Threads of Suspicion(102)
“Tell you what,” Evie said. “If it’s anywhere near doable, why don’t we aim to solve this tomorrow, or at least by Monday? Because if it’s not Lynne, you’ve already convinced me that whoever is picking out women at Triple M concerts is going to be at that rope line to see Maggie at her first event back in Chicago. We’ll be able to move this case tomorrow one way or another.”
David nodded. “I put it at seventy percent that our answer shows up at the rope line. So at least we can go from lots of names to lots of photos.”
“Ooh, how true, and that hurts. But it’s our reality.” She looked once more at the board, then reached for her coat. “Let’s go back to the hotel, David. This is tomorrow’s problem.”
“By the way, did you find something to wear for tomorrow night?”
“I did. Still looking for shoes, though. I’ll have to fit that in tomorrow morning.”
“Maggie likes me in black tie. She says I look dashing.” He pulled on his coat.
“I can imagine you do. Rob, he manages to do it without trying. Just picks a suit out of his closet and fits the part.”
The crisp breeze outside felt refreshing. Evie turned her face up. “Nice—in very small doses.”
David chuckled. “So we’ll dive into it back here in the morning, Evie, but not so early we need a pot of coffee to wake up.”
“No earlier than nine a.m. Deal?”
He nodded and turned toward his car.
It would be hard to sleep past seven a.m., but she’d do her best. “I’ll update Ann tonight,” she called over to David, “and pray the state doesn’t call and step on me.”
“If you do get called, I’m waiting on you for the Lynne interview. You made a good find.”
“It does feel like that.” Evie unlocked her car and lifted a hand. “Thanks, David. Good night.”
“Night, Evie.”
It really felt like she had a probable answer. Sometimes great pitches still fouled off or became less than the home run she was after. But it will come. If not tomorrow, in the next few days, she told herself as she drove to the hotel. Lynne Benoit . . . It was rare the first name that surfaced was the right one, but female, local, Jenna’s friend of sorts—it was all clicking in the ways a murder often happened. Just add the discovery of a well-hid body, and Evie had the Jenna Greenhill case resolved.
She could let the FBI figure out the three other victims in Indiana and Ohio, give Milwaukee PD some new ideas on Tammy’s disappearance. As the outcome for her first task-force assignment, she could live with that. Actually, it was her second assignment if she counted the practice run in Carin County. But solving the case was what mattered, getting answers for Jenna. She was tired but hopeful, and that was a good way to end the workday.
Nineteen
Evie clicked her seat belt into place. “That filled up an interesting hour. Thanks.” They had been running down leads on both Saul and Jenna, filling in the hours until they could go interview Lynne. Talking to one of the gamblers identified in Saul’s last photos had been a useful interview.
“A fascinating man,” David said, “one whose gambling addiction has been dominating his life for twenty years. The names he provided will be helpful.” He glanced at the time, started the car. “Let’s go find your shoes for tonight—by then it will be time to drive over and see our Lynne.”
“That’s very much a yes,” she replied.
David nodded, backed out into the street. Evie found the name of a nearby mall, keyed in directions, then went online for shoe stores closest to which entrance. “I assume you’re coming in while I shop?”
“If they’ve got a bookstore, that’s where I’ll be. Find me when you’re done.”
She smiled. “I can do that.”
Evie had known David had done it on purpose—the break at the mall and something else to think about before Lynne’s big interview. It had helped. She followed him up to the Benoit home, let him ring the doorbell just minutes after noon. She hoped what followed would go as well as their timing.
The woman who came to the door was Lynne’s mother, and her DMV photo hadn’t done her justice. She looked younger than her years. “May I help you?”
David already had his badge and credentials out, showed them casually as he smiled. “Mrs. Benoit—Nancy, if you don’t mind—I’m David Marshal, and this is my partner, Evie Blackwell. We’re working on an old case of a missing college student, Jenna Greenhill. We’re in the area for interviews this afternoon, and we had a question come up regarding the Music Hall that Lynne might be able to quickly answer. Would she happen to be home?”