'Which means she was moved…'
'Right, and after she'd been dead a while.'
It was well after midnight. Thieu trailing behind him, Glitsky stopped in the doorway to the library and caught Dooher in an unguarded moment, sitting back in his wingchair, legs crossed, talking with another man. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Dooher's expression was bland, his body language relaxed.
It had been a week now since Abe had lost his wife and he had yet to draw an easy breath. His tired muscles seemed as though their ache would never end and his jangled nerves, strung with fatigue, twitched like a thoroughbred's.
And here was Dooher, his wife gone less than three hours, all but holding court. The comparison invited conclusions. Glitsky was going to have to concentrate to keep his personal feelings from intruding.
This had to be by the book.
Today's date is Wednesday, June 8th. The time is approximately 0020
hours. This is Sergeant Inspector Abraham Glitsky, star number 1144.
/ am currently at 4215 Ravenwood Drive, San Francisco. Present
and being interviewed is Mark Dooher, Caucasian male, 4/19/47.
With me is Sergeant Inspector Paul Thieu, star 2067, and Mr Dooher's
attorney Wes Farrell.
Q: Mr Dooher, I'll be tape-recording your statement, as you can see.
Do you have any objection to this?
A: No, none.
Q: But, for the record, your attorney did raise some objections to
your coming downtown to give your statement.
A: (Farrell) Sergeant, we've been through that. It's after midnight
and the man's wife has just been killed. Since Mr Dooher wasn 't home
all night, he couldn't possibly be a suspect in this crime. He voluntarily
has agreed to give a statement here and now. There's no reason to go
downtown.
A: (Dooher) It's all right, Wes. What do you need for the statement,
Sergeant?
Q: How about starting by telling what you found here tonight?
A: All right. At about nine forty-five, I got home from hitting a couple
of buckets of golf balls at the San Francisco Driving Range, (pause)
As you know, I've had some bad luck with driving ranges lately.
Q: You got home at quarter to ten…
A: Right. I came inside…
Q: What car were you driving and where did you park?
A: I was driving my Lexus. It's light brown with personalized plates
reading ESKW. I drove up the driveway and parked in the garage
behind the house. I closed the garage door behind me – it's automatic
– and walked out the side door of the garage on the path next to my
back lawn, to the driveway, and in the side door.
Q: Was the door locked?
A: I don't remember, to tell you the truth. I wouldn 't have noticed
anyway. I always just put my key in first, give it a turn, it opens. I
don't remember specifically.
Q: Do you remember if the overhead light was on?
A: No. I don't believe it was. It must have burned out.
Q: Okay. What did you do then?
A: I went to turn off the alarm system – we have a box next to the
doors – and I noticed it hadn 't been set.
Q: Was that unusual?
A: Unfortunately, no. Sheila… that was one of the things she wasn't…
A: (Farrell) Give him a minute, here, would you? You all right, Mark?
A: (Dooher) Yeah, okay. Sorry. Sheila often forgot to set the alarm
system. She would go in and out a lot and thought it was silly -
unnecessary – while we were home. She thought it was more for when
we went on vacation, times like that. She thought I was paranoid.
Q: All right. Then what?
A: Then I went into the kitchen, did the dinner dishes which were still
there. Then I had a beer and read the mail.
Q: You thought your wife had gone up to bed?
A: I knew she had gone up to bed, Sergeant. We'd split a bottle of
wine for dinner. She hit the wall around seven-thirty and said she
wanted to turn in. So I thought I'd go to the range. Anyway, I finished
my beer and went upstairs…
Q: Did you touch your wife?
A: No. I turned on the lights and it was obvious she was dead. I
suppose I froze a minute or two. I don't remember. Then I guess I
called nine one one.
Q: And then what?
A: Then I sat on the stairs and waited. No, I checked the other upstairs
rooms, too.
Q: You didn't try to resuscitate her, anything like that?
A: (Farrell) Sergeant, he's answered that. She was obviously dead.
Q: Did you touch the body at all?
A: (Dooher) There was blood all over the place! There wasn't any
doubt – you can tell when somebody's dead. I didn 't know what to do,
to tell you the truth. I don't even know exactly what I did. I was afraid.
I suddenly thought the guy might still be in the house. I don't know. I
just don't know.
Q: I'm sorry, Mr Dooher, but I need a specific answer to the question.
Did you at any time up to right now touch Mrs Dooher's body?
A: No.
Q: All right, let's go back. Earlier in the day, before…
A: (Farrell) What's that got to do with anything, Sergeant?
A: (Dooher) It's okay, Wes. My attorney here wants to make sure I
don't say anything to incriminate myself. But I can't incriminate myself
since I didn't do anything. How far back do you want to go, Sergeant?
Last week?
Q: Let's start when you got off work.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Christina stood by the French doors and watched Dooher move about his backyard, greeting the other mourners.
She was fighting the feeling that she really didn't belong here, guilt that in her heart she didn't mourn Sheila Dooher's passing. It freed Mark – there was no sense denying it. She sighed heavily.
'I'm glad you're here. I don't know anybody.'
She turned to see Sam Duncan, her arm still in a cast. 'You know me now. But why are you here?'
Sam gestured behind her. 'Wes. He's taking over details for Mark for a while. Even without the police stuff, this whole thing is just so horrible.'
Christina laid a hand on Sam's arm. 'What police stuff?'
'Damn.' Sam's face clouded. 'I'm not supposed to talk about it. Wes doesn't want any rumors going around.' She lowered her voice. 'He's worried that they're going to say Mark did it, killed his wife.'