Murder Most Persuasive

Chapter 12

“So I take it you fought back against Michael when he attacked you?” Detective Beal said blandly. Joe blanched at her words. However, if Sergeant Beal noticed, she ignored it.

Ann nodded, not picking up on Sergeant Beal’s real meaning. “Yes, I told you. I pushed him back and ran for the house.”

“You must have pushed him pretty hard for him to fall back,” Sergeant Beal said.

Ann finally realized where Sergeant Beal was taking the conversation. Her eyes widened. “I pushed him from me and yes, he fell back, but he wasn’t hurt. He was just drunk and I took him by surprise.”

“By your own account, you just said that you pushed him off of you hard enough that he fell down and that you ran for the house and didn’t look back. How do you know he wasn’t hurt?”

“Because I was there. I saw him fall. It wasn’t the kind of fall that injures people.”

“You’d be surprised the damage a simple bop to the head can produce,” Sergeant Beal continued.

Next to her, Joe said, “Erica…”

“Erica” held up her hand to stop him. “I understand your reluctance to see someone you were once … friends with come under scrutiny like this, Detective. And I know you would hate for it to seem that you were biased in this investigation. But the fact remains that we have a dead man. A dead man who this woman claims she attacked.”

Ann’s jaw dropped open. So did most every one else’s, for that matter.

“Now wait a damn minute!” cried Miles. “She did not say that she ‘attacked’ Michael. She said that she pushed him off of her and he fell back! I don’t know how you got to be a police officer if that’s how you interpret facts. Any fool can see that Ann not only didn’t kill Michael but that she simply didn’t have the strength to do him any real harm. Michael was a big man. Ann is a petite woman. Her pushing him couldn’t have done any real damage.”

“Oh, I would agree with you there. In fact, I don’t see how he could have fallen if it was just a push,” said Sergeant Beal.

“What the hell does that mean?” snapped Ann.

“It means that you were scared and probably mad. Furious, even. Who wouldn’t be? He’s your sister’s fiancé—practically part of the family—and he’s attacking you? No one would blame you if you, let’s say, picked up a tree branch or a log and bashed the guy’s head in,” Sergeant Beal said evenly.

Ann opened her mouth, but it was Miles who spoke. “Don’t say a word, Ann. Not one more damn word. Not until we’ve gotten you a lawyer. This interview is over.” He stood up and marched over to Sergeant Beal. Looking down, he said firmly, “Let me show you out. We’ll be in touch.”

Sergeant Beal didn’t answer or move right away. It was Joe who nudged her into action. “As you wish,” she said, but if it was in response to Miles or Joe, I couldn’t tell. She bent her head to tuck her notebook back into her pocket. As she did so, she missed Joe catching Miles’s eye and pointedly mouthing “Thank you.”

I gave a sigh of relief. At least Joe still believed Ann. I just hoped it was enough.

Miles was on the phone to his lawyer seconds after the front door shut. The rest of us circled around Ann, not that any of us really knew what to say. It was all so absurd. But it seemed clear to me that in her haste to discredit Ann in front of Joe, Sergeant Beal had squarely put Ann in the position of number one suspect. Not with any of us, or with Joe for that matter, but the rest of the police department might not see it as we did.

“Scott,” I said, “can you get those records for us? The ones listing all the employees from Michael’s time at the company?”

Scott nodded. “Absolutely. Do you think they’ll help?”

I shook my head. “I really don’t know. But we have to do something. We can’t let Sergeant Beal railroad her theory about Ann without a challenge. Maybe the list will provide some other ideas.”

“That woman…” said Ann, “that woman thinks I killed him, doesn’t she?”

“Who cares what she thinks?” I said. “She’s an idiot. The fact is that you didn’t kill Michael and we’re going to prove that.”

Ann looked up at me and said one word. “How?”

“We’re going to find his killer,” I said. Apparently, I was going to direct the Christmas pageant after all.