Page 28 of Girl, Fractured

‘Just like Frank.’

Ramsey reached for his walking cane but remained seated.He looked upward at nothing.‘Me and Frank were talking about that case last time we met.’

‘I know.He wrote about it in his notes.You were there, yes?At the original scene?’

‘Yes.Frank was first on the scene, then he called for a second set of eyes.Unfortunately, that was me.’Ramsey paused, hopefully unaware of his pun.‘I’ll never forget that day.’

‘Neither did Frank.His notes suggest he’d been obsessed with the Marlowe case for decades.Do you remember what you discussed with him?’

Ramsey’s fingers performed an anxious ballet across the handle of his cane.He tapped, circled and squeezed like he was sending distress signals in Morse code.

‘Obsessed is right.Frank would always circle back to the Marlowe case when we met up.He’d throw theories at me, and they’d change every time.Sometimes it was the boyfriend nobody knew about.Sometimes it was a real estate deal gone bad.Once it was the neighbor’s gardener who’d been watching Jennifer through the windows.’

‘And you don’t believe any of them?’

‘No.All garbage.’

‘So you don’t share Frank’s obsession with this case?’

Ramsey produced a sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t been so brittle.‘I did my years worrying about homicide.Now I couldn’t care less.I just told Frank the truth in the end: sorry, but I don’t remember, and if he didn’t stop, he was bound for the funny farm.’

‘Frank didn’t like this, I assume?’

‘No.I could see him getting frustrated, but he would go on about entry angles, autopsy reports, the position of the God damn coffee table.Things that no one should remember after fifty years.Any cop with a lick of sense retires and takes the pension, but Frank couldn’t quite close the Marlowe box.’

‘Yet you kept meeting with him and discussing the case,’ Ella said.

‘I kept meeting with Frank because he was my friend, and friends humor each other’s madness.’Ramsey’s fingers stilled suddenly on the cane.‘And maybe...maybe I felt a little responsible.For not seeing what he saw back then.For letting him carry it alone all these years.’

Ella quickly peered over at Ripley, who’d been silent this whole time.Ella had expected her to explode in a barrage of questions, but she seemed content to lean against the wall and simply observe.

‘Do you have any theories of your own?’Ella asked Ramsey.

‘Theories?About Jennifer Marlowe’s killer?’

‘Yes.’

‘Theories are driven by evidence, and we had none.No fingerprints.DNA testing didn’t arrive for another ten years.The case was stone cold within a year.The only killers behind bars are the ones who screwed up, and whoever killed Jennifer Marlowe didn’t screw up.’

Ella didn’t necessarily agree with Ramsey’s assessment, but she had to remind herself that he’d been off the beat for nearly 25 years.Things had changed since his day.

‘You had no suspects?’

‘No.But why does it matter?How will any of this find out who killed Frank?’

‘Because the stones-in-eyes element of the crime isn’t widely known.Hell, this case is as obscure as it gets.Whoever did this knows this case inside out.’

‘Well, you can blame Frank for that.He talked.’

‘Who to?’

‘Anyone who’d listen.’

‘Anyone in particular?’

Ramsey didn’t exhibit the typical reactions someone did when they racked the depths of their brains.He just stared a hole in whatever was in front of him.‘Webb,’ he said.

‘Who’s Webb?’

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