Sharon Mignerey: The Good Neighbor

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that it was one of those things you say in jest when you’re mildly annoyed.” He never spoke first. It was a cardinal rule of his, one he was acutely aware of breaking.

Then, she did look away, her gaze moving toward the backyard, a shimmer appearing in her eyes. “No,” she whispered. “I’ve never—I don’t say things like that.”

She never what? He wondered even as he acknowledged that she was telling him she’d been serious about the threat. He’d given her a way out, and she hadn’t taken it.

“Maybe you should just tell me how it happened. Give me some context to work with.”

Those vivid eyes fastened on him once more, and he realized her lashes were the longest he had ever seen. She really did have beautiful eyes. If he were to trust the old saying that eyes are a window to the soul, then this woman was innocent. Tempting, but he knew better.

He looked away from her face, studying the blood on her clothes. Though it would take a forensic examination to know for sure, his study now matched his first impression—there was no blood spatter from a live wound, but instead smears that might have come from touching someone you hoped would still be alive.

“Where do you work?” he asked, looking at a vaguely familiar emblem embroidered on the pocket of her shirt—a pair of hands cupped beneath a loaf of bread.

“Our Daily Bread,” she answered, giving him the name of a local home-health-care agency and making him wonder what she did there, since he’d already met several of the nurses and the PA. She touched her forehead with her palm. “I’ve got to call in. I was due at my first patient’s house a long time ago.”

“You’re a nurse?”

“A physical therapist. I work with patients who can’t get to the rehab center at the nursing home.” She reached for the clip on her belt that held her cell phone.

“Why is that body still lying out here?” The sonorous voice of Wade’s boss, Chief Carl Egan suddenly carried toward them.

Wade looked up to see the chief coming toward him, his eyes shadowed by the brim of the black baseball cap he always wore.

“There you are, Prescott. What do we have so far?”

“Maybe now is a good time to make that call,” Wade said to Megan. “I’ll be back.” Standing, he headed for the driveway, leading the chief away from his witness. “The body is still here because I haven’t examined it yet,” he said.

“And why not?”

“It’s not going anywhere. Not like other evidence and witnesses.”

“Uh-huh. Continue.” Though Egan’s tone was curt, he relaxed a little, folding his arms over his chest and rocking back on his heels the way he did when he was concentrating.

“At the moment, we’re taking witness statements and doing the initial neighborhood canvas. As soon as we’re done, we’ll begin processing the crime scene.”

The chief lifted his hat, scratching his nearly bald head. “You can’t just leave a corpse lying out here in the driveway. This is a small town, Prescott. People aren’t used—”

“The body was like that when I got here,” Wade said. “So I don’t have any context for the crime scene.” He nodded toward Megan. “She’s the one who found him, and in a minute, I’m going to get her to show me exactly where and how.”

“Well, get to it, Prescott. You’re my expert, but I can tell you, you’ve already ruffled a few feathers. Doc Wagner called me up while I was on my way over here and bent my ear about the way you’ve run roughshod over everyone.”

Wade didn’t bother correcting that, but said, “Maybe he should have thought of that before he moved the body.”

The chief’s head came up and he looked back toward Wagner. “He did that?”

“He did.”

“Well. That does color things a little different now, doesn’t it?”

“We’ve got a mess,” Wade added. “Since the body was moved, I don’t yet know whether the victim died here or somewhere else. I don’t even know for sure that it was a murder, though at least one person evidently made a threat against him. But there were so many people moving through the area and contaminating the scene that this investigation is going to be a problem.”

“Hang on a minute. You’ve already talked to a suspect?”

“Witness,” Wade corrected.

“Well, bring him down to the station. Who is it?” Egan asked, remaining fixed on the idea of a suspect and a quick resolution to the case. Wade understood the agenda since it was the same with police chiefs everywhere. The quicker a case was solved, the less fallout there would be.

“A witness,” Wade repeated, nodding toward Megan. “Mrs. Russell’s neighbor.”

“The gal who found him?” The chief looked in her direction. “I’ll take her down to the station and put her in holding. You want to be there for the interrogation?”

“I’d like to get her statement before we accuse her of anything that, at this point, is pure conjecture,” Wade said. “And, since she’s the one who called this in, I want her to tell me how she found the body. Then you can take her.” He glanced back at Megan. “We’ll need her clothes, too.” Wade paused, waiting for Chief Egan to look back at him. “You know that witnesses to this kind of crime sometimes have post-traumatic stress symptoms that makes them look like they have things to hide when they don’t.”

“I’ve done my share of interrogations, Detective,” the chief said stiffly.

“All I’m saying is maybe we want to take it easy with her. See where it leads us.”

Chief Egan nodded. “Smart. Get her to convict herself with her own words.” He glanced back toward Doc Wagner. “You talk to your suspect and I’ll get Doc Wagner settled down. The sooner you can release the body to him, the better.”

“The body needs to go to Grand Junction for an autopsy by the medical examiner, in case this goes to court. We’ll need this done by a certified professional.”

Egan stared into space a moment. “That’s spreading resources pretty thin, since we’ll need to send an officer along to keep the chain of evidence intact.”

“That’s right.” Wade looked toward Doc Wagner, who was still talking on his cell phone. “Like the man told me, the body is his by state statute. As coroner, he can accompany it.”

Chief Egan laughed. “Nothing like getting even for messing with your crime scene, is there? Okay.” He slapped Wade on the back. “I’ll talk to him.”

By the time Wade headed back toward her, Megan had finished her call. Her boss, Sarah Moran, had told her not to worry about a thing, saying that she’d notify all the patients on Megan’s schedule for the day.

Detective Prescott’s posture was all tense again, she noted, deliberately thinking of him by his title. Finding that her hands were once more trembling, she clasped them on top of the table. She remembered this from before, and it seemed to her that she’d spent a long time shaking, especially when she had tried to go to sleep.

Stop it, she mentally scolded herself. She was no longer a child, and she’d be able to handle this.

“Are you up to showing me how you found the body?” he asked, pulling out a notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket and coming to a stop a few feet away from her.

She stood and came toward him, determined to get everything out in the open. Better he hear it from her than someone else. “I helped Doc Wagner put him—Robby—in the body bag.”

He looked at her steadily as though she’d simply told him something banal, like it was a nice day. “Is that when you got the blood all over you?”

She looked down at herself. “I don’t honestly remember.” How could she have not noticed the blood before now? “I remember touching Robby’s neck to see if there was a pulse. There wasn’t.”