Free A Study in Sin by August Wainwright

‘It’s just not like him. I mean, he didn’t come back to finish his shift, didn’t call or text or anything. I was so worried about him,’ she said and then fell back into hysterics. I guess she realized that she had basically just pegged her boyfriend for murder. I asked the manager if he knew where Tom Chapman was and he told me he was due in any minute.”
    Remy yawned at Lambert’s pause. “What happened next?” she asked in an uninterested tone.
    “Well, knowing that Chapman was unaccounted for during the hours of Cormack’s death, I radioed for backup. When he came in to start his shift, two officers and I took him into custody. He put up no fight. But what’s really interesting is that as soon as we had him in cuffs, he turned and very plainly said, ‘So I guess this is about that asshole Cormack, right?’ He did offer up a statement that he caught up to Cormack a few blocks down from the hotel, and watched him as he stumbled and ran into a street sign. He said that he had walked behind him past Union Station over towards H Street when Cormack turned and saw him. Cormack hailed a cab and took off. Chapman said that he stopped in at a bar, which matched what he told his girlfriend. His whole story is bullshit, though. He’s been silent ever since. Hasn’t said a single word since we put him into the back of the car and took him down to the station.”
    “So what is your theory for the murder then?” asked Remy.
    Lambert sat up straight on the couch, an arrogant smirk running across his face, as he feigned deep thought.
    “My theory is that Thomas Chapman couldn’t let the pass at his very beautiful girlfriend go unpunished, especially from a fat little drunk like Cormack. He grabs his umbrella for a weapon and goes out after him. He follows Cormack down past Stanton Park and over onto Tenth, where he finally confronts, and most likely assaults, the man. We haven’t located the umbrella yet, but based on his girlfriend’s description, one hard blow to the temple or maybe to the gut, could have been the cause of death. Chapman then sees the signs of the house being renovated, drags the body inside, and leaves all the extra clues to try and throw us off his scent.”
    “And what of the blood? Or the flashlight that was on the mantle?” Remy said with a smile of her own. “Chapman drags a body inside, turns on a flashlight so it’s more likely he’s seen, and then leaves it on when he takes off?”
    “He probably found it inside. It could have been left behind by one of the workers. Maybe he turned it on to verify that Cormack was actually dead and then forgot to take it with him. And we’ll get his blood to see if it matches.”
    “Lambert, I must admit, you are absolutely unique in your abilities. To get from where we were Wednesday morning to where you are now is… well, it’s quite impressive.”
    “Thank you very much Ms. Moreau,” Lambert said back, oblivious to the sarcasm in Remy’s voice. “It’s just another one of those times where diligence wins out over insight. People act brashly, and then they fall apart afterwards. I’ve come to realize that all I need to do is position myself to be in the right spot and most criminals will come with outstretched arms, asking for me to lock them up.”
    “Well that’s insightful,” I said. Lambert turned his attention towards me and opened his mouth to respond, but the phone at his hip rang, interrupting his thought. He smiled at the two of us as he answered it.
    “Detective Lambert…Yea, he’s down at the station right now waiting for his lawyer…Why’s that?...Yea, I remember. Why?...But I’ve already – Wait. What?”  Lambert shot up from his spot on the couch. He was silent, listening, as he looked off across the room. “I got it. I said I got it.”
    “Is everything alright, Ian, you’re looking a little flush?” Remy asked
    “Arruda found out that McKeague has a place here in DC. He caught up to