Odelia explained in a few words what the coroner had told her, and Chase sounded as surprised as she had been in Abe’s office. It seemed incongruous, of course: a perpetrator who used both a heavy club and a stiletto heel to murder.
“Must be two different people,” Chase said finally. “A man and a woman.”
“Jason Rocamora and Alison Droba,” said Odelia.
“Exactly.”
They were both silent for a moment, then Chase expressed his anger in a colorful way by referring to the private detective in not-so-friendly terms. I would have covered Dooley’s ears but unfortunately it was too late. In real life, just like in live broadcasting, sometimes you just wish they’d institute a five-second delay!
CHAPTER 22
[Êàðòèíêà: img_2]
Ona was pacing her room, feeling restless and unhappy. At first so pleased that Michele had invited her to this tennis retreat, now she knew she should never have said yes. She hardly knew these people, and with this whole murder business she had the impression they were looking at her, the outsider, as a possible suspect for the death of this woman.
Max didn’t seem to mind. He even enjoyed all the excitement the presence of the police had brought. He liked to watch crime shows of an evening, and now that he found himself in the middle of one himself, he was thrilled, chatting to the cops at every possible opportunity so he could collect stories and relate them later to his friends. He’d confided in her he might even turn it into a book.
He loved reading detective fiction, and had long held the belief he could churn something out himself if he only set his mind to it. And now life had landed a big juicy murder case in his lap. Surely it was a sign from the universe that he was the next Michael Connelly or Jeffery Deaver?
But for Ona this wasn’t a game. It wasn’t fun or exciting. Instead she found the whole situation of staying on at this place simply terrible and nauseating. Already she’d been sick that morning, and her stomach still wasn’t how it should be. She’d caught a glimpse of the dead woman, and every time she remembered, the nausea returned. She might have to go and see her therapist. She could have suffered major emotional trauma.
She stared out the window for a moment, which offered a view of the tennis courts, and saw that others weren’t as adversely affected as she was: Perlita and Nathan Gruner were actually engaged in a game of tennis. How could they! At a time like this? When the blood of that poor Isobel was still staining the carpet in her room? Some people were so insensitive.
And as she turned back from the window with disgust, her eyes were suddenly drawn to the door, where an envelope was lying.
Joey and Zoey had also discovered this, for they sat next to the pristinely white envelope, and yapped with pleasant anticipation.
“What’s this?” she said as she knelt down and picked it up.
There was no name on the envelope, but she assumed it was addressed to her. Why else would someone have slipped it under the door of her room?
She opened the envelope and found a small piece of paper tucked inside.
The moment she read the words, she gasped in shock. Her violently shaking hands were no match for the unadulterated evil contained in that short message, and piece of paper and envelope fluttered from her fingers to the floor, where they were greeted with pretty excitement by her two canine companions.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
After much debate, Chase had decided to allow his most promising suspect to walk free. He might still be the most likely person to have killed Isobel Droba, along with his accomplice Alison, but the evidence simply wasn’t there. The fact of the matter was that he couldn’t have done it, unless the private detective who’d been watching the couple was also an accomplice, which seemed unlikely, and that somehow they’d magically been able to remove every single trace of the crime from their person and from thecar. Also: no murder weapon was found at Jason’s apartment, and no sign that Alison might be involved in the crime. And no bloodied clothes or shoes, though they could have dumped them, of course.
So it was back to square one for the investigation, and we were back at the house, for more interviews with potential suspects—which now included every person at the house. Officers were going through the rooms, and searching the grounds and tennis courts, looking for one heavy blunt instrument and one stiletto shoe, as used in the perpetration of last night’s heinous crime.
“This is just outrageous,” Chase fumed. “Two perfectly good suspects, and we can’t connect them to the crime. How stupid is that?”
We were waiting in the living room for Michele Droba to join us. Chase’s new line of inquiry was the book Isobel was writing, implicating one of her friends in some compromising situation that they were desperate to avoid being revealed.
Michele entered the room looking slightly annoyed.“I thought you had your suspect in custody for Isobel’s murder? Rocamora? He must have killed her.”