Building Blocks of Murder by Vanessa Gray Bartal

Author:Vanessa Gray Bartal [Bartal, Vanessa Gray]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Cozy Mystery
Goodreads: 13436786
Publisher: Author
Published: 2012-01-19T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

It was like a bad nightmare as Lacy stood there, Jason’s shock matching her own.

“You can’t be serious,” Jason said.

“I am,” Detective Brenner said and, to his credit, he sounded apologetic. Lacy wasn’t buying it, though.

“Are you crazy?” she said, rousing from her stupor. “You can’t believe Jason did this. What evidence do you have?” She remembered how when her grandmother was arrested, the case had been so full of holes it was laughable. Surely this was the same scenario.

“We have one witness who heard him threatening to shoot Ed McNeil and another who saw him outside his office this morning. That and preliminary ballistics show the bullet came from one of our weapons,” Detective Brenner said, though he was looking at Jason when he spoke as if explaining himself to his colleague.

“Why are you taking him in? Why not question him and let him go until the ballistics prove he didn’t do it?” Lacy said.

“Because there was this article in the paper, written by a certain nosy and bitter reporter, and now our department is under careful scrutiny,” the detective replied. “We can’t make it look like we’re giving one of our own special treatment.”

“But Jason didn’t do it,” Lacy said. “I saw him outside the office this morning.”

“Great, now we have two witnesses,” Detective Brenner said sourly.

“My point is that there was no blood on him. He looked normal.” The officers, including Jason, looked at her sharply when she hesitated on the word “normal.” He hadn’t looked normal; he had been in a daze. But he had been exhausted.

The detective ignored her, turning his attention once again to Jason. “Where’s your weapon, son?”

“It’s locked in my desk drawer,” Jason said. He sounded resigned, and Lacy was afraid.

“Jason, tell them you didn’t do this,” she said.

But he didn’t. He remained silent and stoic, not looking at her as they waited for one of the officers to receive his gun. “It’s been recently fired,” the officer said, holding it out to the detective for his inspection. Detective Brenner looked to Jason for an explanation.

“I dispatched an injured raccoon this morning before my shift ended,” he said. “I called it in and wrote a report. I didn’t clean my weapon because I was dead on my feet. I intended to do it later.”

“There,” Lacy said. “There’s a reasonable explanation. And, besides, why wouldn’t he clean his gun if he murdered someone?”

“Lacy,” Jason said. “Stop.”

She knew she wasn’t helping the situation, but she couldn’t seem to contain her anger, fear, and frustration, especially because this time seemed different than with her grandmother. This wasn’t a witch hunt; there was compelling evidence on the table. How was she supposed to disprove any of this when it was over her head to begin with? What did she know about weapons or forensics? As if reading her thoughts, Jason preempted her.

“I don’t want you getting involved in this,” he said.

“Jason,” she began, but he cut her off, stepping forward to press his palm to her cheek.

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