Prew scanned the list. ‘I would have interviewed them as part of the investigation. I’ve kept all my notes, so I can check, but I don’t remember any of . . . Oh, wait. I know this name. The morgue tech. Kirby Gilson.’
Prew hesitated and Thorne grew impatient. ‘What do you know about him?’
Prew looked up. ‘Well, mostly that he’s dead. He was shot at a scene he was responding to. First responders didn’t know there was still an active shooter, so they’d called the morgue techs in. I didn’t investigate the homicide, but I remember the funeral. He had a wife, and a kid who had leukemia or something like that. We took up a collection for them.’
‘When was this?’ Thorne asked, making a note to have Lucy check on the man’s work history.
Prew frowned. ‘Maybe ten years ago? Fifteen years, at the most. Are you thinking he was shot deliberately?’
‘We don’t know what we’re thinking,’ Thorne said, frustrated. ‘But we have to start somewhere. What about the others on the list?’
Prew handed the paper back to Jamie. ‘I know the ER doctor, because my kids played sports and we ended up in the ER too many times back then. He’s passed on too. Stroke, I think. Or maybe a heart attack. He was a good guy. The rest of the names, I don’t know. I’m not saying they’re good or bad. I just don’t know. It’s been nineteen years.’
‘Well, then, what about Angela Ospina?’ Phil said. ‘She’s the girl who Thorne was trying to protect when this whole debacle began. I couldn’t find her.’
‘Oh, that’s an easy one. She runs a hair salon in Bethesda. Upscale. Very high-class clientele.’
‘Good for her,’ Thorne murmured. She’d pulled herself up by her bootstraps.
The retired detective made a face. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. You know we tried to get her to testify for you in your trial.’
Thorne sat back in his chair, surprised in a warm way. ‘No, I didn’t know that. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, of course, but I was just doing my job. Angie Ospina was a missing link, a loose thread. After your arrest, she disappeared. Her father said she’d run away, but we didn’t believe him. He was far too eager to see us go. Most parents want the cops’ help when their teenaged daughters run off.’
‘Where do you think she went?’ Thorne asked.
‘She was with her aunt in . . .’ Prew frowned. ‘Somewhere west. Kansas or Iowa or Nebraska. Some state with corn.’
Thorne chuckled, surprising himself. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘But when she came back, what happened? Did the Lindens bother her?’
Prew’s frown intensified. ‘No. On the contrary. They fronted her business. She came back two years after your trial. She’d finished high school in whichever corn place she went to, then got a job with one of the local beauty shops. Then about ten years ago, she up and starts this new salon. Rumor has it that the Lindens loaned her a lot of money.’
‘Rumor?’ Jamie asked. ‘Or fact?’
‘Rumor,’ Prew said. ‘I kept tabs on her after she came back. I wondered if the Lindens had put pressure on her to leave back then, so that she couldn’t testify that Richard had started the whole mess by groping her. If they had, that would have been witness tampering and I really wanted something on Linden Senior. I was also worried that they’d give her trouble, but she claimed they’d been nothing but kind to her.’
Thorne snorted. ‘Right.’
‘I didn’t believe her either,’ Prew admitted, ‘but I couldn’t dig deeper unless she made a complaint.’
‘Why were you hoping to get something on Linden Senior?’ Phil asked curiously.
‘Because he makes my skin crawl. His son made my skin crawl. His daughter . . . I never knew her well enough to form an opinion, but Dick Linden Senior is a shark. I don’t trust him, so I keep tabs on his businesses. Just in case something looks amiss.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m retired. I look back at your case as a blight on my record, Mr Thorne. I didn’t believe you did it, but I couldn’t prove it. I’ve always been sorry for that.’
‘You’re talking to me now,’ Thorne said. ‘It’s far more than I expected. Is Angie’s business successful?’
‘That I don’t know. It seems to be, from the outside. For instance, I saw her at a community fund-raiser recently. She was wearing shoes that had to cost a month’s salary. And before you ask, my wife knows shoes. She told me that.’
‘Her place is called Heavenly Salon,’ Gwyn said, looking at her phone. She glanced up briefly. ‘I Googled Angie’s name. She’s listed as the owner. I’m considering a whole new look,’ she said, tossing back her hair, which she’d allowed to dry in ringlets. It was Thorne’s favorite of all her hairstyles. Just free and natural. Just begging for him to run his fingers through it.
And that’s enough of that, he thought. Focus.
‘What do you hope to gain?’ Prew asked.
‘Information. If she’s indebted to Linden, I’d like to know. If her business is thriving, good for her. If she’s having trouble making ends meet?’ Gwyn lifted a shoulder. ‘She’d be vulnerable to someone either paying or extorting information.’
‘She wouldn’t have known about the key ring,’ Prew cautioned, but then he nodded. ‘But she knows something, otherwise Linden wouldn’t have given her a dime. I’ve assumed it was payment for not testifying, but without her cooperation, it makes for a weak case. Which is why I never pursued it.’
‘We’ll need to see when she got the loan,’ Gwyn said thoughtfully. ‘I mean, why then? Why not nineteen years ago, when she ran away to corn-town to keep from having to testify on Thorne’s behalf?’
‘We don’t know that they didn’t pay her then,’ Thorne said. ‘Maybe she went back for more.’
Gwyn shrugged. ‘You could be right. Either way, I want to talk to her. Worst that can happen is that I come away with a nice hairdo, but I may be able to get more.’
‘You really think you can get answers?’ Jamie asked.
Gwyn gave him a coy smile. ‘Counselor, I know how to get hairdressers to gossip. It’s one of my best skills.’
‘It’s true,’ Thorne said with a smile of pride. ‘When we first started out, Gwyn would pose as whoever she needed to be to get information for our clients’ cases.’ He’d nearly forgotten about that. ‘I’m glad she used her powers for good and not evil.’
‘Evil probably pays more,’ she lamented, then tapped her phone. ‘I’ll make an appointment as soon as the salon opens at ten.’ She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. ‘I’ll tell them it’s a fashion emergency.’
Jamie smiled at her dramatic delivery. ‘I don’t even want to know what that entails.’ He checked his own phone for the names of the people they’d wanted to interview. ‘Next on my list are the three friends of Richard who beat Thorne up the day he got expelled. We know where Chandler Nystrom and Darian Hinman are. But we couldn’t find Colton Brandenberg.’
Prew’s smile dimmed. ‘Be careful there. Darian is a chip off his old man’s block, and that’s not a compliment. Chandler . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Some people should not be given a badge. He’s had some run-ins, gotten written up by IA. I can’t give you details because I don’t know them. But I do know he left the force abruptly and got a job in private security.’
‘What about Colton?’ Thorne asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Prew admitted. ‘He left town for a while after Richard’s murder. Came back to testify, but he was messed up.’
‘I don’t remember him being messed up,’ Thorne murmured.
‘I do,’ Jamie said bluntly. ‘I worried that he was on something. He was like . . . a zombie walking. I was prepared to go to the judge and have his testimony stricken if he said anything wacky, but he just confirmed the facts as we already knew them – except for Richard Linden starting the fight with you by groping Angie Ospina. That he claimed he couldn’t recall.’
Prew was nodding. ‘After the trial, Colton left town and, to my knowledge, hasn’t been back. His sister is still local. She’s a seamstress. Makes draperies. Talented, or so my wife says. I’ll get her details and send them to you.’