Judy’s forehead remained tense. “I doubt it. I know the lamp they mean. It’s a chrome desk lamp. It has a big heavy base, and one of those metal arms that has a joint, like an elbow.”
Mary could visualize it. “He called it a Luxor lamp.”
Judy rallied. “I might have touched the top, like, the knob you turn it on with, but I doubt that I touched the base.”
Bennie nodded. “So if it’s the murder weapon, it will have the killer’s trace evidence on it, not yours. That’s a major problem for them.”
Mary breathed a relieved sigh. “Good. So that will slow them down.”
Bennie rested her chin on her hand. “I’d like to get inside his apartment and examine the scene.”
Lou turned to her. “They were about to release the scene when I left. They were waiting for the okay.”
Bennie blinked, surprised. “They released the scene already? Isn’t that soon?”
“Yep, that’s the way they do it now. They get in and get out. With budget cutbacks by the city, they don’t have the manpower to hold the scene the way they used to.”
Judy shrugged. “I have a key to John’s apartment, at home.”
Mary looked over. “Do you feel up for it, if we go?”
“What do you think?” Judy answered, without elaborating.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mary lingered at the threshold with Judy, trying to get her emotional bearings while Bennie and Lou entered John’s living room, poked around, and started taking pictures with their cell phones, since Lou had charged his phone in the car. Mary couldn’t bring herself to take photos because being here made it so real that John had been brutally murdered. It was harder to take, having spent the afternoon with William, and she realized she was learning more about John in death than she had in life, which gave her a guilty wrench.
Judy stood rooted to the threshold, fighting for emotional control, and Mary knew why, reaching for Judy’s hand. The exact spot where John had been murdered was straight ahead in the living area, in a direct line from the door. Dark blood soaked a grayish-wool rug, making a grotesquely vast pool, maybe as wide as three feet. The blood wasn’t even completely dry, so some patches were darker than others, and blood sprayed out in droplets and long lines, radiating like lethal sunrays. A sickening metallic odor tainted the air, and Mary prayed that she was the only one who could detect it, because of her pregnancy.
Mary squeezed Judy’s hand. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“This is horrible,” Judy said, hushed.
“Do you want to wait outside?”
“No, thanks. I’ll stay here, but you should go in and look around.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, please, go ahead,” Judy answered, eyes brimming.
“Okay, hang in.” Mary gave Judy’s hand a final squeeze, set her emotions aside, and analyzed it as a crime scene. The living room was shaped like a large box, with an eat-in kitchen on the left, and on the right, a sitting area that held a black-leather couch facing a black entertainment center against the wall. There were no windows in the living room, so it was somewhat dark, and the only light at this point was from an old-fashioned crystal fixture mounted on the ceiling. Directly ahead on the far wall of the living room were two open doors that led to two rooms, one on the left and one on the right.
Judy pointed from the doorway. “His bedroom is on the right and his office is on the left. The bathroom’s just off the bedroom. There’s only the one.”
“Thanks.” Mary made her way through the living room, among the debris. The furniture showed heartbreaking signs of a struggle; seat cushions were scattered, a black-ceramic lamp was lying on the rug, and the other end table had been upended, scattering coasters, pens, legal papers, and the remote control to the floor. Novels and law books had fallen from bookshelves in the entertainment center, and framed photographs lay willy-nilly on the rug.
Mary picked one up, hating to leave them on the floor. It was John’s parents on their wedding day, and they made an attractive couple, both of them with glasses and sandy-blonde hair, looking intelligent, well-heeled, and vaguely preppy, like John. Another photo was lying face down, and Mary picked it up, turning it over. It was a childhood snapshot of William sitting in a red Radio Flyer, his knotted fists in his lap, and he was being pulled by John. John couldn’t have been more than six years old, grinning ear-to-ear in Ninja turtle pajamas.
“Mary, let me see,” Judy said, finally coming over.
“They’re so cute.” Mary handed her the photos, and Judy looked lovingly at the one of John and William.
“Aw, do you think it’s okay if I keep these?”
“I’m sure it is.” Mary looked around, and everywhere were the signs of the police investigation; a fresh blue bootie used by crime techs lay curled up on the floor, large sections had been cut out of the bloodstained rug to be analyzed, and black smudges of fingerprint dust marred the surfaces in the living room and kitchen.
Bennie and Lou came over, joining Mary and Judy, and the four of them formed a forlorn group around the bloodstain. Bennie shook her head. “Oh, man. What we really want is John back. What we’ll settle for is justice. I say it every time, I think it every time. Justice is only a consolation prize, and even so, it’s still the best one going.”
Lou hung his head, the wrinkles of his face deepening with sadness. “Ain’t that the truth. Judy, we’re real sorry.”
“Thanks.” Judy held the photos to her chest. “So what are you guys thinking? I’m not much help yet. It’s hard to get my brain in gear.”
Bennie patted her shoulder. “Okay, let’s get busy. Carrier, where would the lamp usually be, the one that the killer used?”
Judy pointed. “It used to be right here, on the end table on the right side of the couch. John used to work on the couch with his laptop, or read. He liked the focused light, and the lamp had a shade that faced down.”
Bennie nodded. “So it’s clear the way this happened. There’s no sign of any forced entry, so John must’ve let somebody in, somebody he knew or at least wasn’t threatened by. They started talking on the couch, maybe sitting down together, this way.” She gestured to the couch and its matching chair, catty-corner. “The killer picks up the lamp and attacks John, who fights back. These chairs are too heavy to be knocked over, but everything else gets knocked over.”
Lou nodded, listening. “But the killer killed him with the base. He might’ve taken the lamp outta the base first. It lifts right out of the center, like, it swivels. He prolly threw it aside. You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
Bennie half-smiled. “If so, the killer’s prints will not only be on the base, but also on the arm of the lamp and maybe even the shade. Judy, do you remember touching the arm or the shade?”
Judy brightened a little. “No, I don’t think I did. The shade gets hot when you use the lamp. You’re supposed to use a low wattage bulb, but John always used a higher wattage so he could see better. And this was his side of the couch, not mine. I may never have touched that lamp.”
“Okay, that’s good. Score one for us.” Bennie walked to the bedroom, taking pictures with her cell phone. “I assume you guys had your argument in here and that’s how Barbara Mulcahy saw you through the window.”
“Right. We were in the living room too, but on Saturday night, we were in the back bedroom.”
“Let me see.” Mary slowed her step as she entered the bedroom. She felt uncomfortable as if she were intruding on John’s privacy, especially when she caught sight of his beloved black Mont Blanc pen on the dresser, which he always used to sign pleadings. It was next to a pump bottle of eyeglass cleaner and a special gray cloth, and she suppressed a twinge of sadness, remembering that she used to tease him about cleaning his glasses so much. And next to that on the dresser sat a sales receipt on top of an unopened box of Bose headphones that he was undoubtedly going to give to William.
Lou and Bennie crossed to the window, taking pictures, and Mar
y forced herself to focus. There was a queen-size bed with a blue comforter and a wooden headboard flush against the wall on the right, and the dresser and a closet with a sliding door on the left. Between the two was a double panel window, covered only on the bottom by one of those top-down shades that roll from the top down, not the bottom up.
Lou lowered his cell phone, frowning at the shade. “I have these shades too. They let in the light at the top, but they block the view from the neighbors.”
Bennie took another cell-phone photo of the shades. “Exactly, so how does Barbara Mulcahy see anything? Carrier, did John open the shades every morning, so they roll all the way down?”
Judy appeared at the threshold. “No, not generally. We left them that way. It’s the southern exposure, and we liked the light coming in at the top. We left them just the way they are now.”
Mary went to the side of the window. “So Judy, is this how you remember them that night?”
“I don’t remember them that way, but that’s probably how they were.”
“Lou, here.” Bennie dug in her bag, produced a tape measure, and handed it to Lou. “Get me the dimensions of the window and measure how much of it is covered by the shade. I want to be able to reproduce this exactly. When you’re finished, we’ll roll the shade down all the way and see how far Mulcahy’s window is from this window, as well as the angle.”
“Okay.” Lou started measuring and making notes on his cell phone, and Bennie turned to Mary and Judy.
“Ladies, this is also good for us. It makes me question how much Mulcahy could actually see of the apartment. I’m assuming her apartment is on the second floor, roughly level with this floor. There’s not a lot of three-story buildings on these blocks. If she’s on the second floor, she can’t see anything through the lower half of the window.”
Mary sensed Bennie was right. “So maybe she sees what’s going on only when they stand up. Judy, does that sound right, on Saturday night?”
“Yes.” Judy nodded sadly. “Sometimes he was standing up and sometimes I was or we both were.”
Lou clucked, as he measured. “So that answers one question. She definitely couldn’t have seen John with the killer in the living room, or anybody in the living room, not through the window at this angle.”
“I agree.”
“Okay, done. Ready to roll down the shade.” Lou pocketed the tape measure, rolled down the shade, and they all gathered at the window, with Mary in front, since she was the shortest.
“Mulcahy’s not home now,” she said, looking into the darkness. Across the way was the back of another block of row houses, and they were all two stories. Nobody was home in the house directly behind this one, on either side. Each house had a small backyard, fenced in by wooden privacy fences or cyclone fencing, and one or two were paved for private parking spaces. Otherwise cars were parked lengthwise on both sides, probably illegally.
Mary looked around for a streetlight or any other kind of light, but there weren’t any. “I’m surprised there’s no lights back here, not even one.”
Bennie frowned. “It’s a private drive, so the city doesn’t light it. There may be lights on motion detectors down there, but we won’t know until we walk it.”
Mary’s thoughts raced. “This is more good news for us, isn’t it? It supports the theory I told the police, that the killer could’ve entered the apartment in the back and not been seen.”
“You’re right.” Bennie smiled, and Mary looked out the window to the left to see the black-iron lattice of the fire escape going from John’s office and down the back of the house.
“Look! The fire escape is right there, off the office window.”
“Understood.” Bennie nodded with approval. “It’s a completely alternative theory. Somebody enters the apartment through the fire escape, an intruder or burglar. He could have surprised John in the living room, while John was working. The killer sneaks up behind him, they struggle, he kills John with the lamp base and steals the laptop and phone, if that’s what the police meant by electronics. We have yet to find that out, by the way. We need to know what was actually taken. We’ll have to get his phone records, too.”
Mary nodded, grimly. “It’s a good theory, assuming the office window isn’t locked.”
Judy’s face had gone pale. “It won’t be. We never locked these windows. John loved fresh air. He worked in his office all the time with the window open.”
“Let’s go see.” Mary left the bedroom, followed by everybody else, and she entered the office, switching on the light. An overhead fixture came on, revealing a room slightly smaller than the bedroom, with a computer workstation covered with legal files and papers on the right side, and on the left, two gray file cabinets and a bookshelf full of old law school textbooks.
“Please God, give us a break.” Mary beelined for the window, which had no shade on it, unlike the bedroom. She checked the window lock and almost cheered. “It’s unlocked!”
“Whew.” Bennie heaved a relieved sigh.
“Hold on, lemme take some pictures.” Lou snapped photos of the window, and Bennie did the same.
“Let’s see the fire escape.” Mary opened the window, letting in the cool night air. The fire escape was directly outside the window, and its landing was only about two feet lower than the windowsill.
Bennie leaned outside the window. “The fire escape’s right here. Anybody could’ve climbed in through this window. Anybody.”
Mary nodded. “Anybody who wasn’t pregnant.”
Bennie smiled. “I have to tell you, that the killer is a burglar makes sense to me. That must be why the police went there initially.”
“What’s your reasoning?” Mary asked, intrigued.
“It gives a motive for the crime, and it’s a motive that makes sense. This neighborhood is mixed, and there’s transients. John is a successful lawyer, and there’s people passing through who don’t have jobs. They could see where he is, they could even follow him home. And one day, they decide to come back.” Bennie gestured out the window. “You could even see John sitting here, working at his desk. You know he has a laptop, and some money, and a second-floor climb is easy. Please, I know somebody who was burglarized using a fire escape, and they lived in a fourth-floor walk-up.”
Mary mulled it over. “But if they saw John here, then why try to burglarize the apartment when he was home? The detective’s theory was that John surprised the burglar when he came home, but we know that didn’t happen because we know Judy had just left, relatively, so John wasn’t out.”
Bennie shrugged. “Maybe the burglar thought John wasn’t home, but he was, or maybe he just didn’t care. With the typical burglary, you’d expect ransacking of the apartment, like drawers overturned and such, but this was interrupted, botched. The burglar was surprised to find John and kills him impulsively because he doesn’t want to get caught. He doesn’t have time to look for any other valuables, so he grabs the laptop and John’s phone. We don’t know if he took his wallet and watch. Nor do we know if he leaves by the back entrance, but that’s most likely. We have to find out if there’s any cameras out back.”
“Will do.” Lou nodded, gravely. “It does explain the motive. I can’t see any other reason why anybody would kill John. And I will look at cameras on the back. I focused on witnesses because I wanted to get people when the recollections were fresh. I’ll follow up with that tomorrow. It’ll be easier in the daylight.”
“Hold on a second.” Bennie dug in her bag and produced a flashlight, and Mary marveled at the stuff the woman carried around, since she didn’t bother with makeup bags or blotting papers.
Lou looked over. “Bennie, you going out there?”
“Yes, to test our theory.” Bennie switched on the flashlight. “You coming with me or are you too old?”
“How dare you.” Lou smiled as Bennie climbed out the window and onto the fire escape, shining the flashlight on the landing so Lou could climb out, which he did, slowly with a theatric
al groan.
Mary watched them go down the stairs outside the building, feeling a rush of happiness, for the first time in a long time. They had lucked out, and her theory was actually a credible one, which might save Judy from being charged with murder.
Mary turned around, excitedly, until she saw that Judy had sunk onto a chair at John’s desk, her head in her hands. “Oh no, honey.”
“I’m okay.” Judy straightened up, rubbing her face, and Mary came over, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so thoughtless.”
“You aren’t, you’re not. It’s just hard to get excited about knowing how he was killed. I just can’t see it academically, like any other murder case.” Judy’s eyes brimmed, but she held back her tears.
“I totally get that. Really, I’m sorry.”
“I mean, I knew it wasn’t me who did it, but I can’t stand to think that some burglar, some thug, snuck up behind him and killed him. Somebody who wasn’t fit to clean his shoes. Somebody who would kill another human being for a laptop.” Judy’s lips quivered, but she stayed in control. “And I know this is weird to say but I just keep thinking, where did the police find the engagement ring? How? Was it in his dresser? His closet? Did they search everything?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know what’s worse? What if after we had the fight, he took out the engagement ring from wherever it was? Or maybe he even had it while we were fighting. Maybe he was going to propose this weekend, but then I gave him such a hard time, and we broke up, and he didn’t—”
“You can’t go down that what-if trail again.”
“I can’t help it, or what if he takes the ring out and he’s sitting on the couch with it? After all, we had just had a fight. Maybe he felt bad, maybe he was even crying. I know I was.” Judy shook her head, broken and bewildered. “And if he had the ring in his hand, maybe that’s what was happening when the burglar snuck up behind him.”