Too Far Gone

48

“The bloody print from the cigar box was too smudged to be worth much, but there are three points that could be used to compare for a match if we have a set to compare to. Not enough to hold up in court, but evidence is cumulative. The blood type is RH negative, which is a match to our nurse,” Manseur said.

“Any personal papers?” Alexa said.

“All we found were household bills. No Christmas cards, no letters from friends or family. No computer for e-mails. Just the pictures you saw. Looks like she didn’t have much of a life outside her work.”

“She took her work home. I think her house was sanitized,” Alexa added. “Somebody went through and removed things that would lead us somewhere.”

“Maybe the perps? I imagine there is more than one person involved.”

“Makes sense. Or maybe it wasn’t Sibby at the house today. Maybe one of them returned today to make sure the place was really clean-that they hadn’t left anything to tie them to the house. They weren’t expecting me to show up. When I called just before I went inside, the answering machine picked up, and they knew time was short, and they were already at work. The machine was taping when I called, so the message tape was in the machine then. When I was in the kitchen, the tapes had been removed.”

“Doesn’t seem like something Sibby would do,” Manseur said.

“She might have taken the pill bottles on the bed, but I don’t think so.”

“Those only tied LePointe to Fugate. You think he did it?”

“I’m sure LePointe knew I had been to Fugate’s before I told him. He knew we’d been at the hospital. Maybe Malouf told Decell after she thought it over.”

“She could have decided to play both sides against the middle,” Manseur said.

Alexa put her hand to her forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Manseur asked.

“I just assumed Sibby was in Fugate’s house. Whoever was in Fugate’s house went out the front door. I need to go back there,” Alexa said. “The house across the street. Someone was looking out at me when I drove up. Maybe they saw who went out.”

Manseur picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Manseur,” he said. “Who interviewed the residents in the houses across the street?”

He listened. “Let me speak to him.

“Jimmy Alexander did the canvass,” he told Alexa. “Jimmy, who lives across the street from there?” Pause. “Did she see anything?” Pause. “Okay. Thanks.”

Manseur hung up. “Elderly woman named Cline. She didn’t see anything. She was watching her TV soaps.”

“I have to go talk to her,” Alexa said.

“Why?”

“She’s lying,” Alexa said. “But she won’t admit it to your detective.”

“How you know that?” Manseur asked.

“Because soaps run on weekdays. Plus I’m a woman, and so is she,” she answered, scooping up her purse.

“Let me tie up a couple of things. Take me fifteen minutes-”

“Stay. Get those prints off my mags and the cigarette case going. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Alexa,” Manseur said. “You carry a forty, right?”

“Yes,” she said.

He reached into his pocket and tossed her a full Glock magazine. “Take a spare, just in case. You never know.”

“I usually don’t accept personal gifts from married men,” she said, winking.