Chapter 8

“Mr. Whitney, is it true that you are the only person in your building, other than Pablo Tacolini himself, that has a key to apartment three?”

Ryan pulled out a chair across from the lanky man. I was already sitting, staring at the side of the pale, scruffy face. He nodded.

“Yeah. Never did use it much. Guy never needed me in there.” He scratched his face.

“Have you been in the room since the murder?” Ryan asked. He tapped a pen against the table.

Whitney shook his head. “Nah. Cops said not to. Figured I should listen, you know?”

“That's a very good way of thinking, Mr. Whitney,” I said, “But the thing is, someone tampered with the crime scene after recovery left.”

Whitney's eyes widened.

“Someone with a key to the apartment.” Ryan finished for me.

“Wait, you think I did somethin' to mess that place up?” Whitney said frantically, “I never did nothing! I haven't been in that guy's room since last Christmas!”

“Mr. Whitney, we haven't accused you of anything. Calm down.” Ryan sighed. He pulled out the picture of the thong, and the picture of the room without the thong.

“Do you recognize this piece of clothing?”

Whitney shook his head. “I never saw that before. And I don't know who it belongs to.”

Something struck me. “Mr. Whitney, after recover left your apartment building, did anyone come in or out? A tenant? Mail carrier?”

Whitney pondered that, “Well, there was this one girl that came in. Said she was visitin' the woman who lives in apartment 4. Never saw her leave.”

I looked at Ryan. He looked back at me.

“Sir, can you describe this woman to us?” Ryan asked. Whitney nodded.

“Well, she was about 5'5”, He began, scratching his head, “Kinda wavy, brown hair. Tiny face. Real pretty.”

I looked at Ryan. He showed me a quick flash of a photo and mouthed the words 'Olivia Rose' at me. I glanced at the photo. She matched the description that Whitney had given us. I nodded. Ryan passed the photo to him.

“Mr. Whitney, is this the woman that you saw in your building?”

He picked up the photo and squinted at it. After a few moments of careful consideration, he set it back on the table.

“That's the one. Who's she?”

“Her name is Olivia Rose. She's a journalist that works with the Oshawa This Week.”

Whitney nodded. “I think maybe I might've read her articles. She popular?”

I nodded. “Seems to be that way.”

Suddenly, Ryan's cell phone vibrated. He passed it to me and continued talking to Whitney. I looked at the screen.

Oliva Rose is ready. Next room.

I nudged Ryan and showed him the text. He glanced down and nodded.

“Well, Mr. Whitney, thank you for your time. You've been an excellent help. If we need to talk again, we'll be in touch.”

Whitney nodded and the three of us left the room.

“He's not lying.” Ryan said as he ushered me into the next room. A woman sat at the table.

Olivia Rose did not differ from the photo Ryan had showed me. She was a petite woman, short, with facial features to match. Small, almond shaped brown eyes dotted a pale, oval shaped face. Pixie-like lips lay stained with pink. She turned to look as we entered the room. She grinned a flirty grin at Ryan. He returned it. A pang of unwelcome jealousy hit my stomach.

“Ms. Rose, I'm Special Agent Ryan Carr, and this is my partner, Dr. Katelyn Amos.” Ryan introduced in a smooth voice. I suddenly missed him calling me Katie.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” She began, speaking only to Ryan alone, “Although I wish it wasn't under these circumstances. It's terrible, really. That girl, and those two men dead? It's a tragedy.”

Ryan nodded sympathetically. “It is, isn't it?” He began as he sat down. I ended up pulling my own chair out, “And it must be so hard for you, having to write about it. How many articles have you written on the deaths so far, Ms. Rose?”

Rose smiled. “Call me Olivia,” She said sweetly, “And I'm not completely sure anymore. There's been so much to write about. I mean, the details, the family statements. It's been overwhelming.”

I piped up. I was getting sick of the flirting. “Ms. Rose, did you know one of the murder victims? A Mr. Pablo Tacolini?”

She shook her head. “Never heard of him. It's still so sad, though. I hear he was an immigrant. There's no peace for them, you know?”

“I know.” Ryan immediately said. I glared at him.

“That's funny, Olivia,” I began, fishing for the photo of the thong, “Because we found this planted at the Tacolini crime scene after recovery processed it.”

I handed the picture to her. She picked it up and looked at me quizzically. “What does this have to do with me, Dr. Amos?”

“It's got your DNA on it. Care to explain?” I said, probably with a little too much attitude. Ryan held up a hand to silence me.

“Forgive my partner, Olivia. She's a little hostile.”

If looks could kill.

I gave Ryan a death glare that screamed how much trouble he was in. He turned back to Olivia.

“Olivia, is there anyway you could explain this?”

“No, Agent Carr. I've never even been to those apartments.” She said innocently. I scoffed.

“The landlord said you were visiting the old lady in apartment four.”

She gave me with the dirtiest look imaginable. “Well obviously the landlord is trying to frame me. Why would I plant my own thong with my own DNA at the crime scene? Surely, Dr. Amos, with your level of intelligence, you should be able to determine that for yourself. Are you sure you're a real doctor?”

If looks could disintegrate.

I looked to Ryan. He stood and grabbed Olivia's hand.

“I'm sorry to bother you with this, Ms. Rose,” He brought her hand to his lips, 'You've been a lovely, lovely witness.”

She smiled as Ryan and I left interrogation. As soon as the door closed, I turned on him.

“What the hell was that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What was what?”

I sighed exasperatedly. “The flirting! What the hell, Ryan?”

“What was with the hostility?”

I looked at him with wide eyes. “What was with the hostility? I had every right to be hostile in there!Not only did she insult me on a personal and professional level, she disrespected me. I am not going to take that from her, or you. Grow the hell up, Ryan.”

“Calm down,” He said, raising his hands in a 'hold up' gesture. I scoffed. “So, what did you interpret from that?”

“Oh, I don't know.” I began, “Maybe that she's hiding something?”

“How do you know she's hiding something? Maybe she was right. Maybe the landlord is trying to frame her.”

I shook my head. Unbelievable. “You said yourself that he wasn't lying!”

Shrug. “Maybe I was wrong.”

I sighed and turned my back on him, starting the long walk back to my office. Ryan called out behind me.

“I'll be in your office with Thai at six.” Humor.

“Whatever.”

~x~x~

When I made it to my office, I unlocked the door, flopped the files and photos from interrogation on my couch, and sat down behind my laptop.

There was something that didn't seem quite so right about this Olivia Rose. Something wasn't normal. She was hiding something, and I planned to get to the bottom of it. I clicked on Safari and it opened to my homepage, Google. I typed Olivia's name in the search bar.

The first page of results was newspaper sites. The official 'This Week' site, the Toronto Star site, Globe and Mail. None of the sites told me anything I didn't already know.

Then I spotted it. A site advertising the Cat Scratch club. Olivia Rose had been tagged in a post. I clicked the link and waited for the page to load.

What it told me about the innocent Ms. Rose wasn't a bombshell, but it was enough to explain the thong.