Rosa nodded as she walked them to the door. “There is one thing that comes to mind,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“The ring on the nightstand…the one used to cut into her neck. It had no business being there. Jessie was sort of a neat freak—it’s why she had a housekeeper even though she kept a mostly clean house. I had never seen jewelry just sitting out.”
Chloe nodded, as she had been hung up on that, too. The ring being there not only served as some sort of message from the killer, but it also proved that the murder was likely not related to wealth or a botched burglary. The ring was an expensive one and had been used as nothing more than a crude weapon. Even though the killer had it in their hands at one point, they’d had no interest in ever stealing it.
And that alone spoke volumes about the killer.
Now, Chloe thought, all I have to do is translate the killer’s message.
CHAPTER SIX
It was just after five when Chloe and Rhodes left Rosa’s apartment. It was only about a forty-minute drive from where they had parked back to DC. Chloe considered this a big plus, as it eliminated the need for checking into a motel. The can of worms it opened up, though, was that it was hard to tell when to call it a day.
“Should we head to the library to check out Rosa’s alibi?” Rhodes asked as Chloe pulled out of the apartment complex parking lot.
“I thought about that, but it’s Sunday afternoon. It’s doubtful the library would even be open. I was thinking I’d like to find out where that ring came from. See if we can maybe figure out who last wore it. If the husband doesn’t recall it even belonging to his wife…”
Rhodes opened her mouth to respond but the chirping of Chloe’s cell phone stopped her. Chloe answered right away, hoping for a lead on what was looking to be a slow and grinding Sunday afternoon.
“This is Agent Fine,” she answered.
“Agent Fine, this is Deputy Nolan. I thought you’d want to know that I was able to get in touch with Mark Fairchild, the husband. He’s due to come by the station around eight tonight. He and his brother are headed back home to take care of funeral arrangements, insurance paperwork, and things of that nature.”
“And he knows the FBI is looking into things now?”
“He does. He seemed pleased, and eager to speak with you.”
“I’ll see you at nine, then,” Chloe said, ending the call exactly as she had hoped: with another source of information lined up. When the information came to you rather than having to hunt it all down, it tended to make for a quick and easy case.
Chloe just hoped things continued at this pace.
***
It was clear from first glance that Mark Fairchild had not been sleeping well. From his appearance alone, Chloe was willing to bet he had not slept a wink since being told his wife had been killed. There were dark circles around his eyes—eyes that seemed to be staring at nothing at all while managing to look rapidly around the small conference room, as if trying to take everything in. His hair was disheveled and a growth of thin stubble covered the lower half of his face.
Still, he looked somewhat centered and determined. He sat partially slouched in a chair, holding a cup of coffee that Nolan had given him, but not sipping from it. His brother was standing in the corner, looking just as tired but carefully watching over his grief-stricken sibling.
Chloe knew that the coming conversation could be difficult. Grieving people who were clearly tired, still dealing with the idea of their recent loss, could be precarious. They could either talk endlessly, often in circles, or lose control of their emotion within just a handful of seconds. So she knew she’d have to choose the leading questions carefully, giving him the feeling that he was in control.
“Mr. Fairchild, I’d like you to walk me through Friday morning. Include every detail you can, no matter how small or trivial you feel it might be.”
He nodded, but looked clearly uncomfortable. “Everything,” he said with a sleepy grin that looked rather forced. “Well…my alarm went off for work. I hit snooze and when I did, Jessie came to me and snuggled up…sort of a tradition we’ve had since we were dating. It was Friday and had been a good week for both of us so snuggling led to sex. She enjoyed it in the morning; it was really nothing out of the ordinary.”
Chloe felt awkward as she watched his face go through several emotions as he recalled the start to the morning. She gave him a moment as he paused, clearly making sure that he was going to be able to get through it.
“So I hopped in the shower while she answered some work e-mails. I got out of the shower and she was brushing her teeth. There was some small talk. As I got dressed for work, Jessie put on her running clothes—the same ones she was wearing when…”
He trailed off here, taking in a deep breath. He looked to his brother, who gave Mark an encouraging nod. Mark returned the nod and then started again, his voice a bit shaky.
“We went downstairs. She had a smoothie and I had a cup of coffee. She never drank coffee before her run. She said it played hell on her stomach. She walked me to the door, I remember that. She usually does that, just to kiss me goodbye. She was fiddling with her airpods, cueing up whatever podcast she’d been listening to so she could listen to it on her run. We kissed, I got in the car, and that was it. That was the last time I saw her alive.”
“What time do you believe it was when you left the house?” Chloe asked.
“I don’t know an exact time, but it was somewhere between seven fifty-five and eight-oh-five, I’d guess. Certainly no later than that.”
“So we’re looking at a three-, three-and-a-half-hour window,” Rhodes said.
“Mr. Fairchild, had you and your wife made friends yet? Anyone who had come over a few times since you’d moved in?”
“No. Just acquaintances. There had been people in the house, sure. When a new family moves into the neighborhood, people come over with pies and cookies and things like that, you know? But I think the only person who had ever stepped foot in the house that was more than just a welcome-to-the-neighborhood kind of thing was the housekeeper. Oh, and the plumber. We had an issue with the garbage disposal on the first week.”
“I want to also talk about the ring found on the bedside table,” Chloe said. “I understand that you can’t confirm whether or not it belonged to your wife?”
“That’s right. It didn’t look familiar, but that’s not unusual. Jessie never really wore jewelry…just her wedding ring. That may seem silly because the closet is full of jewelry. But Jessie sort of collected jewelry the way some women go crazy with shoes or purses. When her mother passed away six or seven years ago, Jessie got all of her mom’s jewelry. Necklaces, rings, these awful-looking earrings. But it put a fire under Jessie. She started to collect that sort of stuff.”
“Do you recall how many rings came to Jessie through her mother?”
“No. I remember it was mostly in a safety deposit box. Some of it was, anyway. I do know that she received a small box with some necklaces and rings. There had to be at least ten rings in that box.”
“So you’d say there’s a decent chance the ring found at the scene was one of the ones that came from her mother.”
“Probably. But that’s the thing…she kept them in the closet. Whoever did that…”
He stopped here, as if the mere mention of what had been done with the ring had frozen him. He sucked in a breath and shook his head, determined to go on.
“Whoever did it,” he continued, “must have known where to look for it.”
“That or they simply got lucky and figured out where expensive jewelry might be kept.”
“True,” Mark said.
“And the week leading up to Friday…was there anything particularly off about your wife?”
“No. I’ve been wondering that myself…wondering if I missed anything. But I swear…she seemed perfectly fine.”