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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

EDMONDS, WASHINGTON

FRIDAY, MARCH 24, 2023

1:30 P.M.

Detective Raymond Horn had one hell of a headache. No surprises there. With a job like his, headaches weren’t at all unusual. He kept a bottle of aspirin in his desk drawer for that very reason.

He had spent the morning reviewing the whole collection of Brewster interviews. Mr. Brewster had been considering a divorce at the time of his death, but they had been unable to locate or identify the presence of another woman in his life. He had simply wanted out. Ray and Detective Burns had succeeded in tracking down all the partygoers as well as the waitstaff, but they had come up empty there as well. No one had noticed anything out of line. Mentally pushing aside the interviews, Ray had just gulped down a couple of aspirin when his phone rang.

“Someone’s here to see you,” the desk sergeant told him. “Name’s Moesha Jackson. She claims to be Donna Jean Plummer’s attorney.”

So Donna Jean has lawyered up , Ray thought. That was hardly a surprise, but talking to a suspect’s attorney in the middle of the bullpen was not a good idea.

“Is the conference room available?” Ray asked.

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, put her in there. Detective Burns and I will join her shortly.”

Ray beckoned to his partner. “We’re wanted in the conference room,” he said. “Donna Jean Plummer’s defense attorney has stopped by for a visit.”

In the conference room they were greeted by a Black woman with a headful of tightly braided hair.

“Good afternoon,” he said to her. “I’m Detective Horn and this is Detective Burns.”

Their visitor stood up and held out her hand. “I’m Moesha Jackson, Donna Jean Plummer’s defense attorney.”

Horn was a bit taken aback when Ms. Jackson stood up. She was exceptionally tall—six three at least, and a good two inches taller than he was. That’s when he recognized her. “Wait,” he said after a moment, “didn’t you used to play basketball for U Dub?”

Nodding, Ms. Jackson smiled. “I certainly did,” she said. “I was Moesha Rains back then. I take it we were there at the same time?”

“I was a senior when you went to the Sweet Sixteen.”

“That was a great experience,” Moesha said. “Once I graduated, I had a chance to go pro, but I chose law school instead.”

“Good choice?” Detective Horn asked.

“No regrets,” Moesha replied, before turning to the business at hand. “I have Donna Jean’s signed retainer right here. Do you need to see it?”

It was Detective Horn’s turn to smile. “I believe we can take your word for it, Ms. Jackson,” he said cordially. “What can we do for you today?”

“I’d like to have access to whatever interviews you’ve conducted in regard to the Brewster homicide investigation.”

Horn’s smile vanished. “All of them?” he asked. “Your client’s interviews, yes, but I’m not sure we can open up the whole investigation.”

“I’ve got something here that might just sweeten the deal,” Moesha said. She reached into her purse and pulled out something that looked like nothing more than a handful of wadded up tissue.

“What is it?”

Without replying, Moesha straightened out the tissues, revealing what was inside.

“A wine cork?” Ray asked peering at it.

“A wine cork,” Moesha repeated, pushing both the cork and the tissue across the table until they were within Detective Horn’s reach.

“And why would this be of any interest to our investigation?” he asked.

“As I understand it, in the aftermath of the homicide at the Brewsters’ residence, there was no sign of forced entry, correct?”

The two detectives nodded in unison.

“When Donna Jean was cleaning the house that morning, she found this lying in the track of one of the sliders, one leading from the family room out onto the patio. She slipped it into the pocket of her apron without giving it a second thought, and didn’t even remember it until you were doing that first interview with her.”

“You’re suggesting that’s why there was no forced entry, because the house wasn’t locked up after all?”

Moesha nodded.

“Why the hell didn’t she say so at the time?”

“Because she wasn’t thinking straight, but also because she was terrified that you’d end up believing that she was somehow involved with the crime, and it doesn’t appear she was wrong about that. It seems to me as though she’s being treated as a person of interest.”

“If she’s innocent, then why the hell wouldn’t she agree to a polygraph?” Ray growled. “That would have cleared her immediately.”

“You’re aware of her previous homicide conviction?” Moesha asked.

Horn nodded. “Yes.”

“She submitted to a polygraph in the course of that investigation and was found to be evasive—which may or may not have been true. I’m aware of situations where police officers have told suspects they’ve failed polygraph tests when, in reality, they hadn’t. As you no doubt know, cops aren’t required to tell the truth in those situations.”

“Would she be willing to submit to one now?”

“I don’t know,” Moesha answered. “I’ll have to ask her.”

After a short silence, Detective Horn reached for the tissue and pulled the cork closer. “We’re most likely talking about touch DNA here. Donna Jean handled this with her bare hands?”

Moesha nodded. “Yes, when she picked it up and placed it in her pocket.”

“Presumably her DNA will be on the cork.”

Moesha nodded in agreement. “Correct, it should be, and so should the DNA of whoever opened the bottle. With any kind of luck, however, you’ll also find the DNA of the person who placed the cork in the slider during the party.”

“All right,” Detective Horn said. “We’ll get this to the crime lab for processing right away. Thanks for bringing it in. And I’ll leave word that you’re to be given access to all appropriate interviews.”

“One more thing,” Moesha said, rising to her feet. “Have you looked into cell phone traffic on the cell towers nearest to the Brewsters’ residence?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve followed up on that,” Horn replied. “Why?”

“If I were you, I’d go looking for cell phones with Southern California area codes pinging off those towers in the days both before and after Mr. Brewster’s death. You might find something interesting.”

“What are you saying?”

“Just take a look and see what turns up,” she said. “I’ll be going now, but if you plan on bringing Donna Jean in for further interviews, I fully expect to be notified.”

Once the attorney left the conference room, Detective Horn sat there staring at the cork. “She’s got a hell of a lot of nerve waltzing in here and telling us how to do our jobs,” he grumbled.

Detective Burns, however, was also staring at the cork. “Depending on what the DNA shows, does this take Donna Jean off our list?” she asked.

“Hardly,” Detective Horn scoffed. “In my book, coming forward with so-called evidence more than a week after the homicide occurred doesn’t exonerate anybody. But just to be on the safe side, take the damned thing down to the crime lab. In the meantime, I’ll get someone started looking at that cell tower data. With a case like this hanging over our heads, we can’t afford to leave any stone unturned.”