“So that leaves her out as well.”
“What about Stacie Roebuck?” Chase asked. “The bullied assistant?”
“Well, I talked to the guy in charge of security at the Hampton Springs Hotel. They have some complicated system installed, where they can check time stamps on the key cards. They were so kind to check the log for Room 327 and found that Miss Roebuck was in from nine until six o’clock in the morning, when she apparently went for a morning jog.”
“She could have snuck out through the window and jumped to the balcony of the next room,” Odelia said, remembering how Max, Dooley and Brutus said they’d gained access to Stacie’s room.
Her uncle pointed a finger at her. “And that’s why I had the neighbors checked. The family staying in 325 were in all night. Only left the room for dinner, and then retired for the night. Same story with the septuagenarian in 326. He went to bed at nine and got up at five to go for a walk.”
“Very boring people,” Chase muttered. “Who stays in all night?”
“Families and old folks,” said Uncle Alec with a stern look at him. “They can’t all be Cybil Truscotts or partying teenagers, Chase.”
“Fair enough,” he said, holding up his hands.
“Besides, I thought we already established that Stacie Roebuck doesn’t have the kind of physical strength needed to carry out this murder?” Alec added.
“Just making sure we’ve covered all the bases,” Chase said.
“Next—and now it gets interesting,” said the Chief, “is Konrad Daines.” He settled back, a smug expression on his face. “Mr. Daines was arrested for disorderly conduct and public intoxication when he crashed the Clintons’ party.”
“So? That gives him a rock-solid alibi,” said Chase.
“Officers were called to the scene at two o’clock in the morning,” the Chief added triumphantly. “We talked to the people he was partying with, and that particular party only started after midnight. So we have no idea what Mr. Daines was up to before that time. That wasn’t a problem when we thought Niklaus had been killed after midnight, but now…”
“He just might have done it,” Chase said.
“Exactly.”
Odelia stared at her uncle. “So you think Konrad Daines is our guy?”
“I think Konrad Daines is our guy,” the Chief confirmed. “And to that effect I’ve sent a couple of officers around to the hotel to pick him up.” He checked his watch. “They should be back any minute now.”
“We talked to Konrad,” Chase reminded Alec. “I liked him as a suspect.”
“Oh, and one other thing,” said the Chief. “I remembered seeing an email Niklaus wrote to Konrad. That’s why I was trying to access the emails.” He turned the screen so Odelia could follow along. Her uncle quickly scrolled through the emails, then tapped the screen with his pudgy finger. “Here it is. I knew I’d seen it flash by.”
“You have to click the mouse to open the email, Uncle,” Odelia said. “Tapping it with your finger won’t work.”
“Unless he’s got a touchscreen,” Chase added.
“I know that!” the Chief cried. “I may not know a lot about computers, but I know how to use a mouse!” He clicked to open the email. “Listen to this,” he said. “This is from the day before Niklaus died. ‘I heard about Chopped Liver being, well, chopped. I’m so sorry about your loss, Konrad. Not! I told you Kitchen Disasters was the superior show and I was the superior chef and now I’ve gone and proved it. I hope this will show you that I’m the greatest celebrity chef in the world, and you’ll always be a second-rate amateur. Take that, you whiny loser!’”
“That wasn’t very nice,” Chase said.
“No, that was outright mean,” Odelia said, shocked.
“And I think it’s motive,” said the Chief. “Konrad got this email, spent the day chewing on it, and by the time evening rolled around, he’d gone and whipped himself up into a frenzy of rage and revenge. He knew Niklaus was in town, and most likely to be found at Fry Me for an Oyster, so he went there on the off chance he’d find him. They met—they fought—he killed him and then shoved him into the oven to get rid of the evidence. And then he went on his bender.”
“Stacie said Niklaus never visited the restaurants he did,” Odelia said. “Konrad would never have found him there.”
“So he bumped into him somewhere else, and they went to the restaurant together. Or maybe he called him and they met out there.”
It all sounded a little fuzzy to her. “Has Abe discovered the cause of death yet?”
“No, he hasn’t. Most likely scenario is that Skad was strangled. But since the soft tissue around the neck is gone, he won’t be able to prove it.”
“So now all you have to do is get a confession and it’s case closed,” said Chase.
“You also think Konrad is our guy?” Odelia asked.
“Why? Don’t you?”
She shook her head slowly. “Something doesn’t sit right with me.”
“He’s got motive!” cried her uncle. “He had opportunity. He’s our guy!”
“Remember when we went to visit him, Chase?” she asked. “How he was certain we were there to talk about the drunk and disorderly thing?”
“So? He lied. He’s a TV personality. I’m sure he knows a thing or two about acting.”
“He didn’t strike me as dishonest,” she insisted. “He genuinely thought we were there to talk about Bill Clinton’s party. He had no clue we were there to talk about the murder.”
The two men shrugged. “I say we’ve got our guy,” the Chief repeated.
It was definitely possible, of course. After all, being taunted in such a mean way could have made Konrad Daines snap, especially on the day his own show had been canceled and he was already feeling very low. Still, the impression she got from him wasn’t that he was a killer.
Ten minutes later, the officers who’d gone to fetch Konrad finally arrived, the fallen celebrity chef in tow, and put him into the interrogation room. Chase and Odelia followed her uncle and watched through the one-way mirror as the latter entered the room and took a seat across from Konrad. The man looked much the worse for wear, as if being arrested was the final straw to his collapse.
“Mr. Daines,” her uncle began. “It’s come to my attention that Niklaus Skad wrote you an email the day before he died.”
Konrad stared at him. His bristly hair stood in all directions, and his skin had gone pale and blotchy. “An email?”
“Yes. Shall I read it to you? Jog your memory?” And as he did, Konrad’s face grew paler still. He looked nothing like the famous TV chef he was.
“I remember,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Niklaus was an animal. I hated him so much—so very, very much.”
“Is that why you killed him?”
Konrad stared at Chief Alec, his lips moving wordlessly.
The Chief slammed the table. “You hated him so much you killed him, isn’t that right, Konrad?”
The chef started shaking. It was clear he was in the throes of a breakdown. “Yes,” he finally whispered.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I wanted him dead. I wanted him dead so, so much. I wanted to kill him—cut him—skewer him—chop off his head—rip him to pieces!”
Spittle was flying from his lips now, his eyes wild and crazy.
“So you admit you killed him,” her uncle said calmly.
“Yes! Yes, I killed Niklaus Skad!” Konrad suddenly cried, getting up from his chair. “I killed the greatest chef alive! Me, Konrad Daines! I destroyed the monster! I finished him off like the worm he was! I did it!”
“Settle down, Mr. Daines,” said the Chief, looking a little worried.
“I think he’s lost it,” Odelia said.
“I think you’re right,” Chase agreed. “But he still confessed.”
“I killed him! The monster is dead! The monster is dead!” Konrad screamed, pounding the walls of the room.
Uncle Alec darted a glimpse at the one-way mirror. He didn’t look at ease.