“Talk to Tammy again,” Moran ordered. “See how she explains it. Don’t wait, I want her in here now.”
“We’ve already called her, she’s on her way,” the chief said.
Goddard said. “Also I have new evidence on who Towson was having the affair with.”
“You already told me it was Norma Martin,” Moran said.
“That was because we had her DNA from a cigarette butt, and it matched the DNA found in the bathroom. Now I have her daughter’s DNA from a tissue she used and it also matches.
“Of course,” the chief said, “the mother-daughter relationship would give us a preliminary match.”
Moran said, “So, tell the lab to do deeper DNA probes. Until then, we won’t know which of them was up there in the apartment. In fact, both of them could have been up there.”
Goddard continued, “The mother is married, sixty-something and spends her life in an apron. Towson would likely go for the daughter, Elena Duarte, who is footloose, twenty years younger, and an absolute knockout.”
“And to think, our mastermind here came to that astonishing deduction all by himself,” Moran said. “How did you find all this out?”
Goddard didn’t want to reveal Sandy as his source. “We have hearsay. Elena Duarte told Sandy Reid that the affair was a campaign dirty trick by Cuban-American gambling interests to embarrass Towson.”
“Damn it. I’m the prosecuting attorney. Don’t pull that hearsay bullshit on me.”
Goddard continued. “What we don’t have is any evidence someone intended for the trick to go farther and include murder. It’s possible the entire affair had nothing to do with the murder.”
“The hearsay, Goddard! Go back to the hearsay. How is it you happen to know what Elena Duarte told Sandy Reid?”
The chief interrupted, “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes, I do.” Moran stood and faced Goddard. “You got that info from Sandy Reid didn’t you? Let’s hold your lame explanation of why you’re talking to her—probably across the pillow. Just explain how the suspect’s sister finds a possible suspect before you do.”
“Elena Duarte would never have talked to the police,” Goddard said weakly.
“That didn’t answer my question. Did you have anything to do with the sister meeting Elena Duarte, or was that also the sister’s idea?”
“Unfortunately, I had nothing to do with it. Sandy Reid told me hoping I’d give her inside info in return.”
“Did you ever get a statement from the mother?”
“Tried but she wouldn’t talk to me.”
“But you spoke to the daughter.”
“No, haven’t met her,” he hated to admit.
“Damn it! Then how did you obtain the DNA you just told me about? Did the sister get that for you as well?” Moran didn’t wait for an answer. “Goddard, consider yourself on probation as of now. Don’t force me to call in investigators from Tallahassee. We want the sister away from the investigation, and you can’t seem to stop her. What is she, some kind of runaway train?”
“That’s pretty close,” Goddard said.
The chief answered his phone. “Tammy’s waiting at the front desk.”
Moran gathered his papers and started to leave. “Let me know how she explains how her prints got on the gun box, that’s got to be good. And Goddard, you’re on thin ice.”
Goddard met Tammy at the entrance, and they walked back to the interrogation room. “I’m going to record an interview with you and have it typed up. You can sign it later. Okay?”
“That’s fine, Chip.” She walked slowly, glancing around. “I haven’t been here in this department for years; I used to run all around this building every day. I remember when they built this dreaded little room. We played around with that two-way mirror over there.”
“Trust me, no one’s on the other side. I’ll leave the door open.” He sat on a chair beside her. He clicked on the recorder and stated the place, date, and names. “This interrogation should be no surprise. Ray Reid and Loraine Dellin put you right in the middle of this mess.”
“Chip, please understand, I loved the senator. You know all he did for me. I was practically his protegee. Most of my business came from his referrals. All that will stop now. I’m sick over his death for a lot of reasons, and a lot less money is one of them.”
“When did you last speak to Al?”
“At the now-infamous party the previous Saturday.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Tammy. But, I need to go back over what you told me about last Saturday.”
“Sure. Saturday is my day to cover the office. I skipped out around noon and met with Reid at the restaurant. When he took off, I had a sandwich and went back to the office. Business is terrible. I didn’t leave the office that afternoon. At six, I was getting ready to leave when the chief phoned me with the shocker. Then Reid phoned me almost immediately. That’s when I phoned 911 with my suspicions and you picked him up. I told you all this before.”
“Anyone physically see you in your office between three and six?”
“I’m trying to think back. Can’t remember who came in. Lousy alibi, huh?”
“Only the guilty have good alibis. Reid mentioned Norma Martin. Do you know her?”
“I’ve been to her restaurant. I know who she is. I had the listing on that restaurant earlier but she didn’t buy it through me.”
“Do you own a gun, Tammy?”
“No, but I fired one once. You were in high school, Chip. I was dating a Deputy Sheriff.”
“What was his name, perhaps I knew him?”
“Carl Richards, I think. You wouldn’t know him it was years ago. He went back up north. Anyway, he got on a kick that I needed to protect myself. We went out to the firing range one day. He had me fire his service revolver, big and heavy. My arm ached for a month and my ears are still ringing.”
“What about Sonny?” he asked.
“Sonny…Barner? Reid asked me about him too. Said Loraine allegedly shot him, I think you know that.”
“Are you friends with him?”
“You mean socially? Good grief, haven’t you seen him?”
“When did you last see him?”
'As a matter of fact, he sprayed my apartment this week.”
He picked up the red-striped bag from the table behind him. He opened the clasp and carefully shook out the gun box onto the table. On the cover of the box was a picture of a small revolver resting on an American flag. “Have you ever seen this before?”
“Yes! I threw out that box. It was weird. That empty box was stuffed down in a small shopping bag on the floor of my bedroom closet in the middle of all my shoes—I keep saying I’m going to straighten out that shoe mess one of these days. I assumed it was a shoe box in the bag at first, but it’s the wrong shape.”
“What did you do with the gun?”
“Never saw any gun.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“For what? Sure, now that I see that box in a police interrogation room, in an official bag marked ‘Evidence,’ in front of a frowning homicide detective who’s pointing at it, and staring at me, yes, it looks suspicious. But at my apartment, it was just something in an old shopping bag—an empty toy box someone stuck in there at some store thinking it was trash. Look at it, Chip. It’s bright red white and blue with a flag on it, I’m supposed to get excited about that? I shook it to be sure it was empty. I don’t know. I was preoccupied, late for work. It meant nothing to me. I tossed it and forgot all about it.”
“When was this?”
“Let me think—Friday.”
“When is your trash pickup?”
“Tomorrow. I feel so dim-witted now. I goofed didn’t I? It’s important isn’t it? Was the murder weapon in that box?”
“Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?”
“Of course, hook me up, sir.”
“Maybe later, thanks for coming in, Tammy.” He stopped the recorder. “Before you go, I’d like to give you
