I remembered how eager he had been to escape the confines of Dr. Nielsen’s office while we were questioning Debi. He had been upset, shaken, hardly able to wait to get outside. I recalled that he had been tall, not necessarily strong, but that didn’t matter. Shoving a dental pick into an unconscious man’s throat doesn’t require tremendous strength. And certainly that particular instrument would fall easily to hand if the hand happened to belong to a dental student. He’d also know how to use an autoclave, turning, I sprinted away from Cedar Heights. I ran the remaining block to Belltown Terrace, dashed in the garage door, caught the elevator to P-4, and was in my Porsche heading out of the building less than a minute later.
I shouldn’t have bothered to run. It was a case of hurry up and wait. Traffic on Broad wasn’t slow, it was dead. Grid-locked. I had to wait through three complete stoplight cycles to get across the intersection at Second, and again at Denny. While I waited, I got out my notebook and checked on Debi Rush’s address-2139 Eastlake Avenue East.
When I got there, the place turned out to be a rundown, clapboard, multiunit building. It gave the impression of being a onetime motel that had been converted into apartments. It was badly in need of another dose of rehabilitation.
Faded green paint was blistered and peeling. Wooden steps creaked under my feet. The thin, straggly grass had turned brown during the weeks of exceptional heat. In short, it was exactly the kind of apartment building impoverished students have lived in forever-cheap and old but relatively close to the university.
Through a sagging screen door, I saw that the inside door was wide open. A radio blared rock music somewhere in the background, bellowing incomprehensible words over the hum of a room-sized fan that stood near the doorway.
I knocked on the door and Debi Rush herself appeared. Barefoot, she wore a halter top and a pair of short shorts. She was far too well endowed both above and below the belt for the combination to be remotely appealing, but she was cordial enough.
“Hello, Debi,” I said. “May I come in?”
She opened the door. “It’s hot in here. I was just making some lemonade. Would you like some?”
“Sure.”
She disappeared into the kitchen while I sat down on the ratty couch. Thankfully she switched off the music. Even with the fan, the room was unbearably hot and cluttered, too. Cluttered and dirty. The end table next to my elbow was gray with a thick layer of gritty dust. Evidently Debi’s cleaning and polishing fetish ended at Dr. Nielsen’s office door. The room was lined with bookcases of the classic brick-and-wooden-plank variety. One living room window had been covered with a vivid Mexican serape in a futile effort to block out the afternoon sun. These were definitely student quarters.
Debi came back into the living room carrying two tall glasses. “They say it’s going to get all the way up to ninety-five today. It’s a killer, isn’t it?”
People in other parts of the world laugh when Seattlites complain bitterly about ninety-five-degree weather, but ninety-five is no joke in a climate where very few buildings are air-conditioned. I mopped the sweat off my brow and wished I could take off my jacket.
Debi handed me a glass. “Of course, I don’t suppose you came here to talk about the weather,” she added.
She was right about that. I wasn’t interested in idle chit-chat. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t. Where’s your husband?”
She looked puzzled. “He isn’t here.”
“Where is he?”
“Still down at the university, I suppose. He likes to do his lab work in the afternoons when it’s too hot for him to study here.”
I was relieved to know Tom Rush was out of the house. I’d make a lot more progress with Debi if I talked to her alone. I got straight to the heart of the matter.
“Where was he Saturday afternoon?” I asked.
“Tom?” she asked, setting her glass down on the armrest and shifting uneasily in her chair.
“Yes, Tom,” I answered. “Do you have any idea where he was between noon and say two o’clock? Was he here?”
“I don’t understand. Why are you asking me about him?”
I refused to pussyfoot around with her. “Debi, you neglected to mention to us that you and Dr. Nielsen were having an affair,” I said.
She paled and swallowed hard. “I didn’t think it was important,” she responded after a long moment, her voice bleak and very small. At least she didn’t try to deny it. I’ll give her that much credit. “How did you find out?” she asked.
“Dr. Nielsen told his wife, that afternoon when he came to the office. He bragged to her about it.”
I waited a moment, allowing my words to strike home. “Does your husband know?” I continued.
She straightened suddenly in her chair. “No, he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. You’re not going to tell him, are you?”
“What if somebody else already did?” I returned. “What if someone told him and he went down to Nielsen’s office on Saturday afternoon to do something about it?”
A look of horror flashed across her face. She put her hands to her ears as if trying to shut out my words, my voice.
“He didn’t,” she whispered. “He couldn’t. It isn’t possible.”
“Isn’t it? Where was he, then? You still haven’t told me.”
“I don’t know. He left that morning when I did. He said he was going over to the U to study.”
“Where at the U?” I demanded.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. In one of the labs, I guess. He has a lot of lab work now. I don’t go with him. I’m usually at work when he’s there.”
“And what time did he come home?”
“Late. Five o’clock or so.”
“Did you notice anything unusual in his behavior that afternoon or evening?”
“No, nothing.”
“Was he wearing the same clothes he had on when you saw him that morning?”
“I don’t remember what he was wearing. I can’t remember what I was wearing.“ Debi Rush was growing more and more agitated. I could see it in her face, hear it in the intensity of her voice. ”He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have done it. He’s a kind, gentle, nice boy.“
“Is that why you were screwing around on him behind his back?”
“We needed the money,” she said. “Dental school is very expensive.”
“The money? What money?”
“Dr. Nielsen offered me a raise, a big raise. He said his wife didn’t understand him. I know how that sounds, but he said that she wouldn’t have sex with him anymore. He said if I’d sleep with him, it would be good for both of us.”
I snorted. “That’s right. Wages are deductible.”
Two angry red spots appeared on both her pale cheeks, but she didn’t continue. I finally broke the silence.
“Let me ask you another question, Debi. Why did you lie to us about yesterday morning?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. You told us you got to the office on Monday morning at eight, that you were there right on time. But I have a witness who says he saw you come racing into the building at nine o’clock. What happened? Did you go inside and see something that made you think your husband might have been involved?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“You didn’t what? You didn’t come in then, or you didn’t see something to link Tom with the murder? Which?”
“It wasn’t like that at all. You don’t understand.”
“Explain it to me.”
“When I saw Dr. Fred, like I told you, I was scared to death. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t think. I
