and the uniforms stepped inside. Voices and clatter from the work area drew Connell’s hawkish gaze. “Who’s here with you?”
“Just my cleaning crew. I’m getting ready to open, and this place was a mess.”
“Could you tell your people to stop work?”
“Now?” Sam blinked at the detective.
“Right now. We have a warrant to search.” He handed her a folded sheet of paper.
What had she just been thinking about setbacks? “You’d better come to my office and explain what’s going on.”
Connell jerked a nod to the uniforms and followed her alone.
Sam faced the detective from behind her desk. “Those photos were for real?”
He nodded, dark eyes flat. “A family named Davidson. Ten years ago, they were shot to death in their home a few blocks from here. The incident was ruled murder/suicide. But those photos prove there had to be at least one more person at the scene. Maybe someone who set it up to look like the dad shot his wife and daughter and then himself. The case has been bumped up to straight murder, and now we’re looking for a killer a decade after the deaths.” He jaded tone said he didn’t hold out much hope of solving the crime.
Sam sank into her chair. Here she’d told her mother this was a safe neighborhood. “What do you want with me? I was a clueless teenager ten years ago, zits and giggles and all. And I lived in Eau Claire, Wisconsin.”
“You’re not a suspect, Ms. Reid, but we need to search this building.”
“What else could you possibly expect to find after all this time?”
“We have to be thorough. The film was here. Something else could be.”
“Fine, but you’ll have to assign someone to Dumpster diving.” She marched out into the work area. Her cleaners were gone, and the two uniformed cops were already digging into things.
The detective stepped up beside her. “Could you show me where the film was discovered?”
“Just the room where it was found. Except for some perc cleaning solvent awaiting pickup by the hazmat people, the box it was in and everything else has already been cleaned out. Good luck sorting through the garbage.”
Connell frowned. “Did you save anything from the box?”
Sam headed back toward her office. “Odds and ends. They’re in here.”
She handed him the paperweight from her desk. It was a smoky crystal rendering of a trout mounted on a hefty slab of black obsidian. “That was in the box. And this.” From the front of the filing cabinet, she plucked a ceramic magnet that featured a picture of a baby sitting in a high chair, bawling. The inscription said, No Whining! “Seemed like a good daily reminder.” She gave it to the detective.
“There were any number of hotel key cards accumulated from customer pockets, but I threw them out. I did keep these, however.” She opened the top drawer of the cabinet and pulled out a small bucket. The contents clattered as she plunked it onto the desk. “Lots of regular keys, but no way to know what they open or who owned them.”
“I can have this stuff tested for blood and prints, but if nothing pops up, you’ll likely get them back.” He shook the contents of the bucket. “I’m surprised you haven’t tossed these.”
Sam smiled. “There’s a crafter in my hometown who makes wind chimes out of old keys. I was saving them for her.”
“What else was in the box?”
“I’m not sure. I knocked a shelf over, and the contents spilled out when I was getting it down.” She crossed her arms. “We found assorted manicure items, a few eyeglass cases, combs, pill-boxes, that sort of thing scattered on the floor. But they’re—”
“In the Dumpster.”
“Right.”
The detective’s gaze traveled around the room. “Did you bring in the furnishings for this room, or were these things here when you bought the place?”
“Mr. Morris used this room as a storage area, not an office. Everything in here came from outside.”
“What about the contents of the closet?” He jerked his chin toward the closed door at the side of the room.
“Same thing. I emptied this whole area.”
“More Dumpster work.” One side of his mouth curved downward.
“No. Sorry. This was one of the first places I cleaned out. That Dumpster-load has already been collected by the city. How do your officers feel about combing the landfill?”
Connell shook his head. “I’ll tell the uniforms to leave this room out of their search.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
The detective reached inside his jacket and pulled out a five-by-eight photo. Sam took a step backward.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Reid. This one isn’t of a dead body. Have you ever seen this man?”
Sam took the picture and studied a man a little older than herself, wearing faded jeans and a Nike T-shirt. He stood on a dock with a sparkling river in the background. The Mississippi? Close-cut blond hair framed a bold-featured face—straight nose, square chin, wide lips pressed into a thin line. Nothing extraordinary, except for the eyes. Blue as a mountain lake and twice as chilly. Her pulse rate jumped up a notch. “I don’t know him, and I’m glad. Is he a suspect?”
“Our job would be a lot easier if he was. Relatives usually top the list.” Connell took the picture back. “Ryan Davidson. He came home from college and found his family like your photos showed. At least that’s what he’s always claimed, and we have reason to believe he’s telling the truth.”
Sam pressed her palms together. “How awful for him. He still lives around here?”
“A houseboat near Hastings, about thirty-odd miles from here, right where the Mississippi and St. Croix Rivers converge. He owns a rental houseboat company that caters to tourists.”
“Really! What does he do in the winter?”
“He’s got no ties. Just takes the whole shebang south to Missouri.” He shook his head with a tight smile.
Either the detective envied Davidson’s footloose life or thought he was nuts. Personally, she’d go with the latter. What was life about except settling in to become a vital part of a community? “How long will your people be out there?” She gestured toward the workroom.
“At least twenty-four hours. We’ll finish as quickly as we can. Since this isn’t a crime scene and you’re not suspected of anything, feel free to come and go, but don’t remove anything further from the building. Have a good day, Ms. Reid.” The detective walked out.
Sam wilted into her chair. By the end of tomorrow, the rumor mill could have her reputation as trashed as the garbage out back. With that cruiser parked in front and uniformed officers
