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The gap between the door and the frame grew a little wider as the suspect came into view. He was short and dainty, dressed in a brown shirt and suit trousers. His eyes looked red raw and his forehead glimmered with a line of sweat. The man had wrinkles for days, but according to his record, he was only forty years old. Ella thought maybe they’d caught him in the act, but when she spotted the crust around his nose, she had a sudden spark of insight.
“FBI?” he asked, no hint of a Japanese accent but his ancestry was evident in his features. “What are you doing in my house?”
“We’re not in your house, we’re at your door,” Ripley snapped. “But we’d like to come in if that’s alright with you.”
“Absolutely not. You can’t just come in here. What do you want?” He began to retreat but then thought better of it.
Ella said, “Mr. Takahashi, we’re investigating a series of homicides and we believe you were close with at least one of the victims.” Ella left it at that. Always keep the details minimal and let the interviewee potentially incriminate themselves later. That was the number one rule.
“Homicides? You mean Joanne?”
There it was. “So you know,” said Ella.
“Of course. She was one of our employees. The police told us yesterday.”
“You knew her well?” Ripley asked.
Hiromu shifted his weight forward. “Not as well as you’re implying. What are you trying to say?”
“Nothing. We’re just asking questions.”
Ellastudiedthe suspectcarefully, examining his body language, his tone of voice, his potential capacity for murder. It wasn’t rare for persons of interest to lash out upon questioning, but discerning the reasons why was a different story. Some suspects faked outrage in a desperate attempt to appear slighted, others did it out genuine anger at the privacy violation. Others did it because they were trying to hide something. She didn’t have enough intel on Hiromu Takahashi to make an educated guess yet.
“We’re just wondering about your connection to her,” Ella said, hoping Hiromu might take the bait.
“My connection? We didn’t have one.”
The first lie. Perhaps the first of many.
“Really? Well, someone told us you and her were dating.”
Hiromu scratched his hands and smirked away the accusation. “Well, your source is wrong. Now please leave me alone.” The suspect gripped the door, but Ella’s firm hand kept it from shutting. She caught a close-up of his knuckles, scratched and blotchy with a few deep red sores. Instantly, the pieces of the puzzle slotted into place like a key unlocking a hidden door. Rage began to build, because nothing frustrated her more than cowardly murderers who tried to deny all accusations. All serial killers were bottom-of-the-barrel scum, but there was a special circle of hell for the ones who maintained their innocence in spite of hard evidence.
“Mr. Takahashi, please don’t make this difficult. We already know.”
Fury burned his face. His jaw clenched as he reined in his heavy breathing. “You don’t know anything. I’m not going to tell you again. Leave me alone or I’ll report you for harassment. I could sue you.”
Ella’s anger overflowed into her fists. Hiromu had pulled out the magic combination that always sent her into a rage-fueled frenzy: denial and threats of legal action. If she didn’t go verbally nuclear, she’d run the risk of punching him square in the jaw. “Joanne was a drug addict, and judging by those sores and your incessant scratching, you are too. I’m guessing we’ve caught you in the middle of a session, which is why you’re so desperate to get rid of us, but I’ll tell you now that we’re not going anywhere, and I’ll happily drag you out here by your skull if I have to.”
Hiromuhalted, coming to an abrupt standstill. His expression melted from fury to unease as Ripley stepped closer and put her hand on Ella’s shoulder. “Dark, take a moment,” she said. “Mr. Takahashi, we know about your relationship with Joanne, and we understand you rent a unit at Securicall Storage, is that correct?”
The suspect nodded, then opened the door and stepped out into the cold. He sidestepped away from Ella to face his questioner head on. “Relationship isn’t the right word. And yes I do own a unit there. Why?”
Ella stepped back, realized she’d overstepped a boundary. She’d gone in all guns blazing and shot herself in the foot.
Ripley said, “Securicall Storage was the site of a second homicide. Four units away from yours.”
Hiromu glanced between the agents and said, “And why are you asking me about it?”
“Because we thought you might be familiar with both of our victims. You knew Joanne, you rented a unit by David’s. It’s not a stretch to think you might have seen him around. Care to add anything?”
“I knew Joanne. That was all.” Hiromu turned to Ella, “And we were recovering together actually. Not doing drugs. I don’t expect the person mentioned that little tidbit, did they?”
“Recovering?” Ella asked. The man’s sores and blemished skin said otherwise, and he had a good reason to lie being in front of FBI agents and all.
“Yes. A hundred days for me. Joanne… different story. She couldn’t escape. Relapse after relapse. There was no helping that woman.”
“You saw her recently?” asked Ripley.
