The paramedics tried to revive her. They failed. Damn it.
"Looks like simple heart failure," one of them said. "Are you family?"
"Uh, no." I'd managed to pack up my tripod and camera and hide them in her bathroom before they came, figuring they'd spark some awkward questions. That didn't stop a lot of other questions, because Rachel and I weren't family members or neighbors. Rachel looked nervous as I answered them truthfully, and the paramedics looked skeptical. As in, "This guy is crazy."
So naturally they called the cops.
Rachel stood next to me in the hallway outside the bedroom. "I know you always have to tell them everything, but this isn't the CPD here. There's no Anita Sharpe to protect you."
I snorted. "When did Sharpe ever protect me? Besides, like I say, it's easier than having to keep track of lies."
Rachel slugged my arm. "Good thing I like you. Kind of."
Two Wilmette cops questioned us downstairs as the paramedics carried the body away. Once again, I told them everything. I offered to show them the video.
The two officers, a Hispanic woman named Ruiz and white guy named Mortimer, watched the video on my camera. They were predictably skeptical. "You can't believe any video you see on the internet these days," Mortimer said.
"It's not on the internet. And it's time-stamped 40 minutes ago."
He shrugged. "You could have set that up before."
"Why? I only met Ms. Brigani today. And the neighbor just moved in a few months ago."
"Plus," Rachel leaned forward, "I ran Ms. Brigani's original video through all kinds of software for deep fakes. It came back clean. I can send it to you."
"Rachel knows what she's doing. Detective Sharpe in Chicago will vouch for me." I checked the time on a clock over the TV. "Although maybe she won't appreciate doing it in the middle of the night." It was 3:30 or so.
The cops looked at each other. "What now?" Mortimer asked.
Ruiz looked me over. "Sharpe?"
"Oh, she'll tell you I'm crazy." I nodded. "But also that I tell the truth. Talk to Greenhill."
Ruiz sighed. "I can't just wake up a citizen in the middle of the night because of some strange flashing lights. I'll have to call this in."
She tapped at her phone and walked into the kitchen, leaving Mortimer watching us. Mostly he checked out Rachel, trying to be subtle about it. I couldn't exactly blame him—she is hot—but she ignored him as we waited impatiently for Ruiz to return.
She tapped at her phone and walked into the kitchen, leaving Mortimer watching us. Mostly he checked out Rachel, trying to be subtle about it. I couldn't exactly blame him—she is hot—but she ignored him as we waited impatiently for Ruiz to return.
In two minutes she came back. "Not tonight. We'll check in the morning. You should send us both videos."
It was probably too much to expect them to go knock on the guy's door at close to 4 a.m. with a story about possible alien abduction. But—"What about the kid?"
"Like I said, we'll take a look and make a decision in the morning. Do happen to know any of her family members?"
"I have some names. I did a check on her. I'll send them to you."
We exchanged cards. Rachel and I picked up the camera equipment, and Ruiz and Mortimer followed us outside.
Then we had a little bit of unexpected luck.
James Greenhill was standing on his front porch, in a T-shirt and black sweatpants. "Hello? Is something wrong? I saw flashing lights."
Ruiz and Mortimer glanced at each other, and then Ruiz looked back at me. "Keep your mouth shut."
We walked across the lawn. "Mr. Greenhill? I'm Officer Ruiz, and this is Officer Mortimer. I'm sorry to tell you that your neighbor, Ms. Brigani, has passed away."
"Oh." He bowed his head for a moment. "I'm sorry. I didn't know her very well, but that's too bad."
"Mr. Greenhill?" Mortimer crossed his arms. "May I ask—do you have a child in there with you?"
"Huh?" He frowned. "Just my nephew. He's asleep. He's staying with me for a few weeks."
I couldn't help myself. "Did you happen to see a bright light in your backyard around two in the morning?"
Rachel elbowed my ribs, and Ruiz glared over her shoulder.
Greenhill shook his head. "No. I was watching TV. I have insomnia."
Ruiz nodded. "All right, thank you. Someone may come by to ask you a few more questions in the morning."
"Wait, was she—Ms. Brigani murdered?" He looked confused.
"It looks like heart failure." Mortimer jerked a thumb toward the street. "Come on, let's go." He stared at Rachel and me. "Go home."
"Who are you?" Greenhill looked at us. Probably Rachel more than me. "Crime scene?" He'd spotted the tripod in her arms.
"Just friends. Sorry to disturb you." Rachel and I made our way to my Acura and stuffed the gear in the back seat.
"That went well." She snapped her seatbelt.
"Yeah." I pushed the start button. "At least I got a check out of it. And some good eggplant parmesan. I should have gotten the recipe."
She snorted. "Is that it?"
No. Not yet.
I sent the videos to Ruiz's email address as soon as we got home. Then I went to bed. Rachel was already sound asleep and snoring softly.
We both slept late. I got up at 9:30, made coffee, and headed to my computer to view both videos again.
I didn't spot anything new in Ms. Brigani's video. A man, a beam of bright dazzling light—then nothing. Until the beam came back down, returning Greenhill.
In the video we'd shot I tried to zoom in on the boy's face, but I couldn't get anything distinct. Brown hair, slim shoulders, slippers. A red bathrobe.
Neither of them spoke. They just held hands until the beam burned them away. They were still holding hands when they came back.
I watched the videos two more times, looking for clues. Like a detective. But I came up empty.
Rachel staggered in wearing shorts and a short T-shirt, carrying a mug of coffee. "Anything? I mean, good morning. Anything?"
"I've got to make a few calls." I went through my files. "Sleep okay?"
"I'll need a nap later. And no, that doesn't mean anything more than sleep." She'd caught me looking at her legs. "Probably."
"Of course not." I found the number I wanted. He wouldn't be happy to hear from me, but . . .
No comments:
Post a Comment