Bear the Great – Chapter One-Hundred-One.
As police detectives went, he was not what you might expect. Sure, he was overworked, and that made him a little gruff. But he was no Jerry Orbach. He prided himself on keeping a neat appearance, all the way from his carefully barbered brown hair down to the carefully applied black shine on his wing-tips. “Careful” was exactly the right word for him. He cared about doing his job the right way, with all the “i’s” dotted and all the “t’s” crossed. What he didn’t care for was this shitty coffee. Somebody musta left the pot on to burn again. He’d had battery acid that tasted better.
Today’s docket included the couple from Ohio who’d discovered the body in the blogger murder case. And later on, the wife. “Widow” would be the proper term. But right now, she was still a suspect. So, “wife” would have to do. He’d already interviewed the Park Ranger and found her attention to detail refreshing. Somebody like that might make a decent detective some day. You know, should they ever decide to get deeper into the law enforcement side of things and move beyond giving tours to grade school groups and doing trail maintenance with the retiree volunteers.
The interview room wasn’t quite as spartan as what you’d see on CSI, but close. Straight-back chairs and a rectangular wooden table? Check. Camera up near the junction of wall and ceiling? Yeah, sure. But no two-way mirror for the peanut gallery to watch the proceedings out-of-sight. And no blood stains on the linoleum either. Also no ash tray full of cigarette butts. Nobody had smoked in here since the Reagan administration. But there was an old “Take a Bite Out of Crime, McGruff” poster tacked to the wall. Somebody’s idea of a joke. Ha-ha, very funny.
********
They were doing the couple together to save time. Solid citizens, both of them ex-military. No prior connection to the deceased. Just out hiking and stumbled on a human corpse buried trailside. Yikes. Not exactly the kind of publicity CPW liked to put out there on social media, but you take the good with the bad I guess. Get their statements and let them be on their way. Headed for China, so they said. Must be nice. The detective hadn’t had a vacation in more than a year. Ah well. Let’s get this thing over with.
“Thanks for coming in, folks. I understand you’re traveling overseas, so we’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible. Maybe you can get another flight out tomorrow. Or the next day?”
“Appreciate that. Happy to help. The Great Wall’s been standing for 3000 years, so I guess it’ll still be there next week.”
“Ha. Right. So. Just describe what you saw, what you did, who you spoke to, who else was around….”
It was the kind of evidence that might be introduced to connect the dots should it ever come to a trial. But it was unlikely, in and of itself, to lead to anything as sexy as an arrest, or contribute much in the way of solving the crime. Dotting “i’s” and crossing “t’s” was a detective’s bread and butter. It wasn’t filet mignon, but it kept the lights on.
********
The deceased’s wife? Now that was a different story. Not a slam dunk by any means, but the stats didn’t lie: Over 12% of all murders ultimately turned out to be committed by a spouse. Those numbers went up above 20% if you expanded it to include all “intimate partners.” And she’d already been ID’ed by the Park Ranger as having been near the scene at the time of the crime. Never a good look. This woman looked like she’d been through the wringer. Dark circles under her eyes like she hadn’t slept much. The faces of guilt varied from stony to distraught. This one was closer to distraught.
“Yes I was there. But I left shortly after I got there. And I have no idea who’d want to kill my husband. Why aren’t you people doing your job?”
“I’ll worry about doing my job if you tell me what you were doing there in the first place.”
“I already told you. I was checking up on him. Making sure he wasn’t stepping out with Aelin. After I saw him head up South Rim, I went straight home.”
On a first name basis with the Park Ranger? Hmmm. A little follow-up there might be in order. But for now, a skeptical look was as good as another question. He could wait. He had all day. Well, that wasn’t technically correct. He had more to do than he had time to do it. But sometimes just getting them talking was half the battle. He cocked an eyebrow.
********
“Alright, I went in and used the bathroom. Then I went home. Look, I’m no detective, but I think you should be looking for someone with something to gain from having him dead. He wasn’t always the easiest person to live with, but no way did I kill him.”
“Tell me more about him not being easy to live with.”
“I didn’t mean ME. But he did get into it with the neighbors sometimes. And they’ve got security cameras. So maybe you should go do something useful and see what they’ve got on their backup tapes.”
“That I certainly will do, and all in good time. But for the record, you’re saying you didn’t follow your husband up South Rim Trail and smash his head in with a hammer?”
“NO!”
“OK. We’ll see what we see. And in the meantime, don’t go anywhere. We may need to talk with you again.”
“Sure. Be glad to. And next time? I’ll be sure and bring my own coffee. That crap you guys have here tastes like battery acid.”
“Tell me about it.”
********
“Oh, just one more thing, ma’am.” He hated sounding like Columbo, but he really had forgotten to ask this up front. “What is it you do for a living?”
“What do I DO for a LIVING? Jesus. What could that POSSIBLY have to do with anything?”
“Just dotting the “i’s” and crossing the “t’s,” ma’am. You never know what’s relevant until you see the whole picture.”
“Teacher.” At first it sounded like a non sequitur. But she was actually answering his question.
“Ah. Got it. Is that like teaching Trancendental Meditation? Or Basket Weaving? Quantum Physics, perhaps?”
********
She glared at him. Her face suddenly transformed from guilt to grief, then flashed the unmistakable heat of naked rage. After two beats, she let out a sigh, deflated. “If you really need to know, I’ve got a masters from USC in Curriculum and Instruction. With a specialization in Gifted and Talented. My current claim to fame is, I take care of that portion of the K-thru-8 population who are known as “twice exceptional.” That means that, in addition to testing out as gifted, they carry a secondary diagnosis on the autism spectrum.”
“Wow. Sounds like a lotta work.”
“Yeah, keeps me busy.” Something subtly shifted in her face. She turned to face him full on. “You know, these kids, they don’t get much support in the regular classroom. Most teachers are too busy dealing with all the day-to-day stuff to spend much quality time with a kid who is bored outta their skull by fractions when they already understand Quantum Mechanics. It’s not only overworked detectives who are underappreciated, y’know.”
That got his full attention. He sat up a little straighter.
“The fact is, I DO teach them weaving. I bring my loom into class and everything. And those kids, they eat it up. The whole wide world consists of a helluva lot more than just parts of speech and American Civics y’know. And if you play your cards right, mister, I could invite you over and show you all about warp and weft.”
What the HELL? Was this lady actually HITTING on him?
“Um. Well. No, that won’t be necessary, ma’am. But thanks for your candor. And my condolences on your loss.”
********
Notes to self: Follow up AGAIN with the Park Ranger. Interview the neighbors. And DEFINITELY get hold of those security tapes. She was right: Whoever had something to gain percolated straight to the top of any suspect list. Lucky for her there was no life insurance. Otherwise he’d be sweating her a whole lot longer and a whole lot harder than he already had done. His gut told him she was not a murderous spouse. That she was just a grieving widow who was frustrated, anxious, and angry. But keeping a wary eye open to all the possibilities? That’s what he did for a living. And he was good at it, too.