Page 24 of Accidental Murder

Ashley’s cellphone rang as Kayla was battling pre-holiday traffic. She pressed the icon on the steering wheel.“Hello?”

“Miss Macintyre, this is Inspector Sergeant Hanrahan. We have a suspect in custody. We would like you to come to the precinct for a lineup if you have time.”

“On my way.”

When Kayla raced into Mission Station, she ran headlong into a disheveled department store Santa escorted by a patrolman. Each offered an apology. She proceeded to the clerk.

Moments later Hanrahan emerged through a doorway. Clad in a chocolate pantsuit, she looked much more approachable than she had at the crime scene.

“Miss Macintyre, this way.” She steered Kayla through the squad room. “I’m glad you could come in. The perp’s name isDarius Ventano. He turned himself in.” She led Kayla through a door and down a hallway.

The stale smell due to a lack of sufficient ventilation made Kayla want to heave. She unbuttoned the top button of her sleek jacket. It didn’t help. She could barely breathe.

Hanrahan guided Kayla through a metal door and down another hallway, narrower than the first. Talking in short bursts, she explained that Ventano was Italian, in his thirties, and unmarried. “He believed we might cut him a better deal if he came in of his own accord.”

Hanrahan motioned Kayla into a white-walled room. The far wall’s window provided a view of an interrogation room. The suspect, a man who was as emaciated as a gutter rat and couldn’t be much taller than five-foot-six, sat at a metal table. He fingered the curls at the nape of his neck. Except for the dark color of his hair, he didn’t match Mrs. Tennyson’s description.

“He can’t see us,” Hanrahan assured Kayla.

A muscular Hispanic cop with dark eyes and thick mustache circled the table. Kayla recognized him from the crime scene. He planted both hands on the table and leveled Ventano with a stare.

“My partner, Inspector Sergeant Rodrigo,” Hanrahan said, “has been chatting with Ventano for an hour. Ventano has two strikes, so if this proves out . . . ”

Kayla knew what two strikes meant. In California, a felon with three convictions went to jail for good.

An amplifier transmitted Rodrigo’s words into the viewing room. “Okay, Mr. Ventano.” He leered at his prey. “One more time for the record.”

Ventano eyed a blanket sitting on the table. “I told you I did it. Now put me away and give me that thing. I’m freezing.”

“Why should we believe you, my friend? Maybe you’re taking the fall because you’d like a warm cell and three squares.”

“I’m the Second Story Sneak,” Ventano said.

“The woman was murdered on the first floor, bro.”

“Second floor,” Ventano countered.

“First floor of her townhouse.”

“Which makes it the second floor. Do the math. I needed a ladder.”

Kayla’s pulse quickened. Ventano had known about the ladder? Her secret life as Ashley could be over if he was telling the truth. Why was her gut telling her he was lying?

“Ask what my sister had on,” Kayla said.

“Rodrigo already did,” Hanrahan responded.

“And?”

“Ventano got it right.” Hanrahan propped a shoulder against the viewing window. “Jeans and a Stanford sweatshirt.”

“What about the baseball hat?”

“What about it?”

“And the Hermes scarf?”

Hanrahan sighed. “Miss Macintyre, this is our guy.”