“I didn’t like it. I didn’t like Scarlet. But I didn’t kill her. I don’t even know if I have an alibi. You should talk to Casey Carr. She saw me later that night and she was sober. Well, she was more sober than I was, so she’d be able to give you a better timeline.”
Oslo slid a paper in front of Luna. “Write down her number for me.”
Luna gave the detective the number for Casey’s dorm room.
“Question for you,” Oslo said. “Why didn’t you change your whole name? Might’ve made your life a lot easier.”
“Maybe I didn’t want it to be too easy,” Luna said.
A young woman in uniform opened the door and leaned in. “Luna’s lawyer is here,” the policewoman said.
Oslo turned to the girl and smiled. “That was fast.”
“I don’t have a lawyer,” Luna said.
Owen’s brother walked into the room. Oslo did a double take.
“Mr. Mann, nice to see you again,” Oslo said.
“How long have you been interviewing my client?” Griff said.
Griff gave Luna the what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you look.
“Not long,” Oslo answered. “Isn’t this a conflict of interest?”
“Look, I’m just trying to keep two morons from accidentally implicating themselves in a suspicious death that they know nothing about.”
“Luna came here of her own accord,” Oslo said. “I have just a few more questions.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Luna,” Griff said. “In fact, it would be better if you didn’t.”
“That’s okay,” Luna said. “I think I’ll stay.”
October 13, 2019
Margot took Dr. Burroughs into the interview room while Noah reviewed the call history on Burroughs’s secret phone.
Sam Burroughs wasn’t what Burns had expected. Not that he was unattractive. He was tall, big, a rough-around-the-edges, traditionally masculine kind of guy. In short, the opposite of Owen. Burns gestured at the camera in the high corner of the room.
“We’re recording this interview,” she said.
“I assumed as much,” he said.
Burns opened her notebook and clicked her pen to attention. “You had to know that your DNA would still be in the victim’s body. Why didn’t you come to us sooner?”
“You haven’t had time to process the toothbrush,” Sam said. “How do you know it’s a match?”
The detective smiled and nodded. She’d have to be careful with Burroughs. “I have a hunch it’s going to match. Am I wrong?”
“No,” Sam said.
“You knew we’d find out about you eventually, right?” Burns said.
“Maybe,” Sam said.
Burns thought he was avoiding eye contact. In reality, he was trying to make sense of a large brown stain on the wall.
“It would have looked better if you came in on your own.”
Sam’s focus turned to the detective. His eyes narrowed. He spoke just above a whisper. “I don’t give a shit how it looks. I’m still getting used to the fact that she’s dead. I was…sad.”
Now that Sam thought about it, he was gutted. He hadn’t had time to feel anything, to think it all through. He would never see Irene again. She wouldn’t be there to commiserate. She wouldn’t be there to— “Were you in love with her?” Detective Burns asked.
“No. I don’t think so. But we were close, and she meant something to me.”
“How long had you and the victim been sleeping together?” Burns asked.
“Don’t call her that. Say her name,” Sam said.
“When did you and Irene begin sleeping together?”
“A year ago, maybe.”
“Did you meet Irene through Luna?”
“No,” said Burroughs. “The other way around. Irene used to bring Leo Whitman in for his appointments. I’d seen Irene a lot over the years. Always liked her. Then, one day, Luna drove Whitman to the appointment. I was trying to figure out who she was to Leo, why she was doing this favor for him.”
“Did you ever find out?”
“The favor was for Irene.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“When Irene’s mother died, she left most of her estate to her daughter. There was a small trust for Leo. Chantal made Irene the executor of that so Leo wouldn’t tear through the funds. Leo and Irene were not close. I got the feeling she really didn’t like him.”