Old Haunts by E. J. Copperman

Author:E. J. Copperman [Copperman, E. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, General, Fiction, Women Sleuths, Supernatural Mysteries
ISBN: 9780425246207
Google: RVyJZwEACAAJ
Amazon: 0425246205
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2012-02-06T18:30:00+00:00

Seventeen

“I don’t recall agreeing to alert you when we had a suspect.” Detective Martin Ferry of the Seaside Heights Police Department was walking to the chair behind his desk in the dismally lit squad room and turned back to give me the benefit of his smug grin. It was not having the desired effect. Or perhaps it was—if Ferry’s desire was to piss me off.

“Look at my face, Detective,” I said. “Do I appear amused in any way? You’ve got the wrong suspect behind bars.”

Ferry sat down in his squeaky chair behind his standard-issue government desk, and his face turned sour. “And you know that because you have tangible evidence proving Katherine O’Malley Malone did not kill Robert Benicio?” he asked.

“I know the suspect,” I said, ignoring that I hadn’t even known Kitty’s real name was Katherine. I mean, it figured, but I’d never considered it before. “Technically speaking, I bought my house from her. But even if she wanted to kill Big Bob, she couldn’t possibly have done it. She’s not big or strong enough.”

“My former partner would argue with you about that,” Ferry admonished. “She believed that women could be just as big, strong, and stupid as men. She thought a woman could play major-league baseball, if she wanted to.” He waited, as if expecting me to laugh uproariously at the very notion.

“We just don’t want to show up the boys and make them cry,” I deadpanned. “So, what makes you think Kitty Malone could even have considered killing her ex-son-in-law?”

“What reason would I have to tell you the evidence we have against a woman you consider a friend?” he asked, with a growl on his face.

It was a good question. I’d been relying on the idea that Ferry was going to act like a person and not a cop, but it wasn’t seeming especially likely. “Well, how about the fact that I could inform the press that you’re holding a woman in her fifties on no evidence? A woman who has devoted her life to helping local children with language disabilities?”

He waved a hand in indifference. “The arrest will be on a police PR release within minutes,” he said. “Do you think we want to hide the fact that we caught a murderer?”

“How about the fact that you haven’t found the other missing biker?” I asked. “Wilson Meyers might just as well have killed Big Bob—in fact, it’s more likely that he did it than Kitty. Is that going to be in your press release?”

If I could appeal to Ferry’s ego, he was more likely to tell me something he didn’t want to say. That was my theory, anyway.

“Wilson Meyers didn’t kill Robert Benicio,” he said with an air of certainty.

“I think he did.” Challenge what a man like Ferry knows, and he’ll tell you exactly how he knows it.

“Unlike Mrs. Malone, Wilson Meyers didn’t have a reason to kill Benicio,” he began. How did he know? Ferry had no idea where Wilson was, let alone what his motives might have been.

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