Page 29 of Their Haunted Hearts
“Nope.” Rio turned into the parking lot and turned off the engine. “I asked if he was there today and where could we find him. I didn’t want to cause him any trouble. He might be innocent and trying to make a clean start here.” He gave Rowley a long look. “You need to take all this into consideration when speaking to a suspect. Us being here and talking to him can cause problems.”
Rowley had to admit Rio had the experience. He’d made detective and had the street smarts. He’d learned to listen to his pearls of wisdom on the job. “So how do you make sure it doesn’t cause a problem?”
“I usually say we found something valuable we figure belongs to him or something generic or tongues start wagging.” Rio picked up his phone and slid from the truck.
They entered the hospital by the front doors, and the smell reminded Rowley of the morgue. People lined up at the counter waiting for a number and others moved past in wheelchairs or were being pushed on gurneys to the ER. He couldn’t feel an ounce of happiness, even though the staff had covered the front counter with cobwebs and jack-o’-lanterns, and a skeleton sat beside the desk in a chair reading a newspaper as if waiting so long to be seen they’d died. The brightly colored orange and purple bunting just seemed to make it weird, as if laughing at sadness.
Rowley bypassed the line to speak to the woman behind the counter and she directed them to the boiler room. The moment they pushed through the glass doors the overpowering odor of bleach surrounded them. They followed the signs on the walls along brightly lit hospital corridors and down a flight of stairs.
As they moved down the dim staircase the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead and flickered, distorting the view of the steps below. The intermittent bright flashes against the stark white walls disoriented Rowley and he gripped the handrail. “Maybe we should remind him to change these fluorescent tubes before someone breaks their neck falling down the stairs.”
“I’ll be looking for the elevator on the way back.” Rio headed down to another level. “This looks like the right floor. The stairs don’t go down any farther.”
Stale air filled the bottom floor as if the ventilation system wasn’t working properly. A dingy hallway stretched out before them but a sign showed them the way. They walked past medical equipment carts lined up against the wall. Most of them needed repair and had a slight covering of dust. Rowley pushed through a heavy door mounted with a sign in bold red letters that warned maintenance area—no unauthorized entry. The door opened easily and led to more stairs and into a room humming with the sound of machinery. As he moved deeper into the area, the overpowering smell of oil burned his nostrils. He spotted McCulloch tinkering with a pipe. The man wore grimy coveralls streaked with oil. As they approached, Rowley cleared his throat. “Daniel McCulloch?”
The wrench tumbled from the man’s hand as he jerked to his feet, surprise and fear etched in his expression. Tall with broad shoulders, he fit the suspect’s description. Dark hair peeked out from beneath a dirty ball cap and wide brown eyes shifted nervously. He lifted a grease-covered hand and he reached for a rag hanging from a back pocket. “You startled me. What do you want?” McCulloch looked from one to the other.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions about your visit to the Triple Z Bar on Monday night.” Rio glanced around. “You can speak freely. I figure we’re alone.”
“What’s this all about?” McCulloch frowned. “Is it breaking the law having a drink after work?”
Rowley took out his notebook and pen. “No, Mr. McCulloch, we are investigating the death of Bunny Watkins. How well did you know Ms. Watkins?”
“She died?” McCulloch’s Adam’s apple moved up and down and he tightened the grip on the rag in his hands. “The waitress, right?”
“She cleaned tables and mopped up spills. She didn’t work behind the bar.” Rio rested his hands on his belt. “But you’d know that, right?”
“I seen her around.” McCulloch’s eyes darted from Rowley to Rio. “I didn’t know her.”
Rowley glanced at his list of questions. “You were seen speaking to her at the Triple Z Bar the night she died. What did you talk about?”
“I don’t recall talking to her at all.” McCulloch shrugged in a feeble attempt to appear casual but the rag trembled in his hands.
“I’m sure if you cast your mind back to Monday evening, you would be able to remember.” Rio rested one hand on the handle of his pistol. “Do you recall if she appeared to be distressed or worried about anything during your conversation?”
“Nope.” McCulloch wiped a grimy hand down his face. “If I don’t recall speaking to her, how would I remember if she had a problem or not?”
Rowley exchanged a glance with Rio. “The customers at the bar that evening mentioned that you were there until closing. Did you leave around the same time as Bunny, and if so, did you notice who she left with?”
“No, I didn’t leave at closing. I left a short time before, and no, I didn’t see Bunny leaving the premises.” McCulloch was getting irritated and shoved the rag into his back pocket. “I’m sorry if she died, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
Running through his notes, Rowley sighed. “So, you left the bar. Did you see anyone hanging around the parking lot?”
“Only the cleaner, Sly.” McCulloch ran a hand through his hair. “He was leaning against the wall near the trash cans smoking.”
“We pulled your files.” Rio narrowed his eyes. “Can you explain why the hospital hired you despite the disciplinary actions against you at previous jobs?”
“I guess they needed a maintenance worker.” McCulloch shrugged. “That was a long time ago. Why are you concerned about that now?”
“Have you had any recent issues or warnings since you’ve been working here?” Rio pushed on. “You see we’re also following up on stolen drug incidents from a few years ago. Were you connected to those thefts in any way?”
“No and no.” McCulloch’s eyes flashed. “That was in the past when I was young and stupid. I’m good at my job and I don’t get into trouble.”
Rowley made fast notes and then looked up. “Where did you go after you left the bar? Can anyone verify your movements?”
“I went home, and no, I don’t have anyone at home to verify my movements.” McCulloch made a show of looking at his watch and sighing. “If that’s all. I have a heavy workload.”
Recalling Jenna’s question, Rowley held up a hand. “One other thing. We have CCTV footage of a man fitting your description entering the roadhouse on Sunday night around midnight. Was that you?”
