“The spoor is a little cold after eight months,” Robertson said, “and frankly I don’t take kindly to your coming in here telling me how to do my job. I don’t go up to the hospital and tell you how to do yours. Besides, Hodges wasn’t the most popular man in town, and we have to set priorities with our limited manpower. For your information we have a few more pressing matters just now, including a series of rapes.”
“It’s my opinion that the basics ought to be done on this case,” Angela said.
“They were,” Robertson said. “Eight months ago.”
“And what did you learn?” Angela demanded.
“Lots of things,” Robertson snapped. “We learned there was no break-in or robbery, which has now been confirmed. We learned there was a bit of a struggle . . .”
” ‘A bit of a struggle’?” Angela echoed. “Last night the state police crime-scene investigators proved that the killer chased the doctor through our house bashing him with a pry bar, spattering blood all over the walls. Dr. Hodges had multiple skull fractures, a fractured clavicle, and a broken arm.” Angela turned to David, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t believe this!”
“Okay, okay,” David said, trying to calm her. He had been afraid she’d make a scene like this. She had little tolerance for incompetence.
“The case needs a fresh look,” Angela said, ignoring David. “I got a call today from the medical examiner confirming that the victim had skin from his attacker under his fingernails. That’s the kind of struggle it was. Now all we need is a suspect. Forensics can do the rest.”
“Thank you for this timely tip,” Robertson said. “And thank you for being such a concerned citizen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Robertson stepped over to the door and held it open. David practically had to yank Angela from the office. It was all he could do to keep her from saying more on her way out.
“Did you catch any of that?” Robertson asked when one of his deputies appeared.
“Some of it,” the deputy said.
“I hate these big-shot city people,” Robertson said. “Just because they went to Harvard or someplace like that they think they know how to do everything.”
Robertson stepped back inside his office and closed the door. Picking up the phone, he pressed one of the automatic dial buttons.
“Sorry to bother you,” Robertson said deferentially, “but I think we might have a problem.”
“Don’t you dare paint me as an hysterical female,” Angela said as she got into the car.
“Baiting the local chief of police like that certainly isn’t rational,” David said. “Remember, this is a small town. We shouldn’t be making enemies.”
“A person was brutally murdered, the body dumped in our basement, and the police don’t seem too interested in finding out who did it. You’re willing to let it rest at that?”
“As deplorable as Hodges’ death was,” David said, “it doesn’t involve us. It’s a problem that should be left up to the authorities.”
“What?” Angela cried. “The man was beaten to death in our house, in our kitchen. We’re involved whether you want to admit it or not, and I want to find out who did it. I don’t like the idea of the murderer walking around this town, and I’m going to do something about it. The first thing is we should learn more about Dennis Hodges.”
“I think you’re being overly dramatic and unreasonable,” David said.
“You’ve already made that clear,” Angela said. “I just don’t agree with you.”
Angela seethed with anger, mostly at Robertson but partly at David. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t the paragon of rationality and agreeableness that he thought he was. But she held her tongue.
They reached the hospital parking lot. The only space available was far from the entrance. They got out and started walking.
“We already have plenty to worry about,” David said. “It’s not as if we don’t have enough problems at the moment.”
“Then maybe we should hire somebody to do the investigating for us,” Angela said.
“You can’t be serious,” David said, coming to a halt. “We don’t have the money to throw away on such nonsense.”