Chief Brady shifted in his chair. He glanced at Dekker, then back at Bob. Eventually he reached into a folder on the table and took out a sheet of paper, encased in a clear evidence envelope. Carefully, he passed it across. "That was in her purse," he said.
Skinner took Ron Neidholm's letter of proposal to his wife. His face was impassive as he read it, once, twice, three times. When he had finished studying the words, he held it closer and peered at the signature.
"It's his blood," Brady told him. "Remember, the autopsy report mentions a healing cut on his left thumb. The guy sliced himself open and signed it in blood. That's how serious he was about her."
The big Scot shook his head. "This might be evidence against me,
Eddie, but not Sarah, surely. If I'd been in Buffalo and had found that, it might have made me think about fucking killing him."
The chief of detectives drew himself up in his chair. "It's our contention that your wife went to confront him about this letter. We reckon she went to turn him down, he got heavy about it, things turned nasty and she panicked and stabbed him. The only reason we ain't charged her yet is because the DA wants to talk to Vranic about taking a guilty plea to second degree homicide."
"He'll also accept a plea to involuntary manslaughter, Bob," said Sheriff Dekker. The chief shot him an exasperated look. "She could get a pretty light sentence."
"No way," Skinner muttered.
"Think about it, please. Ron Neidholm was a local hero; if this case goes to a jury, any jury… Need I spell it out."
"You heard me, Brad. No way. My wife did not kill this bastard." He turned back to the detective. "So far, Eddie, you've told me about the crime scene; that's all. Tell me about the rest of your investigation."
"What investigation? We caught her in the act, or as good as."
"You did no such fucking thing, because she didn't do it. Your guys got there before she had time to get herself together and call them herself, that's all. Are you actually telling me you don't have any supporting witnesses, to the relationship or anything else?"
"No, I'm not. We have two witnesses, friends of your wife, who have testified that she and Ron were intimate during their college days.
They say that when he went off to play football Sarah dumped him, and went to New York, then Scotland, where she met you. He never married, or had any long-term relationships; when they met again recently, the witnesses say he was ecstatic'
"How did they meet again?"
"At the home of one of the witnesses."
"Babs bloody Walker!" Skinner exclaimed.
Brady looked alarmed. "I can't tell you that."
"You don't have to, man, I know her all too well. The little bitch put them together, and she did it with malice in her mind. Sarah never talked to me about Neidholm until Babs told me the whole story, embellished,
I dare say. You put her on the stand and, under oath, I will have Vranic crucify her.
"Who's your other witness?" he demanded.
"Again," the chief protested, "I can't give you her name. I will tell you that she drove past Neidholm's house last Saturday, and saw them Fallen Gods get out of his car. She says that they appeared very affectionate towards each other. Later she drove past in the other direction, on her way home. She saw Sarah through a bedroom window; she was naked."
"Did she tell anyone about this, apart from you?"
"She told the first witness."
"Then you might as well give me her name, for you can bet that Babs Walker will have told Sarah she was seen, and by whom."
Dekker nodded to his detective. "Might as well, Ed."
"If you say so. The woman's name is Alice Bierhoff."
"So who else did dear Alice tell about my wife and big Ron the football stud?"
Brady blinked. "I don't know."
"You mean you didn't ask her?" Bob exclaimed.
"Hell no. How would it have been relevant?"
"If you can't fucking see that…" he retorted. "It would introduce someone else who knew about the relationship. Another woman, say?
Another woman who had designs on Neidholm herself?"
Sheriff Dekker held up a hand. "Hold on, Bob. You're getting ahead of yourself."
"Maybe so, Brad, but you get my point. This case has not been properly investigated. Eddie," he snapped. "Did your forensic team search for the presence of anyone else in the house?"
"There were no prints, other than those of Neidholm and your wife."
"Killers often wipe them, man. But what they can't do is pick up every single body hair that might fall off them, or every single soil sample they might bring on to the scene on their shoes. Did you search for extraneous samples or did you simply settle for what was on the bed?"
"We saw no need to do more than we did."
"Do you see it now?" Skinner fixed his eyes on Brady, hard, unblinking, intimidating. The man tried to look away, but found that he was unable to do so.
"If it'll satisfy you," he replied, eventually. The words came out as a croak.
"Satisfy me? What sort of a fucking investigator are you? Eddie, every miscarriage of justice that I can think of came about because of coppers like you, people who went for the first obvious solution and, because the facts seemed to fit, didn't bother to look any further. A detective has a public duty to carry out a complete, exhaustive investigation of every case, whatever the circumstances. There is no such thing as enough evidence, especially when there is the slightest possibility that some of it might actually disprove the guilt of your obvious culprit." He stabbed the air with his index finger, aiming it straight at Brady.
"So yes, you get your forensic team back on the job, if they haven't contaminated the whole damn scene, and get them looking for traces of someone else, the person who actually killed Ron Neidholm. And as for the Bierhoff woman, if you won't interview her properly, then I will."
"Now wait a Goddamned minute," Brady squealed. "You cannot do that.
I'll arrest you if you try."
Skinner glared at him, until the man flinched, visibly. "Bring help," he murmured. "Lots of it."
"Now, gentlemen, please," Dekker exclaimed. "Let's cool our tempers here. Bob, you have made your point. There are things that need to be done in this investigation that haven't been. They will be, though, I'll see to that. However," he continued, "I have to say, as a lawyer as well as sheriff, that I still see a pretty good case against Sarah.
On the basis of what we have now, we have to proceed. You mentioned politics a while back. Given the victim, if we just let her walk on this, the flak would be unbelievable. We're going to need more than alternative theories to keep this away from a jury. I'll go as far with you as I can, but…"
"Give me twenty-four hours," Skinner asked, his voice calm once more, 'until you charge and arraign her, and keep her name secret till then.
Plus, I want to go with Eddie as an observer when he re-interviews the Bierhoff woman… I've never met her; he doesn't have to tell her who I am… and I want her and Babs Walker warned that there will be consequences if they leak Sarah's name to the media before any charges have been laid."
Dekker nodded. "You can have all of that. The last part's already been done. The DA himself laid down the law to the wits about talking to the press." He turned to the chief. "Eddie, when will you see Bierhoff?"
"What's wrong with now?" Skinner rumbled. "The clock's ticking already."
Forty-Nine
"We've got to take a decision on this, Stevie." There was a degree of impatience in George Regan's tone, but Steele tolerated it, partly because he liked the gruff detective sergeant, but mainly because this time he knew that he was right.
"Go on, then," he conceded. "Talk it through."
"Okay. We've been through the Candela and Finch staff lists, concentrating on males, because whatever the Vargas woman might have put in her picture, the God who made that wind-up call to Andrea Strachan was definitely a man.