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“Mr. Walters,” Ella said as she sat down. Ripley lodged herself beside her. “We’ve got a few questions for you.”
Arthur ran his shackled hands over his bald head, as though pushing back imaginary hair. “And I got some questions for you, too.”
Ella planted her documents on the table. “Go ahead.”
The interviewee went to speak, then stopped. Ella suspected he had so much venom ready to spit that it had all congealed into a thick, inexpressible block. “How did you find me?” he asked, finally.
“You can’t hide from a sniffer dog,” Ripley said.
“What?”
“Tell ’em, Dark.”
Ella said, “We traced you to that motel. Which brings me to my first question: why did you relinquish all your earthly wares? House and car sold, haven’t been seen at your nursing home for months.”
Arthur bit his lip and sighed. “Not my choice. I had to.”
“Had to?”
“The wife. The ball and chain. She was about to take me to the cleaners. Better to hand her everything she wants than go through the court system again. If I did that, they’d rinse me for everything. At least this way I got out withsomething.”
“And that’s what?” Ripley asked.
“I got some money to spare. I got a place to stay. Everything else, gone.”
Ella couldn’t dig deep enough to find sympathy. “Who’d have thought that abusing your staff and residents would have consequences?”
Arthur’s expression scrunched into a ball. Ella had hit a nerve.
“Abuse? Ridiculous. It was consensual, but as soon as these girls think they could make a buck they go running to the cops. They twisted it, made me look like the bad guy. Law says I’m innocent, doesn’t it?”
Ella nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“But I still got taken for a ride. Those snakes made a fortune off me.” Arthur trailed off, his face a combination of rage and frustration.
Ripley slapped Ella on the arm. “Look at that, Dark. That face when no one understands the pain of having to sell your gated mansion.”
Arthur slammed his palms down. “Enough. Now tell me what you want with me. I went through the court system, narrowly avoided prison. I refuse to do all that again because another gold digger’s come out of the woodwork.”
Ella decided to cut to the chase. “Katherine Parkinson. Know her?”
“No.”
She pulled out a photo of Katherine’s body lying on her apartment floor. She slid it over to the suspect. “How about now?”
Arthur leaned closer, squinting at the glossy photograph. Ella watched his non-verbals, scouting for any sign of familiarity. She doubted she’d find any traces of guilt or remorse on this guy.
“I don’t know. I can’t see her face.” Arthur snickered at his own joke. Ella had to grip the table to keep her emotions in check, but she lost her battle of wills.
“Laugh one more time and I’ll crack your skull again,” she said. “Recognize this scene? This room? Maybe you recognize the trail of blood from her stomach?”
Arthur launched back in his chair. His hands shot up in defiance. “Are you trying to say I did this? You think I killed this woman?”
Ripley said, “She was your biggest vocal opponent and you went into hiding around the time she got murdered, so you tell us.”
“I’ve never heard of this woman, and I didn’t go intohiding.I went to the only place I could.”
Ella didn’t buy it. Arthur Walters was a man who, in his eyes, could do no wrong. Everything was someone else’s fault. He could give but he couldn’t take. She picked up the next photo, this time of Vanessa May lying dead on her bed.
