CHAPTER SIX

Haddie pulled around a black Land Rover and parked her Fat Boy on the cracked concrete of the drive that extended down the side of Mel’s apartment building. Actually, just a large, two-story house in a residential neighborhood between downtown and West Eugene. Three kids were screaming in a neighboring yard on the other side of a small white garage.

Sarah, Mark Colman’s wife, had been burned to death last night in her home in Cal Young. Haddie had heard something about a fire, but the DA had just informed them of the details this afternoon while she was researching. Andrea had not been pleased.

Haddie pulled at her suit jacket trying to get rid of some of the wrinkles and smoothed her hair from the ride. She had statements for Mel to sign. The woman had been unable to make it back to the office, so Andrea had done an interview over the phone.

Someone barbecued nearby; it smelled delicious and her mouth watered. Haddie hadn’t had more than a taco after class. This late in September, the night cooled as the sun dropped. A fragrant cedar between houses still showed green. A tan blanket of dying grass crunched under her boots. An ugly orange chair sat on the too small landing beside a blue framed door. Window panes allowed a glimpse of a dimly lit hall inside, stretching to the back with a door on each side of the wood paneled walls.

A row of doorbells ran down a panel of penciled-in names behind yellowed plastic.

Haddie found Mel’s name and pressed the buzzer, watching down the hall through the smudged window panes. It took three times before the righthand door opened and Mel walked down the hall. She wore an oversized navy sweatshirt with a white logo of beer mug. It hung short over bare legs. She opened the door and greeted Haddie with a frazzled ball of blonde hair, red eyes, and a sniffle before turning back toward her open apartment.

Haddie followed, the wooden floor creaking underfoot. “Sorry to come so late.”

Mel’s dimly lit apartment had off-white walls and a large wood floor that needed a fresh coat of seal, and maybe some sanding. A brown sofa blocked three curtained windows and held a colorful quilt balled up against a black pillow with a sweeping insignia, perhaps a rune. A worn wooden coffee table had a thick paperback and an empty purple mug.

Compared to the mess Haddie lived in, the apartment looked abandoned. “I’ve got a couple documents for you to sign; I’m sure Andrea explained.”

Mel choked. “Who is doing this?”

The murders? Good question. The woman looked ready to collapse. She’d given up, her life falling apart. Earlier, she’d mentioned not showing up for her work. Haddie didn’t answer, though it seemed the only question that mattered at the moment. She and Andrea looked for an alternative to offer the jury, but the police had stopped. They had their easy target. An emotional lover, admitting to their fight the night of Mark Colman’s murder, fresh fingerprints on his car door, and no verifiable alibi.

Haddie stood with papers in hand feeling awkward. “Do you have a table?”

Tears dripping down her face, Mel pointed to the coffee table, but made no move toward it or the couch.

Obliging, Haddie placed the papers down and fished a pen out of her jacket. “Just read through, initial the bottom, and sign at the end. These are based on your phone call with Andrea today.”

Mel just stood there staring at the coffee table. The woman had to be chilly. “I feel like this is my fault,” she finally said.

Haddie blinked and tilted her head. “Probably not a comment you want to make to anyone.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve read through your statement. You’ve done nothing wrong. The police haven’t contacted you today?”

Mel shook her head, strands of blonde hair sticking to her cheek.

“Have you been answering your phone?” It had taken Toby a dozen or more calls to get Mel to answer.

Turning, Mel walked through an archway into a separate area where a thin kitchen cut off the end of an empty space that should have been a dining room. As the woman turned the corner, presumably to get her phone, a buzzer rang over the door to the hall.

Haddie frowned as she stepped to the apartment door, peeking down the hall through the window panes of the outer door. An officer, a detective, waited on the landing wearing a black shirt and tie with a seven-pointed star pinned over his left breast. He had light brown skin with a well-trimmed mustache and a scowl. Heavy eyebrows narrowed even further as he spotted her. Her heart started to pound. She stepped back out of sight as he motioned to her.

The buzzer rang again.

Striding into the dining room, Haddie turned at the corner of a hall where a bedroom door lay open. “The police are here. You’ll want to call Andrea.” A pink nightstand had a pile of tissues reaching up to the bottom of a pleated white lampshade; the basket beside it brimmed as well. This was no murderer, certainly not a double-murderer. “Do you want me to answer the door?” She took a deep breath. How would Andrea want her to handle this?

Mel stepped into the bedroom doorway, hands shaking but holding a purple phone. She cringed as the detective pounded on the door. Looking down, she shook her head, then nodded slowly. A large tear splattered on the wood at her bare feet.

Haddie stomped across the apartment as the pounding continued. A man’s voice growled in the hall before she opened the apartment door. A wide-eyed youth, eighteen at best, stood against the wall in a pair of patterned tan boxers, letting in the police detective.

“Detective Cooper, Eugene Investigative Division. I’m here to see Mel Schaffer.” He marched down the hall, fixing his eyes on Haddie’s. “Who are you?”

The boy in the boxers slunk back to the apartment opposite, peering through the crack in the door as he slowly closed it.

“Hadhira Dawson, I work for Andrea Simmons, who is Ms. Schaffer’s counsel.” Haddie firmly blocked the doorway.

Detective Cooper stood average height and did not close the gap between them. Brown eyes studied her. “Ms. Schaffer needs to come down and answer some questions.”

They weren’t here to arrest Mel for the second murder, not yet. Haddie kept her expression non-committal and firm. “Not without her attorney present.”

The scowl seemed his permanent expression. “We planned on calling Ms. Simmons when we get to the station.”

“Lucky for you, I was here.” Inside, she cringed. Keep humor or sarcasm out of any communication with police. Even Dad had taught her that much.

His lips tightened, sending a few hairs of the mustache down over them. He still managed to keep it a scowl as he weighed the situation. He didn’t have a warrant, or he would have had that in hand and there would be a plainclothes with him.

Haddie looked through the front door panes into the night. No police lights. He’d just planned on trotting Mel out.

“We expect Ms. Simmons and Ms. Schaffer tonight.” He sighed and pulled out his card. “Have them call me.”

She took the card but said nothing.

He scowled for another moment, expecting a response before finally shaking his head and stalking away.

Haddie let out her breath, fumbling in her jacket for her phone. Andrea must have expected this to come at some point. The police would eventually arrest Mel for the second murder, perhaps even tonight, unless she had a better alibi. They had to find the actual killer.