Free Deadly Interest by Julie Hyzy Page B

year, we’re sending funeral homes to shuttle the
bodies to the morgue.”
    That surprised me. I’d been about to follow
up with another question regarding Mrs. Vicks’ autopsy, when he
interrupted my thoughts.
    “ You believe you last saw
the victim at about six-twenty-five, correct?”
    “ Yes,” I answered. The
time reference reminded me about the meeting I still had to get to
this afternoon. I sneaked a surreptitious glance at my
watch.
    Detective Lulinski caught me checking. One
wiry eyebrow raised and his lips pursed.
    “ Okay, tell me again about
the night of the murder. I’m going to transcribe it into this
report and then you’ll read it, sign it and you can be on your
way.”
    Well wasn’t he warm and fuzzy?
    “ I don’t mind being here,”
I said. “I mean, I want to do whatever I can to help find out who
did this.”
    He glanced at my wristwatch. “Uh-huh,” he
said in a flat voice. “Now, let’s start at the beginning.”
    Within a few minutes he’d taken down every
detail of my interaction with Mrs. Vicks, moment by moment. He had
me repeat some of it several times and despite the fact that I knew
I wasn’t a suspect, I felt odd about it. As though I was holding
back information. I knew better, of course, but I still felt
guilty—like not having all the answers to who killed her was my
fault. Like somehow I held the key to it all.
    Lulinski clicked the controls and sent the
file to a nearby laser printer. He got up, snatched it from the
printer and perused it as he walked back to the desk.
    “ Okay,” he said keeping
his attention on the report before him. Without making eye contact,
he handed me the document. “Here, read it over, sign it if you
agree with everything. I’ll be right back.”
    Before he’d made it out the door, he pulled
out a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and a lighter from
his pants. I watched him leave, then began verifying everything he
recorded.
    The guy was meticulous, I had to give him
that. Both with recording details and with drawing eyes, and I
wondered if that’s why he came across as taciturn as he did. Hard
to connect those attributes with friendliness, I supposed.
    Just as I finished reading, he was back.
Perfect timing. My guess is that it wasn’t coincidence.
    “ Looks fine,” I said. I
reached for a pen in the holder across his desk.
    He beat me to it, held it for a moment
before handing it over, finally making eye contact. “You’re
sure?”
    I felt the gears in my mind start to churn.
“Yeah,” I said, slowly. “I think this is pretty much word for word
what I said.”
    He sat. “Then go ahead and sign.”
    I did.
    Detective Lulinski watched me till I
finished my name with my customary flourish. “You do know that this
becomes part of the permanent record.”
    “ I assumed as
much.”
    “ You’re not going to be
able to deny any of this.”
    “ Why would I want
to?”
    “ Well,” he said, pulling a
cigarette out from the pack and fingering it for a moment before
tucking it over his ear, “I know sometimes you media types think
that you can say one thing and mean another.”
    “ What?”
    “ The night of the murder,
you came traipsing over to let me know you’d been with the decedent
earlier in the day.”
    “ That’s right.”
    “ You were pretty
forthcoming.” He shrugged, staring at me with those dark eyes. “But
not so forthcoming to let me know you worked for a television news
station.”
    “ What would that have to
do with anything?”
    He looked at me as though I were stupid.
“You just happened to have been in contact with the victim hours
before she was murdered. Murdered in a neighborhood known for being
quiet and gang-free. Sweet innocent lady gets killed, it’s big
news. And guess what? You were there.”
    “ You’re not thinking that
I had anything to do with it?” Stunned, I could hear the
indignation and disgust in my voice.
    “ No,” he said, slowly.
“But I do find it interesting that you