Page 11 of Little Last Words

“You shouldn’t have removed her from the crime scene,” Foley said. “It wasn’t your decision to make. You should have talked to me first.”

It was a conversation I’d tried to avoid, but one I knew was coming.

“She’s a child, Foley. Think about it from her perspective. I’m not sure what she knows or what she’s witnessed, but the poor thing is traumatized. Maybe you think I overstepped by taking her to my place, and maybe I did. I just wanted to get her away from all this and take her somewhere she could relax.”

He muttered something under his breath and then glared at me. I wasn’t sure if he was more irritated because I’d removed her from the house, if his ire was over the fact I’d done it without his permission, or both. Either way, I stood by my decision. At the same time, it wasn’t my intention to disrespect him, a fact I wanted to make clear.

“I was going to tell you as soon as you got here,” I said. “It just took me a little longer to make it back than I thought it would. If you want to speak to Sadie, we can go to my house right now. I’m not sure how much she’ll say, but it’s worth a try.”

He blew out a long, heavy breath. “How’s the girl doing?”

“She’s worried about her mother, that much is clear. I’m not even sure Sadie understands Penelope is dead.”

“Fill me in on what happened this morning.”

“I found Sadie sitting on the front porch when I was out for my morning walk. She was dressed in a nightgown. It had a red stain on the side of it, which looked to me like blood. I couldn’t get her to talk to me at first, and then she started saying small things.”

“Like what?”

“She told me her father lives far away and that she doesn’t see him anymore. She also said her grandmother lives somewhere next to the elementary school. She described it as a brown house with a dolphin fountain out front. I know how much you have going here, so I called Hunter. She’s trying to locate the grandmother and any other relatives in the area.”

“Good, anything else?”

I shook my head. “Penelope was dead when I found her. From the looks of it, she was killed several hours ago, at least. Guess we’ll have to wait and see what Silas says after he looks her over.”

Silas was the county coroner and a good friend. He reminded me of a middle-aged hippie—a free spirit, in every way.

“Did Sadie say anything about what happened?” Foley asked.

I shook my head. “Not much. She told me she likes to get in bed with her mother in the morning. Today Penelope wasn’t in bed when she went into her room. At some point, she found her in the bathtub. I just don’t know when. There are a bunch of wadded-up tissues over Penelope’s neck.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“I’m thinking Sadie may have tried to wipe the blood off her mother’s neck, and she got it on her nightgown in the process. And before you say anything, I had her remove the gown before we left. I bagged it. It’s here.”

“I know. Officer Higgins grabbed it off the kid’s bed.”

“Your turn,” I said. “You learn anything since you got here?”

“Maybe. We believe the perp came in through a window around back. The screen’s been removed, and the lock on the window is broken. Whether it was already busted or it was broken when someone tried to enter the house, we’re not sure. The window’s being dusted for prints as we speak.”

“Has Silas been able to determine the time of death yet?”

“Doubt it. He arrived just before you did.”

I heard some commotion, and we both looked across the street, our eyes fixed on Party House. The front door opened, and a man stepped out. He scanned the front of Penelope’s front yard with a confused look on his face. I guessed he was in his early thirties, and he was shirtless. And while the revolving door of ladies was ever-changing, it was clear he maintained at least one long-term relationship with his local gym.

Shirtless Guy crossed the street, and Foley held up a hand, attempting to stop him from getting any closer, even though the guy kept on coming. He paid Foley no mind, and instead focused on me as he said, “Hiya! I’ve seen you around. You live at the top of the street, right?”

“I do.”

“Your house is impressive. I must admit, I’ve driven by it several times. Even snapped a few pictures. Love the architecture. I’m Becker, by the way.”

“Is that a first name or your surname?” I asked.

“Surname.”

“What’s your first name?”