anyone could get. Cameron knew the only game she’d understand was hardball.
Batter up.
“ Ma’am, the last thing I want to do is bother you, but I’m not here trying to sell broom handles. Three people have been murdered right next door to this house— your house. That makes you a material witness.”
He paused. “Now, we can do this the easy way, and you can take a few minutes to talk to me, or I can bring you down to the station and maybe get a warrant to search your home as well. It’s up to you. Which sounds better?”
The woman looked up into Cameron’s eyes. Her face was hard and stiff—except for lips that quivered almost undetectably. She jabbed her rake into the ground and sighed, then removed her gloves, picking them off one finger at a time, as if they were the cause of her annoyance.
Cameron clicked his pen and held it to his pad. “Your name?”
“ Della. Della Schumacher,” she replied grudgingly.
“ Last name is spelled?” He didn’t look up.
She spelled her last name.
“ You said you knew the family. How well?”
“ Not very. We were just neighbors.” Apparently that didn’t make for intimate relationships.
“ What about Ben?”
“ We talked occasionally,” she said, dismissing the notion as if irrelevant.
He looked up and met her eyes. “Define occasionally.”
Della spoke and sighed at the same time. “Ben took care of Snowball once or twice while I was away visiting my sister in Phoenix. It was no big deal.”
“ Snowball?”
“ Yeah, my cat. I paid him a few bucks to do it.”
Cameron looked around the property.
She followed his gaze. “She’s not here. Haven’t seen her since the murders. All that commotion—the bright lights, the reporters everywhere, they scared her away.”
Cameron shifted to another subject. “What kind of a kid was he?”
“ Ben?”
No, the cat , he thought. “Yes, Ben.”
“ Normal.” She stopped and snorted. “Or at least I thought so.”
“ Thought?”
“ Well, it’s obvious he wasn’t . He just seemed that way. It was all an act. The kid was a murderer. Probably killed all those others, too.”
“ In what way did he seem normal?”
“ Good lord!” she said. “I don’t know!”
“ You just made the statement. You must know.”
She rolled her eyes, then thought about it, as if the act itself took great effort. “He was respectful of his elders—that’s rare these days. Kids don’t have manners no more.” Her face turned sour. “Of course, shooting his family kinda blows that theory all to hell, now, don’t it?”
Yeah , thought Cameron, it sure does. “Observe anything about Ben’s relationship with his family?”
“ No. I don’t think so.”
“ You don’t sound very sure,” he prodded.
“ Look. Like I said, I keep myself to—”
“ Yeah, you keep yourself to yourself. I get that.”
Della narrowed her eyes and jutted out her lower jaw. “Is there anything else? I have work to do.”
So do I , thought Cameron. “What about on the day of the murders?”
“ What about it?”
“ See or hear anything unusual?”
“ Like I said , I barely knew the kid. I only seen him coming and going to school … things like that. They seemed like okay kids—both of them.” Then she mumbled under her breath, “Never figured the boy for a cold-blooded killer.”
“ So you only saw Ben coming and going to and from school? That was it?”
“ Yeah. That and sometimes when he was doing his chores around the house.”
“ What kind of chores did he do?”
She clamped her hands firmly to her hips and tilted her head almost completely sideways. “Now how in the world would I know that? It’s not like I stand there all day watching him. I only saw him ’cause I was making my tea. I’m not a nosy neighbor.”
“ Right. You keep yourself to yourself,” Cameron mumbled, still writing on his pad.
“ Exactly.” She angled her head, chin up, to see what he was writing.
“ Did you see him at
Batter up.
“ Ma’am, the last thing I want to do is bother you, but I’m not here trying to sell broom handles. Three people have been murdered right next door to this house— your house. That makes you a material witness.”
He paused. “Now, we can do this the easy way, and you can take a few minutes to talk to me, or I can bring you down to the station and maybe get a warrant to search your home as well. It’s up to you. Which sounds better?”
The woman looked up into Cameron’s eyes. Her face was hard and stiff—except for lips that quivered almost undetectably. She jabbed her rake into the ground and sighed, then removed her gloves, picking them off one finger at a time, as if they were the cause of her annoyance.
Cameron clicked his pen and held it to his pad. “Your name?”
“ Della. Della Schumacher,” she replied grudgingly.
“ Last name is spelled?” He didn’t look up.
She spelled her last name.
“ You said you knew the family. How well?”
“ Not very. We were just neighbors.” Apparently that didn’t make for intimate relationships.
“ What about Ben?”
“ We talked occasionally,” she said, dismissing the notion as if irrelevant.
He looked up and met her eyes. “Define occasionally.”
Della spoke and sighed at the same time. “Ben took care of Snowball once or twice while I was away visiting my sister in Phoenix. It was no big deal.”
“ Snowball?”
“ Yeah, my cat. I paid him a few bucks to do it.”
Cameron looked around the property.
She followed his gaze. “She’s not here. Haven’t seen her since the murders. All that commotion—the bright lights, the reporters everywhere, they scared her away.”
Cameron shifted to another subject. “What kind of a kid was he?”
“ Ben?”
No, the cat , he thought. “Yes, Ben.”
“ Normal.” She stopped and snorted. “Or at least I thought so.”
“ Thought?”
“ Well, it’s obvious he wasn’t . He just seemed that way. It was all an act. The kid was a murderer. Probably killed all those others, too.”
“ In what way did he seem normal?”
“ Good lord!” she said. “I don’t know!”
“ You just made the statement. You must know.”
She rolled her eyes, then thought about it, as if the act itself took great effort. “He was respectful of his elders—that’s rare these days. Kids don’t have manners no more.” Her face turned sour. “Of course, shooting his family kinda blows that theory all to hell, now, don’t it?”
Yeah , thought Cameron, it sure does. “Observe anything about Ben’s relationship with his family?”
“ No. I don’t think so.”
“ You don’t sound very sure,” he prodded.
“ Look. Like I said, I keep myself to—”
“ Yeah, you keep yourself to yourself. I get that.”
Della narrowed her eyes and jutted out her lower jaw. “Is there anything else? I have work to do.”
So do I , thought Cameron. “What about on the day of the murders?”
“ What about it?”
“ See or hear anything unusual?”
“ Like I said , I barely knew the kid. I only seen him coming and going to school … things like that. They seemed like okay kids—both of them.” Then she mumbled under her breath, “Never figured the boy for a cold-blooded killer.”
“ So you only saw Ben coming and going to and from school? That was it?”
“ Yeah. That and sometimes when he was doing his chores around the house.”
“ What kind of chores did he do?”
She clamped her hands firmly to her hips and tilted her head almost completely sideways. “Now how in the world would I know that? It’s not like I stand there all day watching him. I only saw him ’cause I was making my tea. I’m not a nosy neighbor.”
“ Right. You keep yourself to yourself,” Cameron mumbled, still writing on his pad.
“ Exactly.” She angled her head, chin up, to see what he was writing.
“ Did you see him at
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