“Well, yes,” Ackerley said, his brow furrowed. “But it was pretty obvious to anyone who knew her. She got more wrapped up in the artists than she was in her husband. Poor Pete.”
Reid looked at Ackerley’s troubled expression. Whether Pete was the killer or not, he was a manipulator. Guys like him wanted the world to feel sorry for them.
“Thanks for your time,” Reid said, handing him his card. “If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to call. And please text me that photo.”
“Yeah,” Ackerley said. He started the car. The engine gave a throaty roar as he pulled out of the parking lot. Within twenty seconds, Reid’s phone buzzed: Ackerley had texted the photo.
Reid drove up the I-95 entrance ramp, merging onto the highway and hitting normal summer-in-Southeastern-Connecticut traffic. As soon as he could, he sped up to eighty miles per hour and headed toward his office to meet Pete. He knew a lot more about him than he had at their first encounter, on the dock in Menemsha. He wasn’t sure what it added up to, but it made him all the more interested to hear what Pete would have to say.
14
“I want to take a polygraph,” Pete said the instant Reid walked into the lobby of the Major Crime Squad’s offices in Walboro. He was wearing pressed khaki pants and, as always, a long-sleeved shirt. He looked perpetually suntanned and windblown.
“You do?” Reid asked, surprised by the statement.
“Yes, absolutely,” Pete said. “Put this to rest so you can start looking for the person who really killed Beth.”
“Why don’t we go in here and talk about it,” Reid said, gesturing for Pete to follow him down the wide corridor, into an interview room.
Pete took a seat at the table. Reid told him to wait there, then walked into the control room next door to make sure the camera and microphone were turned on. Then he went to his office, picked up the accordion file in which he kept his case notes. He glanced into Miano’s office. She wasn’t in there, so he texted her:
Lathrop’s here for his interview. You coming?
Still at the ME’s. Talk later.
OK
She had told him she planned to stop by the medical examiner’s lab in Meriden because she wanted to push the coroner, Dr. Humberto Garcia, to speed up the autopsy, especially the DNA results.
Reid grabbed a notebook and two bottles of water. When he returned to the interrogation room, Pete was sitting very still, exactly as when he’d left, looking unperturbed. Reid always left suspects alone in here for a while before starting the interview. They almost invariably got nervous; it wasn’t unusual to return and find someone in a cold sweat, or pacing the floor, or asking to use the bathroom. But Pete seemed as comfortable as a man sitting on his own back deck in a summer breeze.
“Pete, before we start, I want to establish that you are here voluntarily, and you are not under arrest. You’re free to leave at any time,” Reid said, sitting across the table from him.
“Thank you,” Pete said.
Reid handed him a bottle of water. Pete didn’t open it. He let it sit on the table in front of him.
“So, Pete. Even though you’re not under arrest, I’m going to read you your rights. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay, then. Are you comfortable? Do you want anything besides water to drink? A Coke?”
“Now you’re being nice to me?” Pete asked. “What happened to ‘I know you killed your wife’?”
“Did you kill her?” Reid asked.
“No, I definitely did not. And I sincerely hope you will schedule that polygraph right away, so you can get on with therightkind of investigation.”
Reid took note: the first twolywords. He’d found that suspects who turned out to be guilty tended to use adverbs, thinking they were being more convincing. He also noticed the way Pete emphasized “therightkind of investigation,” marking his territory as a genius and the smartest person in the room. Reid would use that.
“Yes, I will contact our polygraph examiner, and we will get you in right away.”
“Today?”
“It might take a little longer.”
“Well, I am tempted not to waste either of our time by answering questions twice,” Pete said. He opened the bottle of water but didn’t drink from it.
