Fran’s first words were “By now I assume you have heard about Tony Carter. I wonder how much the Crowleys paid the Carters to have Tony spread that story. It’s disgusting that they would try to place the blame on someone like Jamie who can’t even defend himself.”
“Mom, why would the Carters do that?”
“I’ll tell you why. It’s because they’re social climbers. I myself have heard June Crowley say that Carl Carter is always pestering Doug to sponsor him to join Ridgewood Country Club. What a trade-off to blame poor, innocent Jamie for a crime their son committed.”
“Mom, you know how much I care about Jamie,” Aline protested, “but I simply cannot believe that the Crowleys got Tony Carter to lie for them.”
“You’ve been defending Alan from day one. I don’t understand you.”
“Mom, you tried and convicted Alan on day one. I don’t understand you!”
“Then we agree to disagree,” Fran said firmly.
“Look, Mom, the last thing I want to do is to have us getting upset with each other. And I can tell you this. Remember Mike Wilson asked you and Dad about whether you knew about the flat tire Kerry had?”
“Yes, and she hadn’t told us about it because Dad had been after her to pick up a new tire.”
“The police still haven’t found the tow truck driver who fixed the flat and wanted to come to the house after everyone had left the party. Alan has been arrested, but I know that Mike won’t be satisfied until they locate this guy and find out where he was the night of the party.”
“So what’s your point?” Fran asked.
“My point is that twenty-four hours ago we didn’t know about Jamie supposedly swimming with Kerry the night of the party. We both are certain he had nothing to do with what happened to Kerry. The police still haven’t found the tow truck driver. My point is there’s still a lot we don’t know. Let’s try to reserve judgment.”
“Okay. Enough on this topic for now. Let’s have a glass of wine.”
When they were in the living room sipping their wine, Fran said, “You told us you were going to a seminar with Scott Kimball and that you might have dinner with him. You got home pretty late, so I’m assuming you went to dinner. How was it?”
“The seminar or the dinner?” Aline asked with a smile.
Fran managed to laugh. “Seminars are all the same. Tell me about the dinner.”
“It was actually very nice. It was an Italian restaurant. The food was delicious. I had—”
Her mother cut her off. “I want to hear about Scott Kimball.”
“Mom, why am I not surprised? I like Scott. He’s a very nice guy, and good-looking as well. He’s intelligent and easy to talk to.”
But as she was speaking, the memory of sitting across the table from Mike Wilson came to mind. I so much more enjoyed his company, she thought. But now is not the time to say that.
Fran said, “Honey, this is very tough for all of us. But if you have a chance to have an enjoyable evening, I want you to take it. Dad and I are finalizing plans to go to Bermuda for a long weekend. A change of scenery will do us both good.”
“I agree. That will be great for both of you.”
59
Mike reviewed the lab report regarding the analysis of the stain the tech had lifted from the back door of the Chapman home. It was blood. The sample had then been compared to Kerry’s DNA, and produced a match. It was definitely Kerry’s blood.
Armed with Tony Carter’s statement that Jamie told him he had gone swimming with Kerry after her party, and having found Kerry’s blood on the back door of the Chapman home, Mike applied for a search warrant. It was granted immediately.
The day had become overcast. The breeze was unusually cool for a September morning. Mike, who loved to go golfing, hoped that this would not be an indication of an early onset of cold weather.
With Andy Nerlino at his side and the search warrant in hand, he rang the front doorbell of the Chapman home. Almost immediately, it was answered. Marge was wearing an apron over a pair of old slacks with bleach marks. She looked startled to see them.
“Mrs. Chapman, you might remember me. My name is Mike Wilson. I’m a detective with the Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office. This is my colleague Detective Andy Nerlino.”
“Of course I remember you. I’m embarrassed. I’m dressed to clean my house. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Chapman,” Mike said. “You’re absolutely fine the way you are. I must inform you that we have obtained a warrant from a judge to search your home. Here’s your copy.”
Stunned as she looked down at the document, Marge said, “I don’t get it. Why on earth would you want to search my home?”
Mike replied, “It’s in connection with our investigation of Kerry Dowling’s murder. And while we’re here, we want to speak to both you and your son Jamie. Is he home?”
Her mouth dry, Marge said, “He’s upstairs in his room watching TV.”
“Detective Nerlino will stay with you here. I’m going upstairs to speak to Jamie.”
“Oh, no,” Marge said. “Jamie might get upset. I think I should be with him when he speaks to you.”
“Your son Jamie is twenty years old. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then he is legally an adult. I’m going to talk to him alone,” Mike said as he headed toward the stairs.
Marge reached out her hand as if to stop him. Then she sighed nervously, and walked to the couch. The vacuum cleaner was on the rug. Her foot brushed against it as she sat down. There was a dust cloth and furniture polish on the table. Almost unconsciously, she picked them up and put them down next to the vacuum.
“You remind me of my mother,” Andy said. “She goes through the house once
