Ch 2: Investigation

          "The neighbor has a name!  It's Mary Hannigan," Devon said.  "Age thirty, works at Eddie's Pub and Pool as a bartender from twelve to ten PM."

          "We can pass the picture around the bar.  Maybe Mary brought Jennifer there every once in a while," Ed said.  "Did she ID the photograph?"

          Devon nodded.  "She said that was exactly what he looked like.  She also says that he was a regular at the bar and…she introduced him to our vic," she explained, raising an eyebrow.

          "Then she must know his last name, right?" Ed asked.

          Devon shook her head.  "She swears she never heard it.  But he had a bar tab.  Paid on his credit card, too," she said.

          "Did you get the receipt?"

          Devon nodded and showed her partner the number and the name she wrote down.  "Eric Mathus."

          "The dumb ass used it last night?" Ed asked.  "Doesn't he know we're looking for him?"
          "Apparently not," Devon said.  "But then again, isn't the goal of serial killers to be caught?"

          Ed shrugged and said, "I'm going to see if this guy has any priors."  He typed the name into the computer.  Devon came around to look at the screen when it came up with a record.

          "Aggravated assault," Devon said, folding her arms.  "Sounds like he would be right on the money for a murderer."

          Ed nodded in agreement.  "Did you check for other similar M.O.'s?" he asked.

          Devon walked back over to her desk and pulled out a piece of paper.  "Ten years ago a woman named Jillian Cavanaugh was killed in the same way," she replied.  She handed Ed the autopsy report.

          Ed looked over Jennifer Robbins' autopsy and compared it to the one Devon gave him.  "Was she related to you?" he asked.

          "Half – sister.  I was charged with her murder, but the jury didn't convict me," Devon said.  "Some evidence turned up that proved it wasn't me."

          "What was the evidence?" Ed asked, interested in his partner's previous history with the law.

          "A fiber and a piece of hair, neither of which belonged to me," Devon replied.

          "Why did they think you did it?" Ed asked as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand.

          "Because my prints were everywhere.  The room she was found in used to belong to me until I moved to Boston so I could take classes at Harvard.  I found Jillian lying on the floor," Devon explained.

          "Wrong place, wrong time, right?" Ed said.  Devon nodded.  "Well, I'm sorry about her."

          "Thanks," Devon said.

          "Who prosecuted you?" Ed asked, taking a coffee from Lieutenant Anita Van Buren, who had just arrived from her lunch break.

          "Some big – time jerk named McCoy," Devon replied.  Ed almost spit out his coffee at the mention of the name.  "What?" Devon asked.

          "Er…" Ed itched behind his ear.

          "McCoy wants a status report, pronto," Anita said, smiling as Devon's face dropped.

          "You're kidding, right?" she asked.  "Jack McCoy is our A.D.A?"

          "Yep," Anita said.

          "This is going to be interesting," Ed said, laughing.  "I wonder if he'll remember you."

           Devon shook her head.  "Damn right it's going to be interesting," she sighed, running her fingers through her brown hair.

          Anita smiled again.  "He wants you two in his office at the end of the week with all the evidence you have so far," she said.

          "Oh, fun," Devon said.  "What the hell does that mean, with all the evidence we have? It's the beginning of the case! We hardly have anything!"

          "It means, we put everything we do have into a nice manila folder and take a nice joyride in a Ford P.O.S. to the D.A.'s office," Ed explained, smiling.  Devon couldn't help but laugh.