Dead Broke (Lana Denae Mystery Series Book 1) (5 page)

Once they were in the car and pulling away from the precinct, Damien said, “Okay, why are you really coming along?”

“I told you, the Rose City Apartments is my crime scene. I need to go take another look.”

“You’re not a very good liar,” Jamie said with a grin, darting through the mid-morning city traffic.

“You just watch where you’re driving, please,” Lana returned.

Damien pressed the issue. “I let you get away with that excuse back at the precinct but now it’s just us. What are you up to?”

Giving them both a contorted smile, Lana let out a sigh. She knew neither of the two was going to let it go. “Don’t you find it a little odd that two weeks ago, the body of the first jumper, who may or may not have actually been a jumper, was discovered and the very next day, Roselyn Wymer was killed? The lady lived in an apartment that overlooks the Steel Bridge. Apartments that we are on our way to now because it’s likely one of the tenants may have witnessed what happened with one or more of the ‘jumpers,’ for lack of a better term.”

“You think your victim witnessed the first jumper?” Damien asked.

“I think Mrs. Wymer witnessed the first
murder
, and was quickly killed because of it. I’m hoping to find something in her apartment to support my theory—binoculars, camera, a video camera—something.”

Damien seemed lost in thought. “Say you’re right; that the jumper wasn’t a jumper but was forced off the bridge into the water below. And say your victim saw the whole thing. How would the killer have known that? And how would he have found her?”

“I don’t know,” Lana admitted. “I don’t have all the answers yet. Maybe he saw something. The sun would have just been coming up but maybe it was still dark enough and she had a light on. Her movements could have caught his eye. Or maybe she screamed or shined a light down at him. I don’t know.”

Damien frowned. “Possible I guess, but it’s quite a ways from any of those apartments to the bridge. What floor was your victim on again?”

“The sixth.”

“That makes it even farther.”

“So you agree that someone in the apartments could have witnessed the murder, but not that the murderer could have seen someone in the apartments?”

“Either one is possible. I just think it would be much more difficult to see that someone is watching while looking up from the street, much less identify them. A person in such a setting wouldn’t have a clue which direction to look. But someone looking out their window would naturally be drawn to looking down. That’s where the activity usually is—the ground level. And I’d say anyone living there is probably used to looking down on the bridge and surrounding area.”

“Not to change the subject,” Jamie broke in. “But isn’t your victim the one who was found shot to death inside a locked room, with no sign of entry, no bullet holes in anything, and no gun around?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Lana acknowledged somewhat dismally.

“Have you figured out how the killer managed to pull that off?”

“Actually, I think I have.” She purposefully chose not to go into detail.

“Well?”

Lana laughed. “I’ll show you when we get there.”

Parking the car, the three of them walked into the building and climbed the six flights of stairs.

“Don’t they have an elevator?” Jamie complained as they neared the last landing.

“It’s broken,” Lana explained. “For over two years.”

Huffing and puffing, Damien said, “If I lived here, I’d spend a lot of time staying home.”

“If I lived here, I’d move,” Jamie declared.

“Neither one of you live here,” Lana reminded them. “So, quit complaining.”

Unlocking the door to Mrs. Wymer’s apartment, Lana immediately set to searching the place again. If there had been a camera or binoculars, they should still be there. It was doubtful the CSI team would have removed them, she reasoned. And the killer had never gotten inside.

“We’ll help you turn this place upside down in a minute,” Jamie said. “But first, how did your killer shoot the victim without getting in and leaving no bullet holes?”

Lana stopped rummaging through the chest of drawers and looked at the two of them with an amused grin. “You guys are just like little kids—can’t take the suspense,” she chided.

“You’re right,” Jamie said. “Probably why we became detectives.”

“Are you going to demonstrate or not?” Damien asked.

“All right. All right,” Lana gave in. Pointing to the safety chain, she said, “When I go out, one of you lock that but leave the door unlocked. Be careful, the chain is not real strong.”

Waiting until the two inside said they were ready, Lana drew her pistol. Turning the doorknob, she pushed open the door as far as the chain would allow. Then, slipping her gun hand through the crack, she aimed the barrel into the middle of the room. “Bang,” she said.

Retracting the gun then, she holstered the weapon, reached back through the crack, locked the door, and firmly pulled it shut.

Jamie quickly re-opened the door with a look of admiration. “Ingenious,” he said as Lana stepped back into the apartment. “But how did the killer know where to aim?”

“Haven’t figured that out yet,” Lana admitted, closing the door again.

“And how did they get the door unlocked?” Damien said.

“There are a lot of ways of unlocking the door,” Lana said. “But, right now, I more interested to see if there’s any evidence here that could lead us to the killer.”

“Been looking and I don’t see anything,” Damien said. “No camera, video cam, or even a phone.”

“She didn’t have a cell phone,” Lana informed him. “Even if she had, CSI would have taken it into evidence already.”

“No cell phone?” Jamie said. “That’s odd. Everybody has a cell phone.”

“Not really.” Lana pointed to the old landline phone on the wall. “Mrs. Wymer was from a different generation. They didn’t see a need for cell phones.”

“Well, I don’t think there’s anything here,” Damien said again. “Not even a diary or notepad that she could have written anything down on.”

After another fifteen minutes of searching, Lana was inclined to agree. “It was worth a shot,” she said, the frustration evident in her voice.

“Maybe we’ll have better luck with the other tenants,” Jamie said.

Lana nodded. “Maybe.”

“We should get started,” Damien suggested. “It shouldn’t take too long to question each person but there’s a lot of tenants and another apartment building besides this one.”

“We can start with Nellie Langstrom, next-door.” Lana said. “But I should warn you, she likes to ramble—and not always in answering your question either.”

“So you’ve talked to her before?” Jamie asked.

Lana nodded. “A few times. Most recently, yesterday. She’ll be happy to see me again.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re being facetious when you say that?”

Closing up the crime scene, Lana smiled. “Come along and see.”

Surprisingly, Nellie gave them a warm welcome, inviting the detectives in and even offering them a cool beverage. They went inside but declined the drinks.

“We just need to ask you a few questions about the night of the fourth, or rather, the morning of the fifth of this month,” Damien said.

Nellie seemed puzzled and looked questioningly at Lana. “I thought you said she was killed on the sixth? I may be getting old but my memory still works, I think.”

“Your memory still works, Mrs. Langstrom,” Lana assured the woman. “We’re not here to ask about your neighbor. We need some information on the night before.”

Damien said, “I see your apartment overlooks the Steel Bridge. Do you remember seeing anything going on down there that night?”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I do,” Nellie said as the eyebrows of all three detectives went up.

“What exactly did you see?” Jamie asked when Nellie didn’t offer anything more.

“I saw two people walking across the bridge. Two men. I thought to myself, that it was strange because normally people don’t walk across that bridge at night, you know. Only a fool would do that.”

“The two men were just walking across the bridge?” Damien asked, thinking it didn’t seem strange at all. “You realize the bridge is designed for pedestrian traffic, don’t you?”

Nellie shot him a frown. “Well, I wouldn’t walk across it. But let me finish.” After pausing a moment to gather her thoughts, she continued. “I watched them for a minute or two and was almost ready to go back to bed—I’d gotten up to use the facilities—when I noticed the men seemed to be having an argument and then that turned into a shoving match.”

“What time was this?” Jamie wanted to know.

Frowning at him now, Nellie said, “Well, I didn’t really look at the clock but I’d say around three forty-five or four. That’s usually when I get up. Can’t sleep for more than a few hours anymore without getting up to use the restroom. Getting older now and, well, you know.”

The detectives nodded sympathetically. Then Jamie asked, “Did you continue to watch the men?”

“Only for another minute or so, until one of them pushed the other one over the side.”

It was a shocking statement. And even though it was exactly the kind of thing the detectives had wanted to hear, it still took them by surprise. Perhaps it was the simple and unemotional way Nellie stated it, without any fervor or excitement in her voice.

Lana was the first to come out of the startled funk. “Did you actually see him push the other guy over the edge?”

“More like threw him but, yes, I did see him.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to anyone until now?” Lana was nearly speechless.

“Nobody asked me.”

Hearing the words, Lana could hardly contain herself. “You witnessed a murder and didn’t think to report that to the police because nobody asked you?”

“I didn’t know that it was a murder,” Nellie said. “Just that two guys had an argument.”

“That ended with one of them dead!” Lana said. “Do you realize I could charge you with withholding evidence?”

“Told you, all I knew was that two men were having an argument. Happens all the time.”

“Yes,” Damien said. “It does. But usually the argument doesn’t end with one man killing the other.”

Nellie simply shrugged.

Lana was more than a little riled. “You witness a guy throwing someone off a bridge, the next day your neighbor is murdered, the police come and question you; and still, you don’t put two and two together?”

“I’m not a detective like you,” Nellie said. “And, I’ll say it again, I didn’t know this was a murder until just now.”

Jamie spoke up again. “You haven’t heard about the jumpers we’ve had recently? People jumping off the Steel Bridge? It’s been on the news every night for weeks.”

“I don’t watch the news,” Nellie told him. “But I did hear something at the store the other day about all those crazy people jumping to their death. Biggest month for suicide in Portland’s history, they said. But what I saw wasn’t suicide. The guy I saw didn’t jump.”

Again, the three detectives were stunned, exchanging hesitant glances. Each of them seemed at a loss for words. Still shaking her head, Lana finally managed to find her voice. “Do you think you could describe the guy who pushed the other one off the bridge?”

“Oh no,” Nellie shook her head. “The sun was starting to come up but it was still too dark to see very well. Besides, it was too far away. But, you’re welcome to look at the video.”

“What video?” Jamie demanded.

“The one on my camcorder.”

“You have a video?” Lana exclaimed incredulously. She shot a look of utter amazement at her two companions.

“Yes,” Nellie said, nodding.

This was perhaps the most frustrating witness Lana had ever encountered. “Why didn’t you tell us about the video in the first place?”

“Nobody asked me.”

Again, the three officers exchanged glances, silently communicating their thoughts; this lady was a little mentally unstable.
Off her rocker
, Jamie later wrote in his notepad.

“So do you want to see it or, not?” Nellie was asking.

“Um,” Lana paused briefly to regain control of her tone of voice. “Yes, we would like very much to see the video. Thank you.”

“I don’t have anything to play it on,” Nellie announced, retrieving the recorder from off a bookshelf. “And it’s too small to see on this little bitty screen but you’re welcome to take the card with you, if you want.”

“Thank you,” Lana said. “We’ll take it. I think we can probably find a way to play it down at the precinct.”

Nellie quickly slid out the memory card and handed it to the detective. “Just bring it back when you’re done. It’s the only one I have.”

I’m sorry,” Lana said, sounding as if she truly meant it, “but I can’t return it. This card is now evidence in a murder investigation.”

Nellie’s posture stiffened. “I said you could look at it. I didn’t say you could just have it. Those things aren’t cheap, you know.”

With a sigh, Lana’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to speak and then thought better of it. Nellie’s indomitable nature was maddening! She couldn’t really characterize the woman as uncooperative but trying to get information out of her was next to impossible. “Like pulling hen’s teeth,” her dad would have said.

Not getting a response, Nellie repeated her earlier statement. “If you aren’t going to bring it back, you can’t borrow it.”

In an effort to diffuse the tense situation, Jamie quickly spoke up. “We’ll get you a replacement,” he promised.

“Okay,” Nellie said, dropping her objection.

Anxious to get back to the precinct, and away from this apartment with its half crazed resident, Lana and the other two detectives thanked Nellie for her help, such as it had been, and turned to go.

Almost out the door, Lana suddenly had a crazy thought. Turning back, she asked, “You didn’t happen to witness any other people being pushed off the bridge did you?”

“Well, no.” Nellie sounded appalled at the idea. “You think I have nothing better to do than sit here and watch people night and day?”

“Just thought I’d check,” Lana said, quickly closing the door.

Damien and Jamie were already starting down the stairs; Lana hurried to catch up. “What do you say, we skip questioning anyone else for now and go have a look at this video?”