‘No Match.’
“What the hell?” Eckhart fell into a chair. She locked eyes with Gibson. He nodded once. “Ah, crap. We have to set him free. Right?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Gregory?” Frenchy ventured.
“Yeah. We needed the print to be Gregory’s if we wanted to proceed any further with him.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
The technician shuffled into his corner after bearing the brunt of the blame. Frenchy moved to a microscope, twirling a knob, recalibrating the instrument.
“We’ll get back to work,” Cooper said as he slipped away with Jones following close behind.
“Let’s go to your office and figure out our next move,” Gibson suggested.
They headed down the hallway. Eckhart sat in her chair, shuffling objects around on the top of her desk. Gibson took a seat in front, plunking himself into the supple leather. The smell of newness was set free as he settled his weight into its softness. He felt like a nap. With Gregory’s release, the alternatives were daunting. He considered the repercussions of murder. Always more than one casualty. The loved ones left behind hurt, passing through the stages of mourning, to hate and even revenge.
“Todd?” It was as if she had read his mind. “I can’t accept that.”
“We have other suspects too.”
“Who? Anatoe? Mr. Tatlow?”
“And Felton,” Gibson said.
“He can barely walk.”
“True, but we can’t rule out anyone now.” Gibson got up and stood by the window, gazing at the blackened clouds. He moved back. “We’ll begin with Todd,” he said after merely a second’s hesitation.
“Oh, boy.”
A muffled ring sounded. Eckhart glanced about the office. The squawk came from the corner. “It’s the landline.” She jumped out of her chair and yanked open the middle drawer of a filing cabinet. Another chirp.
“Eckhart.” She tugged at the tangled debris of cord and returned to her desk. “Yes, sir.” She planted her elbow on top and leaned into the phone, nodding in acknowledgement. “We’ll stick around.” The line went dead.
“That was the superintendent. He’s on his way.”
“I need a coffee.” Gibson stifled a yawn with his hand.
“Maybe the vending machines are functioning now. I heard some guys in the cafeteria.”
“I’ll go see.” He surged to his feet and walked down the hallway. Cooper was on his hands and knees in the reception area. “What are you doing?”
Cooper looked up and thumped his skull on the side of the counter. “Ouch.” He squatted back on his heels and smoothed the spot, a smirk passing over his features. “Connecting cables for the printer. Everything should work today.”
“Great. What’s Jones doing?”
“He went to get us a coffee. A team arrived to set up the cafeteria a few hours ago.”
“That’s where I’m headed.”
“So, Gregory’s out. What should we be doing?” Cooper stood up.
“You have the most important task. Maintaining the files,” Gibson answered.
The constable screwed up his snout.
“There wouldn’t be any convictions without chronological records. The Crown Attorney will cherish you.” Gibson flashed him a quirky smile.
“What’s up?” Jones asked as he sauntered in, putting two cups and several muffins on the desktop.
“Going for a coffee. Rodney is coming over,” Gibson answered.
When he returned, both DCs were on the floor tearing at the wires. He stepped into the office. Eckhart was on the phone. She held up a finger. Gibson sat and sipped on his latte.
“It’s Brandon.” She handed over the phone.
“Hello. Eckhart told you the news.” Gibson listened and responded, “Yes, we’ll call them right now.” He tossed the cell back. “Better get Gregory’s release okayed.”
She made a few more calls. A slapping of boots down the hallway alerted them to the superintendent. He swung into the room and plopped into a chair. It squealed with the onslaught. He tugged at his collar and cleared his throat. “So, we finally run the print and Gregory’s out. No hit at all.”
The two detectives shook their heads. Eckhart squirmed.
“What do we have?” he asked.
She offered him what they had. Nothing but suppositions and rumours. No concrete evidence.
“So, what now? We wait for someone to confess?” the superintendent said.
“We pound the pavement,” Gibson replied.
“How much longer are you here?”
Gibson realized it was coming. Should he commit? He fidgeted uncomfortably. “Till the end of the weekend.” Eckhart leaned in her chair and stared out the window.
“Better get at it.”
At the door, the superintendent looked back. “Thanks for your assistance.” He marched out.
“Ready?” Gibson pitched his paper cup into the garbage pail.
“Yup.” She left hers on the desk still half-full.
* * *
The drive to Lawsons Lane was uneventful. Eckhart refrained from drumming on the steering wheel. Gibson sprawled out and stared out the side window. The tires hummed over the grate on the bridge. He appreciated the mesmerizing sound. No ships in either direction, but in the far-off distance, a trail of black smoke drifted from Lock Two in the south. She veered left at the final intersection.
“Take us to the beach access first.”
Eckhart flipped him a quizzical expression, lines appearing between her eyebrows. She drew to the grassy shoulder at the end of the lane and clicked off the ignition. They remained for several minutes. He looked at the landing, not disclosing his thoughts. The Expedition creaked as the motor cooled down. Finally, he glanced at Eckhart and said, “We don’t have a handle on the motive yet. What about opportunity?”
Eckhart smoothed her hair from her forehead and faced him. She forced her lips together, sick of going over and over the same material. “We know Anatoe was there. And Mr. Tatlow.” She paused. “What are you thinking?”
“There was one other individual there?”
“Who?”
“David,” Gibson said.
“Oh, I suppose.”
“He told us he was.”
“Yeah.” Eckhart tucked her legs up and wiggled around until she confronted him full on.
“So, if we accept Anatoe went back to the house and Mr. Tatlow left…” Gibson said, pausing for effect. “Did David return to the party? Or did he follow Elsie down the steps? Did he have time?”
Eckhart gasped. “Whoa. But here comes the why again.”
“Why? If we could answer that…” Gibson trailed off and shifted in his seat. “No. Let’s stick with Todd for the time being. We should find out what kind of person Elsie was. Todd cheated on her. And where was he during the fireworks? There’s more to understand.” He swivelled back. They locked eyes. Her deep pools of blue still haunting him, but losing ground.
Eckhart fired up the truck, made a one-eighty and headed to the top of the lane. The store looked desolate and uncared for. Gibson went down the path with his thoughts in a muddle. Eckhart’s springy step was gone as well. Todd’s vehicle sat in the driveway, a film of dirt glued to the windshield. Todd answered the door dressed in rumpled polyester pants and a pale blue shirt. He crept down the corridor to the living room with his slippers flopping, flinging dust bunnies along the baseboards. The pallor of his skin had altered somewhat, two pecks of pink showed on his cheeks. He hurled himself onto the couch and sunk into the cushions. “The funeral is in a few days.” He held back the tears, lashes stuck together from crying. His gesture swept the room.
“What’s this all for?”
Gibson sat in a chair by the unlit fireplace. Eckhart settled into a spot adjacent to Todd. The clicking of her fingernails echoed throughout the space.
“Did you murder Elsie?” Gibson saw no other course. The abruptness made Todd thrust back in
to the seat.
“What? No. I thought they arrested Gregory.”
“We’ve released him,” Gibson said. “Did you—”
“How could you suggest that?” he cut in. A solitary tear rolled from his inflamed eyes and slid down to his chin. He swept at it absently. There was an ache to his stillness, his hands clenching into fists. No sound left his trembling lips, just the heaving of his chest as he fought for air.
Gibson locked his smoky greys onto Todd’s lifeless eyes. Eckhart cringed. Here it comes. She clamped her mouth as Gibson spewed the nasty.