More Heat Than Light: Carter Peterson Mystery Series Book 4 Read online

  A ghost of a smirk formed on James’s face. I got the impression Cordite hadn’t spent much time, if any, sitting across from James, aside from the brief stint she’d been a party to yesterday.

  James was about as intimidated by lawyers as fish are by water. In fact, he lived for upending the slippery maneuvers hot-shot councilors tried to pull on him.

  James slipped the same photograph out of his case file that he’d laid before Troy Webber an hour prior, along with a second document. “The Bridgeport Medical Examiner’s office sent over the ME’s autopsy report,” James said as he slid the document over to Cordite. He then placed the photo of Amanda Enright’s lifeless body in the center of the table, facing the two women.

  James sat back in his chair and waited for Cordite to examine the document.

  “Fine. I’ve read it,” Cordite said. “I’m at a loss as to how this relates to my client.”

  “Could you read the lines highlighted in yellow out loud, please?” James asked.

  “I’ve determined that a twelve inch long, chrome plated steel breaker bar, belonging to a ratchet set found adjacent to the deceased’s body at the murder scene, was the weapon used to strike a debilitating blow to the victims cranium. The same breaker bar was used, with applied pressure, to fracture the hyoid bone, and subsequently cause death by strangulation.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Cordite,” James said when she was finished. “The ME’s report---specifically the section you just read out loud---relates directly to your client, because the ratchet set, including the breaker bar cum murder weapon, belongs to your client.”

  The look on Meghan McCue’s face gave her away. James nailed it---and we both knew it.

  So did McCue’s attorney. Cordite immediately shook her head at McCue then leaned in to whisper in her ear. McCue communicated with her lawyer in the same fashion. This went on---back and forth---for a full minute before Cordite said, “What you have here is circumstantial evidence, nothing more.”

  “I disagree,” James said. He produced another photograph I wasn’t familiar with. “This is a close-up of the knurled handle area of the breaker bar used to end Amanda Enright’s life. As an investigator, it makes me happy when a murderer decides to use a weapon like this one. Epithelials get lodged in the tiny recesses, becoming miniature valleys of evidence. They’re a treasure trove of DNA that can’t be simply wiped away like fingerprints can.”

  “Is there a point coming somewhere within this crime seminar of yours, Detective James? As I said previously, my client is a busy woman.”

  “My point, councilor, is that the DNA preserved in, and by, the wonderful knurled surface of the murder weapon, belong to one person, and one person only. That individual is your client, Meghan McCue.”

  My first impulse was to rise up and cheer---until I saw unmistakable fear grip McCue like a vise. I could see her face had gone pale, despite the distance between us. Tears began streaming down both sides of her cheeks, and at one point I was convinced she might just pass out.

  Cordite took a moment to try and comfort her client, then spoke. “I’m not certain what you think you have, Detective, but if this is it, you haven’t a case.”

  Without saying a word, James slid another document out of his case file. “Ms. Cordite, out of respect for Ms. McCue, and as a professional courtesy, I’d ask that you read the following, then exercise whatever discretion you deem appropriate.” James placed the document down on the table in front of him, covered it with his hand, then paused. “This is a partial transcript of an interview I conducted with a material witness related to this investigation; one Troy Webber, a contractor employed by the bank that foreclosed on Briarwood Office Condominiums. Mr. Webber is working to complete Ms. McCue’s condominium unit so she can conduct her professional services from there.”

  It was at this point that Meghan McCue broke down and began sobbing, face buried in her hands. James sat back and took a breather out of apparent empathy for the woman.

  Once again, Cordite did her best to console McCue.

  I’d seen a good many suspects come and go over the years, both as a cop and a PI, but this woman was a mystery. I seldom knew who was innocent and who was guilty at first glance, but generally had leanings in one direction or the other.

  Now, as I sat in the viewing room and witnessed the sheer agony this woman seemed to be experiencing, I found myself sickened by it. I wanted to find reason to believe McCue was innocent, because I knew that, despite which side of the law she fell on, her torment was real.

  James slid the document over to Cordite as she shifted to face him again. She heeded James’s warning and held the transcript at an angle where it couldn’t be seen by McCue and proceeded to take it in.

  A long minute passed. Cordite looked up at James, folded the document in half, and slid it inside of her valise. “Before you file formal charges, Detective, I’d greatly appreciate a word.” Cordite then turned and looked back at the privacy glass screen separating me from them and said, “Just you and I.”

  “No time like the present,” James replied and pushed his chair back.

  Cordite stood up and handed a cloth kerchief to McCue. “Sit tight for a few, Meghan. I’ll be back shortly.”

  McCue nodded and attempted to pull herself together as James and Cordite left the room.

  I let myself imagine what McCue might be going through as I observed her through the glass. What if she was innocent? What if we were so intent on finding the guilty party that we were trying to make pieces fit where they didn’t belong? Maybe someone had done such a good job of covering their tracks, they had us chasing our own tails? Pointing a collective finger in the wrong direction.

  As I watched McCue pat the moisture away from beneath her eyes, I spotted a wide, flat contraption strapped to her wrist. I recognized the device as a GPS-based movement tracker, used to monitor and compile data related to physical activity, as well as the body’s vital stats. I knew what it was because Sarah had purchased one for her son Brian a few weeks back.

  McCue jumped as the interrogation room door swung open. Her lawyer walked in, followed by James. McCue was likely as surprised as I was by the short period of time the pair had taken to discuss her fate.

  “Time to go,” Cordite said as she stood behind McCue, hands resting on her shoulders.

  McCue’s expression changed from sorrow to surprise. She slid her chair back so quickly, I thought she’d take Cordite off her feet.

  “Thank you, Detective,” Cordite said as the women saw themselves out.

  James responded with a slow, simple wave.

  I stayed put, waiting for James to come and get me once the coast was clear, puzzled by his decision to let McCue leave without charging her.

  James entered the room a moment later, shaking his head. “I’m going to call around to some local trade schools when I get home. That electrician’s gig we talked about? It’s got to be my salvation.”

  “Little surprised you let her go. From where I was sitting, you had McCue and her lawyer on the ropes.”

  “Cordite appealed to my compassionate side,” James said. “And guaranteed she’d keep a tight leash on McCue if I gave them 24 hrs.”

  “Probably wise.”

  “Hold on,” James said. “Whose side are you on, anyways? Ten seconds ago you implied I won that round.”

  “C’mon. You know I want a slam dunk. I’d like nothing more than to rain some justice down on Enright’s killer. But that woman didn’t appear shattered by all of this until her lawyer lost her footing. Thing is, I didn’t get the sense I was seeing someone who got caught. More like I was seeing someone who got set up.”

  “You feel strongly about that?” James asked.

  “No. And that’s the problem. Maybe it’s just what I want to see.”

  “Yeah, I’m in the same predicament,” James said. “Guess that’s what made me back off.”

  “I’ve got a suggestion that might help rule McCue out,” I said.

&nbs
p; “Hit me with it.”

  “She was wearing one of those fitness trackers on her wrist.”

  James massaged his chin. “Most of those gadgets have GPS tracking built in, right?”

  “They do. If she’s been wearing it constantly, like the instructions suggest, she’ll have a running history of biometric information available. It might be enough to confirm it was her wearing the device.”

  “And tell us where she’s been over the last several days,” James added.

  “I wonder if McCue’s lawyer came up with the same idea. Could be why she asked for another day.”

  “I hope you’re right,” James said. “I’m not at all interested in having the wrong person on the hook for Enright’s undoing, but it’s not on me to do Cordite’s job for her, either.”

  “I get it. Let’s wait and see what she comes up with.”

  “Done deal,” James said. “Nice call on the tracker, though. As usual, a solid observation on your part.”

  “Thanks. Wish we could pull Enright’s cell phone out of thin air so easily.”

  “Only in the movies,” James said. “If it hasn’t turned up by now, it’s likely been destroyed. However, thanks to our IT department, we may have something better. We were able to find out which cell phone provider Enright used, as well as the providers of every other person tied to this case.”

  “That’s huge,” I said, slapping James on the shoulder. “Those companies keep a record of user’s text messages for at least 48 hours.”

  “You got it. My lead IT guy told me he’d received just over half the packets of information he’d been waiting for when I checked in with him this morning. He’s got a long slog ahead of him, sifting through all that data. The good news is, he said if there’s something in there we can use, he’ll find it.”

  “Technology strikes again,” I said. “Where would we be without it?”

  “I’m not always a fan, but in cases like this one it can be a game-changer.”

  Chapter 21

  It was 10:00 am when I got back to the house---which was vibrating to the bass notes of the ‘80’s music Sarah had blasting through the surround sound. I didn’t waste my breath trying to call out to her.

  “Ahh!” Sarah involuntarily shouted when she noticed my silhouette standing in the bedroom doorway. “Why?” she scolded as I sat down on the edge of the mattress, slapping me so hard it left my bicep stinging.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” I shouted, unable to conceal my amusement. I headed back downstairs to adjust Michael Jackson’s voice to a manageable level.

  Sarah joined me in the living room. “You were gone quite a while,” she said. “I’ve been compiling information on Troy Webber. According to some customer complaints written about him online, he’s trouble. How did it go this morning?”

  “Nothing but a murky slog,” I replied. “As it stands, Troy Webber’s looking less likely, and Meghan McCue more likely, but still no slam dunk.”

  “That sucks,” Sarah said.

  “Somewhat, but I do have a promising development to report.”

  “Amanda’s phone?” Sarah asked, excitement in her voice.

  “Not her phone, but close. James was able to put together text packets for all parties involved in the case. IT still has to sort through the data, but it’s the next best thing to finding Amanda’s missing phone.”

  “That’s awesome,” Sarah said. “Did he have any idea when they might finish?”

  “Actually, they don’t even have all the data yet, but I can’t imagine it will take days. James will treat this as a priority and push. My guess is that we’ll hear some kind of news by late afternoon, early evening.”

  “Oh, wow, that’s great. I can’t stand not knowing on this one. I just want to see the guilty in a cell, for good.”

  “I think we all do. Over and above wanting justice to be served, I feel like I was robbed. Knowing Amanda’s show is done for good has left a hole in my world.”

  Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.

  I waited a few seconds before asking, “What’s on your mind?”

  “Nothing. I was just going to make some smart aleck comment in reaction to what you said, but realized it would be insensitive.”

  “About my so-called crush on Amanda Enright?” I asked.

  “Something like that. It was uncalled for. Just me being a little jealous, that’s all.”

  I gave her a smile. “Just means you dig me. I take it as a compliment.”

  “You should,” Sarah said. “A little bit is healthy. I trust you.”

  “Good. What’s on your schedule for today?”

  “I left it open,” Sarah said. “I wasn’t sure what might unfold at the station this morning, so I didn’t make any concrete plans.”

  “You eat, yet?”

  “I had some yogurt around 8:30 am, but I could definitely go for something more substantial,” Sarah said. “You?”

  “Nope. I sure could go for a lobster roll, though.”

  “That’s random,” Sarah said. “And it’s barely after breakfast time.”

  “Didn’t know there were rules about eating lobster before noon,” I said.

  “Nothing stopping us from going to get you a lobster roll, Mr. Smarty Pants. I’ll go change my clothes.”

  I sat myself down on the couch, well aware this could take some time. I thought about Meghan McCue and her difficult morning, again. I’d never spoken to the woman, but in light of what Corey Anders had shared, I was rooting for her. The more I tried to visualize her committing the horrible act we were investigating, the less I believed she was our killer.

  “Ready,” Sarah asked, interrupting the ugliness bouncing around inside my mind’s eye.

  “That was fast,” I replied. “You just made my stomach very happy.”

  “You know I aim to please,” Sarah said. “Which lobster place were you thinking about?”

  “Jake’s has the best ones in the area, but it’s also the farthest away.”

  “Yeah, it’s almost a 30 minute drive from here,” Sarah said. “We don’t want to waste that kind of time, do we?”

  “No. We’ve got work to do. Lobster Barn makes a pretty good one, and it’s half the distance.”

  “Lobster Barn it is, then,” Sarah said and headed out the door.

  I followed. I was just about to get behind the wheel when a vehicle pulled into the driveway, behind my car.

  “I think that’s Corey Anders,” Sarah said.

  Sure enough, Corey stepped out of his shiny Chevy and approached us. “Carter, Sarah, hello,” he said. “Sorry to stop by your place, unannounced, but the doctor just released me from the hospital and I was eager to get an update.”

  “No worries,” I said.

  “Looks like you two were just heading out.”

  “We’re on our way to the Lobster Barn to get Carter a lobster roll,” Sarah said.

  “You’re welcome to come along,” I added.

  “Gee, are you sure? I’d love to,” Corey replied.

  “We’re sure,” Sarah said.

  “Why don’t you let me drive you?” he said. “My car is all warmed-up and ready to go.”

  I looked at Sarah and she gave me a nod.

  “You’re on,” I said and opened the back door. “Sarah, go ahead and sit up front with Corey.”

  “You’re a true gentleman, Carter,” Corey said as he opened the front door for Sarah.

  “How are you feeling?” Sarah asked Corey once we got settled.

  “Physically, I’m all good, thank you for asking. But my heart is so heavy. This is the first time I’ve ever lost someone close, besides family,” Corey said. “I never realized how debilitating it would be.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Sarah said.

  Corey was quiet for a moment while we got underway, then asked, “Have the police made any headway?”

  I felt a sense of unease creep in, as I hadn’t had time to discuss any ground rules with Sa
rah, concerning what we would or wouldn’t share with him.

  “I’m going to defer to Carter on this one,” Sarah said. “He’s had a more prominent role in Amanda’s case.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I weighed how much I was willing to reveal. “I don’t have a definitive answer for you,” I said. “But, I can tell you this. Detective James informed me, less than an hour ago, that his department was able to identify the cell phone providers of each person close to the case, and has requested packets of text communications for each of them.”

  “Forgive me for my lack of tech expertise, Carter, but is that in lieu of finding Amanda’s phone, and would it be as valuable?” Corey asked.

  “Yes, and yes. As far as I know the records will be complete, and replicate what we might have found on Amanda’s phone. It’ll take some time to sort through the information, but the fact we were able to subpoena those records before they were scrubbed is a true feather in the cap of Bridgeport Police Department’s IT staff.”

  “Remarkable,” Corey said. “I gather the service providers keep records of those texts for a specified amount of time?”

  “Two days is standard,” I replied.

  “Oh, goodness. So this was accomplished just under the wire.”

  “That’s right,” I said. I could see Corey’s face reflected in the rear view mirror. I saw no indication he was concerned by the news. In fact, there seemed to be a sense of peace in his expression.

  Corey turned and looked at Sarah. “Carter told me that you two decided to remain involved in Amanda’s investigation. Sarah, I’ve already expressed my gratitude to Carter, so I want to thank you, as well. I understand Lee Sands refused your request to renegotiate your fee.” He reached out and squeezed Sarah’s shoulder. “I admire your conviction in soldiering on, despite the substantial deficit in compensation for your services.”

  “Thank you for saying that, Corey,” Sarah replied. “But, as I said to Carter, we would’ve stayed with the case to see it through, even if WTLK had reneged on giving us a dime beyond what we’d already received as a deposit. It’s not very smart from a business perspective, but neither of us are able to turn our backs on what’s right.”