Ladies’ night, she thought. Choosing and rejecting outfits.
In the bedroom drawers, the same deal and, in the nightstands, some electronics, some night creams, a bottle of meds for helping with an erection, and some lube.
Since both were about half-full, she assumed the couple had remained sexually active.
In the kitchen a note stuck to the friggie.
Snacks inside for you and Don, sweetie. See you both in a couple hours. Don’t drink too much brew!
She’d drawn hearts at the start and finish of the note.
She walked back to the body.
“Okay, Captain. Okay.”
She contacted the sweepers, the morgue—requested Chief Medical Examiner Morris. No need to bring Peabody in yet, she decided. The morning was soon enough for that.
She texted Roarke instead.
Bring him back.
While she waited, she checked the time stamp on the suicide note. Within a minute of TOD, so that could go either way.
Back in the kitchen, she checked the AutoChef. It looked like the couple had shared a meal of linguine with cream sauce and a salad. In the friggie—well stocked—she noted the snack tray. Cheese, pickles, carefully sliced disks of a meat-like product, some sort of dip, some salsa.
A tray of crackers sat on the counter beside a bowl of chips and a pile of cocktail napkins.
Expecting Webster, no question, and that could go either way.
Let Webster find me, deal with it while Beth’s gone.
Or somebody didn’t expect a cop on scene minutes after TOD.
For now, she’d keep both possibilities wide open.
When she heard the door, she stepped out again.
“Have a seat, Webster.” She gestured to a chair out of eyeline with the body. “Run it through for me.”
“I’m going to start at the beginning, all right?”
Calmer now, she noted, and knew she had Roarke to thank for it.
“Go.”
“Martin came by to see me this afternoon. I’ve been off-planet for a week, so doing weekend work, flexing time. He thought we could have some lunch, catch up, but I was swamped. We just had some coffee at my desk.”
“What was his mood?”
“Good. Up. Fine. He talked some about his granddaughter’s Little League game, and just wanted to know how things were going with me. I had some things I wanted to talk to him about, and we didn’t have time then, so he said I should come over about nine or so because Beth had her girls’ night, and we could drink some brew—if I brought it—bullshit awhile.”
“He expected you.”
“That’s right. I didn’t get here until about nine-thirty. Had a lot to clear at Central, wanted to change, buy the brew.”
“How’d you get in?”
“I have a swipe and their passcode. I didn’t bother buzzing in downstairs, but he didn’t answer when I knocked. I just let myself in, figuring he didn’t hear me. He’s had some hearing issues off and on for the last year or so, and I heard the game on in his den. I called out.”
He took a moment, gathered himself.
“I set the brew down and, when I looked in his den, I saw him.”
“Did you touch anything?”
“His shoulder. His left shoulder. I didn’t touch the weapon, the monitor, anything else. I just put my hand on his shoulder because I couldn’t believe … Jesus.”
Webster covered his face with his hands as the words shook out of him. “I need a second.”
“You read the monitor.”
Face still covered, Webster nodded. Then he dropped his hands, and his eyes burned hot. “And it’s bullshit. It’s bullshit, Dallas. He’d never do this to Beth, to his kids, his grandkids. He wouldn’t do this to me. And he’d never take this way out.”
“Do you know if he had any medical issues other than his hearing?”
Now, as he shook his head, Webster dragged his hands through his hair.
“Nothing, not that he ever told me, or Beth told me—and she would if he didn’t. Slowing down, he’d say, and it pissed him off some. That’s bullshit about good cops, his fault. He honored the badge, do you get me?”
Webster’s voice hitched, then hardened.
“Yeah, he was a hard-ass, and straight down the line. If a cop smelled bad, he’d go after them all the way, and he taught me to do the same. It doesn’t make you popular, but it’s the job.
“It’s a setup, Dallas,” he insisted. “Martin wouldn’t do this. I know that without a fucking doubt.”
Right now, she thought, they needed facts. Not feelings.
“You say you knocked. How many times? How long did you wait before you came in?”
“I knocked twice. Slowing down, right? So I wanted to give him a minute. A minute, maybe a little less, and I swiped in. No more than about a minute.”
“Did you hear anything from inside?”
“No. Well, the game. I heard the game coming from his den, so figured he didn’t hear me knock over it.”
“Did anyone else know he expected you tonight?”
“I don’t know. Beth—he’d have told her, the way you do.”
He lifted his hands, dropped them again. Then linked them together as if he didn’t know what to do with them.
“I don’t know if he told anyone else, or why he would.”
“Describe your relationship with him.”
“He was my captain when I joined IAB, and until he retired. And he was the next thing to a father to me. My parents split when I was a kid, and my father didn’t have much interest. My mother remarried, and they didn’t have a lot of interest. Martin and Beth did. I have Christmas with them every year. I loved him, and I want whoever did this to him.”
“As of now I haven’t determined homicide. I’ve requested Morris, and the sweepers are on the way. You are not part of the investigation. You can’t be. You know that.”
She held up a hand before he could speak. “I’ll keep you in the loop. I can do that, but that’s all. Don’t get in my way.”
“I know you didn’t especially like him.”
Eyes flat, she spoke coolly. “Do you think that applies to my ability to investigate his death?”
“No. Absolutely no. That’s why I asked for you. Dallas, I need to be here for Beth. This is going to— They really loved each other. She needs somebody who loved him here. I don’t want to contact her, bring her home like this. I don’t want her to see him like this, or watch them carry him out in a body bag.”
“I need her statement. I need to interview her. She’s most likely the last person to see him alive.”
“He said she’d be home before midnight, earlier, probably. She just meets some friends once a month, and they drink wine and hang out for a couple hours.”
“Did you tell anyone you were coming here tonight?”
“I messaged Darcia. My door was open when Martin came by. Sure, somebody could’ve heard us set it up, but I didn’t say anything specifically to anyone.”
“Roarke, would you see about getting the security feed for the building, and the feed for this front door cam on this unit?”
She waited until he’d walked out.
“If there’s anything, any detail, any single thing you’re leaving out, softening up, shifting on me, spill it now, Webster, or I swear to God when I find out—and I will—I’ll slice you to pieces.”