“Then finish what you were telling us,” she urged.
He hastily complied. “So anyway, got some info in from some of the other homicides the NCIC had linked with the two here. Most of ‘em had squat, but turns out a couple of ‘em had even better samples to work with than us. Because of that they had complete DNA profiles.”
“So are you saying they didn’t match with me?” Felicity asked.
“Yes and no.”
“Make sense, Ben,” she said.
“That’s the thing. They cleared you because the full profile was different enough from yours. But, it was still damned close, and dead on with the partial from the other scenes.”
“So that’s why the crack about a sister,” I observed.
“‘Zactly,” he said with a nod. “Lab guy said the profiles are close enough they pretty much have to be siblings. Uncanny kinda close he said. If they had some of your father’s DNA for comparison that’d probably clinch it.”
“Good luck,” I offered. “I doubt Shamus would give it willingly.”
Felicity gave her head a confused shake. “Well, if they didn’t have the results in from the other murders, and they didn’t have an exact match, weren’t they a little premature in arresting me?”
“Yeah, well that’s another yes and no.”
“How is that?”
“Well, yeah, they were jumpin’ the gun a bit, but believe me, when ya’ got a dead federal judge and a dead cop, there’s a ton of pressure on.”
“So much that they were willing to do this to me even though they weren’t sure?”
“I’m afraid that’s the way it works, Felicity,” Ben replied. “Arrests don’t always come with a hundred percent guarantee that ya’ got the right person. You go based on evidence and reasonable suspicion.”
“But it sounds like the evidence wasn’t all in yet.”
“No, but sometimes you go with what you got, and if there’s a pile of circumstantial that fills in the holes, it starts makin’ for a case.”
“What other evidence did they have against me? Surely nothing they found here. Unless…”
“Unless what?” I asked, perking up at her tone.
“It’s nothing,” she replied quickly and with little conviction.
I had a suspicion about what the “nothing” actually was, and the look on Ben’s face told me he was debating about what he should say which meant he probably knew for certain. I considered turning to him for the answer, but given the situation I decided it would be better to let it go for the time being.
“Yeah,” Ben finally offered after an uncomfortable pause. “Well…Yeah, there was definitely some stuff that they dragged outta here they were gonna toss on the pile just for the sake of havin’ it, but they definitely had some other shit they thought was even more incriminating.”
“What?”
“It’s pretty obvious actually. How do ya’ know an elephant’s been in your refrigerator?”
“Excuse me?”
“How do ya’…”
“I heard the question, Ben,” she returned. “I just don’t understand what a silly children’s riddle has to do with what I just asked you.”
“The footprints in the butter,” I chimed in, going ahead and answering the old joke for him because I knew exactly where he was headed with the reference.
“Ding-ding,” he said, then looked over to my wife. “In this case, actually it was your shoe prints all over that fruitloop you picked up in the nightclub.”
“But I thought he wasn’t pressing charges,” she replied. “In fact I know he isn’t. Or at least he wasn’t as of last week.”
“He still ain’t that I know of,” Ben shook his head. “But that didn’t stop the crime scene guys from gettin’ pictures and more than just a little of his blood off your shoes.”
“But I didn’t…”
Ben held up his hand. “I know what you’re gonna say…You didn’t kill ‘im. They know that too, but it ain’t the point. Ya’ did shit to ‘im consistent with the killer’s M.O., and on top of that ya’ drew them freaky ass symbols all over the mirror in the motel room.”
“What symbols?
I perked up once again. This was the first I’d heard about her having drawn anything in the room, and I hadn’t been inside it myself to see. At the time, investigating a crime scene hadn’t been at the top of my list, protecting my wife had.
“Yeah, what symbols?” I asked.
“The one’s you said were all about that Voodoo stuff.”
“The veve?”
“Yeah.” He nodded then finished off the sandwich in a single bite before adding, “Those things. Right there on the mirror in bright red lipstick.”
Felicity frowned. “I don’t remember that.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about this before?” I asked.
“I couldn’t,” he replied. “I think I ‘splained that to ya’ about forty times in the last few days.”
“Okay, not that I’m wanting to help the prosecutor build a case or anything, but isn’t that pretty incriminating in and of itself?”
“Well, yeah, but it’s still circumstantial, and there’s no actual proof that Firehair drew ‘em. I mean, I think we can all be pretty sure she did, but there were people in and out of that room before she got there.” He looked over to my wife. “Not to mention the lipstick in your purse didn’t match, and they never found any in the room that did. So, by itself, not so solid.
“But when they got the DNA, that just became some more circumstantial filler. Then, after the DNA went south, it was back to bein’ nothin’ but suspicion. Now ya’ got reasonable doubt and nothin’ ta’ counter it with.”
“So Felicity is still under suspicion?”
“Some people still got some questions, but like I said, the DNA pretty much cleared ‘er even if it was freaky close. Although, because of that, there’s a new prevailing theory that she might still be in on it and is just coverin’ up for a sibling.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Felicity snapped.
“Hey, it’s not my theory.”
“Well, as far as that goes,” she continued, “I don’t know what to tell you. Unless my brother is running around in drag doing this, it’s got to be some kind of bizarre fluke.”
“Well, it’s definitely female DNA,” Ben added. “So I think your brother is safe on this one. Speakin’ of him, everything okay there?”
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. “With him, anyway. Can’t vouch for the rest of the family.”
“Aye, I’d rather not get into that,” Felicity interjected coldly.
“Yeah, me either.”
“So, you’re absolutely sure ya’ don’t have a sister?” Ben tossed the question out again.
“I already said so, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but are ya’ sure is what I’m askin’.”
“Look, Ben, when I was a child, like most little girls, I wanted a sister, yes,” she replied with an annoyed sigh. “But I sure as hell didn’t manifest one. So, yes, I’m sure I don’t have a sister. Only a brother.”
“Well, I know ya’ didn’t wanna talk family,” he pressed. “But ya’ might wanna open a coupla’ closets ‘cause the lab guy says he’d bet hard money you do.”
“So…is this it?” I asked, looking across the table at my wife. “The ‘nothing’?”
“The what?” Felicity returned her own query, only briefly glancing up from the box she was unpacking.
“This,” I said, pulling a dark purple bag from a cardboard box and hefting it up in front of her. “When I saw you on Saturday you tried to tell me something about an overnight bag, but we got interrupted. So, I just kind of assumed it was something the police had in their possession.
“Then today when we were talking to Ben, something about evidence taken from the house had you a bit on edge, and when I asked you about it…”
“I said, it was nothing.” She finished the sentence for me.
True to what Ben had told us, the recovery of our seized property was far easier than I had expected it to be. In fact, the drive downtown and back took longer than the actual paperwork. The only requirement over and above that which he had detailed for us was that I also needed to show my handgun permit in order to get my confiscated revolver returned to me. Fortunately, I had anticipated such and had it in my wallet.