Major Crimes (18 page)

Chapter 23

Chelsey

Sitting at the kitchen table, I hit my head with the palm of my hand. Why did I find Bryce so attractive? Why did I kiss him again? It was time for me to cut ties with Kris. Not that Kris had contacted me, but I felt like we had unfinished business.

My heart leapt into my throat as I dialed Kris’ cell number. Why was I so nervous? Maybe because I didn’t know where to start or what to say. It wasn’t like me to blow someone off without another thought, but I guessed that was the way Kris handled himself. Just because he was a jerk, didn’t mean I had to be.

There was no answer, so I left a message. “Hi Kris. It’s Chelsey. We need to talk. Would you call me for five minutes? I promise I won’t take up much of your time.”

It also wasn’t my style to break up with someone over voice mail. I hoped he called back. But, what if he didn’t? I needed a woman’s advice, so I called Bonnie.

As usual, Dira answered the phone. “Coral Beach Clerk’s Office. Dira speaking.”

“Hi Dira. It’s Chelsey. Is Bonnie around?”

“One moment, please.”

At least I got a “please” out of her.
After waiting sixty seconds, Bonnie picked up the line.

“Hey. Are you staying away from that cop killer?” I should’ve known not to expect Bonnie to sugar coat anything.

“He’s not a cop killer and that’s not why I’m calling.”

“So, what’s your conspiracy theory of the day?”

“You’re not very nice.”

“I call it like I see it.”

“I want your advice about Kris.”

“Kris? Has that dope finally climbed off his throne for long enough to call you?”

“No. I called him and left a message.”

“Dumb move.”

“What? Why?”

“He hasn’t called you in weeks. Take a hint, Chelsey. He’s not that in to you.”

“You’re moody. I know he’s not that in to me. That’s why I called him. I wanted to break up with him.”

“You don’t owe him a breakup and he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Well, I did. I don’t like leaving things hanging. I like closure. I was going to ask you what to do if he doesn’t call back. If I should assume it’s over.”

“Oh, honey. You have a lot to learn about men. It’s been over. You don’t need to assume anything.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, nice chatting with you.”

“Chelsey, I love you, but…you sometimes live in La La Land.”

“Living in the Land of Eternal Hope is much better than living in the Land of Pessimism.”

“Whatever you think, Love. I’ll take realness any day over a stupid guy who can’t see the wonderful woman right in front of him.”

“Thanks for the compliment…I think.”

“And what about Bryce?”

“Freddy has me investigating, so I can’t talk about it.” Under normal circumstances, I would’ve told Bonnie all about Bryce. How he was flirting with me, kissing me. How I melted each time it happened. But, Bonnie would’ve given me a lecture on staying away from Bryce. So, without the support of my friend, I remained mum. Once Bryce’s name was cleared, I’d clue my friend in on my secret desires for the bad boy.

“I understand. Call me soon, let me know if Kris calls you back.”

“Will do.”

“Let’s do dinner soon.”

“Okay. I’ll call you when I’m free. Or call me after your cruise.”

“Sounds like a plan. I gotta run. I have a marriage license couple at the window and this future bride is so butt ugly she’s lucky to have found this dude. I don’t want to give him time to change his mind while I fool around on the phone.”

We disconnected. I shook my head and laughed at Bonnie’s candidness. I threw on clothes, put on makeup, and dried my hair. It was time to get back to work. I still had Cynthia’s, Pamela’s and Brittany’s DNA to collect. I opted to try for Pamela and Brittany before Cynthia. I drove to their house, found a good parking spot at the deli across the street, and waited.

An hour later, no one surfaced from the house. I knew they were home. I could see various lights turning on and off. Some of the curtains moved. I wondered if they’d ever come out. It didn’t appear to be garbage day, so I couldn’t snoop through their trash.

I wasn’t sure I’d accomplish anything with Pamela and Brittany. Pamela’s husband was recently murdered. Brittany lost her father. It wasn’t likely they were going out to eat or have fun. I was sure they didn’t want to go anywhere in their time of mourning. Relatives and friends probably sent food to the house for their condolences.

Creative ways to collect their DNA escaped me, so I turned to Google for assistance. I typed DNA into the Google search bar on my smart phone. There were plenty of hits. I refined my search to DNA collection. I periodically glanced at the house while I perused the websites about collecting DNA. Saliva, fingernails, toenails, and hair were good sources of DNA. How I was going to find those things was my next problem.

Something interesting popped up on the web. DNA phenotyping. My curiosity got the better of me, so I clicked on the link. The website explained that it was a new forensic technique. A mere drop of drop of blood and a few genetic markers, such as male or female, could create a simulated face. It said the science was new and it needed time for enhancements to be integrated. It said that there were companies in the United States who were already producing the DNA sketches to help law enforcement with their criminal investigations.

Wondering if the technology could be used on the blood found on that ugly ring to create a sketch of our elusive suspect, I called Freddy.

“Chelsey. Three DNA samples in one day? You’re getting good at this.”

“Thanks. I guess that means Bryce got the samples to Frank.”

“Yeah, Frank dropped them off at the lab moments ago. I don’t suspect we’ll need Drew’s sample though.”

“The opportunity presented itself, so I didn’t ignore it.” Instead of waiting for Freddy to ask me questions about how I came upon Drew’s DNA, I changed the subject. “I’m not having much luck with Pamela and Brittany, but I read something interesting that I thought we could use for this case.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“DNA phenotyping.”

“No.”

“What? You’ve heard of it? Why not use it?”

“That technology is in its infancy. Studies have shown that people haven’t been able to ID suspects on the sketches made from DNA phenotyping. There needs to be great advances in the technology before it will be useful. Plus, the price is astronomical and I don’t think Bryce has that kind of money to throw down the drain.”

“Isn’t it worth a shot? Even if it’s slim?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think something is better than nothing.”

“I don’t agree. Tried and true methods of collecting evidence are in Bryce’s best interest right now. You also forget that there isn’t a lab who does that in a thousand-mile radius. And that the lab could take weeks to get us results. Time we don’t have.”

“I guess.” I felt disappointed that my idea wasn’t proving useful.

“You also forget we are not trying to solve the crime. We are only trying to come up with enough evidence to exonerate Bryce. If the police want to utilize that type of technology on the taxpayers’ dime to find the killer, then that’s their prerogative.”

Hanging up with Freddy and giving up on Pamela and Brittany, I went to Cynthia Sterling’s house. I hoped for a better outcome there. Driving several miles to her house, I parked across the street and two houses down. The neighborhood was cookie-cutter and quiet. It was the type of neighborhood where I couldn’t stay parked for long before one of the neighbors made a nine-one-one call reporting an unusual person sitting in their car.

A car sat in Cynthia’s driveway. The driveway led to an adorable white house with a white picket fence. The kind of house you’d see in a romance movie where the couple lived their happily ever after. I sighed. I wondered if a lifetime of being single was enough for me or if I’d eventually have a fairytale ending.

I shook my head to eject the fantasies from my brain and refocus on work. Deciding not to stay parked where I was, I drove around the block then parked in front of Cynthia’s house. I popped the hood to my car and jumped out. I lifted the hood and pretended to look inside, appearing worried. I added a loud, “Oh, shoot! Darn car! Not now!” in case anyone was listening. I looked around. No one was listening. My acting hadn’t brought Cynthia from her house.

Leaving my cell phone in the glove compartment, I trudged up Cynthia’s driveway and rang the doorbell. After a few minutes, Cynthia cracked her door open, “May I help you?”

“Hi! Um, I’m having a little car trouble, and my cell phone died. Do you think I could use your phone to call for some roadside assistance?”

Cynthia hesitated. “Um, is that your car?”

“Yeah. I’m supposed to meet a guy for a date. I’m totally lost and now this! I’m such an idiot. I should’ve made him come to pick me up. With my car dead, and my cell dead, well—I guess my plans for a date are dead too.”

Cynthia’s face softened a little, so I kept talking. “I got a babysitter and all for nothing, I guess. It’s not like I can stay out for hours on end. I’m a single mom. It’s so hard to meet people when you’re chasing after a little girl.”

“I know the feeling.” Cynthia opened her door to allow me in.

“Do you have kids?”

“I have a daughter.”

“Me too! How old?”

“Oh, my daughter is grown now, but I remember those days of being a single mom when she was little. It wasn’t easy, so I feel for you.”

“Thank you so much! You’re a life saver.”

Cynthia led me to her kitchen and handed me her phone. She told me to have a seat. Sitting at the kitchen table, I fished my emergency roadside assistance card from my wallet and dialed their number. Searching my purse, I found a piece of paper and pen and got ready to take notes. I glanced around the room wondering how I could get DNA from Cynthia. Was there a cup in the sink she drank out of?

Roadside assistance answered and asked for my location. I slid the paper and pen to Cynthia. “Could you write down your address for them?” I pointed to the phone.

Cynthia jotted down her address with her left hand. My heartbeat increased exponentially as did my fear. Was I staring at the killer? Did she have it in for Archie after all this time?

Embracing the phone between my ear and shoulder, I steadied my hands on the table. I didn’t want to appear nervous to Cynthia and my shaking hands would’ve given me away. Being left-handed didn’t make her a killer, did it? I wondered how many Jersey folks were left-handed.

I gave the roadside assistance dispatcher my location and information about a fake ailment to my car. The call lasted a good ten minutes. I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth to calm myself. During that time, I created a plan to get the DNA.

Hanging up the phone, I told Cynthia roadside assistance would be there in twenty minutes. I asked her if I could use her bathroom. She pointed down the hallway.

In the bathroom, there was only one toothbrush near the sink. I rummaged around for a baggie in my purse and deposited the toothbrush. For safe measure, in the unlikely event that the toothbrush belonged to someone else, I deposited her hairbrush in another plastic bag.

I actually did have to
go
, so I used the opportunity to relieve myself. I flushed, washed, and left the bathroom. I thanked Cynthia and scurried out to my car. I had a fleeting thought of actually waiting for roadside assistance to show in order to continue the charade. Yes, fleeting. I hopped into the driver’s seat and sped off before Cynthia could chase me down for her toothbrush and hairbrush.

* * *

A sense of accomplishment washed over me. Victory, even. I got the DNA from a woman who was a top suspect and was left-handed. Hopeful that I had the evidence Freddy needed to create reasonable doubt, I called him.

“Yellow.”

“Hello starts with an H, not a Y.”

“Tell me some good news, Chelsey.”

“I got Cynthia’s DNA
and
she’s left-handed.”

“Chelsey, I could kiss you right now for getting the DNA, but how do you know she’s left handed?”

“It’s a long story, but I had her write something on a piece of paper.”

“I told you not to engage.”

“Don’t worry, I was smooth as silk. She had no clue. I feigned my car breaking down, I used her phone and her bathroom, then got out of there before she knew I stole her toothbrush and hairbrush.”

“Oh for God’s sake. Did you at least get the name of her daughter? Did you see any photos of her daughter?”

“Umm
…”

“Oh, Chelsey.”

“I didn’t think we were looking at her daughter. I was so nervous, I just hightailed it out of there. If I had too much conversation with her, then she’d get suspicious.”