“Yes, but without the bat. That’s important.”
Pat nodded. “Isn’t it odd that he would remember a detail like that so clearly?”
“He remembered it, that’s the main thing.”
“So he says.”
“Are you saying he’s lying?”
“I have no idea, but why didn’t he come forward back then? Why wait thirty years to tell this amazing story?”
“He told me that he blacked out the entire night. For months, he didn’t remember a thing. He didn’t even remember being there. It’s only come back to him in flashbacks. Recovered memories.”
“Recovered memories aren’t very reliable. Juries don’t like them.”
“Except his story fits the facts.”
“Yes, you’re right. It does.” Pat looked at Stride. “What do you think, Lieutenant?”
“I’d say that Finn was telling the truth, up to a point,” Stride said. “His story about what happened in the softball field with Laura and Dada makes sense. His motive for coming forward now is another question. I also don’t know whether he’s telling us everything he remembers.”
“Why do you think Finn chose to come forward now?” Pat asked Tish. “Did he say anything about that?”
“I think he felt guilty for keeping it secret for so long.” Tish hesitated. “Also, I don’t believe he’s well.”
“You think he’s ill? Is it serious?”
“He told me his liver was failing. He has a long history of drug and alcohol abuse.”
“The perfect witness,” Pat said, with a thin smile. She added, “If you don’t mind my asking, Ms. Verdure, what exactly do you hope to accomplish by writing this book?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, is your motive to make a lot of money? Is it to get publicity and headlines?”
“I want justice for Laura,” Tish said. “That’s all.”
“In other words, it’s important to you that your book somehow ‘solves’ this case.”
Tish nodded. “Mark Fuhrman wrote a book about the Martha Moxley murder in Connecticut, and now someone’s finally in jail for the crime.”
“I have to tell you, Ms. Verdure, if that’s your goal, you’re setting yourself up for a big fall. I’m sure Lieutenant Stride has explained the challenges of conducting a prosecution on a case where we have so many missing witnesses and so much missing evidence.”
“Yes, he has,” Tish replied, “but I’m bringing you material you’ve never had before. New evidence. New eyewitnesses. I want to know what you’re planning to do about it.”
Pat folded her hands together. “What do you want me to do about it?”
“I want you to seek a motion compelling Peter Stanhope to provide a DNA sample that the police can match against the evidence on the stalker letter and at the crime scene.”
“No,” Pat said.
“No? That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Tish pushed the chair back and stood up. “I can’t believe this. We have a witness who proves that Stanhope was lying about what happened that night. If we can match his DNA, we can prove that he was stalking Laura. That’s not enough?”
Pat shook her head. “No, it’s not. For one thing, Finn never mentioned Peter’s name. He admits he couldn’t identify the boy who was with Laura.”
“But Peter already placed himself with Laura in the softball field with his own statement. He never denied he was there. He blamed Dada for the assault, but Finn’s statement proves that’s not what happened.”
“Not necessarily. Finn says it was dark. He could easily have misinterpreted what was happening between Laura and the boy in the field. He could have misconstrued Dada’s actions, too.”
“You want to bury this because Peter is one of your political allies, right? I know how the game is played.”
“You don’t know a thing, Ms. Verdure,” Pat snapped. “I’m not going to seek a motion based on fragments of recollection from a notorious drug addict who has remained silent about this case for decades. It would be an abuse of my authority, and no judge would even consider it. In addition, I’m not going to seek a motion because it would not further a prosecution in this case. Even if I could prove that Peter Stanhope was stalking Laura, I wouldn’t have nearly enough evidence to sustain a murder charge. Until I am convinced we have something to prosecute, I’m not going to go out on a limb. Is that clear?”
“What kind of catch-22 is that?” Tish asked. “You can’t get evidence unless you’re ready to prosecute, and you’ll never be ready to prosecute without evidence. In other words, you’re going to do nothing.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It sure sounds like it.” Tish added, “You know, I haven’t talked to the national press yet, but maybe it’s time I did.”
“If you bring in the national news media, you lose control of the story,” Pat replied. “That’s not going to help your book. Media pressure often has the opposite effect of what you intend.”
“I’ll take that risk,” Tish said.
“Ms. Verdure, you’ve given us a new angle to investigate in this murder, and we will investigate it. Just not the way you may want us to.”
“What do you mean?” Tish asked.
Pat gestured to Stride. “Lieutenant, do you want to explain?”
“We’re going to take a close look at Finn’s story,” Stride told Tish.
“That’s good. That’s what I want.”
“But this isn’t just about Peter Stanhope,” he added.
“What do you mean?” Tish asked.
“I mean that Finn put himself at the scene of the murder with his statement,” Stride explained. “We had no idea he was there until now. He admitted to you that he was following Laura that night. So yes, I want to know what Finn thinks he saw. But the reality is, he just made himself a suspect, too.”
21
Stride took a left exit off the interstate and headed for the steep span of the Blatnik Bridge. The narrow crossing over Superior Bay was also known as the High Bridge, a nickname held over from the days when the second bridge between the cities of Duluth and Superior was the lowly Arrowhead Bridge. Ever since the Bong Bridge had opened in 1985, and the Arrowhead Bridge was torn down, the two bridges had provided identical clearance for ships, about 120 feet from the roadway to the cold waters of the harbor. But for locals, the Blatnik Bridge would always be the High Bridge.