Page 62 of Don't Say a Word
“An oversight, but ultimately unimportant. The chances of recovery are slim to none. We added the cell phone serial number to the list of stolen items we regularly provide to pawn shops and secondhand stores. If it shows up, we’ll know.”
It wasn’t unimportant if Elijah was murdered, but I didn’t say that.
Rachel changed gears. “Lena Clark called you yesterday at 5:14 and you spoke for three minutes.”
“Yes.
“What did you speak about?”
I knew Angie had told them I planned to meet with her today, so there was no harm in sharing that information—and it might help Angie. “Lena offered to facilitate a meeting between myself and another student who had insight into Elijah’s state of mind in the days leading up to his death.”
“Why?”
“Like I said, I’m looking into his last days in order to give his mother closure. You closed the investigation and she still has questions.”
We were getting into the repetitive phase of the interview, and I was ready to send her packing.
“He died of an accidental drug overdose,” King snapped. “You can request the autopsy report. I explained it to Mrs. Martinez.” She cleared her throat, softened her tone just a bit. “It’s a tragedy, and I understand why she might find it sudden and unexpected, butI don’t know what you might be able to learn that will give her peace. Her son is still dead.”
“Sometimes,” I said, “filling in blanks helps the survivors.”
Defensively, she said, “If I had found any information about where he obtained the drugs or who he had been partying with, I would have included it in the report and forwarded the case to the Drug Enforcement Bureau for further investigation.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked bluntly.
“Because there were no leads and I couldn’t investigate indefinitely. I’m sure you know, considering your brother used to be a cop, that we’re severely understaffed. I don’t have the luxury to pursue investigations when there are no signs of foul play.”
“Sure.”
“What’s with the attitude?”
Her overreaction was unexpected and made me curious. “I don’t have an attitude.”
“I have been getting shit about this case. A cop who spoke to the student body created untold problems for me—I’ve had to field dozens of calls from school administrators, students, teachers, parents. I’ve finally had to send them to the PIO because I can’t do my job if I’m explaining over and over that an accidental drug overdose doesn’t warrant further investigation. And that’s probably why Mrs. Martinez is spending her hard-earned money on you.”
I didn’t correct her that I was working for free. I doubt she would care.
“Why do you care if a PI is trying to find out where a teenage honor student obtained drugs that resulted in his death? Whether he took them voluntarily or not, that’s a dealer on the street who’s going to sell more drugs to more kids who are going to end up dead.”
“I don’t care,” King said in a tone that belied her words. “Do whatever you want, Margo. But Lena Clark was murdered. It was after-hours, most students and faculty were gone. Her ex-husbandlives out-of-state. Her boyfriend, a colleague, found her body at 5:25—only minutes after she talked to you.”
“Have you looked at her boyfriend?”
“We are. We are looking at several people. This investigation is less than twenty-four hours old. And I don’t understand why you are so closemouthed about what you and Lena Clark talked about.”
“I told you what’s relevant.”
“I doubt that.”
I bristled. “Not my problem.”
Tess and Theo walked in laughing. Theo was carrying a box. Tess looked surprised to see the detective, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“Is there anything else?” I asked King as I stood.
“I hope you’ll make yourself available if I have follow-up questions,” she said.
I didn’t say anything because she didn’t phrase it as a question.
