too. I haven’t seen many rotted bodies but one is enough to lock the acrid odor in your memory.
“The front door was unlocked. I went in and found the body—and the pictures—and called for Crime Scene and Coroner. I called for Mindy Newsom too.”
Mindy is a contract forensic scientist, and she’s been my friend since I arrived in Port Townsend. She had just graduated from the University of Washington with a degree in forensic science and was new to the Sheriff’s Department when I was new. Sheriff Gray even converted an old conference room into a lab for her. She was certified by the state as a criminalist and then the job became part time. Jefferson County didn’t seem to need her skills on a regular basis. She left, got married and had a baby. While she was on family leave she opened a flower shop downtown.
“Where were the pictures?” I ask. I hope it sounds like I don’t really care, but my voice is shaky.
“Before I tell you anything else, you have to be honest with me.”
“I will be. I mean, I am.”
I’m lying.
“Do you know Monique Delmont?”
“How do you know it’s her? Did you find identification? Has someone identified her?”
Tony is the sheriff but he was once an excellent detective. I’m sure if he says it’s Monique, it’s her. The pictures speak for themselves. I know they connect me to her.
“Megan? Do you know her or not?”
I look him in the eye and tell part of the truth.
“I know a woman named Monique Delmont from over in the Seattle-Tacoma area. I met her a few times while I was in college. I was friends with a girl that was friends with her daughter.” My story is complete bullshit because her daughter had been dead for many years before I tried to find out who killed her. That was how and why I met Monique.
“I don’t know if this is the same person, but if it is, I have no idea why she would have a picture of me coming from the office.” I don’t say anything about the laminated one. I don’t have to. “I could maybe identify her, but it’s been a while.”
“You won’t be able to identify what’s in there,” he says, and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Crime scene has her purse and her driver’s license. The address on the license is in Tacoma. Just like you said. Now tell me. Do you know this woman? Don’t try me, Megan.”
I don’t speak.
Tony lets out a sigh and hands the evidence bag with my high school photo to me. I take it this time.
“The photo I showed you on my phone has been collected by Crime Scene.” He starts to say something else and then stops.
I let out a breath. He doesn’t say it but I know what he’s thinking. He’s going to say if the picture has any bearing on the case, he wants me to do the right thing with it. I plan to do the right thing. I’ll burn the damn picture first chance I get.
I look around and there are no other houses close to this one.
“You said the woman who found the body is a neighbor?”
“She is,” he says. “She said she hasn’t seen anyone strange in the neighborhood. She didn’t see anyone come or go. She said the woman, Monique Delmont, moved into the neighborhood about two weeks ago. Alone. They had tea together a few times but not at this house. She said she’d never been inside except when it was owned by the Donaldsons. They moved to Florida and rented the house out. I don’t have their information yet.”
“I can get it easy enough,” I say. “Do you have the neighbor’s address?”
Tony takes out a slip of paper but doesn’t give it to me right away. “This is her name and address. You sure you want it?”
“I’ll take it,” I say with my mouth, but my heart wonders what I’ve just done.
“Do you want someone to work this with you?” Tony asks, and hands me the note.
I shake my head and then think better of it. I’m a loner. It seems the best way to do things because I don’t trust anyone. But Ronnie has softened me a little. Not that we are best friends or anything. But I can stand her being around. Sometimes. When she’s not yapping her stream-of-consciousness crap and won’t shut up.
She’s good with the Internet. Better than I am. And she can