First Murder by Limberg Fred

Author:Limberg, Fred [Limberg, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Fred Limberg
Published: 2012-05-01T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 18

“Gary was kind of pissed you made his wife cry,” Tony joked from the passenger seat as they drove toward Minneapolis and the U campus. He’d had to do some arm twisting when Karen’s husband came up from the basement. Tony hoped Ray would find the humor in it.

“That interview could have gone better.”

As big as Gary Hewes was he hadn’t had a chance against de Luca’s training and years of experience on the streets. Tony had him down and ready for the cuffs in about three seconds.

Ray frowned at the windshield as they rolled down the interstate. “As interesting as it is that the woman says she was at the house the morning of the murder, we didn’t get very far with anything else, did we?”

“No,” Tony agreed. He thought he heard something else, some doubt in Ray’s tone. “Are you saying she wasn’t at the house?”

“I’m not saying that. Sure would be nice to have a witness, though.”

Tony couldn’t disagree, but he would have bet a large sum that the woman wasn’t acting. She’d been shaken. “We’re going to have to take another run at her aren’t we?”

“Oh yes,” Ray said.

“Mr. Hewes isn’t going to like that.”

Ray turned his head toward Tony, smiling now. “Let’s not let him know.”

“I like that idea. I’d really hate to have to put him on the ground again. Tell me something Ray. Do you really think Karen is a suspect? Or Lakisha Marland? Or Tia Bork?”

“Now we’re at a teaching moment, detective. Write this down: Everyone Deanna Fredrickson knew is a suspect. Everyone she knew or had contact with is a suspect until we clear them.”

“Okay.”

“And not just in this case. Every case is the same in this respect, Tony. Everyone is a suspect until they’re absolutely positively unimpeachably cleared.”

“I understand. I mean, it’s obvious, right?”

Ray chuckled. “So obvious that it’s easy to forget.”

They exited the freeway and entered the labyrinth that was the University of Minnesota campus. East Bank. West Bank. Dinkytown. Frat Row. No Left Turn. One way. Construction Zone. Of the thousands of students and teachers presently on campus they were looking for a Professor Galbraith who taught History of the Cinema on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

It took a while.

Professor Galbraith had no idea who Sean Stuckey was. He rarely attended the ‘History’ screenings, leaving the task to his TAs, graduate students who were working part time while they pursued their advanced degrees and were, Tony thought, as arrogant and unhelpful as the professor. Tony and Ray tracked them down one by one, by phone and in person.

They finally cornered their last prey hiding in a dark room full of editing equipment. His name was Gordon. He was editing a documentary of some kind. Flickering video images of people in lab coats talking earnestly were pointing at pictures of Earth on the TV monitor. A tinny dialogue ran underneath. It promised the end of the world as we know it every thirty seconds or so.

Gordon had been working the ‘History’ lecture Monday.

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