Patting Andy on the shoulder, she said, “Sit tight. I’m going to talk with Detective Palmer out on the back deck. I want to get up to speed on where we stand. Is that okay?”
The drummer didn’t even look up. “Sure. Fine with me.”
“What you got?” Palmer asked as soon as the door shut behind them.
“Curran showed up in my office two days ago, said he wanted to find his band’s vocalist, that she’d been escorted out of the club where they play by two heavies. She went without any fuss.”
“And you checked up on his story?”
Shannon nodded, fighting the urge to silence Palmer with a loud, “Well, duh.”
“Let me show you what I got to deal with.”
He led Shannon down the driveway and onto the porch. Two techs were hard at work around the body, but Palmer asked them to step back.
She’d been on site after a few murders in her time, but never a manual strangulation. Though she knew from books what it was all about, seeing one up close and personal was pretty intense. There had been enough time for the victim to realize she was going to die.
Shannon turned away, walked down the steps and surveyed the growing crowd at the crime scene tape, all of them eager to know what was going on. They might not be so eager if they knew what the reality actually looked like.
Palmer was next to her. “I know you don’t let the dust settle on you. Tell me everything you’ve found out.”
She gave him a concise rundown of what she and her new recruit had found out, which didn’t amount to all that much, except that Curran’s version of what had happened at the club seemed to be accurate. For the moment, she held back what she’d found out at the airport the previous day.
“Know anything about the stiff on his front porch?” Palmer asked.
“If it’s not this missing singer, then no. What did Curran tell you?”
“Well, he made out at first as if he didn’t really know the woman. Then we find out from a neighbour that the victim had been over here a number of times, and on one occasion, the two of them had a verbal donnybrook right on the selfsame porch.
“According to him, he left for work at his normal time, about eight. When he came home, shortly before three a.m., he found the body on the porch and calls it in. We’ve listened to his voice mail to see if she’d called or something before she came here, but other than two hang ups after he left for work, there’s nothing. Could have been her, I suppose.”
“What does the ME say about time of death?”
“Best first guess is sometime after eight. Your boy’s not in the clear.” Palmer lit a cigarette and looked into the brightening eastern sky for several moments.“Tell me, do you think Curran’s clever enough to have bumped someone off then faked the whole discovery thing? ‘Cause that’s the way I’m leaning at this point.”
This quick decision was part and parcel of the way Palmer worked. He could, of course, be correct, but Shannon’s gut told her no, although she’d also gotten a phone report from Goode about her visit the previous afternoon. Jackie’d felt Curran had been on edge. Perhaps it had been the fact that Goode was poking around, perhaps something more sinister.
“What’s the dead woman’s name?”
“No ID on her. Curran told us it was Maggie. He says he doesn’t know any more than that. Of course we’re checking it out, but that could take awhile.”
Shannon thought for a moment longer. “Think I could have a talk with him – alone?”
“I don’t know if I can oblige, Shannon, department protocol and all that. You know how they are downtown these days.”
She winked conspiratorially at him. “Since when has that ever stopped people like us? I promise to share anything I get. He might be willing to talk more openly with me. Could be a good shortcut.”
“Well, I got stuff around front that needs doing. I suppose I could work it where you’ll stand in for one of my boys, short of manpower and all that, you know? It is about time I sent them out to canvass the neighbourhood. But you got to share anything you get. Don’t jerk me around on this, Shannon.”
They returned to the kitchen, where Palmer gave his men jobs to carry out in order to clear the room. In a matter of moments, Shannon was alone at the kitchen table with her client, a fresh pot of coffee and,comically,a box of fresh doughnuts she’d taken the time to pick up. The friendly dig hadn’t been lost on Palmer – but he’d also helped himself to a glazed one.
“Did you eat anything?” she asked.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You are, whether you realize it or not.” She pushed the doughnuts across the table. “Eat a couple of these; you’ll feel better.” He didn’t move. “Trust me, Andy.”
He reached out for the box while Shannon poured two mugs of coffee, and they sat drinking and munching silently for a few minutes.
“I’m in a lot of trouble, aren’t I?”
She looked across at him. “Only if you haven’t been telling the truth.”
“Do you think that?”
“No.” She let that sit for a moment before adding, “But I think you’ve held back information from me.”
Curran looked down into his coffee cup as if he thought an answer would magically float to the surface.
“I just wanted to find out if Olivia was okay, find out why she left with those guys.” He shook his head slowly and finished in a weary voice, “I didn’t think anything like this would happen.”
“So you’re convinced the death of this Maggie person has a connection with Olivia.”
It could have been a question, but it was said as a statement.
“Maggie was her friend. Olivia gets carted off, then her friend turns up dead on my porch. What else could it be?”
“Andy, I could easily come up with several different scenarios. The one thing we need now is all the information we can get. I need you to tell me everything you know about the dead woman.” She fished her notebook out of a coat pocket. “And we don’t have much time.”
***
The insistent beat of her cell phone’s funky ringtone roused Jackie Goode from the depths of a very deep sleep.
Not immediately remembering where she was, she groped around for a nonexistent bedside table before realizing she was sleeping on a friend’s sofa. Her cell was on the end table behind her head.
Reaching out and managing to get it open before it switched to voice mail, she croaked, “Yeah, what do you want?”
“It’s Shannon O’Brien.”
She forced herself to a sitting position. “What time is it?”
“Nearly seven o’clock.”
Jackie had finally shut down her friend Carolina’s computer when night was just beginning to drain from the eastern sky, sometime after five thirty. Yesterday had been very long.
“You still there?” her boss asked.
Cold, she pulled the blanket up around her. Why did Carolina keep her heat so low?
“I’m still here. Sorry. Just had a late night.”
“Well, I’ve had an early morning. I’m over at Curran’s place.