Lieutenant Blankenship chose to remain standing by the fireplace. He sipped coffee and waited in silence for the members of the long-ago science project team to arrive. Heather opened the door, and Badrah Patel made her way into the living room. She chose a chair nearest the door and sat rigid.
With crisp clear words that bore her accent she said, “I don’t know what this is about, but I will not stay long. I have a flight back to San Francisco and I will not miss it. Is that understood?”
“Once your classmates arrive, we’ll have you out of here in twenty minutes.”
“Not a minute more.”
Heather chimed in. “You’re not staying for the class reunion? I thought that’s why you came.”
She looked with hooded dark eyes. “You may have never experienced this, Ms. McBlythe, but my heritage did not lend itself to being well received twenty years ago. Southern states did not put out the welcome mat for people of my background. I can count on one hand the number of friends I had in high school. I have nothing in common with them now. I came because Victor issued me a personal invitation. He said it would be well worth my while to make an appearance.”
“What do you think he meant by that?” asked Steve.
“I can only imagine. Whatever the reason, it died with him.”
Another knock on the door sounded. Dirk Stewart entered, alone and looking the worse for wear. His wrinkled shirt had that slept-in look about it. His hair hadn’t seen a comb, and the five o’clock shadow looked to be well past five. He made for the far corner of a couch and slumped down.
Heather asked if he wanted coffee. “Water,” he replied as he rubbed his temples.
The vindictive streak in Heather wanted to invite a brass band to play.
A final knock on the door announced the arrival of Michelle Stewart. She came with her brother, Lewis Chan, trailing behind her. Lewis looked as disheveled as his brother-in-law.
“Sorry we’re late,” said Michelle with eyes downcast. “I had a hard time waking Lewis. The medicine he takes is effective, but it leaves him very sleepy.”
Lewis slurred, “That’s why I hate to take it.” He stopped, turned to Tabby and gave a deep bow. “Please forgive me for frightening you yesterday. I’m sorry.”
Tabby directed Lewis to a love seat. She sat beside him and held his hand. “All is forgiven. I understand you have an illness. We only control what we can.”
Michelle went to sit by her husband but left plenty of space between them. Heather surmised by their body language Michelle had had enough of her husband’s drunken escapades.
Steve stood with his back to the drapes that were now drawn to hide the balcony. Heather moved next to Leo, forming a barrier to the front door.
Steve thanked those gathered for coming. “The first thing I’d like to do is eliminate people who could not have committed the murder.” He turned his head to the left. “Let’s start with Dirk and Michelle Stewart. Dirk expressed motive when he said he believed Michelle is entitled to compensation for her part of the high school experiment, which eventually led to Victor Yancy’s wealth. He feels Michelle has been cheated. Is that right, Dirk?”
“Michelle did as much work as anyone on that experiment and she never saw a dime.”
Michelle turned to her husband. “That’s not true. Victor and Badrah did most of the work.”
“Shut up, Michelle,” he snapped. “You’ve been cheated for twenty years.”
Steve said, “Dirk thinks they’ve been short-changed. He hoped to score big on a patent infringement case involving his brother-in-law. That isn’t going to happen. Michelle also bought into the pipe-dream and is now deep in debt.”
Dirk narrowed his gaze as he looked at his wife. “What have you done?”
Heather moved in front of Dirk and cast a harsh gaze down on him. “Nothing you didn’t know about, Dirk. Detective Vega and I checked your credit card accounts last night. You applied for as many cards as Michelle did. You were counting on your brother-in-law winning his lawsuit. In fact, you stopped working because you were so convinced he would win. In my business we call that smoking hope-ium. Betting on the outcome of lawsuits before they go to trial is a fool’s game played with real money. I spoke with Victor Yancy’s attorney. You have no idea how stacked the deck is against you. Even if you had the evidence on your side, which you don’t, you still wouldn’t win.”
“No. You’re wrong,” snapped Dirk. “I spoke with Lewis’ lawyer yesterday afternoon. He guaranteed we would win.”
Heather tented her hands on her hips. “He also said it would take a few thousand more dollars. Am I right?”
“Well, yeah. Five grand more for things that came up at the last minute.”
“Do you have five grand?”
“Not yet. But I’ll find a way to get it.”
“It won’t go to trial,” said Heather. “The three of you have been hoodwinked and you’ll never see a penny.”
Steve interrupted, “We’re getting a little off track. I can prove Michelle and Dirk couldn’t have been responsible for Victor’s death. They were in their room at eleven p.m. The hotel record of their room key use verified it. Also, their room did not line up with the fall recreated by forensics.”
“What about Lewis Chan?” asked Badrah.
Steve shook his head. “While Lewis’ room fit with the trajectory of the fall, the amount of damage to the body was more than what would be caused by a fall from that height. It involves complicated calculations that deal with velocity, but the coroner is convinced the fall came from a greater height.”
“Next,” said Steve. “Badrah Patel.”
Badrah sat straighter than her normal ridged posture. “Badrah didn’t arrive until four-fifteen on the afternoon of Victor’s murder. She admitted to meeting with Victor at dinner, but states she did not see him afterwards. The record of her room key use puts her in her room at the time of Victor’s death. And her balcony does not line up with the forensics report. Only Cassie New’s balcony is a straight shot down. Therefore, we know that Victor did not fall nor was he pushed from Badrah’s balcony.”
Steve barreled on. “That leaves us with Cassie New as a possible suspect. Let’s look at the evidence against her. The trajectory of the body is right in line with the balcony of her room. Victor’s fingerprints were on a glass and on the rail of Cassie’s balcony. Also, there’s Victor’s blood on a couch cushion and on a knitting needle.”
“She tried to destroy that evidence,” added Lieutenant Blankenship.
Steve gave a slight smile. “Leo also told us the police found a hypodermic syringe with traces of a very powerful sedative under a couch cushion in Cassie’s room.”
“Then it has to be Cassie,” said Dirk.
“Finally,” said Steve. “Cassie New claims to have been out of her room taking a walk at the time of the murder. Room key use records contradict her claim.” He paused, “Or, do they?”
Steve let the question hang in the air. “Did it occur to anyone but me that there was too much evidence in Cassie’s room? Fingerprints on the balcony. Fingerprints on a glass that should have been replaced by housekeeping. A hypodermic needle left in the couch. Who would leave so much evidence? Cassie New is a smart woman. Circumstances in her life have made her leery of legal issues. She has enough troubles. Why would she contemplate a murder?”
Again Steve let the question hang. He raised his index finger. “The time between the activation of her room key and the 911 call was less than thirty-five seconds. Did you catch that? 911 received a call thirty-five seconds after Cassie New entered her room.”
“So?” asked Badrah, “The evidence shows it was Cassie. You can play psychologist if you want. I prefer quantifiable evidence.”
“Yes,” interrupted Steve. “The evidence does point to Cassie New. But what about the thirty-five seconds. Think about it. Thirty-five seconds to open the door, invite Victor in and complete a murder? Is that enough time? Somehow she would have to inject him with a powerful sedative, without him seeing her. How long did it take to set that up? Next, she’d have to wait and allow the sedative to work. After that she had to put his fingerprints on a glass. And remember, the clock is ticking down from thirty-five seconds.”
“You’re assuming that the time registered by the hotel key card and 911 are identical,” said Badrah. “That could account for a significant difference.”
“We checked that,” said Steve. “There’s a six-second difference, which we took into account when made our thirty-five second determination.”
“Where was I?” asked Steve.
Heather answered, “Victor is knocked out or dead inside the room.”
“Right,” continued Steve. “Cassie would still have to drag him to the balcony, put fingerprints on the railing and heft him over. The fall doesn’t take much time, but it’s a few seconds all the same. The reaction of the person making the call for help took more time. By their testimony, the caller waited at least fifteen seconds to place the call.”
Steve cocked his head. “From everything I’ve given you, none of the people in this room committed the murder. I also contend Cassie New couldn’t have committed the murder. There wasn’t enough time.” He waited to continue. “Yet, someone killed him. We had to dig deeper.”