To Catch a Killer(61)

I nod an enthusiastic yes.

Victor heads for the refrigerator and starts unloading ingredients. “Your mother loved eating breakfast for dinner. In fact, last time I saw her we had eggs à la Victor.” He gets a distant look on his face.

“When was that?” I ask.

“I think it was June 1998, something like that. You weren’t born yet and I was home for my mother’s funeral. How’s that for the circle of life?” He musters a sad smile. “Not the happiest of moments. Your mom handled everything for Rachel, though. She was a rock.”

I don’t know what to say. I let the quiet in the room swallow us up. After a while it gets to be too much. “So you wouldn’t have a problem with my investigations?” I ask.

Victor whirls to face me; he’s got four eggs in one hand and a package of grated cheese in the other. He kicks the refrigerator door closed. “Oh, I didn’t say that. I am impressed with how smart and resourceful you are, but unsupervised investigations aren’t a good idea. And especially not with real evidence.” He nods toward my mother’s box.

“I wasn’t trying to investigate her murder … not yet, anyway.”

“What does that mean?” Victor turns his attention back to the stove. With a series of sizzles, I hear each egg hit the skillet. Next he opens the cheese and grabs a huge handful. I can’t see where it goes but I assume he’s dropping it on top of the eggs.

I clear my throat. “Not yet, because I’m thinking of making this my career.”

Victor waves the spatula over his shoulder. “You should. But take classes or go to CSI camp or something. I don’t like the idea of you doing these things unsupervised.”

I watch in quiet amazement as he moves in front of the stove, rolling the skillet from side to side while vigorously pummeling the eggs with the spatula.

“But you still think it would be good for me, right? Critical thinking and all that.” Rachel would never agree to CSI camp or anything having to do with forensics. She’s afraid exposure to that stuff will “set me off.” Whatever that means. But maybe if Victor thinks it would be good, he’ll plead my case with her.

“Yes. Your inquisitive nature drives you to research and learn, and that’s good. What you lack is the experience and maturity to understand that this kind of information is power, and there are people in power who won’t think twice about using it the wrong way.”

He scoops the eggs onto two plates and brings them to the table. “Like the person who keeps calling my phone. I don’t want to talk to him. But as you can see, he’s not giving up. He thinks he can badger me into picking up my phone, otherwise he’d stop trying.”

Victor’s words spark something. People in power who won’t think twice about using it the wrong way is a tremendous thought. I scoop up a bite of egg and nibble it off the tines of my fork as the odd pieces of my evidence suddenly start to come together in my head.

“What’s wrong?” Victor asks.

I’m distracted and thinking this through. But because I don’t answer him, he picks up his plate and inspects the eggs, as if there’s something wrong with them.

“I have a question,” I finally say. “What did Sydney mean when she said the chief prefers ‘old-school’ police work?”

Victor takes a couple of bites of egg, scraping the extra-gooey cheese off his fork with his teeth. “I think what she means is that Charles isn’t really up on the latest forensic science tech. She said ‘old-school,’ and by that I think she means ‘old-fashioned.’”

“But could there be a reason why he would be against forensic science, like maybe a reason he would get super upset over having a lab here in Iron Rain?” I scoop up more egg onto my fork. These eggs look simple, but Victor’s right, the taste is amazing.

He gives me a questioning look. “I can’t figure out where you’re going with this, so do me a favor and just tell me?”

I set my plate aside. “Okay. Total trust. I wasn’t investigating my mother’s murder, I was looking into who killed Miss P.”

Victor’s head snaps up.

“I felt responsible for what happened to her and, you know, for getting Journey involved, too.”

“From what I understand, Journey got himself involved.” Victor finishes his eggs and sets his plate aside. “He was there on his own accord. But when you say investigate, what do you mean exactly?”

“We’ve been gathering clues,” I say. “Miss P was going to run DNA tests for me and Journey and we think this is why she was killed. Here’s the thing—so far all of our evidence points to only one person.”

Victor ferries our plates to the sink and returns to the table. “Who would that be?”

“Don’t laugh or make me feel weird, but … I’m just going to say it. Chief Culson.”

I spread my hands out on the table. It sounds even more ridiculous when I say it out loud.

“I have evidence that links Chief Culson and Miss P.”





30

You won’t go wrong if you always follow the evidence.





—VICTOR FLEMMING


For the first time Victor gives me a look of total disbelief. “Linking Chuck and your teacher doesn’t mean anything. They’re two adults. I’m sure they knew each other. They might even have been dating.”