true.”
“And, so what if she is the lover? Does that help me solve this murder? And she’s married. Hard to believe Towson was that reckless. And where’s her husband? I would need to dig into her background, what’s going on at her restaurant, and possibly other activities in Tampa.”
“Tampa?”
“I’m afraid this might lead there, and if it does I’m out of my league. Cuban-Americans in Tampa can be a tight group. Where would I start?”
“The State of Florida could step in, it has organized crime units and all that high-tech stuff,” the chief offered.
“Yeah, why don’t you suggest to Moran that we turn over this investigation to Tallahassee?”
“Not me.”
“Is he aware of what we found on Linda Call?”
“Not yet. He’s on his way here right now. Before he gets here, Chip, tell me what’s with you and Reid’s sister? She embarrassed the department with her charges and that item in the paper didn’t help.”
Goddard pointed to the garden magazine. “Like you care?”
“Ah, hell, Moran found out about you meeting her, and I got my ass chewed.”
“Sorry about that, but I’ll listen to anyone with information about this case. I’d rather she talk to me than to the papers.”
“Reid’s attorney will scream bloody murder if she tells you something that ends up in the trial.”
“She’s been warned—she talks to me at her brother’s risk.”
“She has a thing for cops according to Huress.”
“Get your head out of your ass, Chief. She had no reason to bother with Huress. I think Moran was behind that incident. He probably told Huress to go do what he had to do to get her off our back. Huress, in his own small but horny mind, thought he had a cute little pigeon in his grasp. No, Chief, her story was true.
“I guess you know what you’re doing. Remember, Moran is watching.”
Just then, the door opened and Moran marched in with a file of papers under his arm. The chief stumbled in mid-sentence to change the subject. “All right Chip, so what about the new reports on Norma Martin and Linda Call.”
Moran set the papers on the desk. “So, Goddard, at long last you got a statement from Martin.”
“No, she won’t talk to me. I did get her DNA from a cigarette butt, however.”
“I hope all this isn’t interfering with your sex life. Where’d you get that coffee? Can you answer that question?”
Goddard pointed. “Out there in the squad room, over by the window. Help yourself.” He wasn’t going to jump and get it, which is what Moran had in mind. The chief got up. Moran said, “Cream and sugar. You mentioned Linda Call?”
“I just got this FBI report on her.” Goddard knew that would get a reaction.
Moran was startled. “She’s a suspect? I just gave her an interview.”
Goddard said, “We faxed the prints we found on the wine glasses to the FBI National Database and got a hit back this morning, they belong to Linda.”
“Don’t tell me she was in his apartment,” Moran moaned, “And don’t tell me the woman’s got a record.”
Goddard didn’t respond immediately, he pretended to check a folder, letting Moran suffer for the longest possible moment. Then he answered, “No record. Her print set was in the civil section on the Integrated System. She submitted routine fingerprints when she applied for a Concealed Weapon Permit some time ago.”
The chief came back and set the coffee in front of Moran who took a sip, frowned, and pushed it away. The chief said, “Not farfetched for a crime reporter to want a weapons permit. She’s a Georgia gal, probably uses guns for bookends. Maybe she used one last Saturday.”
Goddard corrected him, “She’s not from Georgia, as we all thought, but from Tampa. The permit was issued there before she was a crime reporter. Why’d she need a gun in Tampa? Also interesting, her name came up spelled L-y-n-d-a. Now that’s Latina. I don’t care if she’s Cuban-American, but Tampa is the center of the pro- gambling opposition to Towson’s election. I want to know what her prints were doing at the crime scene.”
“If she was with Towson innocently that afternoon, why didn’t she come forward? What’s she hiding?” Moran asked.
Goddard hesitated, knowing Moran would explode upon hearing the next statement. “To make matters worse, she showed up at the crime scene while CSI was there.”
“What! She was there at the crime scene? That means all of our crime scene evidence is contaminated and could be thrown out. Damn, I’m dead.” Moran covered his face with his hands. “Who let her in?”
“CSI,” Goddard answered. “Not a good policy but it happens with reporters. I wasn’t there.”
“Not an excuse! So, you weren’t there, but it’s your investigation.” Moran was still shaking his head in disbelief.
The chief said, “I hate to mention this, but if she’s involved, and she had access to the crime scene, God knows what else she did up there to cover her tracks.”
Moran was livid. “Oh, this is really cute. We know Linda is lying about her past, she might be the murderer, and she might have returned to the murder scene later in her capacity as a reporter, and the CSI might have held her purse while she tidied up the evidence.” He stared at the chief expecting an explanation.
“What can I say? Incredibly sloppy crime scene security. I don’t know what happened. I’ll investigate.”
Moran loosened his tie and lowered his head. “God, if any of this shit gets into the trial….”
Goddard said, “If it helps, her prints weren’t found on anything in the bathroom, so I don’t think his affair is with Linda.”
“Linda is gay,” the chief said. “I don’t think she’d be interested.”
“Come on, Chief,” Moran said, “if Linda wanted Towson dead her preference wouldn’t matter.”
“We’re closer to the identity of Towson’s lover,” Goddard said. “A good chance it was Norma Martin.”
“What makes you think that?” Moran asked.
“We’ve a DNA match with the items in the master bath.”
“Remember, a match doesn’t mean she was up there the day he was killed,” the chief said, “and being his lover might have nothing whatever to do with his murder.”
Moran said. “That agrees with what my secretary told me; she heard the affair was with Martin. Did her prints match?”
“We don’t have her prints on file and no legal way to get them at this point. So we still have unidentified prints at the scene,” Goddard said. “And the wine glasses found in the bedroom still have to be explained.”
“So, you have wine glasses and an unmade bed. Some woman was up there Saturday,” Moran said. “Maybe it was a three-way in that bed: Towson, Norma Martin, and Linda Call, who isn’t bad looking by the way. Would Towson go for that?”
“Three-ways don’t happen in my town,” the chief stated flatly.
“You don’t know what a three-way is. Anyway, it’s not likely in this case. Linda might have been up there merely interviewing him over a glass of wine. She interviewed me this morning and left her prints on my coffee cup. See what she says, Goddard.”
The chief said, “Therefore, Norma Martin is the lover, is fronting for unnamed restaurant owners, and is definitely a suspect. Linda also was definitely up there but has an excuse, except she’s not our redneck gal from Georgia but Latina L-y-n-d-a from Tampa. What likely females haven’t we talked about?”
Goddard said, “Tammy Jerold, but the unidentified prints don’t belong to her. Her prints were available because her real estate license required fingerprinting.”
The chief said, “That leaves Loraine Dellin, and no way in hell would Towson have had anything more to do with her. He’d rather die first.” Then he realized what he had said.
