White stood at the office window watching the distorted street through the rain swept window. Heavy, bruised clouds sagged over the city, pushing everything down including his enthusiasm for working. He drained his second coffee of the day and wandered back to his blackboard.
The lab found nothing on Regina's clothes and they had not been cleaned or washed. He was beginning to side with Art on her dubious guilt.
So many things had changed since the murder; one couple split up, two of the woman seemed to become a new couple, the wallflower went out to work at, of all places, the Flaming Skewer, the same place as the Morano woman. And best of all, the old guy Art was zeroing in on, had taken up with the vic's old girlfriend. He looked at the tangle of information and belched a loud, discontented sigh.
"Studying your masterpiece again?" Art shook his raincoat out in the corner and grabbed an old serviette to dry his head and hands.
"We got a memo this morning from..." He jerked his head toward the Captain's office. "He wants to see some progress on this thing pronto. Maybe we should get the old guy and ask some questions."
Art scrunched his face and flopped down at his desk. "You like him now too?"
"It's the dog, Art. The dog bothers me. Why didn't the damn thing bark?"
"Maybe we should bring the dog in."
"Maybe we should bring them all in—and their clothes."
"That's a budget buster."
"Hey! He wants progress, progress costs money."
"Yeah but it's been two weeks, Pete. What are the chances of getting anything now?"
"Well we can't spend anything until we find out if there's anything to spend it on, right?"
"I guess. You want to do the honours?"
"Oh yeah, make me the lead in this." He picked up the phone and ordered a car from the police garage.
"I've been thinking," White said when he got off the phone. "The murder weapon. Do you think it was specifically chosen or was it an object of convenience?" Both men slipped their jackets on together.
Art considered him for a moment. "In light of the iffy time line, and the fact that his going inside couldn't be foreseen, I would say convenience."
"Okay. So then disposal would be an on the run decision too." He turned to look back at the board and strained to organize his thoughts. "Nobody came out the fire escape door after the Dasher guy went in and the only other exit is the front door, so... we have the old man who says he was checking on his dog. We have Dasher and Morano. Dasher's wife and maybe the vic's girlfriend..."
"You're wasting your time, partner. They could have taken it away with them after we left. Are we going or what?"
"But we searched everyone, clothes, purses... and the boys found nothin' in the apartments. I bet the damn thing is still there somewhere. Probably right out in the open too." Art went out the door, missing the last of his partner's statement.
Stanley was all smiles when he answered the door along with a noisy Haggis. The two detectives looked meaningfully at one another and then down at the dog.
"Come in, come in," Stanley backed away, shushing Haggis to no avail.
"We need to ask a few questions, sir," White began. "Would uh, would it be possible to uhm..." He pointed at the dog and at his ear.
"He'll stop in a minute, detective and then you won't hear another peep. It's his guard dog display mode. I let him have his moment. He usually does it once then ignores any others." Stanley waved the two men to chairs and folded himself into one opposite. "Now, you have questions."
White took out his notebook and flipped over a few pages. "You said to Miss Woznoski you were coming in to check on your dog, this was shortly after the incident between Mrs. Morano and the victim."
"No."
"No? I have your statement right—"
"It was Geena, not Sophia. I went inside after Wally had the apparent fight with Geena."
"So then you were the first person to enter the building?" White was frowning at his notes.
"I don't know, I didn't see anyone else."
"Could you explain then please, sir, why your dog didn't bark at all when the others came in after you?"
Stanley looked between the two men and licked his lips nervously. "I can't say, I- I don—"
"You weren't here were you sir?" Art broke in, surprising both Stanley and his partner. "You and Haggis were both out of the building."
******
That was quick deducin', partner." White turned the wiper speed up to fast, still barely clearing the river of water coursing down the windshield.
"As soon as he said Geena, the time line changed. It just made sense."
"So now we've got your first choice walkin' his dog somewhere out in the street when the dirty gets done." The stoplight shattered its red reflection on the blurry glass and a pale fog began creeping up the window.
"Better hit the defroster," Art pointed out.
"Do you believe his story?"
"Let's get Mrs. Dasher in and see what she has to say." Art wiped his hand over the inside of the window leaving a streaky smear.
"We'll have to wash that now," White complained.
*****
Geena thanked the officer that accompanied her to the detective's office and took the proffered chair across from White's desk. Art looked on from his desk, adjacent. Geena's eye wandered up to the large blackboard and she automatically scanned it for information, her data conditioned brain sorting and compiling quickly.
"Mrs. Dasher, I'll get right to the point. In your statement you said you were going in to apologize to Mister Spade and to coax him back to the party."
"Geena nodded. "Yes."
"When you went in the front door, did you hear Mister Whiteside's dog bark?"
Geena's eyes flicked to the board. "No."
Art leaned forward, gave her a broad, understanding smile, and went to the blackboard, pulling a ragged looking screen down over the information.
"Did you hear the dog bark at any time you were in the building or just before you entered?" Art asked, still smiling.
"Uh, maybe. I'm not sure."
"When?"
"When what?"
"Did you maybe hear the dog before or after you found the body?"
"I'm not- I don't really remember."
"You found the body, screamed and then did what, Mrs. Dasher?"
"As I said before, I ran- stumbled I guess you'd say, out of the apartment and started down the stairs when Stanley came out of his door and helped me." The two detectives waited. "A minute or a few seconds later- I don't really know how long, Mister Morano came to the top of the stairs and after looking in Wally's apartment, he came down with us."
"Can you state with any certainty how long it was before the others arrived inside?"
"Not really. I remember seeing Alec- Mister Fletcher, run in the door shouting, "What happened, or something. I think Regina came down the hall right about then."
"And the rest?"
"I don't remember any special order. I saw Molly and Brenda and that other young woman that came with Wally- Cheryl."
"Not Mrs. Morano?"
Geena looked up, "Oh yes, I saw her too."
"What about your husband?"
"I don't remember." Geena thought about Brenda's questions. "He must have been there though; I mean we were all there."
White pushed his chair back and stood leaning against the wall by his partner. "Mrs. Dasher, I think you have left a few important items out of your statement."
Geena felt her neck grow hot and she shifted uncomfortably on the chair. "I don't know what—"
"Please, ma'am," Art said. "We've been doing this for a long time and frankly, your body language is contradicting every word coming out of your mouth."
"But- but..." Geena clamped her lips together and looked away. The only sound in the room was the increasing strength of the rain on the office windows. Finally, she set her purse on the desk and looked at her hands. "You're right."
"So, you want to start again?"
"I met Stanley going into the building. He was concerned about me after the garden bit and he wanted to talk to me. I said okay and we went into his apartment."
"How long were you in there?"
"I don't know, five, ten minutes." She saw their eyes roll and she hurriedly protested. "It's true! I don't know how long."
"Okay so after Stanley has his chat, what? He lets you go up to Spade's apartment?"
"Yes. Don't look so surprised. We're all adults, detective. We make our own decisions."
"Okay, so you went up, found the body, screamed and then did what, Mrs. Dasher?"
"The rest is true, so help me."
Art shrugged and went back to his side of the office. "Okay. Thank you for coming down, Mrs. Dasher we'll be in touch if there's- oh by the way, you've moved in with another tenant, am I right?" He turned from the window and canted his head questioningly.
Geena twisted her purse strap around her fingers and looked down. "Gary and I- we're... I've left him...for now."
"Is the reason something we should be concerned about, ma'am?"
"No. It's a personal lifestyle problem." And then because both men shuffled and coughed, she added, "It's business. I don't agree with what we do any more as business people." Geena stood and slipped her purse over her shoulder. "May I go now?"
"Drive carefully, Mrs. Dasher."
The rain suddenly sounded like a hose being played on the window and a flashbulb flare lit the sky, followed by the crack of angry thunder. The office lights flickered and settled again, bracing for the next onslaught. White groaned and tossed down his pen, leaned back and stretched his neck.
"My favourite question, Arthur. Who do you like?"
Art stared at his partner without focusing. "I think the dog not barking has been answered."
"Morano. He's on the top floor. He's in there ahead of Mrs. Dasher. Opportunity, Motive." White ticked his fingers.
Art sighed heavily and pulled open his desk drawer, rummaging for something to chew on. "Got any gum or anything?"
"Morano, Art. Don't evade my theory."
"Okay, okay! We'll bring him in and grill 'im."