Free Stiff Penalty (A Mattie Winston Mystery) by Annelise Ryan Page B

but they got nothing. They told Junior that it had to have been deactivated.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Meaning that either someone took the battery out of it, or they destroyed the phone.”
    “That’s strange.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “You can still get his call records, though, right?”
    Richmond nodded. “Junior’s working on getting them now. We’ll have to wait until Monday to get the financials. In the meantime, I suppose we should go talk to the Ames family. You ready?”
    “I am. Sorry if I kept you waiting.”
    He took the papers he was working on and tossed them atop a huge pile of folders. “I kept myself busy. That’s one thing about this job that never changes. There’s always paperwork to be done.” He stood, pushed his chair back into place, and said, “And the officers kept the Ames family busy getting fingerprinted. Wendy apparently balked at first, but when the guys explained that we needed the prints for elimination purposes, she relented. They just finished a few minutes ago, and I had them put Ames’s ex-wife in the interview room. The two boys are back in the break room with Brenda Joiner. I’d like to talk to the boys individually, and ideally without their mother present, but I’m not sure Mrs. Ames will be on board with that.”
    “I’m surprised she allowed them to be separated from her at all.”
    “Brenda suggested that some of the things we needed to talk about might not be suitable for her sons to hear. Mrs. Ames made Brenda promise that her boys wouldn’t be questioned about anything without her knowledge and presence. Brenda agreed and then left Mrs. Ames in the interview room making phone calls.”
    “Isn’t that risky, letting her make phone calls before you talk to her? What if she’s working up an alibi or something?”
    “I had Brenda turn on the recording device before she left,” Richmond said with a wink. “So anything Wendy Ames says while talking on her phone will be recorded.”
    “Ah, very clever of you.”
    “I have my moments.”
    I updated Richmond on what Izzy had found so far as we headed for the interview room, which doubled as a conference room. There were no tiny interrogation rooms with small wooden tables and uncomfortable chairs here. The Sorenson PD did all of their interrogations at a large table that had eight plush chairs around it. It was the same table where they held most of their meetings. The room was carpeted and decorated, although the décor was hideous enough to drive the most determined suspects to confess, just so they wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. Despite the quasi-cozy décor, the room did have audio and video recording capabilities, and an observation room. The only other hint that the room served a dual purpose was a ring in the floor by the middle seat on the far side of the table. It was there so the cops could hook ankle cuffs to it in case anyone truly dangerous was brought in, though I’ve heard rumors that a rookie or two has been cuffed to it in the past as part of a hazing ritual.
    Wendy Ames looked to be in her late thirties or early forties. I gathered there was some Asian blood in her family tree based on her glossy black hair, small build, somewhat sallow complexion, and slightly almond-shaped eyes, which at the moment were red-rimmed and smeared with runny eye makeup. She was about the same size as Mandy Terwilliger, so I was still unsure who the clothes in Derrick’s bedroom belonged to.
    Wendy’s cell phone sat on the tabletop in front of her, so apparently whatever calls she was making were done for now. She looked up at us as we entered and blew her nose. When she was done, she tossed the tissue onto a pile that had accumulated on the table beside her. Then she sucked in a deep breath and straightened up in her seat, visibly gathering herself together for our talk.
    Richmond took a seat directly across from her, and I settled in on his left.
    “Good evening, Mrs. Ames. I’m Detective Bob Richmond,