“I’m Detective Danny Beckett of the Long Beach Police Department, and this is my partner, Jennifer Tanaka. Is there someplace we could talk?”
“Yes, of course.” She took a step back and pulled the door open wide for us. “Please come in.”
The door opened into the living room. The furnishings were nice but not too expensive. It looked like mostly secondhand and vintage stuff, the kinds of things someone with good taste but not a lot of money would choose. Jen and I sat on a brown sofa that reminded me of the one in my childhood family room, and she took a seat in a chair that didn’t quite match.
By the time we were all settled, her expression of curiosity had been replaced by one of worry.
“What can I do for you?” she asked.
“Your father is William Denkins?”
She nodded. “Is he all right? Has something happened?”
“I’m very sorry to tell you this,” I said. “He died last night.”
An almost inaudible sound came from her throat. If she hadn’t been trying so hard to contain it, it might have become a gasp. She brought her hand up to her mouth and held it there for several seconds. Then she said, “How? What happened?”
“At this point, we’re not sure. It may have been a suicide.”
“No, it couldn’t—he wouldn’t do that.” There was hope in her voice. If we were wrong about how the victim died, we might be wrong about his identity, too.
“Had he been depressed?” Jen asked. “Was anything troubling him?”
“No, nothing.” She paused. “Are you sure it was him?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m afraid so.”
She sank back into her chair. “There must be some mistake. He wouldn’t kill himself. He just wouldn’t.” Her tears were beginning to flow.
Jen offered her a tissue. I hadn’t even seen her reach into her jacket for one of the pocket-sized packets we always have with us when making a notification.
I heard some shuffling noises from the back of the house. “Is anyone here with you?”
“Yes, my husband.” As if on cue, a door opened in the hallway and a tall, lanky man in gym shorts and a T-shirt came into the room. He had dark, shaggy hair and a soul patch under his bottom lip.
“What’s going on, babe?” he asked Lucy.
She stood and hurried over to him. “My dad’s dead.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Oh my god,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
We let him comfort her. As she buried her face in the crook of his neck, her back and shoulders rose and fell with her sobs.
After a few moments, he looked at us with accusation in his eyes.
“They say he killed himself,” Lucy said.
“What?” he said. “That can’t be.”
The two of them were still standing behind the chair Lucy had been sitting in. We stayed seated. With only the couch and the chair available, the two of them would have to separate, and I was trying to decide who I’d rather have on the couch next to Jen.
“What happened? How did he . . . ,” Joe said.
As his words trailed off, I said, “A gunshot wound. To the head.”
Lucy buried her face in Joe’s neck again.
“I know this is a very difficult time, but we need to ask you a few questions,” I said.
They chose the seats themselves. Lucy on the couch, her husband in the chair.
I had a much better view of him, so that’s where I started. “I’m Danny Beckett and this is Jennifer Tanaka. We’re with the LBPD.”
“I’m Joe.” He tried to reach across the length of the coffee table to shake my hand. I leaned out and met him halfway. “Joseph Polson.” He started to lean back and realized he hadn’t shaken Jen’s hand, so he awkwardly shifted toward her. She gave him a quick shake and let go.
“As I told Lucy, we’re very sorry for your loss.” I watched him while I spoke.
“Thank you,” he said with a nod.
Jen asked Lucy, “Did your father have any history of depression?”
“Yes,” she said. “But never anything serious.”
I let Jen continue. Sitting next to Lucy, she’d be able to build a stronger connection with her. “Did he receive any treatment for it?”
“A few years ago. He went to a therapist and took an antidepressant for a while.”
“How long ago?”
“I’m not sure,” Lucy said. “Four or five years?” She looked at Joe.
“It was before we met,” he said. “So at least five.”
“Nothing since then?”
“No,” Lucy said.
Jen continued. “Had you noticed any changes in his