Sketch of a Murder

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Kelly, please have a seat. I'm glad you could make time to come up from the third floor and meet with us." Michael spoke as he moved towards the coffee pot on a counter against the north wall. He raised the pot, "Black, cream, sugar?"

"Nothing, thanks." Frost clung to the assistant prosecutor's words.

Michael shrugged, poured a cup, and made his way to the long table. He slouched in his chair, a pose many people wrongly interpreted as relaxed, maybe even a little bit lazy-minded, a posture employed often over the years, studying the subject, letting the silence stretch.

Kelly raised his hands in mock surrender as he glared around at the three people gathered in SCaT's Command Center. "Okay, I'm the loser. I'll speak first. Why was I summoned here in the same manner as a suspect would be?"

Fingers linked and resting on his 'famine insurance,' Michael settled his face into cop-bland. "We just need to ask you a few questions."

"Do I need an attorney?" Kelly dropped his head and shook it in negation. "Of course, I should have an attorney. The head of the Special Crimes Team, in the presence of his second-in-command and an FBI behavior analyst, is questioning me the day after The Avenger drugged a reporter and left her lying on my couch. Next, I'll tell myself I am an attorney. I can handle this. I'm innocent of anything." He jerked his head up, glared at the lieutenant. "How many times has that been said and then the person who's being questioned lives to regret not calling an attorney? Do I have the scenario right, so far?"

He met Kelly's gaze steadily, calmly. "What's with all this anger, Kelly?"

Kelly shoved his chair back from the table, crossed his arms and his legs. "Maybe I don't like being a suspect."

"Is your high level of defensiveness related to your sister's death, Mr. Anderson?" Dr. Irene Nelson clasped her hands on the tabletop.

"What do you know about that?" he flared.

She gave a slight shoulder lift. "Not a lot. Charges against Professor Hatwood were dropped due to a technicality."

Kelly untangled his arms and legs, slammed a palm on the table. "You're goddamn right! He got away with murder. The cops tainted the evidence when they arrested him at his condo."

"So fucking what?" Sergeant Slowater's harsh tone cut through the air, thick with anger. "Yeah, I read that file right before we asked you up here. Yeah, looks like you're right. But you know what?" She put her palms flat on the table, stood, and swayed her body over her hands, towards Kelly. "Everybody fucks up sometimes. No one meant for that to happen."

Kelly rose like a cobra preparing to strike and mimicked her posture. "Didn't matter. My sister never got justice."

"Lots of people don't get justice. Sometimes it's because the goddamn prosecutor's office cuts a deal so they can get a higher clearance rate."

Michael unclasped his hands, sat up straight. In a voice deepened with empathy, he said, "I'm sorry about your sister, Kelly, but not cooperating with us won't bring her back." He watched as the younger man sank to his chair. "Why do you think Dawn Samira was lured to your home?"

Kelly blew out the old anger, settled against the chair back. "I haven't the slightest idea, Lieutenant Williams."

"Are you certain of that, Mr. Anderson?" Dr. Nelson asked.

Kelly frowned at the FBI agent. "As sure of it as I can be."

Nita had sat down again and was tapping a restless rhythm with one hand. "The Avenger told Dawn that he knew you. He admitted to being associated with you in some way."