“That’s right,” said Tandy. “Now we’re up to date. So last Wednesday, Colleen has lunch with you at Smitty’s, but whatever went down wa
sn’t entirely satisfying to Colleen. She knows your schedule, when you’ll be coming home, et cetera, and last night she takes a cab and shows up at your house uninvited.”
His tone was even. No rough stuff. No threats. But Tandy was laying out his theory, that it was me, and he was setting it in concrete.
I said, “You’ve got a good imagination, Mitch. But Colleen had a boyfriend in Dublin. She wasn’t stalking me.”
“Not saying she was stalking. She wanted to talk. She knew when you’d be home. She uses her access code and waits for you. You walk in. She says, ‘Surprise, I still love you, Jack. I’ll always love you.’”
“Tandy, you’re making me sick, you know that? Nothing like that happened. Colleen and I were friends. Just friends.”
“You were tired when she showed up. That’s what you told us. That long flight, all those layovers. You’re not in the mood for the needy ex-girlfriend, but maybe you try to be a gentleman.”
Ziegler was on his feet, knife in his back pocket now, moving around toward my desk. I got up, went over to my desk, shut down my computer, and said over my shoulder to Tandy, “Nothing you’ve said is true.”
“It’s just talk,” Tandy said pleasantly. “Just talk. When I’ve finished telling you my theory, you can tell me yours.”
CHAPTER 19
TANDY ENJOYED SPINNING his “Jack Morgan did it” storyline. He sat there on my couch, smelling like curry, moving his hands around as he got to the crux of his “theory.”
“So now the girl is crying, I don’t know, or maybe she’s giddy. Was that it? Was she all lit up? Manic?
“At any rate, Colleen is worked up. And here’s where it gets painful,” Tandy said. “You say you’re not interested in her anymore. ‘Thanks but no thanks. Let’s be friends.’ And she doesn’t want to be rejected by you again. So she’s going to kill herself. That’ll show you.”
What Tandy was saying hurt. Yes, Colleen still had feelings for me. I’d still had feelings for her too.
I said, “Very theatrical, Tandy, but as I keep telling you, I didn’t do it.”
“So, as I’m telling you, Colleen knows where you keep your gun. She goes for it. You struggle with her. The two of you fall on the bed—and the gun goes off. Hair trigger. Bam. Bam. Bam. She takes it in the chest.”
“That never happened.”
“Colleen has been shot. It was an accident. I know you well enough to say that, Jack. But you can’t change the events. And now this poor mixed-up girl is dead in your place. Sure, you could dump the body, but you gotta ask yourself. Maybe Colleen told a friend she was coming to see you; you can’t know. Or maybe you’re scared. You panic. You lose it—”
“Ziegler, stay away from my desk.”
“What’s wrong, Jack? Is there something here I’m not supposed to see?”
Ziegler meandered over to where I was sitting with Tandy. I imagined putting my fist into his jack-o’-lantern grin.
“If I’ve got this wrong, make me a believer and I’ll work with you,” said Tandy.
So polite. Covering his ass because the chief of police and I were friends.
I said, “My turn to talk?”
“You’re on,” Tandy said.
“Okay. You’ve got to look at me for the crime. I get that. But you’re wasting time. I’ve been set up. Someone doesn’t like me. He kidnapped Colleen, got her to give up her key fob, and used her print to open the door. He brought her into my house and shot her in my bed.
“The shooter left before I got home. He figured that the cops wouldn’t look very hard at anyone but me. That was his plan.”
Tandy smiled. “But here’s where your story goes off road, Jack. There’s a gap in your timeline. You left the airport at five-thirty-something. Hit some traffic. You arrived home at six-thirty. So you say.
“At eight you call the chief. Time passes as Fescoe calls the precinct and the call goes down the line. By the time Ziegler and I arrive, almost two hours have gone by since you walked in your door.
“You had plenty of time to shoot the girl, get rid of your gun, throw it and your security system hard drive into the ocean. Then you shower, shampoo—hell, you could have had your guys come in and do a professional cleanup, like it never even happened.”