of the room. Rather than call attention to herself, she leaned a shoulder against the wall just inside the door and listened.
“. . . be pursuing the identities of the men on the tape, see if that connects to our case. We’ve also got a lead on another person who was in the park the morning Christiansen was discovered. I’ll be following up.”
“What about the autopsy report?”
The voice calling from the back sounded familiar. With a glance, Risa determined it was Brandau.
“Nothing yet. Hopefully today. Let’s start with report outs on yesterday’s assignments. Brandau and Recker, what do you got?”
“Not much.” Cass did the talking this time. “We visited Parker’s widow and showed her pictures of Detective Christiansen. She’d never seen him before. Although she obviously couldn’t say whether Roland knew him, she could tell us he’d never been to the house and she didn’t recognize his name.” She stopped reading her notes to look at Nate. “Except from the newspapers, of course.” Without waiting for his nod, she went on. “We’re still trying to track down the ex-wife of Sherman Tull. Got a lead on her from the neighbor across the street from his house. Apparently the women were friends. She claims the ex never made it back for the funeral.” She shrugged. “Anyway we have an address to start with on her.”
“You canvassed the neighbors? Showed pictures of the three men?”
“Just Parker’s and Tull’s. No one recognized them. We’ll hit Christiansen’s neighborhood today.”
Nate’s gaze moved on. “Shroot, what about you and your team?”
“Combing through the case files is going to take a while.” Shroot was the tall, lanky detective with ginger-colored hair, Risa observed. His voice had a distinctive southern drawl, causing her to wonder how he’d ended up in the City of Brotherly Love. “We’ve found a couple things to tug on. Tull and Christiansen were once called to testify on a case against a con artist running scams on the elderly. Parker busted a B and E guy, one Tommy Naigle, about ten years ago, and seven years later Christiansen and his partner brought him in for the same charge. Near as we can tell, Naigle is still serving his stretch but we’ll follow up.”
“Do that. There’s a lot of material to dig through. All these men had long careers with the department. That’s a lot of arrests, a lot of potential perps harboring grudges.”
“Edwards.”
Risa studied Nate as he moved on to the next pair of detectives. He’d managed to shave that morning. If she had to choose, she preferred the look he’d sported yesterday. The stubble had added a touch of the uncivilized. The unfamiliar. Today he was solidly back in command. The same controlled, if slightly impatient, detective who’d shown up on her mother’s doorstep a couple mornings ago.
“Nothing in their schools, for sure. We checked their records. Tull and Christiansen graduated from the same police academy, but years apart. None of them pulled an instructor stint in the academy, either. Didn’t want to go at Christiansen’s widow, with the funeral coming up. But his obit lists the United Methodist on Arch Street. Each of the ceremonies has been held in different churches.”
“Hoy, what’d you and Mendall find?”
But mention of the upcoming funeral distracted Risa for a moment. The ceremony would have a massive department turnout. As such, it presented an almost irresistible scene for the suspect.
Her attention turned belatedly to the detective speaking. A pair was walking up to Nate. The speaker held two DVDs in his hand. “This may be something that will help. Mind if we use the TV?” They continued to the unit in the corner of the room as the one continued talking. “So Christiansen’s wife said he was running to the convenience store to get milk, right? Surveillance tapes had him inside the store. Got a few other customers in there, too, but no one in the parking lot. But here, I’ll show you.”
Several minutes passed as the two of them fiddled with the TV and DVD player. Finally the original speaker stabbed a finger at the screen. “Plenty of activity out front of the parking lot, right?” An older man walking a Boston terrier that bore a startling resemblance to his owner. A shaggyhaired skateboarder. A guy with his arm around a woman, both of them in hoodies, and in the midst of what looked like a disagreement. A figure in a Windbreaker, hood pulled up over his head passed. “So a minute goes by.” He began