to get his rocks off.”

Nolan gripped Lauren’s shoulder as Melissa stomped onto the elevator. She turned to face them with a snarky smile as the doors slid shut. “Saved that last one for off camera, huh?”

The doors slid shut in Lauren’s face.