“The money isn’t from the police, so they won’t scam you. Tell me what you know, and I’ll give you a code number. You can call back in a few days to see if your tip helped.”
The man sounded frustrated.
“I need the money now. I need juice.”
“If you need food, I can direct you to shelters.”
“Not food. Juice. The kind that costs five dollars a bottle.”
The volunteer smiled but said, “If your tip is good, you could buy a lot of juice.”
“Okay, I’ll wait. I saw someone throw a weapon into the river under the Third Street Bridge. It was Sunday morning. He had a rifle and two shovels.”
The volunteer asked, “Was this on the east side of the bridge? Did he throw them in the water?”
“Yes. He just threw them off the dock. I can describe him. He was large, with blonde hair. And his car, it was dark blue. The license plate started with SS, but I forget the rest.”
The volunteer took down the information and said, “I have everything we need. Your number is 127. Call back in a few days, and we’ll let you know if it helped the police.”
The volunteer relayed the information to the police liaison officer. A diver was sent out within an hour and found the items quickly. The weapon was taken to the crime lab, where it matched a recent crime scene in George Washington Park.
A report was sent to the detectives, and a technician retrieved the two shovels from the property clerk. As the detectives left the coffee shop, they were met by a clerk delivering the ballistics and Crime Stoppers reports.
“Detectives, we have the weapon used in the George Washington Park shooting. The attached report might lead you to the perpetrator.”
The clerk handed over the reports. Klein and Nesbit reviewed them, then called up vehicle records on a computer.
“Pete, let’s split up. I’ll question our guest in the interrogation room, and you can get a uniformed officer to bring in Mr. Moore for questioning.”
“Sounds like a plan, Dave. Things are coming together nicely.”
Detective Klein gathered the reports and headed to the interrogation room where Lisa Evans was waiting. Meanwhile, his partner arranged for a uniformed officer to visit Blake Moore’s house.
Soon, they were on their way.
In the interview room, Lisa sat calmly, showing no fear or sadness.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Evans. This room is monitored and recorded,” Detective Klein said.
She replied, “I don’t mind. I have nothing to hide.”
Klein responded, “Good. Let’s get started. Are you having an affair with Blake Moore? Yes or no?”
Lisa’s shoulders slumped, and she looked away.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Klein showed her papers from Mark’s laptop.
“We have proof of your affair. Your husband knew. He sent these to his attorney, planning a divorce on grounds of infidelity. This map shows your visits to Moore’s house.”
Lisa looked shocked.
“How did Mark know?”
Klein held up a small device.
“He installed this tracker in your car, monitoring your location in real time.”
She stared at the device.
“Mark knew for weeks, and he wanted a divorce?”
She began to cry.
Klein continued, “Mark documented your interactions with Moore. The last map was from Saturday night when he went missing. He emailed his lawyer, saying he was going to confront you and feared he might get arrested.”
Lisa said, “But Mark never showed up at Blake’s. I spent the night there.”
Klein replied, “Preliminary DNA results show the blood in the park is his. We found the weapon used, linked to your lover. The question is how long you’ll cover it up.”
Lisa insisted, “Blake didn’t do anything to Mark. We were together all night.”
Klein added, “We also found your husband’s blood in your car and on your shoes. My partner is picking up Mr. Moore now. Whoever tells us what happened and where to find Mark’s body will get a better deal.”
Lisa was silent, visibly shaken, as Klein gathered the papers and waited for her response.
Detective Klein handed Lisa the blood test reports, but she barely glanced at them.
“Mark can’t be dead. I love him. I need him,” she sobbed, clearly very upset. “Blake will tell you the same. If Mark got hurt in the park, we had nothing to do with it.”
She cried into a crumpled, wet handkerchief. Detective Klein gave her a few minutes to regain composure. When she seemed calmer, he said, “There is no doubt your husband is dead. The medical examiner concluded there’s over a ninety-five percent chance based on blood loss and the lack of treatment at any facility in the county.”
He handed her the report and photos of the scene. Seeing the bloody photos, she burst into tears again.
“I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes to think. You’re not helping yourself by denying responsibility.”
Klein left the room, placed the reports on his desk, and shook his head. As he passed his commanding officer, he headed to the break room for coffee while his commander monitored Lisa on the interrogation room camera.
Detective Nesbit, thinking about the case, drove to Blake Moore’s house, meeting a patrol car there. Nesbit was almost surprised when Blake Moore answered the door promptly.
“Yes, officers, how can I help you?” Moore asked, seeing the police.
Detective Nesbit introduced himself.
“I’m Detective Nesbit, here about Mark Evans’ disappearance. We need you at the station for questioning. Mrs. Evans is there now, and we have questions that require your input.”