Molten Mud Murder Page 15

  As the Auckland loaners filed out, he turned to Alexa and said, “How about that lunch date?”

  McDonald’s was two blocks from the station, and they opted to walk. The air was scented with lake breeze, and the sidewalk was bustling with Saturday shoppers like a yesteryear village. In the States, all these people would be driving to Costco or shopping online. Alexa wanted to discuss Officer Cooper but decided to wait until they were eating. She window-shopped instead, searching for boots and thinking how Bruce—when had she started thinking of him by his first name?—how Horne used the word “date” and how uncomfortable that made her feel. Hot cold. On off. But it was only McDonald’s. No one went to a McDonald’s for a date.

  They both eyed the movie playing at Regale Screens: another superhero remake.

  “Took Sammie,” he said, catching her eye. “She liked it.”

  The McDonald’s near the station could have been a Mickey D’s from home except for the group of loud girls squished into a booth, all wearing navy and maroon Rotorua Girls High School sport uniforms. The menu was different too; it included Georgie Pies.

  “They aren’t on the menu in the States.”

  “I wonder what a McDonald’s in Paris sells,” Horne said. “Baguettes and Brie?”

  “With supersized wine.” They both laughed and ordered.

  She let the DI pay.

  “What was that thing McNamara was eating?” Alexa asked when they sat across from each other in a booth.

  “Monkey roll,” Horne said. “My daughters love them.”

  “Gross.” Two bites in, Alexa decided this Georgie Pie would be her last. Chicken ‘N Vegetable pie was gross too.

  “Not hungry?” he asked between bites of his own pie.

  “I’m always hungry,” she said, sipping her almost ice-less Coke. She pointed to it. “What? Is there a shortage of ice in a country only a six-hour plane ride from Antarctica?”

  “Typical Yank, complaining. And loudly. What lab results do you have?”

  “I’m still waiting for DNA results from the trace evidence we collected from the body. Did you put a rush on it?”

  “No.” His first pie, a steak and cheese, had vanished. “I’ll do it when we get back. What did you do with your bird?”

  “It’s in the cooler. I discovered prints can be lifted from bird feathers. It would be worthwhile, but we don’t have the right powders in the lab.”

  “Let’s get what you need. Sharon Welles can put in an order.”

  “Welles said it would take a while, this being the weekend. I called the Auckland Forensics Lab, and they have what I need.” She paused and crumpled up her pie in its wrapper. “I might drive up this afternoon. Take my birdie with me.”

  “I was hoping you’d sit in on the Mindy Koppel interview. Helps to have a female present, I’ve found. And she’s already met you.” He eyed the crumpled pie with sorrow and started in on his second.

  “No problem. I’ll sit in and then head to Auckland. Spend the night and dust the bird first thing in the morning.” Alexa was curious to see Paul Koppel’s wife again. What did she know about that investor and her husband’s new bank account?

  “Auckland’s a long drive.”

  “Three hours. I’m throwing this away and getting a Quarter Pounder.” So much for embracing Kiwi cuisine.

  Four minutes later, she was back in the booth, removing pickles and chowing down. After a few bites, she put the burger down. The DI was eyeing her discarded pickles. She pushed them over. “I’ve been meaning to bring up Officer Cooper.”

  “What about Officer Cooper?” His eyebrows rose, and defense colored his voice.

  “First of all,” Alexa said, pausing to wipe her mouth. “First of all, where was she when Jenny was attacked? Her uncle has a greenstone club.”

  “Wait a sec. We don’t know definitively that a club was used.”

  “Secondly, she was the first officer on the murder scene, right? She could have chucked any evidence into the pots. And she totally clammed up on the island. Barely spoke—it was like prying words from a statue.”

  “I put her—”

  “And finally,” Alexa interrupted, “Cooper visited Jenny in the hospital, and Jenny, who was unconscious at the time, doesn’t even know her. Why would Cooper visit her?” Alexa couldn’t make herself say what she was thinking: to finish what she had started in the lab closet. By suffocation instead of blunt force trauma. The officer stationed outside Jenny’s hospital room might have saved her life.

  “Wait a minute,” Horne snapped. “I’ve know Wynne Cooper for seven years. I sponsored her when she was an angry high school kid, headed for trouble. We have a program that connects at-risk teens with career opportunities. Shadow a teacher. Shadow a plumber. Shadow a cop. She shadowed me. Didn’t say much, but she came alive, had a spark, a goal. You could see it in her demeanor.”

  “That’s a worthy program. But—”

  “I helped her qualify for Taumata Raukura—a police training program.” They were taking turns interrupting each other.

  This is not looking good.

  “Cooper is the first one in her family who’s ever been to uni, and she’s been with us as a full-fledged officer for eighteen months now. Why would she risk all her hard work?”

  “Sometimes family trumps career.” Never had for her. “All your effort into her aside, look at my points. Where was she when Jenny was attacked?”

  “She was not logged in at the station and was not caught on security camera.”

  “Okay. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t there. She could have wedged a door open or ducked the cameras.”

  “Are you going to argue with our security? Hang Cooper on conjecture? Or worse, because she’s Maori?” Eyebrows flatlining, pickles untouched.

  “It’s easier for a cop to get in the building unseen than Joe Blow off the street. It’s no conjecture that Jenny was attacked, right? And what about Cooper happening to be the first person on the scene at the mud pots?”

  “She handled it well for a rookie.”

  “Except when she let me enter the scene, remember? Is that handling things well? Maybe she was hoping I’d contaminate evidence.”

  “Again—conjecture. Someone had to be the first on the scene. It was coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidence.” She was surprised they were having this heated conversation and took a deep breath. “Yesterday on the island, Cooper chose to ignore me rather than work as a team with a fellow officer.”

  “You’re not a fellow officer.”

  Touché.

  “I put her in an awkward position. I used her family ties to get permission for you to visit the island,” he added.

  “Cooper doesn’t get to pick who she works with. That’s dangerous. And explain why she went to see Jenny.”

  “Maybe to support a fellow officer. I don’t know.”

  “She doesn’t strike me as the warm-fuzzy-here’s-a-box-of- candy type. You need to talk with her.”

  DI Horne had to face facts. The next bite of burger tasted like mud, and Alexa wrapped it up to toss. So much for the pleasant lunch “date,” the lunch she had skipped leftover rice and beans for.

  The walk back to the station was silent.

  * * *

  Mindy Koppel and her father were waiting in reception. Ms. Welles pried her eyes away from father and daughter at the sight of Alexa and DI Horne entering the station together. Disapproval made her nose rise up like a marionette string was pulling on it. “They’ve been waiting for ten minutes, Detective Inspector Horne.”

  “Thank you, Sharon.” The DI turned to Mindy and her father. “I’m sorry we’ve kept you waiting.”

  Mindy Koppel looked worse than when Alexa had last seen her sunk in an armchair. Her shoulders were hunched, her lifeless hair hung in oily clumps, and her
nose was bulgy red. She looked every bit the grieving widow down to an oversized sweater, probably smelling of her husband, dwarfing her frame.

  “We need to speak with your daughter alone this time. We’ll just be down that hall,” Horne said to Jerry Russell. “Unless you want a solicitor with her?”

  “Why would she need a solicitor?”

  “I am not saying she needs one, but one would be allowed to sit in as we ask questions.”

  “I don’t like your implications,” Russell replied. “My daughter is the victim here.”

  Paul Koppel might not agree with that, Alexa thought.

  “And you’re the ones who need an attorney,” Russell continued. “We plan to sue over those newspaper photographs. You had no right…”

  “We apologize the newspapers ran photos of the crime scene. They did not come from the department,” Horne said.

  Alexa remembered the National Enquirer-like photos of the murder scene. She didn’t blame Russell for being angry. “Mrs. Koppel, why don’t you come with me so that your father and Detective Inspector Horne can talk?” she intervened.

  Mindy rose obediently as a child and followed Alexa to the interview room down the hall.

  “Sit here, Mrs. Koppel.”

  “Thank you.” The room had a long table and four chairs.

  Alexa held one out for Mindy. “Would you like something to drink? Tea or water?”

  “Water. Ta.”

  DI Horne joined them as Alexa was returning with a cup of water and box of tissues. He swung his leg over a chair across from Mindy, turned on a recorder, and started. “Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Koppel. We’ll be taping this interview. Do you remember Ms. Glock from Crime Scene Investigation?”

  Mindy gave Alexa, who sat next to the DI, a nod. “Have you found out who killed my husband?” She put her blue suede tote on the table, gripping it with white-knuckled fingers. Her diamond engagement ring lay sideways, too defeated to stand upright.

  “Not yet. That’s why I need to ask you more questions. I appreciate you coming in today. How are the boys holding up?”

  DI Horne looked genuinely concerned, and Alexa remembered the carrot-top fellow refusing to be bathed by anyone other than his mum.

  “Dad has explained to them about Paul, but they don’t believe it. Casey thinks it’s a game where someone falls dead but then gets up.” Her eyes welled.

  Alexa pushed the box of tissues toward her.

  “Ta,” she said, crumpling one to her face.

  “I am again sorry for your loss,” Horne said. “We have people here who can help you talk with the boys. I’ll give you a number to call.”

  Mindy blew her nose and looked at him, her eyes red-rimmed, puffy.

  “You’ve had some time since we talked to you last. Can you now think of anyone who might have wanted to harm Paul?”

  “No.”

  “We have located your husband’s car. At the Waiariki Thermal Land of Enchantment parking lot. Why would he have driven there?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve never been there, never taken the boys.”

  “Had there been any angry phone calls or emails Paul mentioned?”

  Mindy thought a moment. “He was being harassed by two women on the town council. He said they kept calling him and badgering him about some report.” A little color appeared in her cheeks, and she sat straighter.

  “The Spa and Wellness Summit report. I know the women you’re referring to,” Alexa said. “They were upset that Paul had not submitted his report about the Wellness Summit he attended on behalf of the Rotorua City Council in Morocco.”

  “If Paul had a report to do, I’m sure he did it.”

  “Apparently, he did not submit it, and the councilwomen felt it was overdue,” Alexa said.

  “I don’t know anything about that. He was busy. A new listing came up while he was away, and then he had those meetings with the investor he met. That’s a lot to ask for someone who volunteered his time and efforts.” She pushed hair out of her face.

  “He received a stipend to serve as town councilman and did enjoy a free trip to Morocco, yeah?” Horne said.

  “It was a work trip. Not a vacation.”

  “What do you know about the investor he met in Morocco?” Horne asked with the slightest of zeal.

  “They met on the flight coming home, not in Morocco. Paul met with him several times. Council business.”

  “Was the investor a Kiwi?” the DI prodded.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Tell us everything you know about him. It’s important.”

  “Paul was excited to show him about. They went out to dinner, looked at land, and had meetings. That’s all I know.” She gulped water from the paper cup.

  “Did you meet this person?” Horne asked.

  “No.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  Mindy shook her head. Dark circles pooled beneath her eyes.

  “Can you provide the dates Paul met with this person?” His voice now had a hard edge.

  Mindy’s forehead wrinkled. “Early August, I think. A weekend. Deputy Mayor Haddenfield would know, wouldn’t he?”

  “Did you know Paul went to Pirongia Island in August?”

  “What are you talking about?” Mindy stared at the DI. “That’s rubbish.”

  “So do you know anything about him visiting the island?”

  “No. He wouldn’t. That’s a private island.” No pausing or blinking or tics. The sound of laughter came from the hallway, and she flinched.

  “Did Paul have a boat?” Horne asked.

  “No.”

  “Did he have access to a boat?”

  Mindy hesitated. “My father has a boat.” She finished the water and squeezed the cup to a misshapen hunk of wax.

  “Where does he keep it?”

  “Rotorua docks. Sometimes we tow it to the bach.”

  Alexa knew they’d be searching the boat. But would it yield evidence two months later?

  “We’ll need access to the boat,” Horne said. “I’ll explain that to your father. Mrs. Koppel, were you aware that your husband had opened a new account at Kiwibank in August?”

  Mindy looked surprised. “Why are you looking into our bank account? Shouldn’t you be looking for who killed Paul?”

  “There’s always a chance there is a link between money and murder. Do you know anything about this account?” The DI handed her a bank statement with highlighted items. Mindy studied the statement, her brow furrowing.

  “I don’t know why Paul opened this account. Maybe something to do with work.” Her cheeks had faded back to pale.

  “Who is Wei Zhong?” Horne pointed to a money order receipt. “Is it the investor he met?”

  “I don’t know who that is. What will happen to that money?” Mindy looked desperate.

  “All accounts are frozen until the investigation is complete. Were you and your husband experiencing financial hardships?”

  Mindy flared. “Guy Bowen hired two new agents last year, and there weren’t even enough listings for Paul, I mean, for the rest of the agents.”

  “So money was tight?”

  “Paul feels that I, well, felt that I always compared him to Jason, my brother, and to my father, you know, with the bach and boat. They take expensive holidays.” She blew her nose. “We were, and the house needs…, well, the market has been horrible. I…”

  The DI waited patiently, but Mindy had run out of steam.

  “This is difficult to ask, but are you on birth control of any sort, Mrs. Koppel?” The DI actually squirmed in his seat.

  Alexa knew he was thinking of the condoms in the glove box.

  Mindy was stunned. “What business is my personal health to you?”

  “Nothing is personal in murder, I’m
afraid. Were you and your husband planning on having more children?” Horne pushed.

  “I do not understand what this has to do with Paul’s murder.” Mindy pulled the baggy sweater tighter with one hand and grabbed her purse with the other. “I’d like to go now.”

  “Is it possible that your husband was seeing someone?”

  “No.” Mindy’s chin jutted. “Paul was a good man. He loved us.”

  “Had you and your husband had an argument before you took the boys to the bach, Mrs. Koppel?”

  “How…no. When will I get my phone back? I need it.”

  “We can pick it up on your way out. We’re done with it. Thank you for your time. And let me get that phone number of our social worker for you.”

  Alexa sat still, thinking, in the silence of the room. DI Horne handled the interview well. The questioning had made Mindy Koppel defensive and indignant but reaped juicy information: The Koppels struggled financially. Paul met someone on the plane, maybe a foreigner. And Paul had a boat at his disposal.

  Horne popped back in after five minutes and leaned against the open doorway. “That was hard,” he said. “Her phone records didn’t amount to anything suspicious. They confirm she texted Koppel last Friday afternoon and made no communication after that until Monday.”

  “But she could always have used a different phone if she had anything to hide.”

  “Are you considering her a suspect?”

  “No, except statistically.” Alexa didn’t believe Mindy killed her husband, but she could have discovered he was fooling around. “Did anyone see her at whatever beach she went to? What was it called?”

  “Papamoa Beach. Trimble is on it.”

  “Did you ask Mindy’s father about the boat?”

  “Yes. He told us where it’s located. I’m sending someone to the marina right away.”

  “That’s good, although evidence will probably have eroded.”

  “I plan to talk to Mr. Russell alone. I want his impressions of his son-in-law. And I plan to get a warrant for that flight manifest. Who did Koppel meet on the plane? But it will take forty-eight hours.”

  Alexa stood. “I’m going to leave for Auckland now.”