Leann Sweeney - The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon

I did as she asked, folding my hands in my lap, feet flat on the floor.

“You’ve just wrecked, air bags are popping out like inflating parachutes. You’re dazed.” She stared at me. “Come on. Look up at me like you’re dazed.”

I met her eyes. “Just pretend I’m dazed.”

“Anyway, someone comes up to the passenger-side window and you think this person’s a Good Samaritan. Maybe this person even motions for you to roll down the window—we did find the window rolled down, by the way, and Finn’s print on the button. You comply. You’re even grateful. Then this happens.” Candace put her left hand behind the back of my head and pushed my head forward. “Bam!” She shouted so loudly I jumped in my seat. “You are now lights-out thanks to this person you thought came to rescue you.”

“You mean someone smashed his head—”

“Please. Let me finish my demonstration,” she said, sounding excited. “This is helping me picture the scene. Now, lean forward like you’re passed out on the deflated air bag.”

I did, and from the corner of my eye I saw Candace pull her gun from her holster with her right hand. As fast as lightning, she pointed the weapon at what I assumed was our imaginary driver. “Another bam, a different kind. A horrible kind. This time Roth is shot in the right temple.”

She holstered her gun and I sat up, stunned and a little alarmed by her reenactment.

“You really think that’s what happened?” I said.

Candace wore a satisfied smile. “You wanna bet once Finn’s DNA results come back we’ll find his hair and saliva right where I said it was. And when we receive the autopsy report, the trajectory of the bullet will confirm my theory. The evidence is there. I know it.”

“You believe you have concrete evidence to prove Finn is innocent?” I said.

She nodded. “I do. This is good news, Jillian. I’ve had a gut feeling about Finn’s innocence and now I believe I’ve found what I needed to back up my instincts.”

“Thank you for working so hard. This is a huge relief. Can he come home with me, then?” I said.

“I can’t in good conscience hold him with what we’ve got. But I have to convince Morris to let him go because, of course, he thinks the kid’s guilty.”

“Why? You said there was no blood on Finn’s sleeve. And can you even tie the gun to him?” I said.

“Nope,” she said. “I checked and the gun is not in the firearm database.”

“What does that mean?” I said.

Candace said, “One way to track a gun is to see if the ballistic properties have been entered into the national database after a weapon has been used in a crime. Since this gun hasn’t been involved in any crime we know about and since the serial number was filed away and thus we don’t know who purchased it, we have absolutely no way of tracing it.”

“But you know it’s the gun that killed Nolan Roth?” I asked.

“Yes. But that’s all. Now, I’m dealing with Morris being Morris. I explained my theory to him, but he tries not to let hard evidence get in his way.” She smiled. “He bothers the heck out of me most of the time, but deep down I still like him. He knows when to give in, and he’ll give on this one eventually.”

“You can really get him to see things your way?” I asked.

“I am becoming a master at getting Morris to see things my way.” She smiled, grabbed her water bottle and started for the door.

“Wait. I came here to tell you something,” I said.

“Oh. I thought you were just worried about Finn,” she said.

“I am worried, but Rory Gannon showed up again,” I said. “This time he followed Kara and me out to her property.”

She stared up at the ceiling, looking exasperated. “What is wrong with that man? Oh. I forgot. He’s crackerjacks. I assume you’re both okay?”

“Except for our rattled nerves,” I said. “This is like a game to him. Do you have any idea how he ended up in town?”

“I have an idea,” she said. “In checking Tom’s phone—the one we found in his car—I noticed a call was placed to a halfway house in Greenville. Who do you think might have been living in a halfway house?”

“I can only think of one odd person,” I said.

“I’ll have to recheck the date when the call was made, but I’m willing to bet Nolan Roth was in possession of Tom’s phone at the time.”

“Why would Nolan Roth call Gannon?” I said.

“I’m gonna have to think on that one. ’Course, it gives me a good reason to find the guy ASAP and ask him directly.” She smiled and nodded. “I do believe Morris would love to bring him in.”

“Are you kidding? I thought he—”

“Hates the mental cases? He does. But Deputy Rodriguez is good with them. I’ve been asking for more help ever since the murder. Maybe the chief will listen when he comes back from his lunch with the mayor and approve some overtime.” Candace wiped an arm across her brow. “We’re sweating in here like pigs and he’s at the Finest Catch having lake trout seared in lemon butter.”

“Perks of the job,” I said.

“We need to hunt down Gannon and explain how harassment and stalking are serious problems, especially for an ex-con. Then we can bring up any recent phone calls.”

“Will police pressure make him stop following us?” I asked.

“Probably not,” she said, but then her eyes brightened. “But if we catch him at it, we may learn a few important details. We have his plate number and a description of him and his car. Shouldn’t be too hard, if the chief gives his approval.”

“Funny how he’s acting all concerned about his boy , as he calls Finn,” I said, “and yet he hasn’t shown up here at the police station to see what’s going on.”

“Because he doesn’t give a flip about Finn. You know it and I know it. Gannon came here on a mission—and I wish Nolan Roth could tell us why.”

We walked out of the break room together in time to see Morris open the door of the interrogation room and step into the hall. He closed the door after him.

“Where the heck have you been?” he said, ignoring me and staring pointedly at the water bottle in Candace’s hand.

“Did he confess yet, partner?” Candace said.

“He’s not saying squat,” Morris said. “Where’s my water? Or was visiting with your friend more important than helping your partner?”

“You’re the one who decided to sweat the suspect. The suspect who’s innocent . I told you already I know what happened, but maybe getting you some water will help you turn down your cranky factor.” She went back to the break room.

Morris looked at me. “Oh, so she knows what happened. She always knows. Sorry. Dealing with juveniles makes me ornery. How are you today, Jillian?”

Before I could answer, Candace returned with two bottles of water. “Let’s talk to Finn—all three of us.”

This particular interrogation room was less cozy than the one we were in yesterday. For one thing, it smelled like vomit. A bench lined one wall and Finn sat there, his back straight, his hands clenched in his lap. A table bolted to the floor was in front of him and two wooden chairs faced him.

When Finn saw me, his stoic expression softened. “Hey, Jillian. Sorry to cause you so much trouble.”

“You haven’t caused me any problems,” I said. “I want to help you and, believe it or not, these police officers do, too. I never believed you killed Nolan Roth, and now the police have the evidence to show you didn’t.”

I sat on the bench next to Finn. Candace and Morris took the chairs. Candace set a bottle of water in front of Finn.

“She’s right,” Candace said. “We do need to find a murderer, though. To do that, we have to process the evidence. You know what that means, right?”