Mysterical-E

He Said, She Says

Who Shot the Bikini Barista?
by Rachel Marquez

Rosalie Vega’s amber eyes gazed upward, her plump, red lips set in a surprised o, while her bikinied body reposed with grace on the ground. Detective Phil Bester noted just one blemish on the young woman, a tiny hole in the middle of her forehead.

Based on the size of the injury and the minor stippling surrounding it, the bullet that caused the wound no doubt originated from a small caliber weapon, shot at least two feet away, perhaps at the foot of the steps that lead to the entrance of the café drive-through.

Phil ran a hand over his blonde, buzz cut, his knuckles brushing against the coffee stand’s ceiling. Café Exotica, designed for a petit barista, crowded him and the crime scene investigator snapping photos of the scene.

“When do you expect the medical examiner?” Phil asked.

Donovan gazed away from the display on his digital camera.

“Soon, I hope. Can’t dust for prints until McCarthy does his thing.”

The Café Exotica drive-through was located in the parking lot of Freddy’s Auto Parts and More. Washington State businesses sometimes supplemented their income renting space to the coffee booths that abounded in the Pacific Northwest. Some of the stands, like Exotica, employed scantily clad girls to draw in customers.

Phil bent down and examined the body. No defense wounds on her arms or hands, and the string bikini tied securely in place. His eyes traveled upward and paused at her throat.

“Did you notice the marks on her neck?” he asked the CSI.

“What marks?” Donovan squinted at the spot where Phil pointed. “Might be bruises. McCarthy would have caught them.”

Donovan aimed his camera at Rosalie’s tender neck.

“Did you find the bullet?” Phil asked.

“It’s still in her.” Donovan pointed to the girl’s head.

More evidence supporting that the murder weapon was a small caliber firearm. Phil glanced around at the tiny structure, with its coffee makers and steam machine. “I wonder if the shooter entered the booth.”

“See the positioning of her right arm?” Donovan gestured toward the girl’s outstretched fingers. “I suspect someone knocked on the door, the victim opened it, and the killer shot her. Another barista found the door ajar and the victim lying on the floor. I’ll dust the place and process the other employees for comparison purposes, but I doubt the shooter touched anything.”

Phil considered the CSI’s hypothesis. “Even that close up, the gunman must be a fair shot. Did the other girl arrive at her regular time?”

“I don’t know. Check with Hiram.”

Phil grimaced. After resigning from the Seattle Police Department and accepting a position in Couper, his hometown, he knew running into Hiram Dodges would be inevitable. Still, Phil hadn’t expected his new supervisor to assign him to work under his former friend.

“Consider it your probationary period,” Jake Gilham had said. Standing behind Jake, Hiram had half-smiled at Phil.

“Any money taken?”

“The cash register’s still locked. Hiram’s talking to the employees at the car parts store. He’ll be able to tell you more.”

The door swung open and a muscular man of medium height appeared. Hiram glared at Phil. “Finally decide to show up, huh?”

“I caught the call on my way to work,” Phil said.

Hiram turned to the CSI.

“You hear from McCarthy?”

“He’s on his way.”

“He better get here soon, we’ve been here almost an hour.”

“What did the girl who found the body tell you?” Phil asked.

“Chen Lu opened the door, took one look at the victim, and ran screaming to Freddy’s. She pounded on the window until the manager came out,” Hiram said.

“Did Chen Lu know Rosalie well?”

“She only knew the victim from their shift changes. Earlier, a customer phoned the eight hundred number on the booth’s window and complained that no one opened up that morning. Chen’s supervisor told her to come in and take Rosalie’s place.”

“Did Freddy’s employees witness anything?” Phil asked.

“The store hadn’t opened yet and the staff was in the back. The manager—would you believe its Clyde Whitshaw from high school?—told us a camera’s trained on the parking lot twenty-four hours a day. He gave me the tape.”

Phil turned to Donovan. “I’m curious whether your theory that the shooter was standing outside the door holds up.”

“I’ll be working on the bullet trajectory. No coffee in the urn and with her purse and keys on the counter, I’d say the shooter came right after the girl started work for the day. McCarthy can substantiate the time of death.”

“I doubt she opened the door to a stranger.” Phil gestured to the entryway. “The peephole would have given the victim a birds-eye view of her assailant.”

“With no signs of rape or robbery, the killer’s motive might be personal,” Hiram said. “Most of the homicides in Couper are, usually, the husband or boyfriend.”

Murders were typically investigated and solved from the inside out; still, Phil preferred to keep an open mind this early in an investigation.

“I wonder how many people wanted Rosalie Vega dead,” Phil said.

“Don’t over complicate it. You aren’t in Seattle any more. A girl like this, jealousy is the usual motive.”

Phil didn’t answer, not wanting to antagonize Hiram. Phil’s position at the department remained uncertain until after Hiram gave his evaluation of Phil’s performance to Jake. And no matter how hard Hiram was to please, going back to Seattle wasn’t an option for Phil and his family.

#

Phil adjusted the chair in his cubicle. Being tall made life a little awkward. Nothing ever fit right.

“Hey,” Hiram’s deep voice said from behind him.

Phil turned around and caught the man staring at the picture of Phil’s wife and daughter. The last time Hiram saw Iris was ten years ago, before she and Phil married. Afterward, the couple had moved to Seattle, eager to leave their hometown behind.

Hiram shifted his gaze to Phil. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, why did you come back to Couper?”

“We needed a change.”

Hiram’s brows lowered and one side of his lip stretched upward. The familiar expression always reminded Phil of an angry bulldog. “All right, don’t tell me. I’ll find out on my own.”

Phil turned the conversation back to the case. “Did you dig up anything more on the victim?”

“Sure enough, she had a jealous boyfriend, Ruben Diaz. No priors on him; however, we do have a couple of domestic disturbance calls, and a temporary restraining order on file. Rosalie refused to press charges both times and the district attorney didn’t push it. I had Rubin brought in. You’ve been gone a long time; do you want to learn how it’s done at the CPD these days?”

“Sure. Any other suspects?” Phil asked.

“Quit overthinking it. The ex-boyfriend will need an ironclad alibi before I spend time looking past him.”

Resources remained scarce in small city police departments and Hiram was probably right that the boyfriend did it. Still, focusing on one suspect before gathering enough information on the victim’s life wasn’t a good practice.

That last thought must have showed on Phil’s face.

“We can’t string this investigation out forever. Have you seen the caseload on my desk? If it’s not the boyfriend, I’ll find out soon enough.” Hiram turned toward the interrogation room and Phil followed him.

Phil watched Ruben Diaz through a two-way mirror. The small man huddled on a folding chair in front of a metal table. Rubin, his face sallow under his tan, wore workpants and a wifebeater.

Hiram strode in with a Styrofoam cup of coffee and settled on a chair opposite the suspect. Phil’s old friend maintained the intimidating physique of the wrestling champ he’d been back in high school, and his presence dominated the room.

Phil sipped from his own coffee cup and leaned his thin frame against the wall ready to observe Hiram’s performance.

Hiram gazed at Rubin in a benign manner. Ruben blinked back at him.

“Hello, Ruben. My name is Detective Hiram Dodges. Thank you for coming in. You realize that you’re not under arrest?”

Rubin nodded.

“I’m going to record this. That way there won’t be any misunderstandings. OK?”

“OK.”

Hiram began sympathizing with Rubin over the loss of Rosalie. The suspect’s shoulders straightened and he stretched his legs out under the table. Hiram asked Rubin his whereabouts between seven and eight a.m. that morning, the unofficial time of death that Hiram had pried out of the reluctant ME.

Rubin said he was driving to work. Hiram threw the man a few more softball questions concerning Rosalie and their relationship. Rubin kept his answers short.

Hiram set his empty coffee cup upside down on the table. “Did you kill Rosalie?”

Rubin’s head jerked back. “No way, man. I told you I was on my way to work.”

Hiram began drumming his fingers on the metal tabletop. “Ruben, why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not.”

“Do you know that Freddy’s has a camera trained on its parking lot?”

Rubin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“I watched the tape right before you came in, and I recognized your pinstriped shirt. You know, the one we took from you?”

The whites of Rubin’s eyes began to show.

“Remember how we tested your hands and shirt for GSR, gunshot residue, this morning? Your right hand and the shirt came back positive.”

“That can’t be, man,” Rubin said. Words spilled out of his mouth. “I did go to Freddy’s, OK? I wanted to talk to my girl. We had a—misunderstanding last week, and she moved back to her mom’s house. When I saw the cops and people standing around, I left.”

Hiram lifted his upper lip, his eyes still on Rubin. “You told me you loved Rosalie. Didn’t you worry that something happened to her?”

“I was worried sick, but I wasn’t supposed to...”

“I know. You were ordered to stay a hundred feet away from Rosalie after you beat her up last time.”

Rubin shifted in his chair. “I told you, we had a misunderstanding. She let me know I wasn’t the only man interested in her and I lost my temper for a second. I was sorry afterwards.”

“You’re always sorry afterwards. Is that why you stopped by the café after you killed Rosalie?”

“I swear—”

“How do you explain the gunshot residue?” Hiram asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t touched a gun in a long time.”

Phil knew that the GSR test results weren’t back yet, and that the camera was trained on who entered and exited the parking lot, and not Café Exotica. The tape showed Rubin arriving at the crime scene well after the ME’s tentative time of death for the girl. Of course, Rubin wouldn’t know that.

Hiram sipped his coffee and switched gears. He gave Rubin a sympathetic smile. “Look, I saw how Rosalie dressed—or undressed. You hated watching her go to work that way. Who knows what else she did besides serve coffee. You lost your head, a lot of guys would.”

“I didn’t hurt her.” Rubin’s eyes began to glisten. He leaned his head forward and a tear fell on the table.

Phil stood up straighter. Crying was a sign that the suspect might be ready to confess.

Hiram leaned toward Rubin. “I know you didn’t mean to kill her, but it’s time you manned up.”
Rubin mumbled something.

“You snuck to the back of the booth to apologize, but she dissed you, didn’t she? You lost it and shot her. For Rosalie, for her mother’s sake, tell me what happened. You’ll feel better once you tell someone.” Hiram put a hand on Rubin’s arm.

Rubin lifted his head, his eyes all squinty and red. “I’d never do that to Rosalie. Never.”

“Come on, this time Rosalie wasn’t coming back, and you wanted to make sure no one else had her. Admit it, Ruben, you shot her.”

“I didn’t. Man, I swear I didn’t.”

Though Hiram continued to press him, Rubin didn’t break. After a couple of hours, Hiram left the room and went to talk to Phil.

“He’s a hard nut. I’ll give him a few minutes before going back in.”

“Do you mind if I talk to him?” Phil asked.

“Why? You think you can do better than me? I’m not ready to switch out.”

Phil lifted his hands. “Hiram, it’s obvious you’re a master at this. I want to ask him one question.”

“Don’t mess this up. He’s on the edge.”

Phil walked into the gray-walled room. Rubin cradled his head in his arms on the table.
“Hello, Ruben. I’m Detective Phil Bester.” Phil put a cola can in front of Rubin. The man grabbed it and took a long drink.

“I didn’t kill Rosalie. I swear I didn’t.” Rubin’s eyes rolled around like a cow waiting in line at a slaughterhouse.

Phil folded his body to fit into the chair Hiram had vacated. “That’s for you and Detective Dodges to discuss. I want to ask you something else.”

Rubin met Phil’s eyes and nodded.

“You told Detective Dodges that Rosalie might be seeing someone else.”

Rubin nodded again.

“Do you know who?”

“She wouldn’t tell me.”

“Do you suspect anyone?”

Rubin’s face brightened. “Do you think that man killed Rosalie?”

Hiram would be all over Phil for giving Rubin an alternate theory. Phil didn’t answer and Rubin grabbed his arm. “I know she met someone at Exotica. I wanted to find out who, and that’s why I went to see her today. He’s the murderer, not me.”

#

“Hiram already questioned them,” Clyde Whitshaw said. “You two still not on the same page, huh?”

Mr. Lucky, Clyde’s nickname back in high school, fiddled with his pen in the small office situated in one corner of Freddy’s Auto Parts and More.

“Sometimes we do multiple interviews,” Phil said.

Whitshaw threw his pen on the desk. “No one from the store saw anything.”

Phil continued to gaze at the manager.

Whitshaw’s shoulders twitched. “Talk to them after they check out for the night.”

“Is this the same staff that worked the day Rosalie was murdered?”

“Yeah.”

“You employ two cashiers and a stock boy. Is that correct?”

Whitshaw nodded.

“Was your wife here Friday morning?”

“Yep. Geraldine came in to do the books.”

“I noticed three checkout stands out front, yet you only employ two cashiers.”

“I’m short a girl right now.”

“Why is that?”

“One left six months ago, and the other, four months after that. Geraldine only wanted to replace one of them.”

“Why did they leave?”

Whitshaw waved an airy hand and his gold wedding band flashed. “They come, they go. Who knows why?”

“I need both girls’ contact information.”

“Exotica didn’t open until after they were gone. Neither of them met Rosalie, much less know her.”

“I need their info.”

Whitshaw reached for his pen but stopped himself. “I filed it away in the office somewhere. One girl went to a better-paying job and the other left the state.”

“I’ll pick up what you have before I leave tonight.” Phil paused at the office door. “How well did you know Rosalie?”

Whitshaw leaned back on his desk chair. “I used to buy coffee from her every morning. Other than that...”

“Who authorized Café Exotica to build a booth on the parking lot?”

“Me. Exotica draws new customers into the store.”

“Still, young girls in bikinis...Your wife didn’t mind?”

Whitshaw’s eyes flashed in his handsome face. “We also receive a kick-back from each sale and those girls serve a lot of coffee.”

Phil thanked Clyde for his time and headed to the small room where the employees kept their personal belongings. He made himself comfortable on a bench while he waited for them.

Millie Bishop, a fiftyish, heavy-set woman with a bad dye job, entered the room first. She stated she never bought anything from Exotica. The prices were too high.

“How do you like working here?” Phil asked.

“I like it fine. I was out of work for six months before Geraldine hired me.”

“Do you socialize with the other employees?”

“Only at work.”

“Did anyone here befriend Rosalie?”

Millie dropped her gaze. “I don’t pay attention to any of that stuff.”

Phil tried another tack. “I knew Clyde back in high school. He was quite the player. Is he still?”

Millie’s face tightened. “Spying on him isn’t in my job description.”

Phil dismissed her and she put on her coat and hurried away.

Next, the so-called stock boy came to talk to Phil.

“Sure, I went over to Café Exotica. After forty years of marriage, I’m an expert at enjoying women from afar.” Pete winked at Phil. The seventy-year old man’s sharp eyes and upright frame belied his thinning hair and lined face. He explained that he supplemented his Social Security with his part time job at Freddy’s.

“Did you go over to Exotica the morning of the murder?” Phil asked.

“No. I prefer to go after work during Chen Lu’s shift. She reminds me of the women I met when I was stationed in Korea.” He gave Phil a sly smile.

“Did you observe anything out of the norm that day?”

“No, I was in the back. Why don’t you ask Clyde that question? He hung out at Exotica’s whenever Geraldine wasn’t working.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“Clyde’s always up to no good. First, a girl here at work, and after that blew up on him, he began chasing Rosalie. What a dimwit. Like Geraldine wouldn’t find out.”

“Clyde saw Rosalie behind his wife’s back?”

“I’m saying he was working hard on it.”

Phil glanced down at his notepad. “You started here before Clyde came on board, correct?”

“Yes. A year after Freddy died, Geraldine began seeing Clyde. Next thing we knew, they’d gotten hitched, and Geraldine put Clyde in charge of the store. That’s setting the fox to guard the henhouse.”

“Can you explain?”

“That clown used to cashier at a filling station and now he’s a manager.” Pete made quote marks with his fingers. “Driving the store into the ground is more like it. The only thing he’s any good at is talking the ladies into dropping their drawers.”

“Did his wife know of Clyde’s outside interests?”

“She found out soon enough. One day, the whole store heard her screaming from the office that if he didn’t leave the help alone, she’d kick him out on his keester all the way back to the Saxon Gas and Mini Mart. What a sleazebag.”

“Do you know which girl Clyde singled out?”

“Sara Cunningham was a cutie and quit a few days after that.” Pete shrugged his shoulders.
“That left us two girls short until Millie came onboard. She’s a great gal but not much of a looker. Geraldine is making sure no one at the store ever tempts Clyde again.”

Phil thanked Pete for his time.

Phil waited for the last employee to come retrieve her belongings. Emily Roo, a blonde with thin lips she attempted to enhance with pink lipstick, stepped into the room. Otherwise, she wore minimal makeup and her hair pulled back, her only jewelry a pair of tiny, round earrings, each etched with a cross.

“Hello, you’re Emily, right?”

She walked over to a closet. “Is this going to take long? I told that other policeman I didn’t see anything.”

“Did you know the murder victim, Rosalie Vega?”

The woman sniffed and the corners of her mouth turned down for a nanosecond. “No.”
“I hear your boss knew her well.”

Emily took a coat off its hanger. “I wouldn’t know. I prefer to mind my own business.”

“Pete told me Clyde dated a cashier who left here a couple of months ago. He also said you both worked the day Clyde and Geraldine had a blowout in the office.”

Emily shrugged into her coat. “Everyone, including the customers, heard her.”

“Is Clyde a good boss?”

“He’s OK.”

“Did he ever hit on you?”

Emily picked up her purse and slung it on her arm. “I try to keep things professional at work. Can I go now?”

Phil nodded. After she left, he jotted more on his pad.

#

“I’m telling you, the boyfriend did it. You spotted those marks on the victim’s neck. Rubin followed that up with a bullet to her brain,” Hiram said.

Phil swiveled his chair to face the other detective. “The tape shows the boyfriend coming later, and Clyde’s wife coming into the lot before Rosalie was killed.”

“So now the wife did it?” Hiram rested his forearms on the low partition separating Phil’s cubicle from the office hallway.

“Hiram, we need to keep an open mind.”

“I’m the lead on this case and I’m telling you, you’re wasting time.” Hiram pushed back from the cubicle wall. “I had Rubin brought in again. Jake wanted us to double team him this go around, but I said no. The last time you talked to Diaz, all I could get out of him was that someone else killed Rosalie. If that’s how the SPD taught you to question a suspect, you aren’t going to last long here. You can stay behind the glass, again.”

Phil didn’t react to Hiram’s insult. “The GSR came back negative.”

“Sometimes those tests are wrong, or Rubin found a way to clean up. I’m going in now.” Hiram began to walk away. “You coming?”

“No. I need to follow up on a few loose ends.”

“Have it your way. Just remember, I meet with Jake tomorrow to update him on your performance, and it isn’t looking good for you.”

#

Phil sank down into the cushions of the flowered couch. “Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Whitshaw.”

A few years older than Clyde, Geraldine Whitshaw tried to hide the fact with Botox and visits to the gym. After Phil called her, she agreed to meet with him at her home. “You said it was important.”

“Did you know Rosalie Vega well?”

Geraldine leaned back in the wingchair opposite him. “No, though I did notice her in the booth every morning. She had quite a following. Clyde convinced me, against my better judgment, that Café Exotica would bring more business to Freddy’s.”

“Did you know your husband was one of Rosalie’s admirers?”

Geraldine put her cup on the coffee table between them, her biceps flexing with the movement. The Botox made her face impossible to read.

“The employees told me Clyde hung out at the booth whenever Rosalie worked,” Phil said.

Geraldine’s shoulders sagged even though her face couldn’t. “I warned him if he stepped out of line one more time...”

“He had an affair with one of the girls at the shop.” Phil scrutinized Geraldine’s every gesture.

She gazed downward for several seconds. “I met Clyde six months after my first husband died. I was flattered that a younger man would be interested in me. Later, I realized Clyde’s real interest lay in what my first husband left me.”

“How long before he became unfaithful?”

Geraldine gazed up at Phil with her blank face. “One night someone called and said my husband was seeing one of the cashiers. I confronted him the next day at work. He denied it, of course. A few days later, Sara quit. I figured she was the girl Clyde had on the side.”

“Did that end the affair?”

“I figured it did since she left town. A few days ago, I received a note in the mail linking Clyde with Rosalie.”

“Do you know who sent it?”

She shook her head. “And I don’t know who phoned me earlier. I checked the caller identification number and referenced it to a payphone in Couper. The caller muffled their voice and I couldn’t tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. The note had a fake address and wasn’t signed.”

“Did you confront Clyde again?”

“I didn’t have time. The next day, the girl was dead.”

“Did you confront Rosalie?”

Her body stiffened. “I told you she was killed the next day.”

“The tape shows first Clyde, then you driving into the parking lot a few minutes before someone shot her.”

“Clyde and I have a prenup. I can cut him off financially any time I want. Why would I kill one of his paramours?”

“Jealousy makes people do stupid things. And Clyde? Do you think he’s capable of murdering Rosalie?”

“If he did kill her, the girl died in vain. After reading that note, I contacted my attorney.”

Phil put his untouched coffee on the table. “Would you be willing to take a voice stress analysis, VSA, test? It works like a lie detector, but is more accurate. Also, may I have the note you received?”

Geraldine’s smooth face gave nothing away. “I’ll need to consult with my attorney before doing either. I think we’re done here today. Would you mind seeing yourself out?”

#

“I told you everything I know. Why am I here?” Emily squirmed on the chair in the tiny, interrogation room with both Phil and Hiram seated across the table from her.

“We’re re-questioning everyone in order to clear up a few issues concerning the Whitshaws’ relationship with the victim,” Hiram said.

Emily perched on the chair, hands in her lap and knees pressed against each other.

Hiram smiled. “I hear that Clyde still has an eye for the ladies.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s not the impression Detective Bester received when he interviewed you.” Hiram turned toward Phil and raised his brows.

“Emily told me she overheard a fight between Clyde and Geraldine concerning his affair with one of the cashiers.”

Emily gazed away from the detectives. “Yes. Though, I never noticed anything going on between Clyde and Sara.”

“How do you know he was seeing Sara?”

She turned to face them. “Sara and I were the only cashiers at that point, and he wasn’t seeing me.”

“You also mentioned that Clyde and his wife worked at the store the morning Rosalie was murdered,” Phil said.

Emily nodded.

“Please answer.” Hiram pointed to the tape recorder.

“Yes.”

“Did either bring in coffee that morning?” Phil asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Come on, Emily. Your co-worker, Pete, remembered you saying that Clyde didn’t get his cappuccino that day,” Phil said.

“Pete is wrong. He gets confused sometimes.”

Hiram stroked his chin. “He’s certainly up there in years. Do you remember who came into the store first, Clyde or his wife?”

Emily hesitated. “I’m pretty sure Clyde entered before Geraldine did.”

“How did he act?” Hiram asked.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“And his wife?”

“She seemed upset.”

“How?”

“Geraldine acted nervous-like.”

“Could be significant,” Hiram said. Phil made a note on his pad.

“Do you believe she found out about Clyde and Rosalie’s relationship?” Phil asked.
“I haven’t a clue.”

Hiram leaned toward the girl. “You know, Clyde planned to leave his wife for Rosalie.”

Emily’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Yes, he was quite smitten with her.”

“Takes a special woman to hook a man like Clyde,” Phil said.

“I don’t believe it.” Emily’s sniff turned into a snort.

“A beautiful woman has that kind of power over a man.” Hiram peered down his nose at the girl. “You wouldn’t understand that.”

Emily’s mouth quivered and she shifted her gaze to Phil.

“It’s true,” Phil said.

“Clyde told me he was willing to give up everything—the store, Geraldine’s money—for Rosalie,” Hiram said.

Emily’s mouth contorted. “For that spick?”

Neither man reacted to her slur.

“I mean, she wasn’t even his type,” Emily said.

“Who is his type?” Hiram asked.

The girl said something under her breath.

“Can you repeat that?”

“I said I don’t know. Am I under arrest?”

“Why would we arrest you?” Phil asked.

She ignored him and rose from her chair. “I’m leaving.”

“Sit down, Emily,” Phil said.

She hesitated then complied. She crossed her arms against her chest and pushed her chair back until it touched the wall.

“We found Sara Cunningham. She admitted to an affair with Clyde, and she claimed she wasn’t the only one,” Phil said.

Emily’s eyes moved from one detective to the other.

“Turns out the blowup between Clyde and his wife didn’t make Sara leave,” Hiram said.

“She left after someone called her and threatened her. Sara recognized your voice.” Phil slid his chair closer to the table.

“She’s full of crap, you all are.” Emily’s mouth became a pink slash on the lower half of her face.

Hiram ignored her and addressed Phil. “We traced the call Sara received to the same phone booth someone used to warn Geraldine about Clyde’s cheating. Three calls made from the same phone number.”

“Geraldine only got one phone—” The girl stopped herself.

“You’re right, Emily. You sent a note that second time,” Phil said.

Emily refused to look at either of them.

“That phone booth is two blocks from your apartment,” Hiram said.

Emily pressed her lips together until they vanished, leaving an ugly gash on her face.

“After Sara left, you hoped Clyde would return to you but he went outside of the shop, all the way to the parking lot.” Phil made a swerving motion with his hand.

“Beautiful Rosalie was waiting right outside the door,” Hiram said.

“That broke your heart,” Phil said. “No matter whom you threatened or killed, Clyde was never coming back to you.”

Emily’s face hardened. “I was never involved with Clyde.”

“And he’ll back you up on that?” Phil asked.

Emily’s lips made a small, curved reappearance as she nodded.

The door opened and Clyde Whitshaw shuffled into the room.

“Why don’t you tell Emily what you told me earlier,” Hiram said.

Clyde stared off into the distance and began his story. “Emily and I hooked up for a few months after I took over at Freddy’s. After Sara broke up with her boyfriend, I began seeing her instead. After Sara quit, Emily wanted to start again, but I wasn’t interested. Then I met Rosalie.” He focused on Emily’s face and his voice rose. “How could you kill her?”

“You stupid bastard,” Emily said. “These cops will tell Geraldine everything.”

“She already knows.” They all glanced at Whitshaw’s bare ring finger.

“Better than taking the rap yourself, hey, Mr. Lucky?” Hiram said. “Wait outside, please.”

After Clyde left, Emily said, “You can’t prove I shot her.”

Hiram began drumming his fingers on the table. “A twenty-two is a small gun, perfect for a woman.”

“I don’t own a gun.”

“Not according to Clyde,” Phil said.

“He’ll say anything to weasel out of this. How do you know he didn’t kill Rosalie and now wants to pin it on me? Search my house. You won’t find a gun or anything else connecting me to the murder.”

“We don’t need your permission. The warrants were signed this morning. What you might not realize is that we also search outside your residence. That includes the storm drains,” Hiram said.

Emily’s pink lipstick stood out on her white face.

“Though it took a little fishing, we found the pistol. You did a poor job erasing the registration number. The lab techs are confident they’ll be able to decipher it. We’ll track the gun’s history, and something tells me that we’ll find a direct link to you,” Phil said. “Did you tell Rosalie that you had a message from Clyde? Is that how you got her to open the booth’s door?”

Emily remained stone-faced.

“You’re quite the sharpshooter, aren’t you?” Hiram said. “According to your old, school buddies in Medford, Oregon, your daddy taught you to shoot using a twenty-two handgun before they locked him up. I bet that’s the same gun you used to kill Rosalie.”

Phil examined Emily’s ears. “You’re not wearing your jewelry today. I hope you didn’t lose them. Did your dad give you those Celtic Cross studs before he went to prison?”

“I’m sure you can buy another pair at Skinheads R Us,” Hiram said. The Celtic Cross was a symbol often displayed by white supremacists in Couper.

Emily displayed no emotion. “I’m proud of my dad. He did what had to be done.”

Phil noted the significance of Emily’s earrings after he first met her. The region surrounding Couper had been a base for the Aryan Nation since his childhood. Another reason he and Iris moved to Seattle.

After Ruben refused to confess, and Clyde and Geraldine both passed a VSA test, Phil convinced Hiram that someone else at the store might have been outraged at Clyde’s interest in Rosalie.

“Couldn’t stand that Clyde preferred Rosalie Vega over you, huh?” Hiram said.

“Do you have anything else to add before we put you under arrest?” Phil asked.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Wait, let me read you your Miranda Rights.” Hiram reached for a card in the pocket of his coat.

“Don’t bother. I know my rights and I want a lawyer.”

***

Jake lounged against Phil’s cubicle opening. “Excellent work, you two. The district attorney says he has enough evidence to charge Emily Roo even without a confession. I knew teaming you and Hiram would be a smart move. If we had the manpower, I’d make you partners.”

“Except you don’t,” Hiram said from behind Jake. “Phil can handle his share of the workload on his own. Here you go.” He dropped a pile of folders on top of Phil’s in-tray.

The supervisor nodded at Phil. “Our stats should start going through the roof with you on board.” Jake’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me.”

After Jake left, Hiram gestured at the folders. “You’ll like those. Not one of them points to a boyfriend or husband, your specialty.”

He’d no doubt handpicked the worse cases to give to Phil. Hiram never got over his best friend and his high school sweetheart eloping and leaving Hiram behind.

Phil eyed the ratty folders. Phil would handle whatever Hiram slung at him. The important thing was to keep his family safe. Hiram lingered outside Phil’s cubicle.

“You have something else to say?”

Hiram nodded. “Even though some of those are a little old, don’t worry, none of the suspects are likely to come after Iris and your kid.”

A flash of anger swept over Phil. How had Hiram found out the real reason Phil left Seattle?

Hiram, adept at reading Phil since childhood, smiled. “It’s hard to keep secrets in law enforcement. Someone always knows someone else.”

Hiram took a few steps back to his own office then stopped. “You do know you’re rated on how many of those you close, right? Welcome to Couper Homicide, old buddy.”

-----

Bio

I’ve been writing fulltime for over two years. I’ve sold one story to OMDB! E-zine. I’m working on a second novel of a series. I have a B.A. in English that I never used, and with time on my hands, I’ve decided to write in my now favorite genres—mystery, suspense, and crime.