“So, you don’t think Anthony Waltz committed suicide?”
“That’s what I think, but I can’t prove anything yet. I need evidence and that’s why I need your help. Now, are you going to invite me in or tell me to go away?”
Robbie nodded. The bluff seemed to have worked. “Come in.”
He opened the door, but there wasn’t enough room in the narrow hallway for me to move past him, so he walked deeper into the apartment. I ducked my head slightly as I stepped through the doorway, closing the door behind me. He led me past a small, yellow kitchen and past a second door that was closed, and then into the den, motioning for me to take a seat on the worn, red sofa. I took him up on the offer. The dark brick walls were covered by five framed pictures of superheroes, the furniture looked older than me, and the small bookshelf had piles of comics stacked on-top of each other. There was a damp smell in the air, and I wasn’t sure if the small basement apartment received any natural light at all.
“Sorry if I disturbed you,” I said. “But it’s important.”
“Not at all. I was up... getting ready for my shift later tonight. I’ve got a later start than usual.” He lied. “Did you want a coffee?”
“That’d be great.”
Robbie didn’t move as he tried to process what he should, or shouldn’t, say to me. I looked to the pictures on the walls as he stood there, bewildered. “Some of these drawings are completely awesome. I mean, I know the regular superheroes, but some of these I’ve never seen before.” I complimented Robbie and he smiled, embarrassed.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t have seen them before because they’re mine. You know, I created them.” I noticed his shoulders relaxed and a calmness washed over his face. “I love drawing heroes with an edge. The world’s not black and white, and that’s what I want to say in these pictures. A lot of superheroes are so good and righteous, they’re so holy, but that’s not the real world. The real world is a lot more complicated than just good and bad.”
“So true.” I was genuinely impressed by the pictures. I looked closer at a large framed picture of a figure dressed entirely in dark blue Spandex with black and gold accents, the letters ‘DOA’ emblazoned across his chest. He had an assortment of weapons on his utility belt and his face was twisted in rage, fighting off a vulture using a gold shield to protect himself, and standing in front of a distressed young child. “Cool name—Dead on Arrival. And the artistic talent that’s gone into it is incredible.”
“Thanks.” Robbie half smiled and looked away. The tension was back. “What can I help you with, Jack?”
“I’d like you to have a quick look at some photos and let us know if any of these men had been hanging around or asking about Waltz in the weeks before his death.”
Robbie nodded and moved next to me on the sofa. I removed my phone and pulled up a picture of Wilkerson’s social media profile. Wilkerson was looking straight into the camera, serious, dressed in his police uniform. I held it out for Robbie to look at, but he shook his head.
“Nope, sorry, Jack. Never seen him before. Who is he?”
“A friend of Jonathon DiMarco’s. Tell me, have you ever heard of Jenny Carpenter?”
“Jenny Carpenter?” Robbie pondered the name for a few moments. “Nope, doesn’t ring any bells. Never heard of her.”
“Ok, no worries. If you could look at the second picture.” I held up a picture of Jonathon DiMarco and Robbie narrowed his eyes.
“Of course I’ve seen Jonathon DiMarco.” He mocked. “Anyone who’s picked up a newspaper or switched on the news knows him. And actually, now that you mention it… Maybe I did see him hanging around a few times in the weeks before the murder.” He paused for a moment. “Do you really think that he killed Anthony Waltz?”
“I do, but right now, I don’t have the evidence to prove it. Can you remember any details about when you saw him, like the day, or the time, or what he was doing?”
Robbie closed his eyes, thinking hard, but he shook his head again. “I’m really sorry, there’s been so much happening in the last few weeks. It feels like it’s just a blur. But I’m sure he’s been around.”
“That’s fine, it’s understandable. Must be hard to see something like that. And I’m wondering if you could clear something up really quickly for me.” I was watching Robbie’s face, looking for a tell, a twitch, anything unusual. He simply nodded. “When I reviewed the security footage from the nearby street, I noticed you having coffee, at Professor Coffee, about 9:30pm the night before Waltz was killed.” I opened my photos and selected a picture. I zoomed in on the exit to Professor Coffee as Robbie was stepping out. “Can you talk me through who this guy is you were with?”
Robbie looked genuinely confused for a moment and then leaned in closer. “You accessed the cameras down the street?”
“Of course. It’s part of standard procedure for an investigator to look at all available angles.”
Robbie bit his bottom lip before looking at me again. “I have no
