Page 30 of Girl, Deceived

Mark's gaze flitted around, never settling on one place for too long. His fingers drummed on the table, not nervousness but confidence. Ella had sat across from plenty of suspects in her time: some defiant, some broken, some trying to play it cool. But Mark was a new level of nonchalance, complete indifference in the face of murder accusations.

Ella observed his reactions closely. She had her doubts about his guilt, but evidence was evidence, and he had connections to both of the victims. Not to mention, his horror obsession gelled well with the killer’s M.O.

‘Kathleen Carter,’ Ella said. ‘You knew her?’

Mark shrugged. ‘We had a brief love affair about a year ago. Nothing more.’

‘A brief love affair? You were her emergency contact for her employer.’

‘I guess she was more into me than I was her.’

‘You don’t seem too shaken up about her death.’

‘I barely knew her. Life goes on.’

Ella clenched her jaw, holding back the urge to snap. The man's cold indifference made her skin crawl, but she knew she had to remain composed. ‘Seen Kathleen recently?’

‘No. Not in months.’

‘What about Jessica Owen?’

‘Who?’

‘You oughta know,’ Ella said, ‘you’re pals on social media.’

A flicker of recognition on Mark’s face. Ella couldn’t tell if it was fake or genuine. ‘Oh, Jessica. I went to school with her like ten years ago. Haven’t spoken to her… ever, I think.’

Ripley leaned forward, her voice icy. ‘It's interesting, Mr. Brewer. For someone with such strong connections to both victims, you seem to be remarkably coy. And both of them murdered, just days apart?’

Mark's public defender chimed in, ‘Detective, I hope you're not suggesting guilt by association. It's weak, especially for feds.’

Ella raised her hand, signaling Ripley to hold back. ‘We're not jumping to conclusions, but we do need to understand the links. Given the unusual circumstances, wouldn't you agree?’

Mark leaned back, a hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘What unusual circumstances? Old flames and forgotten schoolmates die every day. It's a sad world.’

‘Not by people fixated on horror movies – as you are.’

Mark threw his hands up and collapsed back in his seat. ‘So what? I like them. Lots of people do. But I’m not about to go around cutting people up just because it happens in some film. I know the difference between fiction and the real world, thanks.’

Ripley said, ‘Says the man who plays a clown for a living.’

‘And? It’s a job. Not easy to make a living in LA, you know?’

Ella tried a different route. ‘Maybe these murders will bring some attention to your little show. Finance is a big motivator.’ It was a lie, however, because serial killers rarely killed for monetary gain. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, financially-motivated offenders were women.

‘You think I want this attention?’ Mark cried. ‘I have a reputation, gigs, connections. I’m going to risk life in jail for that.’

Mark’s public defender leaned in and patted his arm reassuringly. ‘Alright, I’ve heard enough. Go on, Mr. Brewer, tell them where you were the past two evenings.’

Taking a deep breath, Mark started recounting his alibi. ‘Two nights ago, I was at my sister's. She lives in Westwood. She'd called me over because her son, my nephew, had a fever. I stayed overnight.’

‘And last night?’ Ripley pressed.

‘I was at work until three AM. Everyone saw me. Staff, owners, customers.’

‘We’ll need their names,’ Ripley said.

Mark’s defendant jumped in. ‘I’ve already put a list together, contacted all the necessary people. It’s done. Until you verify his alibi, I insist he remains a free man.’

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