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MAGGIE KENNEDY-O’KEEFE
Monday, June 15, 2020
With the binder in hand, I stare up at the elevator ceiling. Dark splatters stain the tiles. My feet are swollen and joints ache and I’m ready to go home to Shaun and the cats. My phone vibrates and I press it to my ear. It’s Peg, the receptionist.
“You better get up here,” she says tensely.
The doors open and I see a Channel Four reporter and a camera operator standing in front of Peg’s desk. “Can I help you?” I ask and they turn.
“I’m Robert Shay. We’re here for the press conference,” the young reporter says. He is young and handsome with close-cropped hair and a disarming smile complete with dimples. I predict he’ll move on from Channel Four to greener pastures and a bigger TV market within the year.
“Press conference?” I repeat.
“Regarding the Eve Knox murder case,” Robert explains earnestly. “We got a call that there was going to be an update.” The woman holding the camera lifts it to her shoulder.
“Whoa,” I say. “Don’t turn that thing on.” I’m mindful of my wrinkled shirt and messy bun. “I’m not sure where you got your information but there isn’t going to be a press conference.”
“But you are reinvestigating the Knox case, correct?” Robert asks, pulling out a small notebook.
“No comment,” I say.
The reporter isn’t giving up so easily. “We have a source who tells us that new evidence was found. Is that true?” He nods toward the binder in my arms. I move my hands to cover up Eve’s name.
I repeat the mantra. “No comment. Where’d you get your information?” I ask.
“Anonymous tip,” the camerawoman says.
“We’re running a story,” Robert adds. “Don’t you think it would be better if the police department had an official comment?”
I sigh. I really didn’t think it would make the jump from gossip to news this fast, especially since we are such a small town and don’t even have our own local paper or TV station. “Give me a second.” I step away from them and tell Peg to get Chief Digby on the phone.
Peg rings Digby’s office then hands me the phone. I fill him in. I’m hoping that he will come down and deal with the press himself but it seems he’s perfectly comfortable with me making the statement.
I pull the press release from the binder and take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get this over with,” I say and lead them to an empty conference room. “I’m just giving a statement, not answering any questions. Got it?” Both Robert and the camerawoman nod.
I tuck wayward strands of hair behind my ears and try to smooth the wrinkles from my clothes. I stand behind the podium and the camerawoman raises the camera to her shoulder and nods to let me know she’s filming.
“Twenty-five years ago, fifteen-year-old Grotto resident Eve Knox was murdered. Despite the tireless work of investigators, the case has not been solved. Yesterday, potential new evidence connected to the homicide was discovered. As a result, all the evidence is being resent to the state lab for testing. With the advancement of forensic technology, we are cautiously hopeful that we will be able to bring closure to this case and for Eve’s family. Thank you.”
“It’s been said that the new evidence is a shoe that the victim was wearing the night she was killed,” Robert says off camera. “Can you confirm this?”
“No comment,” I say.
“Have you spoken to the family? What is their reaction?”
“No comment.”
“Do you have any suspects or persons of interest at this time?”
“No comment. Thank you, that is all I have right now,” I say and step out from behind the podium and move toward the conference room door.
“Weren’t you one of the people who found Eve Knox’s body?” The reporter steps into my path and sticks his microphone in my face.
I try to keep my face impassive though I want to smack the mic out of his hand and tell him to get out of my way. Part of me also wants to tell him that the night Nola and I found Eve’s body was the worst day of my life. But more than anything I just want to get the hell out of that room. “No comment,” I manage to say with authority. When the reporter realizes that I’m not going to give him anything more, he shakes his head and the camerawoman lowers her camera.
“Will you give me a call if there’s something new to share?” Robert asks as he holds out a business card. “Anything at all?”
“Sure,” I say, plucking the card from his hand. “Thanks for stopping by,” I tell them. “You’ll be the first I contact if something comes up.” Once out of the room I rip the card in half and drop the pieces into the nearest garbage can.
As I head out of the police station to go home, I can see the headline now: FROM FINDING THE BODY TO FINDING THE KILLER: Twenty-five years later, detective hunts for clues in the slaying of best friend. I don’t want this kind of attention
