‘So she must have stayed in the water for a reason,’ says Lizzie. ‘Just like we suspected.’
‘Sure looks that way,’ says Rick.
Philip runs his hand over the top of his head. ‘What about the gun, did they find it?’
‘Nope. Not yet. They know it was a .22 and, although they don’t know for sure until the murder weapon turns up, they’ve got a working theory that she was shot with her own weapon.’
‘She had a gun?’ asks Lizzie.
‘Yep. A pearl-handled .22 was registered to her and it’s missing. They searched her place. Nada.’
A girl with a gun – Philip knows that shouldn’t surprise him; this is America after all, it’s not unusual for a person to own a gun, but it does put a twist on things. ‘Any chance she fired it?’
‘At the crime scene, I don’t think so.’ Rick runs his hand across his jaw. ‘My contact would’ve said if they’d found gunshot residue on her hands.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ says Lizzie, as she turns and heads towards the kitchen.
Philip and Rick follow her. Philip wonders if Rick can sense the frostiness between him and Lizzie. The man’s sharp, ex-DEA; despite them both trying to put on a good show surely he’ll notice the lack of eye contact and the tension. It’s embarrassing. Things between a husband and wife should be private – they shouldn’t show their grievances in public.
Philip feels tension rising in his chest as he remembers how angry Lizzie was last night. He’s never seen her that cross before, not in all the years they’ve been married. It’ll blow over, won’t it? He hopes so. He hopes she’ll calm down soon.
‘Did your contact know anything else that’s useful?’ says Philip, as they enter the kitchen.
Rick leans against one of the countertops. ‘The victim had a rental apartment in the Golden Springs accommodation block for Homestead staffers. She didn’t have a vehicle registered with DMV. I need to check it out properly, but I reckon her fastest route walking from her job at the Flying Mustang Casino to her apartment would be along the Wild Ridge Trail and through Ocean Mist to her place in the Golden Springs staffers accommodation complex on the edge of district eight – Whispering Palms.’
‘As a croupier she’d work all kinds of hours,’ says Lizzie, pouring coffee into three mugs. ‘Those casinos are open twenty-four-seven.’
‘Yep, for sure,’ says Rick, nodding thanks to Lizzie as she hands him a coffee. He looks back to Philip.
Philip wonders how Lizzie knows about the casinos. She’s never been there. As far as he knows she’s never been inside any casino. He can’t ask her now though. He looks at Rick. ‘How come the victim lived in staff accommodation in a different district to the casino? Surely she’d want to be close to her place of work.’
‘It’s a good question,’ says Rick. ‘Maybe the staffers’ block in Conaldo Plains was full when she started.’
‘Could be.’ Lizzie doesn’t sound convinced as she plonks a coffee mug on to the counter next to Philip without making eye contact. ‘Worth checking that out.’
Philip wonders if Lizzie’s cross that he didn’t bring the coffee she just made for him through. Shakes his head. Rick’s contact has a lot of new information; maybe Golding is finally giving the case some proper attention. ‘The cops seem to have made good progress.’
‘Yep, they have. Although aside from the autopsy, we kind of gave them their best lead – from the licence plate of the station wagon they found the person she was closest to and he told them the victim’s identity,’ says Rick. ‘What about you? Are those patrol reports giving you any theories?’
‘Not really.’ Philip tries not to be put off by the fact that Lizzie still isn’t even looking at him. ‘But we know the cameras were taken out in the areas the burglaries took place. I’m thinking that maybe the patrols saw something that they didn’t think important back then, but could give us a lead now.’