All right reserved
(c) Copyright Mary Faderan 2017, 2018, 2019
BILL GADDIS CHECKED THE spreadsheet in front of him. The dark screen bothered him, and he wasn’t able to read the words in the cells of the spreadsheet. He squinted his eyes and bent closer. “Ah.” He found his cursor and blew up the spreadsheet to page view. This sheet gave all the names of the Yale Gym members that were present the night Dr. James Levy was murdered. The names were of thirty-nine people. Ripley had made notes on each name and then a check mark for those who had been cleared. The reasons for their clearance were either due to them leaving early (as evidenced by the card-swipe security reader) or they didn’t use the back parking lot where Levy’s body was found. There were only four names left to be interviewed. One of those names was of Dr. Mike Oates. Gaddis leaned back and checked another sheet of paper on his desk. “Looks to me, Tom, that we only have these four names to interview.” Ripley looked up from where his desk was. He looked tired and nodded with a hangdog expression. “Yep.” “How about we split them up between us? You take Steve Buncher and Corinne Loveless, and I’ll take Mike Oates and Ruth Anne Wilson?” “Fine by me, Bill.” “That way, we can have this case almost caught up by the end of Wednesday.” “OK.” “Hey, did you ever get anything on the malpractice suit against Levy?” “That’s going to be a tough one. The courts have it locked up. Levy’s lawyers are suing to expunge the case from his record.”
Gaddis gave a short laugh. “Well, I don’t think they have a leg to stand on now that their client is dead.” “I agree, Bill. I’ve asked them to release the records on account of the fact that the information may be valuable to finding Levy’s murderer.” “So when are they sending those records over?” “They should be over this afternoon.” “Good. Have a good look at them, and let’s discuss tomorrow morning.” He reached for his phone and dialed a number. “Hello, Dr. Mike Oates?” On the other side of the phone, Mike spoke a reply, “Speaking.” “This is Lt. Bill Gaddis of New Haven Police. We’re investigating the murder of Dr. James Levy.” “Yes?” Mike’s voice was neutral. “I’d like to meet with you tonight if possible to ask you a few questions. Are you available?” “I’m free tonight.” “Let’s say six p.m. at your place?” “Fine.” Gaddis hung up the phone and looked at the time. “I’m meeting Mike Oates tonight. I can still make dinner with my wife before I go over. Call me if you need me.” Ripley grunted as Gaddis snatched his jacket and walked out of the squad room. Mike hung up the phone and gave a small sigh. “What is it?” Lauren looked up from across his apartment. “The cops are sweeping the members of the gym and asking questions about the night Levy died.” “Are they calling you to get questioned?” “Yes.” He looked at her with a look that hovered between worry and desperation. “I see.” She pursed her lips. “When do you see them?” “I see them tonight. Lieutenant Gaddis of the New Haven Police Department is coming at six.” “You can handle it.” “I have to say I didn’t see Levy.”
“You can tell them this: You haven’t met Dr. Levy, and you wouldn’t know him from Adam.” Mike heard the steel in her voice. “Damn.” “I would not embellish on that,” she went on. “I think that they are routinely screening the members. You should be fine. I won’t stay and make them get their feathers up by my presence.” “OK. Will you be OK getting back to your hotel?” “Yes.” She took her small clutch purse and rose to leave. Mike stood up. He held out her coat for her. “You advised me to say this as my lawyer,” he spoke softly in her ear. “I have. It needs to be said, Mike.” She turned to him. “You did not kill Levy. You stabbed him, but you didn’t kill him. Another guy did it.” “That’s true. But shouldn’t I say that I stabbed him?” “No. Not this time. If they come back saying that they have the murder weapon and it has your prints on it, you can say you stabbed him, but since your knife is at my dad’s office, that won’t happen. They are looking for someone else. In my mind, that person who delivered the lethal wound is out there still at large.” “How are you so sure that someone else killed him?” “Dad told me that he has information about the postmortem. They said that the stab wounds were delivered at the abdomen, which was your doing, and then another deeper wound was delivered into his vena cava.” Mike stood back on his heels. “I see.” Lauren lifted her face to see him closer. “Will I see you tomorrow?” “Yes. I’ll pick you up for lunch.” “Good.”
No comments:
Post a Comment