They had had to wait for a few hours while the paperwork was drawn up to bring Richards in after she angrily refused to voluntarily comply with their request. And the fuming woman had apparently taken her time getting ready while the uniforms impatiently waited.
Thus it was now nearly five in the morning.
Lancaster looked ready to fall asleep.
Decker looked ready to question the woman for the next ten years.
The interrogation room’s cinderblock walls were still painted mustard yellow. Decker had never known why, other than maybe that was the color of some old paint the custodians had found somewhere in the basement. Leaving the cinder blocks their original gray would have been nicer, he thought. But maybe no one wanted “nicer” in an interrogation room.
Richards had been forty-two when her family was wiped out. She was in her midfifties now. She had aged remarkably well, Decker thought. He remembered her as tall, but plump and mousy-looking, her light brown hair hanging limply around her face.
Now she was much thinner, and her hair was cut in a chic manner, with the tresses grazing her shoulder. She had colored her hair and blonde highlights predominated. Her mousy personality had been replaced by an assertive manner that had made itself known with her outburst the moment the two detectives walked into the room.
Richards looked from Lancaster to Decker as they sat down across from her. “Wait a minute, you’re the two from that night. I recognize you now. You know what he did.” She sat forward, her sharp elbows pressed against the tabletop. Her face full of fury, she snapped, “You know what that bastard did.”
Lancaster said calmly, “Which is why, when he was found dead, we thought we needed to talk to you. So that you could tell us where you were between around eleven and midnight.”
“Where in the hell do you think I was at that hour? I was in my bed asleep.”
“Can anyone verify that?” asked Decker.
“I live alone. I never remarried. That’s what having your family wiped out will do to you!” she added fiercely.
“What time did you get home last night?” asked Decker.
Richards took a moment to compose herself and sat back. “I got off work at six. Three days a week, I volunteer at the homeless shelter on Dawson Square. I was there until around eight last night. There are people who can vouch for me.”
“And after that?” said Lancaster.
Richards sat back and spread her hands. “I drove home, cooked some dinner.”
“What’d you have?” asked Lancaster.
“Oh, the usual. Smoked salmon on crusty bread with cream cheese and capers to warm up my appetite, then a Waldorf salad, some linguine with fresh clams, and a nice little tiramisu for dessert. And I paired that with a wonderful glass of my favorite chilled Prosecco.”
“Seriously?” said Lancaster.
Richards made a face. “Of course not. I made a tuna sandwich with a pickle and some corn chips. And I skipped the Prosecco and had iced tea instead.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I ordered something from Bed, Bath & Beyond online. You can probably check that. Then I watched some TV.”
“What program?” asked Decker.
“I was streaming. Outlander. I’m really getting into it. Season two. Jamie and Claire in France.”
“What was the episode about?”
“Lots of political skullduggery. And some pretty intense sex.” She added sarcastically, “Want me to describe it in graphic detail for you?”
“And then?” said Decker.
“I finished watching that. Then I took a shower and called it a night. I woke up when the police knocked on my door. Pounded, more precisely,” she added, frowning.
“You drive a dark green Honda Civic?” said Lancaster.
“Yes. It’s the only car I have.”
“And you live on Primrose, on the north side?”
“Yes. I have for about five years now.”
“You have neighbors?”
“On both sides of me and across the street.” She sat up. “One of them might be able to tell you that I was home last night. Or at least that I didn’t leave once I got there.”
“We’ll check that out,” said Lancaster. “Did you know Meryl Hawkins was back in town?”
“I had no idea. What, do you think he’d knock on my door and ask for a handout? I thought he was in prison for life. And I still don’t know why he wasn’t.”
“He was terminal with cancer, so they cut him loose.”
“Well, that seems shitty,” said Richards. “Don’t get me wrong, I hated the asshole. But they just kicked him to the curb because he was dying?”
“Apparently so. And he never tried to contact you?”
“Never. If he had, I might have tried to kill him. But he didn’t and so I didn’t.”
Decker said, “You opened a florist shop, didn’t you? With the proceeds from your husband’s insurance policy? I remember seeing it. Over on Ash Place?”
She eyed him warily. “I buried my family with a chunk of the insurance money. And then I went on living. I’m not sure how.”
“And the florist shop?” persisted Decker.
“There wasn’t that much left after the funeral expenses. But, yes, I opened a florist shop. I’ve always loved gardening and flowers. It did okay. Provided a decent living. Even did some holiday events for the police department. I sold it a few years back. Now I run the place for the new owners. When my Social Security kicks in, I’m going to retire and just work on my own garden.”
Lancaster looked at Decker. “Anything else?”
He shook his head.
“How was he killed?” asked Richards.
“We’re holding that back for now,” said Lancaster.
“Am I free to go?”
“Yes.”
She rose and looked at the pair. “I didn’t kill him,” she said quietly. “Years ago, I probably would have, no problem. But I guess time does help to heal you.”
She walked out.
Lancaster looked at him. “You believe her?”
“I don’t disbelieve her.”
“There were no usable prints or other trace in Hawkins’s room.”
“I didn’t expect there would be.”
“So what now?”
“We do what we always did. We keep digging.”
Lancaster checked her watch. “Well, right now I’ve got to get home and get some sleep or I’m going to keel over. I’ll give you a call later. You should get some sleep too.”
He rose and followed her out of the room.
Outside, Lancaster said, “I can drop you off where you’re staying.”
“I’d rather walk, thanks. It’s not that far.”
She smiled. “Nice to be working with you again.”
“You might not think that much longer.”
“I’ve gotten used to your ways.”
“So you say.”
He turned and walked off into the breaking dawn.
Chapter 6
A GENTLE RAIN KICKED IN as Decker trudged along the pavement.
It felt very odd to once more be investigating a crime in his hometown. The last time had involved the murder of his family. This one was different, but it still affected Decker personally.