Part 29 (1/2)

”I know,” I said. ”I'm well aware of that.”

”...took his d.a.m.ned time about sending someone over. By the time he and his detectives showed up-search warrant in hand because ours was out of date-Brad and I had already located three different people who had heard the sounds of an altercation between a man and a woman coming from Dillon's apartment around six P.M.”

”Heard it but didn't report it,” I interjected.

Mel nodded. ”That's right. Lots of student-style apartments around there, so maybe noisy arguments are a regular occurrence. When Kramer showed up and realized Brad and I were the ones on the scene, I thought he was going to have a coronary on the spot. He ordered us to leave. Ordered!” Mel repeated derisively. ”On the grounds that we were operating outside our jurisdiction! Who the h.e.l.l does he think he is?”

”He's someone who's used to throwing his weight around.”

”In that case, Dillon's e-mail may sound good enough for us to believe Heather wasn't involved, and it's probably good enough for the prosecutor's office, but I doubt it'll convince Kramer. He knows that you and Ron are good friends, and he's going to go after this like a pit bull. All that means is we're going to have to find proof. Or Heather's attorney will.”

I liked the fact that having met Paul Kramer only once or twice, Mel already had his number.

”Any ideas?” I asked.

”Brad picked up a bunch of security videotapes. There's a company down in Olympia that owns several dozen convenience stores. We need to go through those. If Molly and Dillon both had cell phones, we need to check those out. If there were calls made during the time in question, we may be able to get a physical location.”

Heather appeared at the end of the hallway. ”You need Dillon's phone?” she asked. ”If you do, I have it. One of the medics gave it to me when we were in the ambulance. He said it was in the way.”

She turned and went back down the hallway. When she returned with the phone, she handed it over to me. The phone wasn't the least bit like mine. I had to put on my reading gla.s.ses in hopes of sorting out how it worked, but the phone was as dead as could be. I remembered then that Dillon had told Heather it had lost its charge. Until we found a cord that fit it, the phone would stay dead.

”I'm so sorry to hear about Dillon,” Mel said to Heather. ”Please accept my condolences.”

Mel's words were uttered with such sincerity that Heather was taken aback. I don't think she had expected sympathy from Mel. Nothing she said discounted the supposed ”puppy love” aspects of the loss Heather was feeling. Grief was grief, and Heather nodded gratefully. ”Thank you,” she said.

”I know you're going through a very difficult time,” Mel continued, ”and you may be too tired to go into any of this right now, but Beau asked me over so I could get a jump on the interview process. Lots of people and jurisdictions are involved in these cases. In order to close them, all the investigators are going to need answers to questions-answers that you alone may be able to provide.”

”I know,” Heather said.

”I'm hoping that, if we do a good enough job initially, you may not have to go through this ordeal over and over, but in order to make it official, I'll need to record it.”

”Yes,” Heather said. ”I understand.”

While Mel set up her recording equipment, I refreshed our coffees and brought some for Heather as well.

Because of my close a.s.sociation with the Peters family and with Heather in particular, I kept my mouth shut during the interview process. I couldn't have added anything. Mel asked her probing questions in a way that was firm but not at all patronizing. She asked about Molly and about Molly's relations.h.i.+p to Heather and to Dillon as well. She went over everything about the day of Rosemary's murder in minute detail, pulling out every smidgen of Heather's remembrance of that day and the days since.

I stuck with it for a long time, but I have to confess as we neared the two-hour mark and the third tape, I was fading. I had drifted off in the recliner when the phone awakened me.

”Sorry about this, Mr. Beaumont,” Fred Tomkins said, ”but I've got me three men down here in the lobby-three policemen-who say they need to come see you right away. I tried to tell 'em it was way too early for them to go up, but...”

I hadn't a doubt in the world that Kramer would be one of the three. ”That's okay,” I told Fred. ”Send them up.”

Mel looked at me questioningly. ”Kramer?” she asked.

”The doorman didn't say, but he'd be my first guess. This should be interesting.”

I opened the door as Kramer reached for the bell. ”Imagine meeting you here,” I said. ”You're turning into a regular.”

”I'm looking for a witness named Heather Peters,” he said. ”I understand she left Harborview Hospital with you last night.”

”She's here,” I said. ”But she's busy at the moment. Mel Soames is in the process of interviewing her.”

Kramer practically levitated off the floor. ”I told that b.i.t.c.h last night. This is the city of Seattle. She's got no jurisdiction here, and neither do you. What happened last night was clearly inside the city limits. I demand that you turn her over to me immediately.”

Calling Mel Soames a b.i.t.c.h didn't go over well with me, but I managed to keep my voice steady and my temper under control.

”You can demand until the cows come home, Kramer, but it's not going to do any good. What happened on Queen Anne Hill last night is tied in with the Rosemary Peters homicide in Tacoma last week. Because of the possibility that it was an officer-involved domestic-violence case, state law makes s.h.i.+T the lead investigative agency. I'm sure Mel Soames will be happy to share a transcript of the Heather Peters interview with you once it's available. She'll share any other information she's gathered as well, but in the meantime I'm afraid you'll have to wait.”

”I don't want a transcript,” Kramer growled. ”And I don't want to wait. We want to talk to the girl now. As a friend of the family, you should know better than to have any involvement in the interview process. It's a clear conflict of interest.”

”I'm not involved,” I returned. ”In fact, I haven't said a word. You'll be able to tell that as soon as you see the transcript.”

Kramer's complexion had gone from red to purple. ”You're interfering with my investigation, Beaumont, and I won't stand for it.”

”And you're interfering with ours,” I returned.

”I intend to lodge a formal complaint.”

”Be my guest,” I said. ”I'm sure Ross Connors will be more than happy to discuss the situation with you on Monday once he gets to his office, but until then I'd say you're out of luck.”

With that, I closed the door in Kramer's face. Slammed it is more likely. Had he ever had the good fortune to support himself by selling goods door-to-door, Captain Kramer might have had the foresight to stick his toe in the door. But he didn't. When I turned back into the room, Mel Soames was standing behind me in the hallway, grinning. Heather, on the other hand, was wide-eyed and ashen.

Mel went back over to her. ”How are you?” she asked, trying to take Heather's focus off Kramer.

”Tired,” Heather admitted.

”Hungry?”

”That, too, I guess.”

”Well,” Mel said, ”that makes two of us, and since Beau here just had the time of his life tormenting poor Captain Kramer, I'm guessing he'll be more than happy to take us to breakfast. Right?”

She was right, of course. I had tormented Kramer for no other reason than the fact that I could. And I had enjoyed the h.e.l.l out of it. ”As soon as I know for sure they're gone,” I said.

I called downstairs a few minutes later to be sure Kramer and the two detectives had taken themselves away. Heather had forgotten her coat-my old jacket-when she bolted out of the hospital waiting room. Once again, she left my apartment wearing another of my jackets, one that came almost to her knees.

The three of us had breakfast at the Five-Spot. I was grateful we didn't run into Marty Woodman. The old man had been kind enough to put me in touch with Wink Winkler. I didn't want to have to try to explain to him how that connection had resulted in Wink's death. As we finished breakfast, Amy came by to pick up Heather.

The girl looked up warily as the door swung open. Amy hurried into the room, scanning the restaurant before she caught sight of where we were sitting. She stopped next to her stepdaughter.

”Oh, Heather,” Amy said. ”I'm so, so sorry.”

Heather leaped up and threw herself into Amy's arms. ”Me, too,” she said.

And it really didn't matter what they were sorry about-whether it was Dillon or Molly or Rosemary or all of the above. What mattered most was that they were together holding and comforting each other. The night before, Heather hadn't been ready to accept comfort from anyone, most especially from her family. But this morning, whatever stresses had been eating away at the fabric of Ron and Amy's family had melted into the background and were no longer strong enough to keep the family estranged. I could only hope that I had played some small part in making that happen.