Think Murder (3 page)

In his mid-50s with a beer belly, the Director of Energy Programs has a heart of gold. Make no mistake, when it comes to getting the job done Matt’s all business. He’s also an incredibly caring person with a great sense of humor. And easy to talk to.

When I reached the doorway, he motioned for me to come in. I closed the door and sat down in the chair opposite his desk. We both remained silent for a few minutes.

Finally, he offered, “Do you want to talk about what happened or just hide in here ‘til the excitement out there settles down? Either is OK by me.”

“I need to talk, but I don’t know where to start or what to say… Hilary and I went out for drinks after work last night, and… well, I wasn’t only with Hilary at McSweeney’s, I found her body.”

Matt’s intent gaze conveyed his concern without speaking.

I paused to sniffle. “On TV and in books, people die and people find dead bodies all the time, but when it happens for real to someone you know it’s… it’s almost surreal. Part of me wants to curl up and cry, part of me wants to scream, and part of me is numb.”

“Sounds like a pretty normal response.” He continued, “Have you told anyone else in the office?”

“Kaye knows I was there, but I don’t think she knows the details. I guess word will spread sooner or later, and then everyone will somehow happen to stop by my desk to express their concern, or hoping to find out gory details.”

“Morbid curiosity is not one of man’s most endearing qualities,” he quipped without asking any questions. Matt likes to play the part of the understanding father figure. With five grown kids of his own, he has had lots of practice. He doesn’t do cross-examination. No pressure. Probably why it was easy for me to open up to him.

“I don’t understand what happened. Of course, I know Hilary is dead and all that. I can’t get the image of her lying on the bathroom floor out of my head. I went in to see what was taking her so long, and she was already dead. What if I had gone in sooner?”

I rambled on, “It doesn’t make sense to me. Why would anyone want to kill her, or even more absurd, why would she want to kill herself? At least that’s what the police were asking me last night. They seemed to think she had committed suicide. I thought I knew Hilary pretty well. She talked to me about work and her personal life. We had such good times together.”

Matt handed me a tissue and waited for me to get my tears under control. “Give yourself time. You’ll be OK.”

“Matt, I didn’t see Duncan at the meeting. Do you think he knows?”

“No idea. As I recall, he was going to a seminar in Boston with Dr. Locke. Don’t think they’re due back until later today.”

“That’s right. Hilary mentioned it to me. That explains why Dr. Locke wasn’t at the meeting either.”

Back at my desk I spotted a message from Michelle asking if I wanted to go to lunch at 12:30. I sent her a quick reply and contemplated how to pass the 20 minutes until then. I debated reaching out to Duncan, then decided to hold off until I was sure he had been informed. I certainly didn’t want to be the bearer of this news.

I didn’t have much actual work to do, so I went on Facebook for a quick “game-therapy” session. When I looked up, Michelle was at my desk ready to go. We decided to go to the pizza place around the corner. The service there is fast, and the food is good. After we had ordered, Michelle brought up Hilary’s death.

“That meeting this morning was a shocker, wasn’t it? I can’t believe Hilary is dead. How old was she? 22, 23?”

“She would have turned 24 later this month.”

She looked straight at me and posed the question I was already anticipating. “Adina, don’t you and Hilary usually go to that place together on Wednesdays? Were you there last night?”

“Yep. I was there.” I paused, and then recapped the events of the previous evening as calmly as possible.

At first Michelle simply stared at me, eyes wide open. Once my words had sunk in, she asked if I had seen what happened. I told her I’d found the body, without giving her any of the gory details.

Michelle was horrified. She asked more questions and I told her what I could, which wasn’t much all considered.

“Oh, Adina. That’s terrible. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

Before we returned to the office, I asked her to keep what I had told her between us. Even though I was beginning to feel less uncomfortable discussing Hilary’s death, I wasn’t ready to handle an onslaught of questions from my colleagues, or anyone else for that matter.

After lunch, I opted for a bit more game-therapy. I was busy knocking down columns of colored blocks when my smartphone rang. It was a clerk at the District 2 police station requesting that I make myself available to meet with Detective Saks at 3:30. I wrote down the address, then emailed Matt and Kaye to let them know I’d be leaving early.

When I arrived at the police station, I walked up to the officer on duty at the entrance. “Good morning. My name is Adina Donati. I have an appointment with Detective Saks.”

“I’ll let him know you’ve arrived. Please be seated.”

A few minutes later I saw Detective Saks coming down the hall. As he approached, I couldn’t help noticing that although his features were ordinary, he had a pleasant, appealing face. His suit was dark blue, with a gray shirt this time. Standing next to him I noticed that although he didn’t quite tower over me, he was at least a few inches taller than me.

After a quick exchange of polite pleasantries, he led me into a small room. The room was furnished with only a table and three plain chairs. The fact that the place reminded me of those interrogation rooms you see on TV police programs, but without the mirror, was somewhat unsettling.

Detective Saks opened his spiral notepad. “Thank you for coming to the station, Ms. Donati. I would like to review your statement from last night and ask you a few additional questions.”

“My notes indicate that you and Ms. Sterling arrived at McSweeney’s at approximately 5:25. After you had been there around an hour and a half, she went to the restroom. When she did not return, you went looking for her and found her on the floor in the bathroom stall.”

I nodded slowly. So far so good.

He continued, “The medical examiner has determined that her death was the result of foul play. She suffered blunt force trauma to the head prior to having her wrist slit in what appears to have been an attempt to stage a suicide.”

My mouth dropped open, like I should say something. At a loss for words, I shut it.

He launched into a series of questions regarding what I had seen, the position of the body, and whether I had moved or taken anything. I reiterated that I had only held her wrist to check for a pulse, and no I hadn’t seen anything weapon-like.

“I understand that this is upsetting, however I need you to think back to what you saw. Close your eyes. Try to remember and describe everything you did and saw from the time you entered the restroom.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then described the scene to him to the best of my recollection. I could almost envision the restroom as it had been when I entered. The white sinks, the gray and white swirly wall tiles, and the open stall doors. Seemingly empty, until I approached the end stall.

It all came back to me and I started to tremble. “Hilary was laying on the floor, on her side, her hair falling into that pool of blood. Shockingly red and dark in contrast to the cool gray of the ceramic floor tiles.” Something wasn’t right, “Something bright green in her hair?”

I opened my eyes to find the detective watching me. He nodded. “You did great. Take a deep breath. Would you like me to get you something to drink, coffee, water or soda, perhaps?”

“Water or Diet Coke would be great, whichever is easier.”

He disappeared for a few minutes, returning with two cans of soda, Diet Coke for me and Sprite for himself.

“The green that I saw, what was it?”

“The murder weapon, a compact x-acto knife. It was under her hair.” Before I could ask, he added, “No fingerprints on it, which further supports the determination that she did not commit suicide.”

He watched as I took a few sips of my soda before moving on. “I intend to find out what happened to your friend. At this point, it would be helpful if you would tell me everything you can about Ms. Sterling. Anything you can think of. Let’s start with how and when you met.”

“That’s easy. We met at the DIPPeR. Hilary started working there around a year or so ago. Our cubicles are in the same open-space area – the directors of the Public Planning Unit and Energy Unit are on the same hall.”

“At first we just went to lunch now and then. Then we discovered that we were both amateur photography buffs. So sometimes we would explore the city’s monuments and historical sites, experimenting with techniques. Hilary studied architecture and urban planning. She showed me a new way of looking at buildings. And her photography skills surpassed mine by a long shot. She taught me a lot.”

He looked directly at me, breaking eye contact only to scribble in his notepad.

I caught my breath before continuing. “Oh, and we sometimes hung out at the Smithsonian on weekends, visiting the different museums together. Less so since she started spending more and more time with Duncan.”

“In your statement last night, you mentioned that she was concerned about their relationship. How long had she been seeing Duncan?”

“Let me think… I think they started dating sometime last November. I remember her trying to decide what to get him for Christmas.”

“Tell me about Duncan. What does he do at the DIPPeR?”

I suppressed a smile. He caught on fast. “Duncan is a research associate. He started working there a couple years before me, I think. He was a research assistant at first, until he got promoted last year.”

“Did Ms. Sterling ever mention having problems with anyone at work? Are there any inter-office rivalries I should be aware of?”

“She was pretty well liked, easy to get along with. Of course, she wasn’t fond of her boss. And she was frustrated with her current research assignment. Some problem or another she was having with the data.”

“Any special reason she didn’t like her boss?”

“Well, Donald Stickler is not a pleasant person to work for. He has high demands but provides little by way of moral support. Dr. Stickler exudes condescension. He insists on always being addressed as ‘Dr. Stickler’ even by the members of his own team.”

“I’ll have to remember that when I meet with him tomorrow.” The detective smiled, “If he gives me a hard time, I’ll call him Donny.”

Unable to suppress a laugh, I was rewarded with another smile. He had a nice smile, the kind that lit up his face.

The detective straightened his tie. “I know I asked you this before – do you remember noticing anything or anyone unusual on the way to the pub, or while you were there?”

“I’ve gone over it in my mind again and again. I was more focused on our conversation than our surroundings. Sorry, nothing comes to mind.”

“One last question. Who else knew that you and Ms. Sterling were going to McSweeney’s that night?”

“Duncan, for sure. And lots of other people, I guess. It wasn’t a secret – we went there most Wednesdays.”

“OK, I think that’s enough for now. Let me know if you remember anything else, even if it’s a small detail.”

Detective Saks held the door open and walked me out. Before re-entering the building, he added, “Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Donati. You have been very helpful. Please don’t hesitate to call if you think of anything that might help us in our investigation.”

He smiled before adding, “I’ll be at the DIPPeR tomorrow to talk to Dr. Stickler and Ms. Sterling’s co-workers, perhaps we can speak again then.”

As I walked toward the bus stop, I realized I was smiling for the first time since I had found Hilary’s body. I immediately felt guilty.

My supply of comfort food was running low, so I stopped at a mini-market on the way home to pick up groceries. A bag of chocolate chip cookies, a six-pack of Diet Coke, and a package of frozen chicken nuggets were all I was up for carrying in one go.

As I was unlocking my door, my neighbor Elena came out of her apartment. True to form, she was dressed in a slinky low-cut top, skinny jeans, and stiletto heels. Elena was a bit of a mystery to me. She had moved into the third basement unit three months ago. Tall, blond and Russian, Elena appeared to be in her mid-thirties. Pleasant enough, but not very talkative or friendly. We exchanged the polite “Hi, how are you?” pleasantries and went our separate ways.

Groceries put away, I turned on the TV for company. I like living in D.C. and I like living alone, even though sometimes it can be downright lonely. A good friend from college, Julie, had lived in D.C. for two years – we hung out together a lot and talked incessantly. Sadly for me, she returned to Ohio last month to attend law school. A lot of people come to D.C. for a couple years after college and move on. Especially if they work for politicians.

Now with Hilary gone, too, the loneliness was hitting hard. In the mood to talk, I checked to see if Julie was online. She wasn’t, so I texted her that I’d be signed in on Skype if she had time to talk. It was the first month of law school and knowing Julie, she was probably stressing out.

A couple weeks ago, Hilary and I had gone to the National Mall to take pictures of the Smithsonian buildings and some of the nearby monuments. Duncan had gone home to visit his folks, so we had plenty of time to hang out. She was teaching me how to take panoramic shots, and we both had taken lots of pictures. Feeling nostalgic, I went to our shared cloud storage to browse through our work.

The Castle, the Smithsonian Institution Building, is one of my favorite buildings. Hilary had explained to me that its unique appearance stemmed from its combination of late Romanesque and early Gothic motifs. I had even managed to capture a few decent shots of the red sandstone building. Not as impressive as Hilary’s, still I was pleased.

I had made a few attempts to take panoramic shots capturing the museums on the opposite side – the Natural History Museum and the Air and Space Museum – but the results weren’t great. My camera lens simply wasn’t up for the task.

Hilary, on the other hand, had a semi-professional camera and she had been able to take great panoramic shots. She explained her technique as she worked. Because the presence of people doesn’t always enhance architecture and landscape photography, we started out early in the day before the museums opened. Nonetheless, she had been able to catch only a few shots that weren’t muddied by the presence of pedestrian traffic on the Mall.

Enjoying the pictures, I went through some of the other folders that Hilary had shared with me. In the year since she had moved here, she had taken pictures all over D.C., from historic and government buildings to statues and parks. Her photography work was amazing. She had a great eye for color and perspective.

One of my favorite pictures was of the two of us from last March. We had gone to see the blossoming cherry trees near the Washington Monument and around the Tidal Basin. The photographer, a passing Japanese tourist we recruited, had caught both of us laughing but in perfect focus. It wouldn’t win any awards, still it captured Hilary’s sparkling blue eyes and impish smile. So pretty, so young. Looking at the picture I was reminded of how much fun we had together. Thinking it would be nice to have a print made, I downloaded the picture to my phone.

A knock on my door interrupted my melancholy thoughts. It was Daniel.

“Hi, Adina. I’m off to Anthony’s for a quick dinner. Feel like coming?”

I hadn’t defrosted the nuggets yet, so the decision was easy. “That’d be great. Let me grab my bag.”

Anthony’s Café is a reasonably priced Italian restaurant not far from my apartment. They serve pizza and a range of standard Italian fare. I love Italian food and Daniel knows it. Plus it’s close enough to walk to in good weather.

On the way, I asked Daniel why he wasn’t dining with his partner, Nate. Daniel smiled, “Nate is out of town until Saturday. Besides, he’s not a fan of Italian food.”

“His loss, my gain,” I commented as we entered the busy restaurant.

Anthony’s décor was stereotypical Italian – red and white checkered tablecloths, and wallpaper featuring grape vines and wine casks. Photographs of famous Italians and Italian scenery hung on the walls.

A hostess seated us and I ordered the lasagna without checking the menu. Daniel opted for cheese and spinach ravioli. After the waiter took our order, Daniel asked, “How are you holding up these days?”

“When I’m busy or with people, I’m fine. When I’m alone and have time on my hands, not so great.”

“Have you spoken with the police again?”

“Yup. I went down to give them a statement this afternoon. The detective told me that Hilary was hit on the head before her wrist was slit. As you suggested, it appears to have been an attempt to stage a suicide.”

“Do they have any leads yet?”

“Not that he mentioned. The detective asked me all kinds of questions. I told him what I could.”

“What kind of questions this time?”

“For the most part, he wanted to know whether I remembered anything else unusual. He also asked a lot of questions about Hilary and her personal life.”

“That makes some sense, they need to identify any persons who might have had motive to kill her – unless she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Anyway, Detective Saks plans to interview people at the DIPPeR tomorrow. I’m not sure I see the point. Surely no one there had anything to do with Hilary’s murder.”

“Unless they find solid evidence – such as fingerprints on a weapon – they have to explore any and all possibilities. Makes sense to start by finding out as much as possible about the victim.”

Daniel caught my wince at the impersonal reference. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so callous.”

“I know. Still so hard for me to believe…”

After we both passed on dessert, the waiter brought the check. Daniel snapped it up, “My treat.” I tried to argue, but he wouldn’t hear of it. This wasn’t the first time he had taken me out for dinner – he always insisted on paying. Somehow, next time I’d find a way to pay the check.

We walked most of the way back in comfortable silence. We said our good nights while I fished the key to my apartment out of my bag.

“Daniel, thank you. Your invitation was perfectly timed. You not only saved me from a dinner of frozen nuggets, you also kept me from a depressing evening alone.”

“My pleasure. I hate to eat alone.”

He added, “Adina, I worry about you. Try not to dwell on Hilary’s death. It’s inevitable that you think about her some, but try to keep a balance. Don’t spend too much time home alone in your apartment.”

His concern was touching. “If only it was that easy to put out of my mind.”

“If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

“Good night, Daniel. Thanks again.”

“Good night, Adina. Sweet dreams.”