Chapter 7 Loretta's Husband at Headquarters

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"Do you know what time you'll be home?" Amy asked.

Michael Riggs looked at the black clock on his office wall. A quarter to eleven on a Friday night. Damn.

"I'd say it's going to be another two hours at least," he explained, "Fisher just brought in the husband."

Through the heavy receiver, he could hear his wife sigh. "Oh, the poor man."

Michael Riggs took off his hat. "That remains to be seen."

As soon as he was off the telephone, Riggs hung his hat on the rack. The janitor must have just left because the waste paper basket was empty and his office smelled like floor wax. Why an inspector needed a shiny floor was beyond him, especially when the shine smelled like floor wax. Riggs looked out into the blackness beyond the city skyline. Only a few points of light were shining from the neighboring buildings. In the direction of the waterfront, he could see two bright horizontal rows of ferry lights gliding along the black water of Elliott Bay. The top row was the car deck of the ferry, and the reflected row beneath it was flickering off the black water.

He saw Fisher through the hall window just before he opened the door. "Okay, Sarge, the husband just identified the body. Do you wanna' talk to him now?"

Riggs nodded. "What's your read on him?"

"Hard to say," Fisher said with a shrug. "He's not confessing but he's not sobbing either. You want some coffee?"

"Please."

Fisher disappeared and a moment later he came back with two cups of coffee and a rugged man who looked like he'd just been pulled out of bed.

Clyde Newcastle was a solid, but somewhat disheveled, looking man. He was fairly tall and his gray-touched hair was about three weeks overdue for a trim. He also needed a shave, but most men do at this time of night. He was still wearing his hat and Riggs could see the outline of what was either a small book or a flask in his jacket pocket.

"Mr. Newcastle, I'm Sergeant Inspector Riggs. Take a seat."

The man sat in the wooden chair across from Riggs' desk. Most of the people who were invited into Riggs' office sat upright and stiff. But Clyde Newcastle established himself comfortably in the chair. He took his hat off and rested it on his left knee. When Fisher handed him a cup of coffee, Clyde Newcastle remembered to say 'thank you.'

"I need to ask you some questions." Riggs informed him.

Clyde nodded his understanding and took a drink of his coffee.

"Mr. Newcastle; did you kill your wife?"

"No." His hand was steady.

"What do you know about the crime?"

"Only what your boys said when they picked me up and what I observed from seeing Loretta."

His jaw was set but he wasn't arguing.

Riggs watched at him. "When was the last time you saw your wife?"

"About three weeks ago. I ran into her at an art show by the university."

"And you spoke to her?"

"There wasn't much to say," Clyde explained. "We're getting a divorce, you see. She was there with her boyfriend."

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