background?”
“It’s background research for Travis’s book about Katrina,” the questioner explained. “Since you’re the chief detective for the case, your character will be very important to the plot.” Her tone challenged the commanding officer. “The V.A. doesn’t seem to know who you are.”
Curious to hear Roy Phillips’s response, David stepped into the open doorway.
Red blotches covered the chief’s face.
Without seeing the face of the woman seated in his office, David identified the interrogator as Betsy Weaver, Travis Turner’s assistant. Rolls of fat from her buttocks and hips spilled over the arms of the chair too narrow for her wide bulk. Focused on getting an answer from the police chief, Betsy didn’t notice the witness to her interrogation. With her pen poised to record the chief’s response, she glared at the man behind the desk.
“David, I’m glad you’re here.” Roy Phillips gestured for him to take the empty chair while turning his attention to the woman demanding answers from him. “I’m sorry, Ms. Weaver, but I have an appointment. If you would like to continue this interview, you can schedule an appointment with Officer Bogart.”
Her expression lacked the chief’s congeniality. “I’ll do that.” She slapped her notepad shut and picked up her tattered handbag. Clutching her belongings to her chest, she rose from the chair, only to find that her bottom had become wedged between the arms. Before David could act, she plopped down and jumped back up to her feet. The quick action freed her. She scurried from the room with a hard expression on her face.
“What’s Travis’s secretary doing running background checks on me?” the police chief demanded to know.
David sat in the chair opposite the one that had trapped Betsy. “Archie would often run background checks for Robin when she was researching a case. Take comfort. If Betsy had found something fishy, Travis would be here interrogating you personally.”
The chief’s hand went from his mouth where he had been chewing on his thumb to his lap. He sat up straight and smoothed his hair. “Well, I have plenty of time since the computer system is down. What do you need, O’Callaghan?”
David opened the folder he had picked up from his desk. “It’s the Singleton case.”
“When are you going to let that go?”
“The DNA from the body we found in the mine doesn’t match the DNA found on Katrina’s German shepherd. That proves he wasn’t at the murder scene.”
“Where did you hear about the DNA?” The smile evaporated from the police chief’s face. The splotches on his face turned a brighter red.
“I’ve been a cop in Spencer since high school,” David said. “I have a lot of friends.”
“You have no authority to investigate this case.” The chief’s thumb flew to his mouth. He made a conscious effort to pull it out from between his teeth before biting it. “Listen, David, I tried to do you a favor. I tried to help you. If you don’t back off, you’re going to get yourself into trouble and I won’t be able to do anything to get you out.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” David asked. “Why have you been shutting me out of this case? Afraid that I was going to find conclusive evidence that Katrina wasn’t murdered by some run of the mill psycho, and prove you blew it when you didn’t find out who really was terrorizing her?”
Roy’s eyes darkened. He looked him up and down. “Since you insist on going forward with this, I guess we have a murder investigation on our hands.”
“You’ve had a murder investigation on your hands.”
Roy Phillips stuck the tip of his pinkie finger into his mouth before removing it and crossing both arms across his chest as if to pin his hands down to keep them out of his mouth. “H-how well did you know Katrina Singleton, O’Callaghan?” he asked with a stutter in his voice.
“If you must know, we knew each other most of our
“It’s background research for Travis’s book about Katrina,” the questioner explained. “Since you’re the chief detective for the case, your character will be very important to the plot.” Her tone challenged the commanding officer. “The V.A. doesn’t seem to know who you are.”
Curious to hear Roy Phillips’s response, David stepped into the open doorway.
Red blotches covered the chief’s face.
Without seeing the face of the woman seated in his office, David identified the interrogator as Betsy Weaver, Travis Turner’s assistant. Rolls of fat from her buttocks and hips spilled over the arms of the chair too narrow for her wide bulk. Focused on getting an answer from the police chief, Betsy didn’t notice the witness to her interrogation. With her pen poised to record the chief’s response, she glared at the man behind the desk.
“David, I’m glad you’re here.” Roy Phillips gestured for him to take the empty chair while turning his attention to the woman demanding answers from him. “I’m sorry, Ms. Weaver, but I have an appointment. If you would like to continue this interview, you can schedule an appointment with Officer Bogart.”
Her expression lacked the chief’s congeniality. “I’ll do that.” She slapped her notepad shut and picked up her tattered handbag. Clutching her belongings to her chest, she rose from the chair, only to find that her bottom had become wedged between the arms. Before David could act, she plopped down and jumped back up to her feet. The quick action freed her. She scurried from the room with a hard expression on her face.
“What’s Travis’s secretary doing running background checks on me?” the police chief demanded to know.
David sat in the chair opposite the one that had trapped Betsy. “Archie would often run background checks for Robin when she was researching a case. Take comfort. If Betsy had found something fishy, Travis would be here interrogating you personally.”
The chief’s hand went from his mouth where he had been chewing on his thumb to his lap. He sat up straight and smoothed his hair. “Well, I have plenty of time since the computer system is down. What do you need, O’Callaghan?”
David opened the folder he had picked up from his desk. “It’s the Singleton case.”
“When are you going to let that go?”
“The DNA from the body we found in the mine doesn’t match the DNA found on Katrina’s German shepherd. That proves he wasn’t at the murder scene.”
“Where did you hear about the DNA?” The smile evaporated from the police chief’s face. The splotches on his face turned a brighter red.
“I’ve been a cop in Spencer since high school,” David said. “I have a lot of friends.”
“You have no authority to investigate this case.” The chief’s thumb flew to his mouth. He made a conscious effort to pull it out from between his teeth before biting it. “Listen, David, I tried to do you a favor. I tried to help you. If you don’t back off, you’re going to get yourself into trouble and I won’t be able to do anything to get you out.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” David asked. “Why have you been shutting me out of this case? Afraid that I was going to find conclusive evidence that Katrina wasn’t murdered by some run of the mill psycho, and prove you blew it when you didn’t find out who really was terrorizing her?”
Roy’s eyes darkened. He looked him up and down. “Since you insist on going forward with this, I guess we have a murder investigation on our hands.”
“You’ve had a murder investigation on your hands.”
Roy Phillips stuck the tip of his pinkie finger into his mouth before removing it and crossing both arms across his chest as if to pin his hands down to keep them out of his mouth. “H-how well did you know Katrina Singleton, O’Callaghan?” he asked with a stutter in his voice.
“If you must know, we knew each other most of our
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