“No, he said he’d tell us today. We haven’t had a chance to pull him yet and hear it. But since you’re here, I’m going to run a lineup, and then I’ll go back to the interview with him. I’d like to know that too. It would cement the case against him.” Dempsey looked at her intently as he said the last line.
He took her to a small room, where a window took up most of one wall. The scene was so much like a television show or movie that she wanted to inspect every inch of the room. However, she thought better of it. She wanted to be taken seriously here, and Dempsey wouldn’t appreciate it if she appeased her curiosity instead.
She sat down on the metal chair and waited. She could hear footsteps pass the room, but they continued to walk away from her in each case. Finally, there was a knock on the door, and a woman stuck her head inside.
“Detective Dempsey asked if you could leave now, and we'll contact you later. Something has come up—there won’t be a lineup today . . .” As quickly as she had appeared, she left. The woman’s face had been an ashy shade of gray, and she’d stammered through the words. Something had upset her tremendously.
Johanna sat there for a few seconds, puzzled by what had happened. He had been so intent on continuing the interview after she saw the lineup. What could have come up that would have made him change his mind?
She realized in a second what had happened. A powerful reason must have come up so that he could not continue. Something had happened to the prisoner. Either he’d been in a fight or was beaten up—or he was dead. Johanna suspected that they would come back and tell her that he had committed suicide: a story that she wouldn’t believe. The man had trapped himself by offering a confession without coercion. He had volunteered the information, based on whatever clues had led the police to him.
However, at the moment, she wanted to leave. This deduction worried her—that someone was killing people associated with the crime she witnessed—and she could be next. Johanna wanted to go home and hear the news for herself.
She also felt a strong sense of fear while in this room. Someone here had silenced this man before Johanna could view him, or before he could tell the police how he entered and left the house—if he, indeed, knew. The reason for his death might have been that he didn’t know how the killer had left the house locked. A gap like that in his confession would bring doubt with his words, and the police might release him and begin the search again.
She looked at the officer standing by. She decided to test her theory. “That poor guy. I don’t get it. He confessed and then killed himself. Wow, not the ending I expected.”
The man didn’t speak, but he nodded. That was enough for Johanna to confirm her theory.
Two hours later, she no longer had the desire to watch the news regarding the man’s death. Sure enough, he had hung himself in the cell he’d had to himself. Typically, inmates shared a cell with others, but they’d wanted him up early and awake in this case. Others would snore, or ask questions, or generally keep him from sleeping.
He’d apparently taken a bedsheet and ripped it lengthwise to make a noose, and then hung himself with it. The mystery of the locked house played into the story, with some criminologists suggesting how the crime could have been committed.
The police made it sounds as though the case was closed, reminding the press of the strangulation and continuing the search for another dead woman.
Johanna cursed, and then cursed again. This was precisely what she had been afraid would happen. The police had a suspect who could no longer speak for himself, and all of the crimes would be pinned to him—a man who couldn’t deny any theory.
Marnie and Detective Dempsey appeared on the doorstep at almost the same time. Johanna strongly suspected that they were here for the same reason, but on different sides.
When she let them in, both started talking at once; the noise was like two sets of earbuds playing simultaneously. She held up her hand and motioned for them both to stop.
“One at a time, please,” she requested.
Marnie looked at the detective and then made a grand gesture to snub him. She turned away and looked directly at her friend. “What’s going on? I saw the news.”
Johanna asked her to hold the thought. “This will take a minute to explain.” She then turned to the detective. He looked the worse for wear, with dark circles under his eyes and a gray pallor to his skin. She wondered for a second if he’d seen a dead body before. He didn’t look old enough to be called a veteran who had viewed years of corpses and mutilation.
“I need to talk to you privately for a minute,” he said, giving Marnie a look that demanded she leave.
Marnie gave them both a smile and said, “I’ll use the facilities.” She knew the place well, so she flounced off to the restroom. Just to be on the safe side, knowing her friend, Johanna turned on the vent fan over her stove and let it run on high. The noise was sufficient to block out the conversation.
“What do you need?” Johanna asked, not feeling charitable. She’d felt like a means to an end at this point, ignored and forgotten, and then used to close a case incorrectly.
“This case is far more complicated than what you understand. I know to you, it looks like
