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GORDON AND SOLOMON exchanged a glance. Gordon rubbed a forefinger beneath an eye, signaling his officer should ask the next questions.
“That’s right, Mr. Budweitz,” Solomon said, his expression not wavering. “How did you get to the store?”
Bud stopped studying his fingers and went back to tugging his ear. “Neighbor drove me.”
Gordon raised his pen, and Solomon made a show of holding his phone closer to Bud. “Does this neighbor have a name?”
Bud shifted from ear tugging to head bobbing. “Of course. Darlene.”
“Last name?” Solomon asked.
“Umm.” Bud gazed heavenward. “I think it’s Girard. Or Gerald. I’ve only lived there a couple weeks. Don’t know the neighbors that well.”
“Not a problem. We can check,” Solomon said. “Which apartment is hers?”
No hesitation this time. “Across and one down from me. Three seventeen.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind showing us the receipt from your shopping trip,” Gordon said.
“If I have it, sure.”
“That’s all right,” Solomon said in his best good-cop tone. “We can check with your credit card company.”
Gordon waited to see whether Bud would claim he used cash, but these days, it was a safe enough bet he’d charged his groceries. He seemed to be thinking about it, weighing the options. Claiming cash when it had been credit, knowing Solomon was going to check his card record—which he couldn’t, not until Bud needed a much stronger alibi—seemed enough of a deterrent.
“I haven’t emptied the trash yet, so I’m sure I can find it somewhere,” Bud said.
“Did this neighbor also drive you to pick up your Tacoma?” Solomon took half a step closer.
“No.” Bud shifted on the bench. “I called for a ride. You can check that, too. It was the Evergreen Ride Share.”
“Great. You understand we’re asking these questions so the Centennial police can move on to find Yvonne’s killer,” Solomon said. “Can you think of anyone who’d want her dead? That would help a lot.”
Bud frowned, scratched his head. “Not really. The only people she talked about were her friends from work. They had girls’ night out from time to time. She never complained about any of them, at least not to me.”
“Would anyone benefit from her death?” Gordon asked.
Bud’s eyes widened. “Me, I guess. We each had a will, leaving everything to the other one. Drew them up when we first got married. I never changed mine, and she never said anything about changing hers.”
“Thank you, Mr. Budweitz.” Solomon noted the interview was over, and slipped his phone into his pocket. “You’re free to go.”
He stood. “That’s all? You’re not going to take my fingerprints? You know, for elimination?”
Gordon rolled his eyes. The guy still thought he was in a television show. “Would you like that?”
“Well, since I’m innocent, it wouldn’t hurt, would it? That way when the CSI people collect the prints, they’ll know which ones are mine.”
The techs had probably collected prints already, but Solomon might as well take Bud’s now. “You have your kit?” he said to Solomon.
“Sure,” Solomon said. “In my vehicle. Be right back.”
Solomon took Bud’s prints and handed him a disposable wipe. “You’ll have better results cleaning up in the restroom.”
Bud scuttled into Finnegan’s.
“What’s your take?” Gordon asked.
“Until the grocery store bit, I was leaning toward total innocence. Now, it’s six of one.” He held out a hand, palm down, and waggled it back and forth. “I’ll get this interview to the Centennial and Evergreen cops, let them check out his grocery store alibi, check with the car company. I’m sure they’re already looking into the wife’s contacts.”
“I’m inclined to believe him,” Gordon said. “Although what we do isn’t what he sees on television, he had to have an idea of what we were looking for, and until he mentioned the grocery store run, gave us reasonable responses. Nothing that sounded like a complicated, fabricated story. Then again, saying he was asleep and watching television, while it makes sense given his overindulgence, is tough to prove.”
“Agreed. Since the reason we’re involved at this point is because he showed up at Finnegan’s, we really don’t have anything else to do. I’ll file the report, get his prints to Centennial.” Solomon lifted his brows. “You think you can plead a case for a Live Scan? Save the cumbersome rolling and messy ink.”
Gordon considered it, and not for the first time. “I can add it to my list, but everyone we arrest has to be processed by County. How much fingerprinting do we actually do?”
Solomon shrugged. “You’re right, but it was worth a shot.”
“While you’re sitting in my chair, feel free to make a prioritized list of what you’d like to see for the department.”
“Will my list go to the mayor or Santa Claus?”
Gordon suppressed a laugh. “Take your pick. I’m thinking it’s fifty-fifty.” Gordon glanced at his phone display. “I’m officially turning over my duties to you. I have a trip to get ready for.”
Solomon stiffened to attention and threw a salute. “I won’t let you down, Chief.”
Smiling, Gordon returned the salute. “Don’t worry about me. It’s Mapleton you need to watch out for.”
“Roger that.”
Gordon turned to leave. He’d taken about ten paces when Solomon called after him.
“Hey, Chief. Wait up. I forgot the most critical part of being Acting Chief.”
Gordon spun. Solomon jogged toward him.
Gordon did a quick mental assessment, searching for anything he’d forgotten. “What’s that, Ed?”
“With both you and Angie gone, who’s going to bring in goodies for the breakroom?”