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“Did you hear or see anything surprising?”
“No.”
“Were you the only one there?”
“There were a few cars out front, but nobody I knew.”
“Not in the store either?”
“No, but I did overhear a quarrel between Todd and Elsie as I was leaving.”
“Oh.”
“I was getting a pop out of the machine. You know the old-fashioned cooler where you slide out the bottle. It’s at the entrance. I was strolling down the aisle to the counter. Elsie was perched on her stool as usual when Todd stalked through from the back. He stopped when he saw me. I paid and fled. Neither one of them like me much. The door hadn’t closed behind me completely when Todd started yelling. That’s all I know. I didn’t hear what the argument was about.”
“That’s fine. And then you went to Grandma’s house from there?”
“That’s right.”
“You mentioned earlier that you got a beer from Felton’s house.”
“Yup.”
“Anything else?” Gibson asked.
Anatoe stared into smoky eyes, his own eye twitching, and hesitated. “Someone else recognized me besides David, right?”
“Yup.”
“Yeah, it was me on the landing, but it’s not what you think. I wanted Elsie to know that I liked her sister. She wouldn’t listen to me, so I went back to the party.” He extended his palms out wide in front. “Honestly, I didn’t do any—”
“You’d already had words with Elsie earlier,” Gibson said.
“I wanted to sit with Savannah. Ask her out.” Anatoe looked fixedly at a pothole in the asphalt.
“Is it mutual?”
“No.” He rocked his head.
“So you approached Elsie repeatedly.”
“Yeah, it was stupid,” Anatoe admitted.
“But you didn’t see or hear anyone else?” Gibson pressed on.
“No.” He shuffled around. “I got to get back to work.”
Gibson glanced at the burgundy truck. Anatoe tracked his gaze, his jaw shifting upwards.
“You do good work.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
Gibson glanced at his watch as he hopped into the truck.
“What now?” Eckhart asked.
“How about another visit to Mr. Tatlow?”
“Seriously?”
“It’s all part of the puzzle. We keep plugging at it, and something will give. Trust me,” he replied.
“Anatoe sounds like a lovesick puppy.” She laughed.
The engine sang as Eckhart cruised up Niagara Street, down Lakeshore and over the canal to Lawsons Lane. She pulled the Expedition into Mr. Tatlow’s gravelled driveway.
“It looks deserted.”
“We can only try,” Gibson said. He rang the bell, waited, rang again. “We’re out of luck. Rats.” He scanned the yard and saw some broken branches in the underbrush on the water side. “Do you think that leads to the beach? It must. Let’s check it out.”
Gibson pushed aside a limb, exposing a well-maintained path. He hiked to the top of the dune with Eckhart stumbling up behind him. The sun shone on the lake below, an expanse of blue with clouds reflecting on the sparkling water. They scuttled to the bottom and spilled out onto the shore, looking down on the spot where Elsie had been murdered.
“My-oh-my, does this mean anything?”
Eckhart shrugged.
“Mr. Tatlow’s name has come up a few times now.” Gibson wondered if the man’s tragic tale had affected his judgement. He had been unduly fixated on Eckhart the past week as well. His pit-bull manner had shrivelled into a pussycat.
They sprinted up the bank.
“I say call it a day. Tomorrow could be huge.”
“Yes, the print. It will tell all,” Gibson said.
Eckhart swung into town. “Same time, same place.”
Gibson brandished his hand backwards and entered the motel. His fascination with Eckhart was ebbing, her influence on him diminishing. He wanted to boot himself in the ass, but he went to bed early instead.
Chapter 15
White clouds, a hint of grey on the fringes, bumped into each other, gathering height in the sky. Gibson leaned against the café wall, letting the sunlight that was streaming through breaks in the darkening mass warm his skin. Seagulls were specks of silver far from the lake, free spirits gliding amid the shrinking blue. Maybe a shift in weather was coming. Gibson pressed his fingers into his tired eyes. A toot sounded from across the road. A revving of an engine nearby persisted. Finally, he released his hands and scanned the street. Eckhart had parked the Expedition in front of a fire hydrant. It vibrated on the spot. Gibson jogged over.
“Sorry, I couldn’t find a space. Were you asleep standing up?”
Eckhart tapped along to a song on her steering wheel while she drove. “Frenchy called.” Her speech was giddy.
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“Well?”
Another titter. “She has everything ready to go.”
Gibson let out a sigh.
Eckhart pulled into the parking lot and rushed to the entrance. He followed closely, trotting down the corridor. Frenchy held the lab door open. “Get in here.” She hopped on her toes. “This is just so exciting.”
The DCs snuck into the room and stood in the wings.
“I got the print lifted. It was a little touch and go there for a while. But I found something that worked well,” Frenchy explained.
“What substance?” Cooper asked, his eyes alight.
“Hungarian Red.”
“Whoa, neat.”
“The solution is exceedingly responsive to blood residue. It can recover nearly invisible latent fingerprints. Just spray on the reagent and let it dry,” Frenchy continued.
The gang nodded in amazement.
“Raising the print was the risky part. I applied a gelatin lifter and drew a superb copy. Sorry it took so long, but—”
“At least we have a print to work with now. Could have all gone wrong if we’d rushed it,” Gibson reassured her. “It’s the only evidence we have.”
“Our techie is ready too. Don’t need Toronto now. Isn’t that great?”
They stood in a huddle over the computer, waiting. The whirling of the hard drive was almost a purr as it spun. Gibson could feel the warmth coming off the fan. The monitor went black, and then words scrolled across the screen.
‘No Match.’
“What?” Eckhart exclaimed. “That can’t be. Run it again.” She tugged at her locks, pushing bangs from her face. “Shit. Is it even running properly?” She shot an accusatory glare at the technician.
He hoisted his palms in defense. “It’s working. There’s no match.” His voice was unsteady. He cleared his throat. “I could repeat it.”
“Do it!” Eckhart demanded.
He punched in a round of numbers and stood upright. Gibson drew a step backward, cautiously observing the drama. The ramifications were shattering for Eckhart’s theory. No fingerprint match with Gregory, no case. The DCs remained quiet, not wishing to further aggravate their boss. She was leaning into the screen, tapping on the plastic case with her long nails. Gibson could sense the vibrations emanating from her overheated body. The flush on her face had kicked up to a rouge colour. The techie bit at his fingers, willing the print to show itself. The whirring stopped. The monitor went black. The scrolling drifted across.
