Threads of Suspicion

  Ann considered that. “Sometimes life favors the killer and hides what happened. Yeah, we’ve both seen it.”

  They walked for a bit in silence.

  “How’s it working with David?” Ann asked.

  Evie glanced over at her friend. “You could have clued me to the fact he’s dating Margaret May McDonald.”

  Ann smiled. “It was a good surprise. The fact you didn’t already know rather baffled me.”

  “I haven’t stayed up with the music scene. I’ve had a busy life and all.”

  “David and Maggie will give you a crash course.”

  “I expect they will. We have had one unexpected overlap. My missing college student was at a Triple M concert the night she disappeared. David was there and briefly onstage with Maggie.”

  “I saw it in your notes. We’ve both seen those odd intersections in cases before.”

  “The Triple M concert could be a hunting ground. Maybe more than one of her concerts was a place to cruise for a girl.”

  “You think this guy did more than one murder?”

  “There’s just a nagging worry in the back of my mind that this case goes really bad. After last fall’s Carin County, I’m wired to see the dark coming at me.”

  “That was about as bad as it gets,” Ann agreed. “Okay. Assume the worst. Say he did do more than one murder. Maybe you can use that. The fact you’re looking for the guy will likely get his attention. You have to figure he’s keeping an eye on his past crimes, looking for activity, newspaper articles, public requests for information, that kind of thing.”

  Evie considered that and nodded. “So we draw him out. Sharon gets a reporter to write about the task force, our first cases, put out an appeal for the public’s help. Maybe he decides to call the tip line himself, give some misleading information, inject himself into the case. I could use that.”

  “Ego has been the downfall of a lot of killers,” Ann replied thoughtfully.

  Evie liked the idea enough to stop their walk to make a note. “Anything that has me doing something is better than just hoping the case doesn’t break that way.”

  “David will deal with it if that’s where this goes.”

  “It’s Maggie I worry about. You know their story?”

  “Bryce Bishop is a good friend. I’ve known David and Maggie for years.”

  Evie wasn’t surprised Ann hadn’t said anything before. Unless her friends were in the same room with each other, Ann wouldn’t think to make the introduction. Ann kept secrets, and friends deserved their privacy. It was one of the first things Evie had learned about her. “I’m hoping the Triple M connection was simply the fact the college scene was Maggie’s fan base, and any band playing that night would have been the connection.”

  “Odds do favor that, Evie.”

  They went their separate ways, and Evie stopped at a music store, then a restaurant, a card shop, a flower shop, another music store, showing Jenna’s picture, searching for people who had worked and lived in the area for the last decade.

  Ann handed over her notebook as they met again at a diner. “My faith in humanity is rising. Nearly everyone who was around when Jenna disappeared remembers her, the search, the speculation about what happened.” The two found a table and ordered coffee.

  “I’m hearing the same,” Evie said, skimming through Ann’s interview notes while Ann read through hers. “One thing I hadn’t considered: Jenna’s disappearance raised the fear level of an entire college campus. Girls didn’t walk alone, boyfriends saw them safely inside and looked around their apartments, volunteer patrols were out with flashlights and phones to challenge any guy who was loitering. Whoever did this, if he was part of campus life, he was getting turned on by the fear. ‘Look what I did. I’m responsible for all this. Everyone is talking about what I did.’”

  “Creating fear in others can be a powerful fix, like a drug addict’s high,” Ann agreed, taking her first sip of the coffee. “It’s an emotion that needs to be fed. Give it a year, the fear around campus subsides, he has to do something else to get it back.”

  “I’ve got a lot of data coming in on what happened in the years after Jenna’s disappearance,” Evie said. “If he was here, he probably tried to relight that fear, to experience it again. Something should turn up about this guy acting out again.”

  “How deep are your lists of names?”

  “By end of the day, with the inquiries made, I’ll have a large pool to fish in. The first target will be names appearing on multiple lists—a music major with a rape allegation would certainly get my attention. I’d like to give the researchers the top few dozen names by the end of the day so they can generate deeper histories over the weekend.”

  “I can give you some help on that data analysis.”

  “I was hoping you’d offer. It’s gladly accepted.”

  As Evie drank her coffee and reviewed Ann’s notes, she glanced over to her friend reviewing her own notes to ask, “Are you beginning to see a pattern here? The rumor mill has settled on about half a dozen theories, and we’re getting the same rumors with variations on a theme, depending on which supposition the individual considers the most likely.”

  Ann held up Evie’s notebook. “It’s crowd-sourcing crime solving, the collective wisdom of a community on what happened to Jenna Greenhill. You have to admit, they’re pretty good. They’ve nailed down the most likely theories on your master list.”

  “I find it interesting that the possibility she’s alive still runs this hot.”

  “The need for hope,” Ann replied. “To not allow for her to be alive moves the case from being depressing to being just black.”

  Ann closed the notebook and drank her coffee. “She’s dead, Evie. This isn’t another Shannon Bliss with someone taking her for a reason. To be alive after nine years, you need a reason. Jenna wasn’t the prettiest, the youngest, the most outgoing. She was vulnerable, she got grabbed, but I doubt this kidnapping lasted more than a few hours at most.”

  It helped hearing another cop confirm what she also had concluded. This was a murder investigation without a body. Evie swapped back notebooks with Ann. “I hope her body isn’t found in this neighborhood. I don’t want to end the mystery by creating another memorial location residents have to pass every day.”

  “I sincerely hope it doesn’t unfold that way either.”

  They paid for the coffee and stepped back outside. Ann pointed to the Music Hall. “Let’s split up again. You take management, work your way down through security, sound and lighting staff. I’ll track down janitorial employees and work my way through food and beverages, ticket takers, and dressing room attendants.”

  Evie pocketed her notebook and took out Jenna’s photo again. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Two hours later they met up at the Music Hall entrance. Ann said, “I’ve got what you would expect—guys hitting on girls, drunk-and-disorderlies, three confirmed rapes linked back to these parking lots, several bands that are blacklisted because of drug use in the dressing rooms.”

  “I can add security footage of drug deals,” Evie said, skimming through her notes. “Pickpockets galore, a dozen fights, a fire-alarm prank to cause panic, an actual fire, three bands that managed to injure their own members, and five instances of fans with injuries after swarming the stage.” She closed the notebook. “Given the number of concerts and the size of the crowds flowing through this place every week, that seems like normal crime to me over a decade. I’ve got names, promises for more names, but nothing that feels like a pattern, no other incidents that suggest someone works this location trolling for victims.”

  “Jenna seems isolated in that respect,” Ann concurred.

  Evie was glad to have this particular set of interviews completed. She checked the time. “Let’s walk back to the campus. I’d like your impressions on the building where Jenna lived.”

  “Suits me.” Ann fell in step beside her. “How’s David doing with his missing PI?”

  “He’s
having a hard time getting any traction. There’s a wide time window between when Saul disappeared and when anybody noticed, and no clear geography for where something happened. There’s nothing obvious in his personal life that suggests a reason as to what might have happened to cause him to go missing. So David has been going through the cases Saul was working on, looking for ones that might have a reason to want him dead. There are a number of names in the closed cases to work. And there’s one active case that is promising.

  “Saul was working for a husband on an open murder case. The wife was stabbed in a grocery store parking lot and bled to death. Maybe he found him . . . it’s a theory at least. David is planning to interview the husband, Nathan Lewis, today to see if there had been a conversation, something not in Saul’s notes, that might help identify what Saul had been doing the week he disappeared.”

  “Evie . . .” Ann slowed to a stop. “Actually, that might not be a good idea.”

  Evie stopped too, surprised. “What is it, Ann?”

  “I’ve got someone undercover in Nathan Lewis’s office right now, looking into who killed Caroline. I think the murder was done, or at least arranged, by someone close to Nathan.”

  Evie was stunned. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”

  “Nathan’s a friend. He isn’t going to go on with his life until his wife’s murder is solved; he won’t date and put someone else in the crosshairs. So it’s personal with me that the case get solved. If it turns out to be someone in Nathan’s world, odds are he would have tried to tamper with the business, cause Nathan grief in other ways, before it escalated to targeting Nathan’s wife. I asked someone to figure out if there was a pattern of trouble, to see if the murder of Nathan’s wife was just the exclamation point in a sequence of things that had happened in Nathan’s life.”

  “Who do you have working in his office?” Evie asked.

  Ann shook her head. “Nathan doesn’t know about the person’s real reason for being there, so I can’t give you a name. I don’t want Nathan to know I’m looking at even those he considers good friends. The man has borne enough grief. But this seems to be the most effective way to get an answer.”

  “You want us to step back?”

  Ann hesitated. “Has an appointment already been made?”

  “I’ll find out.”

  Evie called David. “Have you made an appointment to go see Nathan Lewis yet? Ann’s got some info that might be useful to hear first.” She nodded to Ann. “Thanks, David. Ann’s coming over with me now.”

  She pocketed her phone. “He’ll hold off making the appointment. He’s finishing up a conversation and then heading back to the office for a video interview. Let’s go talk to David—I’m freezing out here anyway.”

  Ann laughed. “I wondered when the cold would finally win. You can drive, and I’ll make a call on the way.”

  Evie entered the office suite with Ann, heard the music, and realized David had arrived back before them. “David, I brought company.” She dumped her coat onto an empty chair and stepped out of her boots, determined to get her feet warm again.

  David came from the conference room. “Welcome back. Hello, Ann.”

  “David. It’s a pleasure.” Ann gave the man a hug. “It’s good to have you back in Chicago.”

  “I’ve missed being here. Please tell me you’ve got some really useful information for me, because I’m looking for something solid to build on.”

  “Of a sort.” Ann draped her coat more neatly over another chair. “Evie mentioned your PI once worked for Nathan Lewis, and a whole array of intersecting matters clicked into place.”

  “Let me get you two some coffee to warm you up, and then I’d like to hear all about it.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” Ann gestured to the conference room, where he had been working. “Mind if I take a look while you’re getting that coffee?”

  David waved her in. “Help yourself.”

  Ann stepped into the conference room. Evie went with David to help get the coffee. “How was your conversation with Everett?”

  “I like him for the murder. He was still steamed that Saul was the one who busted his alibi, put him in jail, and shattered a stable connection to the painkillers he also depended on himself. He had to come off his own addiction the hard way while in custody. That he could have killed Saul is clear. But to prove it, I need to fill in what he was doing during a three-month period after he was released. I have a couple of names to track down, people who might be able to help me with that question.”

  “You hope he said something incriminating to someone who no longer considers him a friend?”

  “Basically. I’ll be working names and having conversations around that very question. Any luck on your canvass?”

  Evie thought about the notes they had taken. “A lot of useful conversation, but nothing that shifted the direction of things.” She filled him in on the highlights while she got out cream and sugar, deciding she could avoid drinking her coffee black for once.

  “It’s good that you were able to get word out around the campus that cops are looking at the case again; it might stir up memories.”

  “I hope it helps. We passed out a lot of business cards.”

  They walked back to the conference room together.

  “David, you’ve been busy.” Ann accepted the coffee David handed her.

  Evie studied the numbered list of names with interest; it was a new development.

  “My list of thirty-eight people with substantial reasons to want Saul Morris dead,” David explained, “from Charles Bell to Walter York. Most did jail time or suffered a serious setback in their professional lives because of Saul’s investigative work. That’s my target list for interviews.”

  Ann tapped number eight—unnamed person who killed Caroline Lewis. “I think the person who killed Caroline is someone close to Nathan. I’ve got someone undercover in his office right now looking into that possibility.”

  “Well, that’s interesting news.”

  Ann pulled out a chair at David’s gesture. “Nathan’s a friend, the case needs to get solved, and someone working on it from the inside can more easily run down possibilities. I made a call on the way over here and had dates pulled. The last contact Nathan had with Saul was on August twenty-second—it’s in the file as a phone update. Saul was canvassing the area, people were being talked with, queries were out, but he had nothing new to report.”

  “That date fits what is in Saul’s own paperwork,” David confirmed. “Saul disappeared in the days after September eighth.”

  “If Saul had found out something about Caroline’s murder, that knowledge didn’t have time to reach Nathan. There’s nothing in Nathan’s records to indicate they spoke that week.”

  “That closes down one hope I had,” David said with regret.

  “Nathan has had three private investigators work alongside the police over the years. The other investigators looked into Saul’s disappearance based on the same assumption you had. I asked to get copies of whatever notes they made regarding Saul for you. Hopefully their notes might narrow down where Saul was last seen.”

  “Thanks. You’ve got a better chance of finding anything useful working from the inside of Nathan’s office than I do hoping to re-create Saul’s work for him. So for now, I’ll move on to other possibilities.”

  “If you have specific questions, I can try to get you answers without having to go to Nathan directly.” Ann pushed back her chair and stood. “I’m going to spend a few hours helping Evie data-crunch on her names. If you have something specific come to mind, I’ll be around.”

  David smiled. “We both appreciate that help, because after Evie solves her case, she’s doubling up to help me solve this one.”

  “I’ll take getting these two cases solved however it comes about,” Evie said with a laugh. “I’m ordering in food, as I still owe Ann lunch. I’m thinking steak sandwiches. Want in?”

  “Sure.”

  Evie ordered them
a late lunch while Ann made a brief call to her husband, Paul. It was nice, having a friend helping out who understood this kind of work.

  Evie wrote the question Who Killed Jenna Greenhill? on her whiteboard and then numbered one through twenty-four down the side. “We fill up the list with the highest-probability names so that researchers have something to work on, then I’ll send you home.”

  “Paul is taking me out to an arcade late tonight—we’re working a small matter for a friend on our own time—so I’m yours until then.” Ann settled in at an empty desk. “Give me the apartment lists, the names of those who lived in buildings on Jenna’s block. I’ll start cross-referencing names with moving records, arrest records, school records, disciplinary actions, and look for signs of trouble in their lives after Jenna disappeared.”

  Evie found more answers to inquires in her inbox, all with attached lists of names. She passed printouts to Ann, then dumped the accumulating reports onto a flash drive for her use. “You’ll want to reference those big sheets of paper on the far desk for the resident lists by building.”

  “Thanks.” Ann plugged in the flash drive and brought up the reports. “You’ve been busy.”

  “I learned by watching you. The more data, the better the odds of finding an answer. If I’ve tossed a big enough net out in the last thirty-six hours, I’ve now got his name.”

  “Given your wide array of theories, I’d say you’re covering the bases.”

  “That’s my hope.” Evie turned her attention to the music majors, began cross-referencing for the same indications of trouble.

  Papers turned, keyboards clicked as they scanned the screens. Evie wrote the name Harold Jefferies at position twelve. A music guy suspected of using a date-rape drug, he had played guitar in a band Evie remembered being mentioned in Jenna’s journals.

  “You’ll want to list Philip Walsh,” Ann said. “Put him at five. He’s been questioned twice regarding home break-ins with sexual assaults. He lived on Jenna’s block, moved two weeks after she went missing, never graduated. He’s been arrested four times for theft—he likes lifting handbags from the back of a chair and walking away.”