Decker nodded. “And I missed all that because of this.”
He led Mars back into the living room and pointed at the light switch on the wall. “That’s where we found the fingerprint. My attention was drawn to it because there was a smear of blood on the light switch plate. No print associated with it. Like someone had rubbed their arm or hand against it or something. But right after I saw the blood, I checked for a print, and there it was. And it matched Hawkins perfectly. Far more than you need to hold up in court. This was a home run. And he said he’d never been here, so how else could it have gotten here unless he’d been here that night? It showed he was lying, and that pretty much sealed his fate. That and the DNA under Abigail’s nails.”
“And you said it would be hard to forge a print.”
“Yes. But to do it really well, you need some knowledge of forensics and you need some special equipment deployed in a multistep process, and even with all that there are a lot of things that can go wrong.”
“Damn, didn’t know it was that complicated.”
“You obviously never watched CSI.”
“I was in prison for most of that time, Decker. And for obvious reasons, CSI wasn’t a real popular show for the inmates.”
“Bottom line is I have confidence in the expert who said he believed Hawkins’s print was genuine.”
“Then Hawkins had to be here, no way around it.”
Decker wasn’t listening. He was staring transfixed at the switch plate. Then he ran back into the kitchen and looked at the light switch there. Moments later he hustled into another room and did the same. Mars followed him into each new space with a bewildered look on his face.
“Decker, you okay?”
Decker returned to the living room, dug into his pocket, and pulled out a Swiss Army knife. He deployed the screwdriver.
“Dollars to donuts this is the same light switch plate that was on the wall that night.”
“Okay, so what?”
“It’s different from the switch plates in the other rooms.”
Decker unscrewed the plate and removed it from the wall. Underneath was revealed the imprint of a smaller rectangle.
“Do you see that, Melvin?”
Mars looked at him. “Yeah, but what does that mean?”
“The original switch plate was smaller. That’s the outline there between the painted area and what was underneath the plate. You can see where the paint faded because it was exposed to light all those years. They needed the same size or a bigger plate there to cover it.”
“Wait a second, you’re saying somebody got Hawkins’s print on that plate and brought it here and replaced the other plate with this one?”
“Yes.”
“Damn.”
“That way his real print is on the original surface. That’s why my expert swore it wasn’t a forgery.” He paused. “Instead it was a fabrication. They brought the print to the crime scene, but in a way that was beyond suspicion. A glass or other object introduced to a crime scene can easily be placed there. A light switch plate? It seems like part of the house. Immovable. But it’s not. Just two screws, in fact. Like I just took out.”
“Somebody went to a lot of effort to frame the guy.”
“Which means the motivation was pretty significant. But this is not about Meryl Hawkins. He was a pawn. It could have been anybody. But they picked him for a variety of reasons. And this shows the murders weren’t the result of a random burglary gone bad. The focus now should be the victims. Who would want them dead?”
“Well, there were four of them. I guess we can discount the kids. I don’t see some middle schooler who got his feelings hurt doing this.”
Decker nodded. “So David Katz and Don Richards. Either or both.”
“You said they had done business together. Katz was the businessman and Richards was the banker.”
“Right.”
“Had they become friends?”
“Not that we could find. Rachel Katz said no. The Richardses were older and had kids, and they didn’t. And they were both too busy with work to form friendships like that, at least that’s what she told me.”
“And did either of the wives say why Katz was coming over that night?”
“Neither of them knew that he was. Again, that’s what they said. It doesn’t make it true.”
“Did Katz just pop in, then?”
“There was a phone call placed the day before from Katz’s cell phone to Richards’s cell phone. It might have been then that they arranged to meet.”
“If Katz called Richards, maybe he initiated the meeting?”
“That could be, yes,” agreed Decker. “But even though Katz called Richards, that doesn’t mean he asked for the meeting. He might have just called out of the blue and then Richards asked him to come by.”
“When he knew his wife would be out — is that significant?” asked Mars.
“It could be very significant, especially considering that Susan Richards has vanished.”
Mars said, “Well, Richards worked at the bank. Maybe something fishy was going on there and he wanted Katz’s advice.”
“And then someone came here and killed them. And killed the kids too because they would be witnesses. But that would be risky. Why not kill whoever was the target while they were alone, not in a house filled with people?”
“Maybe they were running out of time and were afraid that someone was going to blow the whistle on what they were doing.”
Decker was staring miserably at the switch plate. “It’s only a small difference, but I should have noticed it before.”
“They manipulated you and everybody else.”
“Rookie mistake. I assumed things I shouldn’t have.”
“But now you figured it out and you get a second chance to get it right. Like you did with me. You gave me a second chance.”
“You’re cutting me a lot of slack.”
“Well, sometimes friends have to do that. But then sometimes they have to kick you in the ass too. And trust me, if it comes to it, I will.”
“I would expect nothing less, Melvin.”
Decker’s phone rang. He answered, and Captain Miller started speaking.
“They found Susan Richards.”
“Where?”
“Two towns over.”
“You bringing her in?”
“We are. In a meat wagon. She killed herself, Amos.”
Chapter 38
Decker was in the morgue looking at yet another body.
She looked like she was asleep, not dead.
“Bodies really piling up,” said the ME as he laid the sheet back down on top of Susan Richards.
“Cause of death?”
“My best guess right now, drug overdose. Women usually go the overdose route when committing suicide. Guys like to blow their heads off with guns.”
Richards had been found in an abandoned building by a construction worker working nearby who had noticed an odd smell.
“Time of death?” asked Decker.
“Rigor has resolved so she’s been dead a while. I’ll have a better time later.”
“Could the time of her death be close to when she disappeared?”
The man looked over the body and rubbed his chin. “Yes, actually, it could.”
Decker had already been told that the suitcase she had been seen putting in her car had not been found with the body.
“Any pill bottles found with her? Or a suicide note?”
The ME shook his head. “No, on both counts.”
The door opened and Blake Natty walked in, looking shriveled and depressed. He eyed the body of Susan Richards with little interest. “So she killed herself?” he said.
“Unknown as yet,” said Decker.