Neither Danielle nor George wanted anything to do with Roger. In fact, neither of them returned to California to greet Roger when he was released in prison. They were both still back east.

  In addition, Roger didn’t have any friends to speak of. At least, not anymore. You see, when Roger was starting up his Ponzi scheme, he recruited his closest friends to become his first round of investors. So, when his misdeeds were uncovered, those friends quickly turned into enemies.

  The other thing that made this case unique was the sheer number of potential suspects. Over the years, Roger managed to anger a whole lot of people. So many that it would be hard to sort through them all.

  While there was a case to be made for beginning our interviews with the investors that had lost the most money, David and I took a different approach. We sorted our suspect list based on the investors whose lives were currently still in ruins.

  Our reasoning was simple. Murder was often an act of desperation. And who was more desperate than someone who hadn’t cobbled their life back together?

  Ultimately, someone from the police department would speak with every name on the list. The list just happened to be so long that it would take days for David and I to get to everyone if we conducted all of the interviews ourselves. A lot could happen in the span of a few days. Including people trying to leave town before we were able to get to them.

  With that in mind, David and I knew that we’d need help. For maximum efficiency, David decided to divide up the list. My husband and I would personally interview the top four names. A slew of deputies would then handle the rest of the questioning.

  Once the first round of interviews were complete, if some of the other suspects required a follow up visit, David and I would step in.

  ***

  After everyone had their marching orders, David and I headed over to the south side of town to speak with the first suspect on our list.

  Jerry Backstrom was a skinny fifty-two-year-old man with short black hair, blue eyes, and an angular face. He lived in a modest-sized Spanish-style home.

  Shortly after Jerry opened his front door for us, David flashed his police badge and explained why we were there.

  When Jerry heard the news about Mr. Osgood, his eyes widened.

  “Roger’s dead?” Jerry said.

  “That’s not all,” David replied. “We have reason to believe that foul play was involved.”

  Jerry’s eyebrows rose. “Are you serious?”

  David nodded. “Unfortunately.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “It certainly is disturbing. But we’re determined to get to the bottom of this.”

  “I’ll bet you are. That said, why are you here talking to me?”

  “Are you really going to make me explain it to you?”

  “Wait a minute. You don’t think that I might have had something to do with Roger’s death, do you?”

  “Why do you look so surprised? Mr. Osgood scammed you out of tens of thousands of dollars.”

  “I know what he did,” Jerry snapped.

  “Then you shouldn’t be shocked that we have reason to suspect you.”

  “Of course, I’m shocked. We’re talking about murder here.”

  “Mr. Backstrom, someone is responsible for Roger’s death.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Jerry said. “Why don’t you talk to someone else that he scammed?”

  “We will. In fact, we’re going to interview every person he swindled.”

  “Good.”

  “But right now, we’re focusing on you.”

  “I told you. I didn’t have anything to do with his death.”

  “If that’s true then you shouldn’t have a problem answering a question for us.”

  “Fine. What’s the question?” Jerry asked.

  “Where were you last night?” David said.

  “I was here.”

  “Alone?”

  Jerry shook his head. “No. I had a friend over.”

  “Really?” David asked.

  Jerry nodded. “Yes.”

  “What’s the name of this friend?”

  “Luke Whitaker.”

  “And what were you two doing here?”

  “Hanging out. Drinking some beer. Watching the Marauders game.”

  The Marauders were a professional baseball team.

  “What time are we talking exactly?” David asked.

  “Luke came over here at about six and stayed until around eleven,” Jerry said.

  “Is that so?” David said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “In that case, Luke should have no problem verifying your story.”

  “I’m sure he won’t.”

  David pulled out his phone. “Good. Now, why don’t you give me Luke’s number?”

  “Wait. You’re going to call him right now?”

  “Is that a problem, Mr. Backstrom?”

  Jerry shook his head. “No. Of course not.”

  ***

  Jerry looked incredibly nervous as David called Luke Whitaker. My instincts were telling me that Luke wouldn’t be able to confirm Jerry’s alibi. I fully expected Jerry to be reeling once David ended his phone call.

  Imagine my surprise then when Luke didn’t hesitate to corroborate Jerry’s story. I was actually so shocked that I needed to take a moment to catch my breath. In addition, I tried to figure out how my gut could have gotten things so wrong. I couldn’t help but think that stress had led to my incorrect prediction.

  Ultimately, I pushed my personal feelings aside. From an investigative standpoint, the only thing that really mattered right then was that Jerry had a rock-solid alibi. That simple detail brought an abrupt end to our interview. After all, there was no use arguing with someone who could verify their whereabouts during the time of the murder.

  ***

  David and I didn’t say a word as we walked back to my husband’s car. Once we took our seats inside the vehicle, however, I spoke my mind.

  “That ended a lot differently than I thought it would,” I said.

  “You mean, because Jerry actually had a verifiable story?” David replied.

  I nodded. “Wasn’t that surprising to you?”

  “You bet,” he said. “It’s incredibly rare for a murder suspect to have a rock-solid alibi.”

  “Especially given the way the interview started,” I said. “Jerry sure was awfully defensive.”

  David scratched his chin. “I know what you mean.”

  “Honestly, I was completely convinced that Jerry had made up that alibi.”

  “I don’t blame you. It didn’t sound terribly convincing. That said, it’s difficult to argue with a verifiable alibi.”

  “It sure is.”

  “With that in mind, let’s forget about Jerry and focus on the next suspect from our list.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  David and I set our sights on Christopher Cartwright next. The rotund forty-eight-year-old owned a ranch-style home a few blocks away from Watterson Park. Even though he answered his front door after David’s first set of knocks, Christopher looked highly confused to see us. When David revealed to him the purpose of our visit, Christopher expression turned to one of shock.

  Mr. Cartwright seemed genuinely blown away when he heard that Roger was dead. Whether Christopher was just putting on an act was yet to be determined. As David and I began our questioning, we set out to uncover the truth.

  “Of all the people that Roger swindled, you ended up losing the most,” David said.

  Christopher grimaced. “Do we really have to rehash the past?”

  “It still hurts to think about it, doesn’t it? Even after all these years?”

  “It isn’t easy.”

  “That sounds like quite an understatement,” David said. “Let’s be honest. You haven’t really been the same since you lost all that money. You haven’t truly been able to pick up the broken pieces of your life, have you?”

  Christopher narrowed his eyes. “Detective, I know what you’re doing.”

  “Getting to the bottom of things?”

  Christopher shook his head. “No. You’re trying to get a reaction out of me. And let me tell you, it isn’t going to work.”

  “Mr. Cartwright, there’s an old saying in the investigative world. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Who says I’m hiding anything?”

  “I can’t be certain that you’re hiding something, but you definitely look worried to me.”

  “I don’t think worried is the right word. Annoyed is more like it.”

  “If anything, I’m the one who should be annoyed right now. After all, you’re the one who is being evasive.”

  “Stop trying to twist things around.”

  “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you stop being so confrontational with me?” David said. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  Christopher exhaled. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “To start, where were you last night?”

  “I was here.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Watching TV.”

  “Were you alone?”

  “Yes.” Christopher threw out his arms. “Why?”

  “Because if no one was with you, there’s no way of verifying your story.”

  “It’s not a story. It’s the truth.”

  “Says you.”

  “Ask yourself this? Why would I lie to you?”

  “That’s easy. Because you’re a murder suspect.”

  “I didn’t kill Roger.”

  “It’s a shame that you don’t have a verifiable alibi.”

  “I already told you, I was watching TV last night.”

  “And I told you, I’m not going to take a suspect at their word.”

  “Stop for a second and ask yourself this. If I really was lying to you, don’t you think I would have made up a better story?”

  David shook his head. “Not necessarily.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Maybe you assumed that I wouldn’t question a story as mundane as watching TV alone.”

  Christopher gritted his teeth. “You’re so frustrating, you know that?”

  “Mr. Cartwright, you can get as angry at me as you want, but I’m just doing my job.”

  “No. If you were doing your job, you wouldn’t be wasting your time talking to me.”

  “Maybe I don’t think this is a waste of time.”

  “Trust me. It is. I’m innocent.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Christopher folded his arms. “Go ahead. Ask me all of the questions that you want. I’ve already told you the truth.”

  ***

  David and I tried to get more information out of Christopher, but we failed miserably. Finally, after a few minutes of getting nowhere, we gave up and headed back to the car.

  Once I got back into David’s vehicle, I let my thoughts spill out.

  “You know, after the way our interview with Jerry Backstrom ended, I was kind of hoping that Christopher would have a verifiable alibi too,” I said.

  David chuckled. “Wouldn’t that have been nice?”

  “It certainly would. As a matter of fact, imagine if every one of the suspects had a verifiable story…except one.”

  David smiled. “Then we’d know who the killer is by process of elimination.”

  I let out a groan. “Is that really asking too much?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Clearly.”

  I took a deep breath before responding. “Why couldn’t that happen just once?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t have an answer for you. Although, I do applaud that wishful thinking of yours.”

  “Speaking of being optimistic, maybe the next suspect on our list will have an alibi.”

  David backed his car out of Christopher’s driveway and drove away. “Let’s find out.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Victor Whittingham was the next suspect on our list. The muscular goateed forty-two-year-old resided on the north side of town. When David and I arrived at the blue Victorian-style home that he was renting, we saw Victor sweating up as storm as he was lifting weights in his garage. The man could sure bench press a ton.

  When Victor spotted us walking up his driveway, he toweled off his face and asked us to identify ourselves. David immediately clued Victor in on who we were and what we were doing there.

  Just as David finished explaining the purpose of our visit, Victor jumped on the defensive.

  “Wait a minute. Do you honestly think that I might have killed Roger?” Victor asked.

  “I didn’t say that,” David replied.

  “No. But you implied it.”

  “Do you want to know the truth?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “The fact is, I’d love to eliminate you from my suspect list.”

  “Good. Then do so.”

  “I’m afraid that isn’t how it works. Someone killed Roger Osgood, and it’s my job to find out who.”

  “It wasn’t me. That’s for sure.”

  “If that’s true then you should have no problem answering some questions for me.”

  Victor stared David down. “What kind of questions?”

  “To start, where were you last night?”

  “I was here.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Working out.”

  “You seem to spend a lot of time lifting weights.”

  “Last time I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”

  “No. But your answer is pretty curious to me.”

  “Why? Working out is a stress reliever for me. Besides, it takes a lot of hard work to get muscles this big.”

  “You have a lot of stress in your life then, huh?”

  “Look. I already answered your question about what I was doing last night. As far as I can tell, none of this other stuff is any of your business.”

  David put his hand up. “Speaking of last night, were you working out alone?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Yes. I was alone.”

  “That’s unfortunate.”

  Victor shrugged. “Why?”

  “Because your story is only as believable as my ability to verify it,” David said.

  Victor groaned. “Let me ask you this. What’s the point of answering your questions if you aren’t going to believe me?”

  “I know this is frustrating for you, but I just want to find out the truth,” David said.

  “I already told you, I didn’t kill Roger.”

  “You keep saying that. But you have no proof.”

  Victor shook his head. “I don’t know what else you want from me.”

  “I have a few more questions for you. That’s all.”

  “Why don’t you go hassle someone else? Roger scammed a lot of different people. That man had no shortage of enemies.”

  “True. But you were more than just a random investor. You and Roger used to be friends. So, for him to betray you like that must have felt like a real stab in the back.”

  “You want honesty? Fine. It took a long time to get over what Roger did to me. But I finally let my resentment go and decided to move on with my life.”

  “Is that so?”

  Victor nodded. “Yes. All that is in the past. Right now, I’m trying to live in the present. Speaking of, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to take a shower.”

  “What makes you think we’re done here?” David asked.

  “The fact that I have nothing more to say.” Victor then walked away and didn’t look back.

  ***

  It was so rare for a suspect interview to go as planned. In fact, I couldn’t tell you the last time someone just calmly answered our questions without putting up a fuss. Even so, some suspects were more confrontational than others.

  Given that, it was no surprise to me when David had some choice words to say about Victor as we drove away from Mr. Whittingham’s place.

  “That could have gone better,” David said.

  I scoffed. “You’re a master of understatement, you know that?”

  David narrowed his eyes. “Trust me. There’s a number of other statements that I’d like to make right now. But I’ll just keep them to myself.”

  “There’s no need to waste your breath. I have a pretty good idea about what you’re thinking.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh yeah? Do you have psychic abilities that I don’t know about?”

  I shook my head. “No. I just have a feeling that we’re both wrestling with the same level of frustration at the moment.”

  “Frustration is definitely a word that comes to mind to describe this situation. Although, maddening is also an accurate description.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. The question is, will our next suspect interview be better or worse than the last one?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  After the frustrating way that the previous interviews had ended, I prayed that things would go differently with Matt O’Toole. I really wanted the lanky, mustached, fifty-eight-year-old to calmly answer our questions. But when David and I arrived at O’Toole’s apartment, Matt wasn’t home. At least, he didn’t appear to be.

  David rang the bell a number of times and got no response. My husband then knocked on the beige front door as well. Finally, after standing on O’Toole’s front step for the better part of five minutes, our thoughts turned toward the worst-case scenario. What if O’Toole had skipped town? Of course, he could have also just been out running errands. We couldn’t take that chance, however. It wouldn’t hurt to put out an all-points bulletin.

  Just as David reached for his police radio, we heard a dog barking behind us. As we turned around, we saw Matt O’Toole coming up the walkway, holding a leash. It turned out that the dog that had barked at us was a German Shephard. And it did not look happy to see us. Then again, neither did the dog’s owner.