"I think we should ask around. See if anyone recognizes the handwriting."
"Right." We needn't ask around. I knew.
"C' mon get your coat, let's go," Seabury said.
I nodded.
I was dumbfounded. No way. No way that such a good man could be a serial killer. Maybe he was illiterate and needed someone to write the note for him and that someone happened to be The Serial Killer. And that he addressed letters in the same exact manner.
There was no way past it. He was the killer. I couldn't deny it.
"Wait," I said. "Can I see it again? I might recognize it..."
"Here you are." Seabury handed it to me.
Definitely.
I pulled my letter out of my coat.
"You got anything?"
I swallowed. "I got the same letter." I handed Elizabeth Schuyler's and mine to him.
"What? This morning?"
"No. Last night."
"Did you go?"
I nodded, slowly.
"You are a pansy!"
"I'm not... I thought it was a girl! And is that really relevant now?" I groaned.
"Well..." He raised an eyebrow. "Who was it?"
"...Thomas Jefferson."
"From the roller rink?"
"Yes."
"And he didn't kill you?"
"Well, obviously." I sat back down in my desk chair.
"Don't you think that's odd?"
"Yeah, but we don't know. Maybe he gave Schuyler the letter a day before her murder. A week. We have no idea. He could be waiting it out. Could kill me whenever."
"You think he wrote one for each victim?"
"I don't know... where does the red ribbon come in at?"
"That's what we're supposed to figure out. Did he do anything suspicious when you met with him?"
"No..."
Seabury facepalmed. "He was trying to court you, was he not?"
"Well... yes, but-"
"Okay, that's definitely suspicious. He's a man, you're a... you're almost into manhood..."
I gave him a side-eye. It was the running joke of the department that I was "far too boyish to be in criminal justice."
"Anyways, Madison, that's super suspicious. And even more, since he knew you were a cop."
I nodded.
"What if he's taunting us? What if he drops off the grid all of a sudden, never to be seen again?" Seabury made large gestures with his arms.
"I don't know... I could go see if he's at the roller rink."
"Great idea. I'll get my coat-"
"No. Just me." I held his gaze.
"Mmmm... fine. But I'm waiting in the car."
"Thanks, mother."
***
The rink wasn't open yet.
"Well, what now?" I asked.
"I don't know, you tell me. This was your idea." Seabury slammed his hands on the steering wheel. "We know who the killer is! We should be getting a warrant, not waiting around for your lover boy."
"We don't know for sure."
"Uh... yeah, we do."
"Maybe it's a coincidence. He didn't murder me."
"Well, we have no idea! Maybe he waits a day or weeks. The letters aren't dated." Seabury was growing red in the face as he made air quotes on what I had said before.
I decided to shut my cakehole.
Seabury squinted, then pointed. "There's that Margarita. Miss Elizabeth's sister."
The woman marched across the parking space, a newspaper tucked under her arm, her curly hair flying every which way.
"Looks like she's opening it up."
"Let's go."
We got out of the car and approached the young woman. She didn't look up as we came closer, she was busy fumbling with the keys.
"Excuse me, Miss Margarita?" Seabury said.
She jumped.
"My God, you scared the bejeesus out of me!" She turned to face us. "We're not open- oh. You guys." Her voice went flat. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?" Seabury asked.
"You bastard," She spat.
Why- Oh...
"It's procedure," I butted in, "if you would've known your answers could've been clouded. We're truly sorry." I held out my hand for her to shake.
She turned her nose up to my hand. "Why're you here?"
"Is Thomas Jefferson working today?" Seabury said.
"Yeah, he should be here soon. I'm taking the next week off." She opened the door and let it close behind her.
I opened it and followed her inside.
"Hey, I'm doing this alone. Go wait in the car," I whispered to Seabury.
He rolled his eyes but left.
"What'd you want with Tom?" She didn't look up from the newspaper she had started reading.
"Uh... we've got a few more questions for him."
"We've? Looks like your partner abandoned you."
"...well, er, he's got other things to do."
"Sure."
The bell on the door chimed and in came Thomas Jefferson, with a woman who looked strangely familiar.
"Hey, Peggy." He hadn't noticed me.
Margarita simply nodded.
"Peggs, I'm so sorry, I heard what happened," the unknown woman mused, pushing past Thomas and into Margarita's open arms for a hug.
The woman made eye contact with me and raised her eyebrows.
"Don't I know you?" She asked.
"I have no idea."
"Yeah, I do. I served you at the diner yesterday. You work here?" She came over to me.
Ah, our waitress while we were undercover. Maria, if I remembered correctly.
"Oh." Thomas saw me. "Hallo, Jem."
Oh shit.
"Hello," I squeaked.
"What? You two know each other? No way. What a small world."
"Yeah, we do." Thomas smiled.
That could not be the smile of a serial killer.
"Well, Peggy and I are gonna bounce. See you later." She stood on her tiptoes and gave Thomas a peck on the cheek.
My heart thumped a little harder.
Her and Margarita left. I noticed Maria's purse was slightly open as she left, a piece of red fabric hung slightly out. Probably a scarf, right? I couldn't be for sure. I made a mental note.
"So what're you doing here?" Thomas asked.
"Looking for you, actually."
"Oh? What for?"
"The murders."
"Oh." He nodded slowly. "Of course."
"Have a seat."
I was about to unstack one of the chairs for myself when Thomas muttered a, "here," and placed two down.
"Right, okay. So I need to know some basic... er... thi- facts." I tried to make eye contact but my stomach kept jumping at the mere sight of him.
"Okay, shoot. Whatever I can do to help."
No way. No way he was the killer.
"Where were you the night of July 4?" The night of the first murder; James Reynolds.
"I was at my friend, Ben's drive, watching fireworks."
"Did you sleep at your own home or his?"
"I went to Maria's."
I raised my eyebrows. "Are you two together?"
"Uh..." he laughed nervously. "No. Just friends."
"Last names of your two friends?"
"Benjamin Franklin and Maria Lewis."
I scribbled the names on my hand.
"Okay, thanks." I stood.
"Are you leaving?" He also stood.
"Yeah, I've got to catch a killer and all that."
"Already? You just got here." He put his hands on my shoulders.
There were no blinds over the windows. Someone could be watching.
"Uh-huh." I wasn't thinking properly.
"Wait... you think I'm the killer?"
"I can't tell you that." I pulled away from him. I wished I could forever feel his firm hands on my shoulders.
His eyes softened. "I could never..."
"I know," I whispered, "I know."
I didn't know. I wasn't so sure anymore. I had this hunch. I couldn't sort through it right then and there, because, oh boy, was it hard to concentrate.
I patted him on his back, then he grabbed my arm as I was almost out of reach. He swooped me down into a dip and gave me a hard kiss.
Warmness bloomed inside of me. I forgot about everything for a brief second. He helped me to my feet and I covered my face as I marched out as fast as I could.
I slammed the door to the car a little too hard as I got back in.
"So?" Seabury questioned.
"So, we need to check his story. I think he might be the killer."
"See! Now we're getting somewhere!"