Bennie nodded. “What about surveillance cameras? Did you find any other cameras?”
“No.” Lou shook his head, buckling his lower lip. “There’s no camera at the other intersection because there’s no traffic light there, only a stop sign. I stopped in at six restaurants and an art gallery on that three-block strip. No cameras, so far. I’ll draw ya a map later and show you exactly who I talked to and where.” Lou sighed. “Now, one of the managers in the Mexican restaurant on that block was out today and will be back tomorrow, so I’ll follow up. And I’ll call up some of my guys on the force and ask them where are any other cameras they know of. Then I’ll follow up.”
Mary knew it was a tough break. “Okay, that sucks, but let’s stay with my original theory, which is, unfortunately, proving a negative. We can’t show yet that somebody else came from the opposite direction. But the police can’t show that there was nobody else but Judy. So we have to keep hammering that it had to have been someone who came in after she left the apartment.” Mary glanced at Judy, who was on edge. “I just can’t figure out why anybody would want to kill John. Can you?”
“No, not at all.”
“He got along with the neighbors?”
“He hardly knew them. He was private. You know how he was.”
“Was he ever burglarized before?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Never mugged or anything?”
“No.” Judy raked her fingers through her hair. “I just can’t believe they suspect me of killing him. This is a nightmare.”
“Honey, don’t worry, they need a lot more than they have to meet reasonable doubt.”
“That’s true,” Bennie added. “It’s not enough to charge you, Carrier.”
“What more do they need?” Judy raked her hands through her hair again. “I should know, but I can’t even think. It’s been a horrible day.” She looked over at Roger, almost apologetically. “And I’m trying, but I don’t feel very centered right now.”
Roger’s expression softened. “That’s completely understandable, Judy. I have some thoughts that may help you with your loss, which I can let you have at a more appropriate time. As you know, there is much in the teachings about passing on to the next stage.”
“Yes, in Buddhism, too.” Judy sighed. “But I have more immediate worries, like the police.”
“Of course. I’m not a criminal lawyer, so this is beyond my ken.”
Bennie leaned forward. “Carrier, before they can charge you, they need physical evidence, for starters. Trace evidence, like DNA, hair, fibers, fingerprints, maybe blood.”
Judy bit her lip. “But my blood, hair and prints will be all over his apartment, and sooner or later, the cops are going to call me back in. I’m going to have to give samples. I don’t have a right to refuse that.”
Mary’s thoughts raced. “But not on the murder weapon, right? The detectives told us that they think John was killed using the base of a lamp. Did you touch the base of the lamp?”
Judy’s forehead remained tense. “I doubt it. I know the lamp they mean. It’s a chrome desk lamp. It has a big heavy base, and one of those metal arms that has a joint, like an elbow.”
Mary could visualize it. “He called it a Luxor lamp.”
Judy rallied. “I might have touched the top, like, the knob you turn it on with, but I doubt that I touched the base.”
Bennie nodded. “So if it’s the murder weapon, it will have the killer’s trace evidence on it, not yours. That’s a major problem for them.”
Mary breathed a relieved sigh. “Good. So that will slow them down.”
Bennie rested her chin on her hand. “I’d like to get inside his apartment and examine the scene.”
Lou turned to her. “They were about to release the scene when I left. They were waiting for the okay.”
Bennie blinked, surprised. “They released the scene already? Isn’t that soon?”
“Yep, that’s the way they do it now. They get in and get out. With budget cutbacks by the city, they don’t have the manpower to hold the scene the way they used to.”
Judy shrugged. “I have a key to John’s apartment, at home.”
Mary looked over. “Do you feel up for it, if we go?”
“What do you think?” Judy answered, without elaborating.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mary lingered at the threshold with Judy, trying to get her emotional bearings while Bennie and Lou entered John’s living room, poked around, and started taking pictures with their cell phones, since Lou had charged his phone in the car. Mary couldn’t bring herself to take photos because being here made it so real that John had been brutally murdered. It was harder to take, having spent the afternoon with William, and she realized she was learning more about John in death than she had in life, which gave her a guilty wrench.
Judy stood rooted to the threshold, fighting for emotional control, and Mary knew why, reaching for Judy’s hand. The exact spot where John had been murdered was straight ahead in the living area, in a direct line from the door. Dark blood soaked a grayish-wool rug, making a grotesquely vast pool, maybe as wide as three feet. The blood wasn’t even completely dry, so some patches were darker than others, and blood sprayed out in droplets and long lines, radiating like lethal sunrays. A sickening metallic odor tainted the air, and Mary prayed that she was the only one who could detect it, because of her pregnancy.
Mary squeezed Judy’s hand. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“This is horrible,” Judy said, hushed.
“Do you want to wait outside?”
“No, thanks. I’ll stay here, but you should go in and look around.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, please, go ahead,” Judy answered, eyes brimming.
“Okay, hang in.” Mary gave Judy’s hand a final squeeze, set her emotions aside, and analyzed it as a crime scene. The living room was shaped like a large box, with an eat-in kitchen on the left, and on the right, a sitting area that held a black-leather couch facing a black entertainment center against the wall. There were no windows in the living room, so it was somewhat dark, and the only light at this point was from an old-fashioned crystal fixture mounted on the ceiling. Directly ahead on the far wall of the living room were two open doors that led to two rooms, one on the left and one on the right.
Judy pointed from the doorway. “His bedroom is on the right and his office is on the left. The bathroom’s just off the bedroom. There’s only the one.”
“Thanks.” Mary made her way through the living room, among the debris. The furniture showed heartbreaking signs of a struggle; seat cushions were scattered, a black-ceramic lamp was lying on the rug, and the other end table had been upended, scattering coasters, pens, legal papers, and the remote control to the floor. Novels and law books had fallen from bookshelves in the entertainment center, and framed photographs lay willy-nilly on the rug.
Mary picked one up, hating to leave them on the floor. It was John’s parents on their wedding day, and they made an attractive couple, both of them with glasses and sandy-blonde hair, looking intelligent, well-heeled, and vaguely preppy, like John. Another photo was lying face down, and Mary picked it up, turning it over. It was a childhood snapshot of William sitting in a red Radio Flyer, his knotted fists in his lap, and he was being pulled by John. John couldn’t have been more than six years old, grinning ear-to-ear in Ninja turtle pajamas.
“Mary, let me see,” Judy said, finally coming over.
“They’re so cute.” Mary handed her the photos, and Judy looked lovingly at the one of John and William.
“Aw, do you think it’s okay if I keep these?”