Chapter 133: When We Meet (2/2)
Nash gaped. ”And you have a suspect?” he asked.
”Of course. Went through the security company on duty at the time and a list of people who worked.”
”And one person fits,” I said immediately.
”Yes,” that was it. ”I've put in the request for a detective to interrogate the suspect. And now I am moving on to the next case. It's a big one, too!” He sounded so excited.
”Is it a serial killer?” Nash asked, knowing that must have been the case, seeing how excited Sebastian was.
”Yes. An infamous one, at that!” he chuckled.
”Well, I'm happy you get more research and accreditation under your belt,” I raised a spoonful of soup to toast. Sebastian proudly raised his and we clicked the spoons before quickly putting them in our mouth.
”You two are disgusting,” Nash commented immediately. ”I don't want to eat anymore.” He rubbed his stomach. ”I'll call for some takeout before the boyfriend and manager come in.”
”When are they coming?” I asked.
”Boyfriend at nine-thirty and manager at twelve.” I nodded.
”You take manager and I will take the boyfriend?” I prompted with a small smile. Nash groaned.
”You just want me to do more work, don't you?” I chuckled. ”Okay, we're pinning it on him, right? Insinuating towards it and all?” he asked.
”You've caught on. Best of luck.”
- - - - -
One in the afternoon, Nash and I were both out, back in the office and smiling ear-to-ear.
”We have the message history between the boyfriend and Maya stating Maya was going to stay at home that night, spend time with the kid, and have some wine after son went to sleep. She wanted a Me Day.” My voice was chirpy.
”I got McCain's private number that nobody had. We can trace it now.”
”Case almost closed,” I commented.
”Finally!” Nash was overjoyed.
We were writing the consolidated emails, sending in requests when someone knocked on the office door. It was a junior officer with a box in his hand.
”What is it?” I asked, pausing my typing to look at him curiously.
”It's a parcel addressed to you, Miss Lewis,” the guy said with trepidation. I looked at the box in his hand in confusion.
”Did you order something and have it delivered here?” Nash asked.
”No. I address my stuff to my apartment. They leave it with the security or under my post-box.”
I left my seat and went over to the guy. My senses tingled when I saw the pretty bow at the top and my full name written in a classic cursive.
It looked like calligraphy.
Something in me moved. ”Can you place it on my desk?” I asked in a low and measured voice.
”Miss Lewis?” he responded, bewildered.
”Please…” I urged. The guy walked over to my desk and placed it down. I took in a deep breath and pulled a pair of gloves out from the drawer.
As I put them on, Nash walked over to me.
”What are you expecting?” he asked cautiously. He waited as I pushed the lid off. The young officer gasped and backed away.
”Uh… you'll need to submit your fingerprints,” I told him with a small, apologetic smile. ”We don't know if this is a dummy or even real blood, but we'll need to run some tests,” I told the officer.
”We didn't give out the details about Maya's murder, did we?” Nash asked, confused. ”How did they know which knife was used? The same style, too.”
I inspected the handle. Indeed, it was from the same set that Maya had in her kitchen, now if it was the murder weapon, that was left to be known. The knife was nestled amongst pink silk material like an exhibit and a small note was tucked on the side.
I flipped it around and saw the same handwriting.
Calligraphic. Nothing to show who the writer was. They probably used a fountain pen to write it.
”To Evie Marie Lewis. You can thank me when we meet in person. Say hi to Dr. Butler from me,” I read out. ”No indication as to who wrote it.” I put the letter back into the box and closed it.