"Oh. That makes sense," Mrs. Knight said. By her embarrassed expression, you'd have thought I'd just told her that her dress was tucked into her panty hose.
"I believe I told you all about our meeting with Mrs. Olsen, Sergeant Kline," I said, trying to sound as patient and composed as Jeff.
Will squinted and cocked his head. "I get the feeling you two know each—I mean, aside from what went down last night."
"How could you ever guess?" I said. "We know each other quite well, as a matter of fact."
"From other cases?" His eyes were bright with curiosity.
Smart, intuitive kid. No wonder I liked him so much.
"We're colleagues," Jeff said. He offered out his gum, and getting no takers, unwrapped a few sticks and folded them in his mouth. "Back to why I'm here. Did Mrs. Olsen contact you after you met with her the other day?"
"No, sir," said Will.
Jeff looked back and forth between the Knights. "Either of you speak to her?"
They both shook their heads, and Mr. Knight said, "Never."
"Please be honest, Sergeant," Mrs. Knight said. "Do you think her death is somehow connected to our son?"
"We don't have evidence aside from her bequest to support that theory right now," Jeff answered.
"Very strange to leave everything to Will," Mrs. Knight said, half to herself. "And you knew about this, Abby?"
"I only heard late last night—one reason I came here this morning. I drove to Mrs. Olsen's house after I left the crime scene. Since she'd called me to meet with her at the espresso bar, I felt—"
"Could we save that discussion for later?" Jeff said. "Right now I'd like to hear Will's take on the victim. Did anything in particular stand out about her?"
"Ask me, she'd been smoking weed or taken some major head pill," Will said.
"William," his mother said. "The woman is dead, for heaven's sake."
Jeff held up a hand, chewing hard on his gum. "It's okay. This is exactly the kind of thing I need to know. What made you come to that conclusion?"
"She knew everything about me, from the time I was a kid. It freaked me out. She never said anything about leaving me her stuff or anything, though. That is so crazy." He looked at his mother. "Not crazy crazy. Sad crazy, Mom. She may have been weird, but—"
"She didn't deserve to die," his mother finished. "Why didn't you tell me she knew things about your childhood?"
"I'm the one who should have told you," I said. "That's why you hired me. I was concerned about her obvious knowledge of Will, especially since she shouldn't have even known his name. That's why I've made an appointment with the social worker who handled the original CPS case—to find out how Verna Mae got so much information."
"Molly Roth? Our old caseworker?" asked Mr. Knight.
Jeff stood abruptly before I could answer yes. He said, "I think I have all I need for now. We'll be in touch."
Mr. Knight stood, too. "I'm concerned, Sergeant Kline. What if there's a connection between our son inheriting this woman's property and her murder? Would that put Will in danger?"
"We're doing everything we can to find answers," Jeff said. "If we find a connection and we think he needs protection, he'll get it. Right now, this crime appears to be a robbery-homicide."
The Knights nodded solemnly, and then Jeff turned and started walking out of the kitchen.
Something was wrong. Why did he decide to split all of a sudden? Was he still angry about my trip to Bottlebrush? No... my gut told me that wasn't it. "You still want me at the station by ten?" I called after him.
"Yes, ma'am," he answered over his shoulder.
While Mr. Knight followed Jeff out, Mrs. Knight asked if I'd like coffee.
"No, thanks," I said. "I'm trying to get off the java. Then maybe I won't have to get my teeth bleached as often." Still troubled by Jeff's attitude, I checked my watch. I had an hour to wait until I could talk to him alone and find out what was up.
When Mr. Knight returned, it was time to explain the theory Chief Rollins and I had come up with. More of what I'd wanted to ease into with the family.
I said, "Though I haven't discussed this with Sergeant Kline yet, I have a theory why Verna Mae Olsen left her home and property to Will."
"You do?" Will leaned forward, elbows on knees.
I nodded. "By the way, Chief Rollins is the officer who came out and took you from Verna Mae the night you were abandoned. Or maybe I should say supposedly abandoned."
Mrs. Knight's face paled. "Supposedly?"
I looked at Will. "You may have already met your birth mother, Will. We'll need your DNA to find out for sure."
"Are you saying that's why Mrs. Olsen left me her stuff?" He checked his parents' faces for their reaction.
"And now she's been murdered?" Mr. Knight said. "This is unbelievable... horrible."
"We have no proof yet," I said, "but since she left everything to Will and kept close tabs on him for nineteen years, her being your biological mother might explain her behavior."
"I-I'm stunned," Mrs. Knight said. "We only wanted Will to know the truth about his past. To know who he was and where he came from. Know about his African-American heritage. But to have all this happen? I'm thinking we should leave well enough alone."
"Wait a minute, Mom," Will said. "You weren't there the day I met with Dr. Rose. She told me this wouldn't be easy. That I might learn things I wished I hadn't."
"Dr. Rose?" Mr. Knight looked at me. "I'm confused. Are you a doctor?"
"No, no," Mrs. Knight said. "Remember Abby told us Will would be interviewed by a psychologist, to make sure he could handle a reunion?"
Her husband nodded. "I remember." He looked at Will. "You had the interview while I was out of town. You said it went well."
"That psychologist is Abby's sister, Dr. Kate Rose. Very sweet lady." Mrs. Knight smiled at me.
"Dr. Rose knows what she's talking about," Will said. "She said I needed to be committed a hundred percent, just like I am to the game. Said I needed to be strong if I planned to go after this. I'm not dropping the ball because Mrs. Olsen died. We keep going. Okay, Abby?"
I nodded, lips tight. This kid was a winner in my book, even if he'd never played basketball a day in his life.
5
I left the Knight home after telling Will I'd make arrangements for him to have his blood drawn and the sample sent to the genetics lab I'd dealt with on a paternity case a few months ago. After checking in on the first floor at HPD, I rode the elevator to the homicide offices and made my way down the busy aisle to Jeff's cubicle. You've never seen paper-shuffling like what goes on at HPD. Fax machines rattled, phones rang and there was enough cursing to provide a script for hell. The place made me as nervous as a cockroach on a griddle.
But if I thought I'd get some time alone to find out what was bugging Jeff, I was wrong. Angel Molina was sitting across from him in the cluttered cubicle. Angel is my supervising PI and Jeff's good friend.
"Hey, guys," I said, taking the empty molded chair alongside my boss.
Angel gripped my neck, pulled me close and kissed me on the cheek. The strength of his Polo cologne nearly knocked me off my chair.
"How's my best detective?" He tugged at the cuffs of his pristine starched shirt.
I smiled. "Was that cheek swipe you gave me a metaphor for another kind of kiss?"
"Me? Kissing butt?" Angel said with a laugh.
"I almost believe you're sincere, except I also know you could sell sand to an Arab. What's this meeting about?" I looked at Jeff.