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David sighed. “It doesn’t paint a pretty picture, ma’am.”
She waved him off. “I’ve lived a long time, Detective Klein. I’ve seen plenty of ugliness. Don’t mince words for my sake.”
David looked to Cassie, and she gave him a reassuring smile. When he turned back to the older couple, his face was stoic. “We have powerful evidence supporting the idea that Robert Shapiro killed at least twelve people over the course of several years back in the nineties.”
Margery gasped but quickly recovered. “You’re right, that sure isn’t a pretty picture.” She hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, ma’am. We’ve found an abundance of evidence, and while trying to solve his murder, we’d like to put together the final pieces of what happened twenty years ago. We have yet to discover the bodies of several of his victims, and we think he could’ve buried them on some plot of land kept away from the public eye.”
“I don’t know of any land he might’ve owned,” Henry started, “but his sister-in-law might?”
“Sister-in-law?”
Margery nodded. “Her name is Tamara Partridge. She came around a lot in the beginning, right after her sister died. I think maybe she thought Robert would be a comfort. Or that she could be a comfort to him. But he quickly put an end to that. Didn’t want to see her. She and Susanna looked similar, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know that.” David tapped his pen against his notebook. “Do you know where she lives?”
“Yes, I can give you her address.” Margery walked across the room and pulled open a drawer full of notebooks. “I send her flowers every year on her birthday. We talk every so often. She and her husband have always been kind to us, and I think they like talking about Susanna. We knew her, briefly, and it seems to help when we share what we remember.”
“That would be a big help, ma’am, thank you.”
Margery scribbled the address down on a piece of paper and handed it to David. She had a faraway look on her face. “You think you know someone.”
David placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “People have a way of surprising us, even from beyond the grave.”
Cassie couldn’t help the smirk that found its way to her lips. Story of her life.
24
David and Cassie found their way to the front door of Mrs. Tamara Partridge’s townhouse. It was a modest home in a pleasant neighborhood right outside Savannah. Close enough to downtown that it wasn’t an awful trip, but far enough away to enjoy suburban life. The smell of seared steak and apple pie snuck through a cracked window and enveloped the porch. David’s stomach audibly growled.
“I hate to call on people around suppertime.” He patted his belly.
Cassie patted David’s arm. “I love that you’re more concerned about when we’re dropping by than why we’re dropping by.”
“I just don’t want to be rude.”
She glanced at his midsection. “Just ask for a bite. You know you want to.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Cassie giggled. “I know.”
When David knocked, a woman in her early sixties answered the door. She had long gray hair pulled back in a half ponytail, and she wore dark slacks and a cream-colored blouse. She looked like she’d just returned home from work.
“Hello, Mrs. Partridge?” David said.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“My name is Detective David Klein.” He gestured to Cassie. “My associate, Cassie Quinn.”
“Detective?” She looked past them as though searching for a crime scene. “Is something wrong?”
“That depends on how you look at it, ma’am. May we come inside?”
“Sure, but I’m right in the middle of making dinner, if you don’t mind?”
“No, no, of course not. I’m sorry we didn’t stop by sooner.” He shot Cassie a look that screamed told you so. “We’ll try to be out of your hair quickly.”
