Michael Missinger, thirty-seven years old. Scion of the Missinger oil fortune. He sold his interest seven years ago and started a hedge fund that invests exclusively in environmentally friendly technologies. He works downtown in the penthouse of one of those buildings you have to crane your neck to see the top of.
Any priors? Trembley asked.
Are you kidding? Hernandez scoffed. On paper, this guy is as straight as arrows come. No personal scandals. No financial issues. Not even a traffic ticket. If hes got secrets, theyre well hidden.
They had arrived at the pool house. A uniformed officer pulled back the police tape so they could enter. Jessie followed Hernandez, who took the lead. Trembley brought up the rear.
As she stepped inside, Jessie tried to clear her head of all extraneous thought. This was her first high-profile potential murder case and she didnt want any distractions pulling her from the job at hand. She wanted to focus exclusively on her surroundings.
The pool house was all understated, old-world glamour. It reminded her of the cabanas she imagined movie stars from the 1920s would use when they visited the beach. The long couch at the back of the main room had a wood frame but luxurious cushions that looked extremely nap-friendly.
The coffee table appeared to have been hand-crafted from reclaimed wood, some of which looked to be old sections of boat hulls. The art on the walls looked to be Polynesian in origin. In the far corner of the room was a bumper pool table. The flat-screen TV was hidden behind a thick, silky-looking beige curtain that Jessie suspected might have cost more than her Mini Cooper out front. There was no sign that anything untoward had happened in here.
Wheres the hidden nook? she asked.
Hernandez led them past the bar that ran along the near wall. Jessie saw more police tape in front of what looked like a linen closet. Hernandez peeled it back and opened the closet door with a gloved hand. Then he stepped inside and seemed to disappear.
Jessie followed and saw that the closet did indeed have shelves with towels and some cleaning products. But as she got closer, she saw a narrow opening to the right between the door and the shelves. There appeared to be a sliding wooden door that receded into the wall.
Jessie put on a pair of gloves of her own and pulled the door closed. To an undiscerning eye, it looked like just another panel in the wall. She slid it open again and stepped inside the small room where Hernandez stood waiting.
There wasnt much to itjust a little loveseat and a small wooden table beside it. On the floor was a lamp that had apparently been knocked over. Some shards had broken off and settled onto the plush white carpeting.
Slumped on the loveseat in a relaxed pose that could easily be mistaken for sleeping was Victoria Missinger. A needle rested on the cushion beside her.
Even in death, Victoria Missinger was a beautiful woman. It was hard to gauge her height but she was trim, with the look of a woman who met regularly with her trainer. Jessie made a mental note to follow up on that.
Her skin was creamy and vibrant, even as rigor mortis was setting in. Jessie could only imagine what it was like when she was alive. She had long blonde hair that covered part of her face, but not enough to obscure her perfect bone structure.
She was pretty, Trembley said, understating it.
Do you think there was a struggle? Jessie asked Hernandez, nodding at the broken lamp on the carpet.
Hard to be sure. She could have just bumped it trying to get up. Or it could mean there was a tussle of some kind.
I feel like you have an opinion but are holding back, Jessie pressed.
Well, as I said, I hate to draw conclusions too early. But I found this a little odd, he said, pointing at the carpet.
What? she asked, unable to discern anything notable other than how thick the carpeting was.
You see how deep the indentations in the carpet are from our footsteps?
Jessie and Detective Trembley nodded.
When we first came in after the dog found her, there were no footprints at all.
Not even hers? Jessie asked, starting to figure it out.
Nope, Hernandez answered.
What does that mean? Trembley asked, not getting it yet.
Hernandez filled him in.
It means that either the luxurious carpeting in here has unprecedented bounce-back capabilities or someone vacuumed it after the fact to hide the existence of footprints other than Victorias.
Thats interesting, Jessie said, impressed by Detective Hernandezs attention to detail. She prided herself on reading people but would never have picked up on a physical clue like this. It reminded her that this was the man whod been instrumental in catching Bolton Crutchfield and that she shouldnt underestimate his skills. She could learn a lot from him.
Did you find a vacuum? Trembley asked.
Not out here, Hernandez said. But folks are checking the main house.
Hard to imagine either of the Missingers did a ton of housework, Jessie surmised. I wonder if theyd even know where the vacuum was kept. I assume they have a housekeeper?
They do indeed, Hernandez said. Her name is Marisol Mendez. Unfortunately, shes out of town all week, on vacation in Palm Springs apparently.
So the maid is out, Trembley said. Anyone else work around here? Theyve got to have a ton of employees.
Not as many as you might think, Hernandez said. Their landscaping is largely drought-resistant, so they only have a groundskeeper come in twice a month for maintenance. They have a pool management company and Missinger says someone comes around once a week, on Thursdays.
So who does that leave us with? Trembley asked, afraid to voice the clear answer for fear of being too obvious.
It leaves us with the same person we started with, Hernandez said, unafraid to go there. The husband.
Does he have an alibi? Jessie asked.
That is exactly what were going to find out, Hernandez replied as he pulled out his radio and spoke into it. Nettles, have Missinger transported to the station for questioning. I dont want anyone else asking him a thing until we get him in an interrogation room.
Sorry, Detective, came a crackly, apprehensive voice over the radio. But someone already did that. Hes en route now.
Dammit, Hernandez swore as he turned off the radio. We have to go now.
Whats the problem? Jessie asked.
I wanted to be there waiting when Missinger got to the stationto be the good cop, his lifeline, his sounding board. But if he gets there first and sees all those blue uniforms, guns, and fluorescent lights, hes going to spook and demand to see his lawyer before I can ask anything. Once that happens, well never get anything useful out of him.
Then we better get moving, Jessie said, brushing past him and out the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By the time they arrived at the station, Missinger had already been there for ten minutes. Hernandez had called ahead and ordered the desk sergeant to have him taken to the family room, which was intended for crime victims and families of the deceased. It was a little less sterile than the rest of the station, with a couple of old couches, some curtains on the windows, and a few months-old magazines on the coffee table.
Jessie, Hernandez, and Trembley rushed to the family room door, where a tall officer stood guard outside.
Hows he doing in there? Hernandez asked.
Hes fine. Unfortunately, he demanded his lawyer the second he walked through the front door.
Great, Hernandez spat. How long has he been waiting to make the call?
He already did, sir, the officer said, shifting uncomfortably.
What! Who let him do that?
I did, sir. Was I not supposed to?
How long have you been on the force, OfficerBeatty? Hernandez asked, looking at the name tag on the guys shirt.
Almost a month, sir.
Okay, Beatty, Hernandez said, clearly trying to keep his frustration in check. Theres nothing that can be done about it now. But in the future, you dont have to immediately hand a potential suspect a phone the second he requests it. You can put him in a room and tell him youll get right on that. Right on that might take a few minutes, maybe even an hour or two. Its a tactic to give us time to develop a strategy and keep the suspect off-balance. Will you please try to remember that in the future?
Yes, sir, Beatty said sheepishly.
Okay. For now, take him to an open interrogation room. We probably dont have much time before his lawyer gets here. But Id like to use what we do have to at least get a sense of the guy. And Beatty, when youre moving him, dont answer any of his questions. Just put him in a room and leave, got it?
Yes, sir.
As Beatty went into the family room to collect Missinger, Hernandez led Jessie and Trembley to the break room.
Lets give him a minute to settle in, Hernandez said. Trembley and I will go in. Jessie, you should watch from behind the mirror. Its too late to ask substantive questions but we can try to establish some kind of rapport with the guy. He doesnt have to tell us anything. But we can say a lot. And that can have an effect on him. We need him feeling as uncertain as possible before his attorney gets here and starts setting him at ease. We need to get those lingering doubts in his head, so that he wonders if maybe were better allies to him than his high-paid lawyer. We dont have much time to do it, so lets get in there.
Jessie went to the observation room and took a seat. It was her first chance to get a look at Michael Missinger, who was standing awkwardly in a corner. If anything, he was more beautiful than his wife had been. Even at 3 a.m., wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that he must have thrown on at the last minute, he looked like he had just stepped out of a photo shoot.
His short, sun-bleached blond hair was just mussed enough to look unpretentious but not so much as to seem disheveled. His skin was tan in parts, but white in others, the sign of a regular surfer.
He was tall and lanky, with the look of a guy who didnt have to work out much to get that way. The redness and puffiness of his blue eyeslikely from cryingdidnt make them any less gorgeous. Jessie had to admit, despite herself, that if this guy had approached her at the bar last night, she would not have been so cavalier toward him. Even his nervous shifting from foot to foot was frustratingly endearing.
After a few seconds, Hernandez and Trembley walked in. They looked less impressed.
Have a seat, Mr. Missinger, Hernandez said, making the instruction sound almost warm. We know youve asked for your lawyer, which is fine. My understanding is that hes on his way. In the interim, we wanted to fill you in on where things stand with our investigation. Let me first start by offering my condolences on your loss.
Thank you, Missinger said in a slightly raspy voice that Jessie wasnt sure was permanent or a result of the nights stresses.
So we dont yet know if this was foul play, Hernandez continued, sitting down across from him. But my understanding is that you told one of our officers that Victoria was extremely proficient in regulating her condition and that you cant recall an incident anything like this in the past.
I Missinger started.
No need to answer, Mr. Missinger, Hernandez interrupted. I dont want to be accused of violating your Miranda rights, which I understand have been read to you, correct?
Yes.
Of course, thats all standard. And though we dont really view you as a suspect, youre well within your rights to request your attorney. But from our perspective, were trying to move as quickly as we can to get to the bottom of this. Time is of the essence. So the more details we can confirm, like the one you shared about Victorias proficiency with self-medicating, the less likely we are to go down dead ends. Does that make sense?
Missinger nodded. Trembley stood silently to the side, as though not sure if or when he should jump in.
So, Hernandez continued, also just confirming, you said your housekeeper, Marisol, is on vacation this week in Palm Springs. You gave her cell number to an officer and I believe were reaching out to her. By the way, without formally replying, if you find that Im stating something inaccurate, perhaps you could make me aware. No need to answer any questions, of course. Just steer me in the right direction if I get off course. Fair?
Fair, Missinger agreed.
Great. Were making progress here. We know you tried to reach out to Victoria several times over the course of the afternoon and she never responded. My understanding is that it was late yesterday afternoon, when you came home to meet up for a dinner reservation and found her car but not her, that you became concerned enough to call the police. If Im getting any of this wrong, just tap your finger on the table or something to let me know.
Hernandez continued to walk through the rest of the timeline but Jessie found herself only half-listening. She had noticed something during the last exchange and was wondering if what shed seen was real or imagined. Right around the time that Hernandez said over the course of the afternoon, Michael Missinger had flinched slightly, almost reflexively. Not when Hernandez said you tried to reach out. Not when he said she never responded. Only at the words over the course of the afternoon.
What had he been thinking about when the afternoon was mentioned? It was so imperceptible that Missinger himself might not have noticed it. That seemed unlikely if he was recalling murdering his wife in the afternoon. She would have expected either a bigger reaction or a concerted effort to have no response at all. At yet, something about the mention of the afternoon had thrown him, if only slightly.
Jessies thoughts were interrupted by a new person entering the interrogation room.
Hello, Detectives, a short, balding, forty-something man said buoyantly. Im Brett Kolson, Mr. Missingers attorney. I hope were all having a good time here. And Im confident that you havent been questioning my client after he called me.
He breezed in and pulled out the metal chair beside Missinger. Jessie typed Kolsons name into the attorney database to see what she could glean about him.
Nice to meet you, counselor, Hernandez replied with a tone that suggested he wasnt being entirely sincere. Im sure your client will tell you that weve been nothing but gentlemen prior to your arrival.
Missinger nodded.
Theyve just been reconfirming stuff, he said quietly.
Thats right, Hernandez agreed. But now that youre here, Mr. Kolson, wed love to get a little clarity on some timeline-related matters.
Youre welcome to try. But I reserve the right to advise Mr. Missinger to refuse to answer anything I think is out of bounds. And I will pull him if I deem it appropriate. Mr. Missinger wants to help get to the bottom of this horrible event. I trust it wont be a witch hunt.