Rossi was waiting for him outside the interrogation room. They retreated to a safe distance to make certain Norris couldn’t overhear them.
“Did you catch all of that?” Wheeler asked.
“Yeah. I thought you were going to help him fill out the complaint.”
“Don’t worry. My good cop isn’t that good. But your bad cop was so good I thought Norris was going to piss himself. You want to let him take a look at the airport video?”
“Not until I get the video from the shuttle stops outside the terminal and the airport police tell me if they found any discarded clothes or the duffel bag.”
“What do you want to do with him in the meantime?”
“We can hold him for twenty-four hours without charging him, so let’s make good use of the time. Robin Norris had a reason to be up north. If she wasn’t meeting her ex-husband, she was meeting someone else. Since she wasn’t familiar with the area, she probably took I-29 north from downtown to the Barry Road exit. There are plenty of restaurants that would have still been open that time of night. Send some uniforms up there with pictures of Robin and have them canvass the area, see if anyone remembers seeing her.”
“So you think Norris may be telling the truth, that somebody really did steal his car and is setting him up for Robin’s murder?”
“Since we know the killer used his car, it’s the only other possible explanation.” Rossi looked away for a moment, brow furrowed. “In the video from the Economy parking lot, the driver of the Camry stayed in the car until the shuttle bus got close. When he got out of the car, he bent down like he’d dropped something, which took him outside the camera’s view. If he used the spare key to steal the car, he could have been putting it back.”
Wheeler grinned. “So it would look like the driver had used Norris’s key, not the spare. I’ll check the Camry to see if the spare is still there and if there are any prints we can use.”
“And check Robin’s car to see if she kept a spare in the wheel well too.”
“That would confirm one part of Norris’s story.”
“It might be more important than that. If Norris is innocent, the killer had to know about his spare key. Who would have known that?”
“Norris said he told Richie the Vig.”
“Yeah, but Richie had no reason to kill Robin.”
Wheeler thought for a moment. “Norris said he and Robin had always hidden a key in the wheel wells of their cars, so it makes sense that their kids would have known, but I didn’t pick up anything that would make me suspicious of them.”
“Except for the daughter, Kim. The other night when we were at their house, she was the only one who didn’t cry when I told them their mother had been murdered.”
“Now that you mention it, she was more angry than anything else. In fact, she hit me as more angry that she was stuck there with us than that her mom was dead.”
“Norris said she’s the only one of the kids that still talked to him. He called her ‘my little Kimmy.’ He didn’t talk about the other kids like that.”
“You had to stop him from smacking Donny.”
“And Kim was the only one who looked like her father. The other four were all Robin.”
“Kim sided with her dad after the divorce but she’s forced to live with her mom and four siblings that take her side,” Wheeler said.
“She doesn’t just side with him; she looks like him, and her brothers and sisters look like their mom. Which leaves her alone, outnumbered, and on the losing side. That’ll buy you a whole lot of anger.”
Wheeler nodded. “Kim knew her mom was seeing someone on the sly. Maybe Kim found out who it was and that was all she could take.”
“Kids have killed their parents for less. Talk to Sonia Steele. Robin may have confided in her about the affair and any problems she was having with Kim.”
“I don’t know. A sixteen-year-old kid, a girl. You think she could do something like that? Lure her mother someplace and kill her? Then cool as cool can be, drop the car at the airport and make it back home?”
“You’re right. That’s a lot for any sixteen-year-old girl, unless she had help. Get a warrant for her e-mail and texts. We need to find out who her friends are.”
“You want to talk to Kim?”
Rossi shook his head. “Not until we know more about her relationship with Robin. Did you recover any hair or fibers from the Camry?”
“CSI is handling that. Maybe we’ll find something that ties to Kim and one of her buddies. What’s next for you?”
Rossi checked his watch. “I’m meeting someone at five.”
“That’s in twenty minutes. Is it on this case?”
“No. Something else.”
Wheeler raised his eyebrows. “That thing with Alex Stone?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re like a dog with a bone.”
“And I’m about to finish gnawing on it.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Rossi pulled into the driveway at Alex and Bonnie’s house, sitting in his car for a moment wondering what Bonnie had in mind. Instead of telling him what he wanted to know, she might have some crazy idea of putting him in a room with Alex, demanding that they make peace, like a parent mediating between warring kids. Or maybe Bonnie had convinced Alex to confess and Bonnie was going to be there for moral support. Or maybe they were going to offer him a glass of elderberry wine laced with poison like the spinster aunts in Arsenic and Old Lace, a movie he’d fallen asleep watching the night before after downing a bottle of wine. He got out of the car, chuckling and jazzed at the prospect of proving he was right about Alex all along.
Bonnie greeted him at the door, apologizing for her dog, which kept rising on his hind legs, planting his front paws on Rossi.
“Quincy! Down! I’m sorry. He’s trained to stop jumping up on people as soon as he’s too tired.”
Rossi ruffled the dog’s fur. “I don’t mind.”
They stood in the entry hall, Bonnie in taupe slacks and a navy blouse, alternately clasping her hands and letting her arms dangle at her sides, Rossi waiting for his cue.
“Well,” Bonnie said. “You’re here, aren’t you? Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for asking, but I’m still not clear on why you did.”
She cleared her throat and wiped her palms on her thighs. “This isn’t easy for me.”
He smiled. “Then take your time. Maybe we should sit down somewhere.”
“Of course. The kitchen. We can sit in the kitchen.”
He followed her through the house, admiring a photographed portrait of Bonnie, Alex, and their dog, struck by the joy in their faces. He glanced at the den, noting the matching easy chairs with crocheted throws on the ottomans and the stack of books and magazines on a table between the chairs.
Though the kitchen blinds were drawn, the room was still bright and cheery, with artsy knickknacks adorning shelves, painted plates mounted on the walls, wineglasses hung from a rack above an island, and a red-framed sign handwritten in shades of red and blue on one wall that read:
WELCOME
If your shoes are real dirty-
Please remove them.
If your socks are real dirty-
Please take them off.
If your feet are real dirty-
Please leave.
Rossi sat at the table, pointing to the sign. “I like that.”
“So do we.”
Bonnie sat across from him, forearms on the table, rubbing her hands together. Quincy trotted to Rossi, sniffed, turned around, and lay down at Bonnie’s feet. Rossi waited for Bonnie to take the lead, but she didn’t.
“Why am I here, Dr. Long?”
Bonnie took a deep breath, letting it out. “I want you to leave us alone.”
Rossi cocked his head to one side. “I’m sorry?”
Bonnie straightened, shoulders back. “I want you to leave us alone. I want you to quit coming to the hospital to ask me about Alex. I want you to quit harassing Alex, trying to make her out to be some kind of criminal when all she was doing was protecting herself and me.” She paused, drew another breath. “I want you out of our lives forever.”