Darker Than Any Shadow

Chapter Twenty-eight

Cummings sat down. He read the case notes, without speaking. I sat, also without speaking. He pushed the folder away and ran both hands over his face.

I was betting it was an interesting incident report. Especially since there probably wasn’t an APD protocol for a scene with two suspected burglars, one of them wearing Armani and wielding a nine-millimeter, the other with a python wrapped around her calf like a leg warmer.

Cummings shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start. Twenty-two years on the force, and I think I’ve seen it all, and then…” He waved a hand at the folder. “I get this.”

“Believe me, this is not what I saw coming this afternoon either.”

“And what was that? That you were going to break into a closed place of business to accost an employee as to why she had a dead man’s car in her alley—”

“I can explain—”

“A car containing stolen property—”

“I didn’t know that part!”

“Only to find said owner murdered and apparently, just for kicks, a big damn snake wrapped around her!”

“No. I didn’t see any of that coming, the snake especially.” I leaned forward. “Why was there a snake?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” He leaned forward too. “But let’s stop playing Wild Kingdom for a second and talk about the rest of the stuff in that Suburban. Like two video game consoles, three DVD players, a box of iPods, and more jewelry than you could shake a stick at.”

I drummed my fingers on the table. “Sounds like a stash.”

“Indubitably.”

“Have you found out how he was fencing that stuff? Because I’m guessing Debbie was up to her eyeballs in that end of it. She had this online shop that would have been perfect for—”

“We know, and it was. We know something else too. Debbie knew who killed Lex.”

He paused to let that sink in. And sink it did.

“She’s the one who called the cops?”

“Absolutely. She was ready to turn state’s evidence. She wanted a guarantee she’d ride on the stolen merchandise and the murder itself.”

“Wait, Debbie was worried she’d be charged with the homicide?”

“Apparently. We told her we’d be right out. She said to hurry. She said she was afraid. And then we get there…” He spread his hands. “And there you are, and Seaver, and a big damn snake just to throw a wrench into the whole thing. Hawkins will never be the same. Pathological about snakes apparently.”

I remembered the look in Trey’s eyes, the tamped down panic, the shaky gun. “Yeah, snakes can bring out stuff you didn’t know you had.”

Cummings flipped a page. “It gets better. This body is the second body that’s showed up in your vicinity in less than a week. Most people never stumble across a body their whole lives, but you? You get two in one week. Hell, factor in that mess back in the spring—”

Here we go, I thought.

“—you’ve seen more action than some guys on the force.” He narrowed his eyes. “In addition to murder, my officers tell me you admitted that vehicle of stolen merchandise has your fingerprints all over it.”

“It maybe has some, true, but—”

“As does the inside of the gallery. As does the damn snake probably.” Cummings closed the folder. “Which has me wondering, what other fascinating information about you is going to surface when the ME is done with the body?”

And that was the shift. I recognized it, easily. My interview was now an interrogation, and I knew what my next response had to be—don’t say anything until you get a lawyer, and keep repeating that over and over until said lawyer walks in the door.

But that wasn’t what came out of my mouth.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“You say that a lot.”

I sat back in the chair. “I haven’t heard any Miranda warnings. I’m assuming that means I’m not being arrested?”

“No, ma’am, you’re not being arrested. You’re here because two people are dead, and those two dead people have one thing in common—you.”

“They have a lot of other people in common too.”

“Yes, they do, including our mutual acquaintance Trey Seaver. Who is also not being arrested. Yet.”

I suppressed a surge of guilt. Trey. He was probably getting his own grill job. Probably in a nicer interrogation room, however, one with squishy sofas and hot tea. The ex-cop unit.

“Talk to the shopping center manager, Detective. He’ll verify I drove out of his parking lot while Debbie was still breathing.”

“The manager left when you did. All he can verify is that several tenants were complaining about you and Debbie having a loud fight in the back lot, which is why he showed up.”

“But—”

“And there are a lot of ways back in, Ms. Randolph. Back ways, side ways.”

“I was across the street in the other shopping center! Ask around. I’m sure somebody saw me sitting there, saw Trey pick me up.” I tapped the police report. “Your officers will find lots of other fingerprints in the galley. So stop looking at me like I’m means, motive, and opportunity all rolled into one. I had no reason to kill Debbie.”

“Unless you killed Lex and she’d decided to turn you in.”

“If that were the case, do you think I would have called you before I even got there and said, oh by the way, I think I know where his missing van might be? Get real. If I’d killed Lex, I’d be hunkered down, counting the days until the next sensational Atlanta homicide sends Lex’s file to the cold cases.”

Cummings ignored my little speech. “I don’t think you killed Lex. Or Debbie. And believe me, that’s the only reason you’re not being charged.” He leaned even closer. “But you know something, I know you do. And I want to know what it is.”

“Here’s what I know.” I ticked off on my fingers. “Somebody killed Lex, somebody killed Debbie, and the main thing they have in common is a bunch of stolen property. Whoever killed Lex took his phone and—”

I froze. Cummings narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“And his necklace.”

“His what?”

“His big damn necklace.” I smacked the table. “That’s what was missing. I kept telling you the night he was killed that something was missing, remember? But I was so in shock at seeing what was there—this big bloody stain—that I completely blocked what should have been there.”

“What kind of necklace?”

“Gothic-looking, with roses and skulls and an ankh.” I remembered Cricket’s explanation. “I’ve heard it’s sacred in certain circles.”

He didn’t ask how I knew that, which was a relief. But he did write down everything I said, taking every word as seriously as gospel.

I sat back in my chair. “He stole something he shouldn’t have, didn’t he? That necklace maybe? And whatever it was, somebody wanted it back bad enough to kill him.”

Cummings offered no opinion on my hypothesis. He tapped his pen against the table.

“I think it’s time to ask Seaver what he thinks about all this. Rumor has it he’s a human lie detector now.”

“Rumor has it mostly right.”

“You think he could teach me that trick?”

“It involves right frontal lobe damage, so no, probably not.”

We were amiable again. I recognized this for the trap it was.

Cummings smiled. “Let’s get him in here anyway and see what shakes out.”