Memory Man

“Doubt that would protect you from a nuclear bomb blast. Even if it’s all concrete with reinforced doors.”

He stared at her. “Well, what exactly would protect you from a nuke?”

“Good point.”

“I came in here the first night I was here looking around. Those are my shoeprints over there.” He pointed to the far wall. “I walked around, and then, like I said before, I looked in the storage rooms in the back.”

Decker knelt down and studied the floor. “Mary, hit this section with your light. I must have missed it earlier.”

Lancaster did so, revealing a long mark that disturbed the light dust, along with the impressions of shoeprints.

“What do you think that is?”

“Point your light about six inches to the left.”

She did. There was nothing.

“Try six inches to the right.”

She did and they saw an identical mark.

“What is that?” asked Lancaster.

“Marks from Debbie Watson’s feet.”

“Her feet?”

“Or her heels, rather, as she was being dragged out of here. The shoeprints are the shooter’s.”

“Out of here? What was she doing in here?”

“Meeting her beau. Her Jesus.”

“You aren’t serious?”

“Debbie was the first vic the ME did a postmortem on. Did you read the autopsy report?”

“Of course I did.”

“COD?”

“Why are you wasting time, Amos? Her cause of death was a shotgun blast to the face, as you very well know.”

“That was obvious. But did you note what the coroner found in her mouth?”

“You mean aside from shotgun pellets?” Lancaster said sarcastically.

“He found the residue of some breath mints.”

“Breath mints? I don’t remember reading that.”

“It was near the end of the report. I always read to the end.”

“But breath mints?”

“Residue of breath mints. There was a pack of them in her locker. Two were missing. That’s why she went to her locker. To get the mints. To freshen up her breath before meeting her beau. And her killer. And that would explain the time gap. He comes out of the freezer at seven-twenty-eight. He goes down the passage. But he has to wait for Debbie to get out of class. They probably had a prearranged time. She fakes being ill, gets her permission slip, goes to her locker, gets her mints, and then enters the shop class.”

“But you said the door was locked?”

“Jesus would have unlocked it from the inside for her.”

“Right.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Exactly how long have you thought all this?”

“Not that long.” Decker closed his eyes and touched the back of his head about halfway down. “And the autopsy revealed that there was a subacute subdural hematoma on the back of her head, right about here. Left side of the occipital bone was cracked, and that’s a tough bone to damage like that. That might have killed her if the shotgun hadn’t, just from internal bleeding and resulting pressure on the brain. The ME speculated the injury occurred when she fell backward to the floor after being shot.” He opened his eyes and looked at his partner. “Left side.”

“Meaning the blow came from the left side and behind? A left-handed person? Like you said the guy who wrote the musical score was, left-handed.”

“The probabilities lie there, yes.”

“So he meets her in here and knocks her out, but why?”

“He needed her out of the way. And he needed to kill her first, before anyone else. He couldn’t risk the possibility that she would survive. She could identify him. So he arranges to meet with her, uses the passageway to get across the school unseen. I would imagine this is not the first time they’ve done this. They might have had sex in shop class during or after school on other occasions. I wonder how often Debbie got permission to go to the nurse’s office?”

“Have sex? Are you serious?”

“Their own private space in the middle of the school? What could be cooler for a teenager in love with her mature man who doesn’t even go here? And the killer would have wanted to know the passage by heart when he was planning this whole thing. He could bring stuff in and store it here. It was perfect.”

“So how do you see it playing out from there?”

“He meets in the shop class with her, she thinks to make out, hence the breath mints. He knocks her out, gets his gear, slips out of the room, walks around the corner to the camera, and gets his picture taken.” He glanced at Lancaster. “You saw the shoeprints in the passage?”

“You know I did.”

“I estimate they’re a size nine or maybe nine and a half, but no larger.”

Lancaster looked confused. “That’s not very big for a large guy,” she said slowly. “Earl’s six feet and he wears an eleven.”