A/N: Chapter's a bit long, but I hope it makes up for the shorter ones I've been posting. This is the second to last chapter, with one more to come that'll tie up loose ends. I appreciate all your support, the wonderful reviews, and the constructive encouragement. I don't know where this story would be without you. Please continue to review. Thanks, kids. ~your humble author
Good Cop, Bad Cop, and Sarcastic Cop
Steve Sloan looked downright homicidal. Which was ironic considering his job description read "Homicide Detective." Then again, if he killed Pete Cummings, he wouldn't have to work hard finding the murderer. Can you place yourself under arrest? How would I drive to the station with my handcuffs on? Wait. I'm already at the station, so I wouldn't have to drive anywhere. He shook his head, clearing out the ridiculous thoughts.
The current object of Steve's wrath was Cummings, who sat mutely in interrogation room two. He would not say one blasted word! He wouldn't admit to hurting Mr. Harrow or Jesse, nor would he implicate Miss. Nelson. He especially wouldn't implicate Miss. Nelson. After three hours of interrogation tactics (without, sadly, the use of a cattle prod), Steve was no closer to ending the matter.
"Where's Miss. Nelson?"
Steve spun around to face his father. "Don't scare me like that!"
"Sorry. Did I interrupt your fuming?"
That only earned Mark a grimace. "You want to know where Miss. Nelson is, huh? Well, so do I. Tried to bring her back in for questioning two hours ago but we can't find her anywhere. I've got patrols keeping an eye out for her car and I sent her picture to the airports and bus stations."
"And?"
"What 'and?' Do you see her here?" Steve took a deep breath and composed himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."
Mark gave his son a gentle smile. "Not a problem; I've heard worse come out of your mouth. And in case you're wondering, Jesse's doing fine. He's sound asleep."
"Yeah, I wonder how long that'll last."
Before the elder Sloan could respond, a hyper young clerk burst into the room, grinning from ear to ear. "Hey, Lieutenant, you know how the messenger of bad news is punished, but he who brings good news gets rewarded?"
"I trust this is going somewhere?"
"Border patrol called and they have a young woman fitting Julie Nelson's description in custody. They're bringing her in as we speak."
Steve walked over and grabbed the clerk by his shoulders. "I could kiss you, Joel."
Joel blushed. "That wasn't quite the reward I was going for."
"Well, I'll be sure to tell everyone you captured her single-handedly. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I need to go inform Pete Cummings that his girlfriend is on her way."
Julie looked perplexed. It seemed she couldn't decide between shocked or indignant. She opted for both.
"How can you do this? I would never hurt Mr. Harrow!"
The booking officer just rolled her eyes and continued pressing Miss. Nelson's fingertips against the note card.
"Look, don't you have to have evidence or something to arrest a person? I mean—what are we—in Russia, or something?"
"Actually," Steve commented as he approached, "if we were in Russia, I would have arrested you the first time we spoke. Unfortunately, here in the USA, I do need to have evidence and a charge. And that charge, Miss. Nelson, is murder in the first degree."
"First-degree murder? How can you be serious? How can you say something like that? What is this "evidence" you have?"
Steve just smiled. "Miss. Nelson, in this interrogation, I'll be playing the part of the cop. So, do you want coffee, as before?"
"No," she replied icily. "I want my lawyer. As before."
"You're charging my client with first-degree murder because her boss died of a heart attack? Detective—you've got to be kidding me."
"Oh, no. No, no. I'm not kidding at all. Here's how I see it: Your client somehow infected Bill Harrow with food poisoning. Then, when he was sick enough to ask to go to the hospital, she drives him to Community General instead of St. Lawrence, where—lucky her—her boyfriend is a nurse. As soon as he's stable and in a room alone, Pete Cummings stops his heart with an IV injection of…of…" Steve frowned. He hated medicine. Why couldn't drugs have simple, pronounceable names? He finally just pointed to the word on his file and let the lawyer peek. "This stuff."
"And her motive would be?"
"Money. Is there any other?"
Julie sat up, irritated. "And what would I have to gain from Bill's death? It's not like I was his next of kin."
"Well, there is that nasty little embezzlement. Our accountants went over your company's records and do you know what was missing? Money. Nearly a half million dollars."
"I didn't take any money."
"Lemme guess; your dead boss happened to be embezzling again. Gee, Miss. Nelson, you should find some better people to work for. This kinda of behavior could be habit forming."
Her attorney took the opportunity to speak up. "Is there any other evidence besides speculation?"
When Steve replied, he spoke to the lawyer, but looked at Julie. "Your client has $132,338 balance in her credit union and we're currently looking into some very well hid Cayman accounts. I've heard of making good investments, counselor, but that's an awful lot for a secretary."
"I was his paralegal."
"I don't care if you were his pimp—that's a lot of money."
"It's not illegal to have money, Detective Sloan."
He faced the attorney again. "It is if she killed to get it. Here is the way the cards fall: There's well over $100,000 in your U. S. account. Mr. Harrow died in the hospital where your boyfriend works, because someone stopped his heart. Coincidentally, you lied on Mr. Harrow's admittance forms in such a manner that a heart attack would appear normal. Your previous boss died of a heart attack, after which embezzling was discovered. And, of course, there's the little matter of—"
The accusations came to a stop by Joel, who was peering into the room. "Uh, Detective? Can I see you for a moment?"
Steve stepped out. "What is it?"
"I have more good news; the accountant finally traced the Cayman's account to Miss. Nelson. She has $462,651," he explained, taking a moment to glance at the pad of paper. "If she's claiming to have got it legally, I want to know her secrets. Oh, and please don't kiss me!"
A moment later and Steve was sitting smugly at the table. "Where was I? That's right, we were going over evidence. Miss. Nelson, where did you happen to get $460,000?
"Wha—what?"
"$460,000. It's actually a little more than that, but I don't have a head for numbers. You're the one who deposited it into a Caymans account; why are you so surprised? It doesn't look very good for someone who embezzles to forget about that much money." Steve was beaming on the inside. Was interrogation supposed to be this much fun? Did he need to speak to the department psychologist? "And speaking of looking good, your little trip to the border doesn't."
Neither of the room's other occupants spoke, so Steve took it as his opportunity. "Listen up carefully, Miss. Nelson; you can either save the city time and money by confessing now or a jury can crucify you later. What is it gonna be?"
An anxious quiet reigned until Julie finally broke. "All right! All right, I did it! But I didn't do it because I wanted to!"
"Are you trying to tell me Mr. Harrow wanted you to?"
"No, of course not! Pete. When I told Pete what happened with Mr. Robinson in Boston, he got the idea that I should embezzle again. I know it was wrong to do that, but he said we could settle down if we had enough money. So I stole it. I didn't know he wanted us to kill Mr. Harrow! I thought we'd take the money and leave; go to Mexico or something. Then he said we could make more if I embezzled from another company. But to do that, we'd have to get rid of Bill. I told him no. I told him I wouldn't do that. But he threatened to turn me in for embezzling. He said he'd take care of everything and all I had to do was get Bill sick and take him to Community General." She broke down in sobs. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Steve sighed and sat back in his chair. Time to go see if Pete would finally talk.
"Where's Julie?"
"What is it you people don't get about police interrogation? I ask the questions. Me. The cop. Now, Miss. Nelson was kind enough to confess to embezzlement and murder, however she said that you're the one behind the—and I use this term loosely—brains of the operation. Since you're responsible for stopping Mr. Harrow's heart, I must admit that I'm prone to believe her."
Pete's jaw fell. "She told you what? No! This wasn't my idea! Good Heavens, I begged her not to do this! I can't…I can't believe she would say that."
"I gotta be honest with you, Mr. Cummings; I know it was you who tried to kill Jesse Travis." Steve suddenly leaned across the table and got in Pete's face. "And Jesse Travis is my best friend, which means you made an enemy. So you were the one who drugged Mr. Harrow and you attempted to murder my best friend. Things aren't looking very good for you."
"I swear this wasn't my idea! Julie embezzled, and then Mr. Harrow started looking over the finances in their department. She knew he would find out, so she came to me with the idea to kill him. She told me that if I really loved her, I would do this." He looked dejected. "I couldn't say no. I do love her."
"So you didn't tell her to embezzle again, then convince her to kill Mr. Harrow so she could embezzle at another company?"
"Are you kidding me? She brought the whole thing up one day, out of the blue. One minute we were eating dinner, and the next she was explaining how she stole money from her last company. Her boss had a heart attack and instead of giving him CPR, she let him die and then pinned the embezzling on him. That's what she decided to do with Mr. Harrow. Only she had to arrange for him to have a heart attack. That's when she asked for my help."
Steve only looked at the nurse. He wasn't going to admit it, but he didn't believe Miss. Nelson for a second. She was cunning; Pete was a lovesick moron. "So, it's your word against hers. And you're the one who stuck the needle in Mr. Harrow's IV. Unless you've got some proof…"
There was a moment of silence before Pete jumped out of his chair, triumphant. "I've got proof! In a box at home, every letter and email she ever sent me. All of our IMs I printed out and stored in there." He smiled sadly. "I did if for posterity; you know, to remind us of the lengths I went to because I loved her."
Steve nodded and left to find the letters. Really an unusually successful interrogation. The two had obviously planned the murder thoroughly, but never thought they'd get caught. No wonder they had so desperately attacked Jesse; they were angry that the one-in-a-million doctor to treat Bill Harrow was a one-in-a-million kinda guy. Steve smiled to himself. Nosy, persistent, obnoxious, overzealous, and a little naïve, but Jesse was definitely one in a million.