Feared (Rosato & DiNunzio #6)

“Let’s go see.” Mary left the bedroom, followed by everybody else, and she entered the office, switching on the light. An overhead fixture came on, revealing a room slightly smaller than the bedroom, with a computer workstation covered with legal files and papers on the right side, and on the left, two gray file cabinets and a bookshelf full of old law school textbooks.

“Please God, give us a break.” Mary beelined for the window, which had no shade on it, unlike the bedroom. She checked the window lock and almost cheered. “It’s unlocked!”

“Whew.” Bennie heaved a relieved sigh.

“Hold on, lemme take some pictures.” Lou snapped photos of the window, and Bennie did the same.

“Let’s see the fire escape.” Mary opened the window, letting in the cool night air. The fire escape was directly outside the window, and its landing was only about two feet lower than the windowsill.

Bennie leaned outside the window. “The fire escape’s right here. Anybody could’ve climbed in through this window. Anybody.”

Mary nodded. “Anybody who wasn’t pregnant.”

Bennie smiled. “I have to tell you, that the killer is a burglar makes sense to me. That must be why the police went there initially.”

“What’s your reasoning?” Mary asked, intrigued.

“It gives a motive for the crime, and it’s a motive that makes sense. This neighborhood is mixed, and there’s transients. John is a successful lawyer, and there’s people passing through who don’t have jobs. They could see where he is, they could even follow him home. And one day, they decide to come back.” Bennie gestured out the window. “You could even see John sitting here, working at his desk. You know he has a laptop, and some money, and a second-floor climb is easy. Please, I know somebody who was burglarized using a fire escape, and they lived in a fourth-floor walk-up.”

Mary mulled it over. “But if they saw John here, then why try to burglarize the apartment when he was home? The detective’s theory was that John surprised the burglar when he came home, but we know that didn’t happen because we know Judy had just left, relatively, so John wasn’t out.”

Bennie shrugged. “Maybe the burglar thought John wasn’t home, but he was, or maybe he just didn’t care. With the typical burglary, you’d expect ransacking of the apartment, like drawers overturned and such, but this was interrupted, botched. The burglar was surprised to find John and kills him impulsively because he doesn’t want to get caught. He doesn’t have time to look for any other valuables, so he grabs the laptop and John’s phone. We don’t know if he took his wallet and watch. Nor do we know if he leaves by the back entrance, but that’s most likely. We have to find out if there’s any cameras out back.”

“Will do.” Lou nodded, gravely. “It does explain the motive. I can’t see any other reason why anybody would kill John. And I will look at cameras on the back. I focused on witnesses because I wanted to get people when the recollections were fresh. I’ll follow up with that tomorrow. It’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Hold on a second.” Bennie dug in her bag and produced a flashlight, and Mary marveled at the stuff the woman carried around, since she didn’t bother with makeup bags or blotting papers.

Lou looked over. “Bennie, you going out there?”

“Yes, to test our theory.” Bennie switched on the flashlight. “You coming with me or are you too old?”

“How dare you.” Lou smiled as Bennie climbed out the window and onto the fire escape, shining the flashlight on the landing so Lou could climb out, which he did, slowly with a theatrical groan.

Mary watched them go down the stairs outside the building, feeling a rush of happiness, for the first time in a long time. They had lucked out, and her theory was actually a credible one, which might save Judy from being charged with murder.

Mary turned around, excitedly, until she saw that Judy had sunk onto a chair at John’s desk, her head in her hands. “Oh no, honey.”

“I’m okay.” Judy straightened up, rubbing her face, and Mary came over, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so thoughtless.”

“You aren’t, you’re not. It’s just hard to get excited about knowing how he was killed. I just can’t see it academically, like any other murder case.” Judy’s eyes brimmed, but she held back her tears.

“I totally get that. Really, I’m sorry.”

“I mean, I knew it wasn’t me who did it, but I can’t stand to think that some burglar, some thug, snuck up behind him and killed him. Somebody who wasn’t fit to clean his shoes. Somebody who would kill another human being for a laptop.” Judy’s lips quivered, but she stayed in control. “And I know this is weird to say but I just keep thinking, where did the police find the engagement ring? How? Was it in his dresser? His closet? Did they search everything?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know what’s worse? What if after we had the fight, he took out the engagement ring from wherever it was? Or maybe he even had it while we were fighting. Maybe he was going to propose this weekend, but then I gave him such a hard time, and we broke up, and he didn’t—”

“You can’t go down that what-if trail again.”

“I can’t help it, or what if he takes the ring out and he’s sitting on the couch with it? After all, we had just had a fight. Maybe he felt bad, maybe he was even crying. I know I was.” Judy shook her head, broken and bewildered. “And if he had the ring in his hand, maybe that’s what was happening when the burglar snuck up behind him.”

“No, that’s not what happened. If it were, the burglar would’ve stolen the ring, too.”

“Maybe he didn’t see it? Maybe it rolled under the chair or the couch, and the police found it, but the burglar didn’t. It’s possible. The burglar would’ve been in a hurry, but the police weren’t.”

“Oh, honey.” Mary gave her a hug, catching sight of the papers on John’s workstation. She blinked twice when she saw the form on top, which sat inside an open manila folder thick with correspondence.

DEPT. OF HUMAN SERVICES, Complaint, read the caption, and it was the draft of an official form that John had filled out, in his handwriting. In the box for Complainant, John had written, John Foxman, Esq., as Guardian for William R. Foxman, and under Respondent, John had written, Michael Shanahan, Supervisor, Poplar House, Glenn Meade, Devon, Pennsylvania.

“Judy, did you know that John was complaining about Mike Shanahan to the state?”

“Really?” Judy asked, rising.

“Look.” Mary scanned the form. In the block where the description of the complaint was supposed to be supplied, John had written in light pencil:

I am filing the complaint regarding negligent treatment of my brother, who has cerebral palsy and is a longtime resident of Glenn Meade. I am reporting negligence and neglect by Michael Shanahan, supervisor of Poplar House. It takes a caretaker about half an hour to feed my brother, because he has tongue thrust and that makes it difficult for him to swallow, which is typical of many adults and children with cerebral palsy. Mr. Shanahan is a new supervisor at my brother’s group home and in the past two weeks, he has been complaining to me that my brother is “taking too long at mealtimes” and this is “throwing off” the schedule of the house. Mr. Shanahan has suggested to me that my brother be put on a feeding tube, but this is absolutely ridiculous. It is not for my brother’s welfare, but for the convenience of Mr. Shanahan. My brother opposes this, and his consent is necessary, and so is mine. None of this was a problem before Mr. Shanahan became supervisor. Because Mr. Shanahan and I have not been able to resolve this informally, so I am

Mary looked over at Judy. “Did you know about this?”

“Only generally. He told me that he had issues with Shanahan, but not the details. I didn’t know he was going to file a complaint.”

“Do you think Shanahan knew John was going to file a complaint?”

“I doubt it.” Judy frowned. “If John didn’t tell me, I doubt he would tell Shanahan.”

“What effect would this complaint have, do you know? Could it get Shanahan fired?”

“I don’t know. You know disability law better than I do.” Judy met Mary’s eye, as a realization dawned on her. “What, are you thinking that Shanahan had something to do with John’s death?”