Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Donning my heavy coat, I hustled out into the once-again-swirling snow and jumped into Nick’s truck. We made the drive silently and arrived at the police station to walk inside, where Pierce was already waiting near the reception area.
“I’m sorry about this,” Pierce said.
“Is it really necessary to do this today?” I stomped snow off my boots.
“Yeah, I’m getting pressure from higher up. As I said, I held off for as long as I could. I’ll take you back to process you, and then we can meet in the interrogation room,” Pierce affirmed.
Tessa wrung her hands. “What should I do?”
Pierce jerked his head toward the stairs. “You can sit in my office until he’s released. After processing, I’d appreciate an interview, Basanelli.”
I took a deep breath. “You managed to get a judge to come in today?” It was early on Saturday, and there was a chance Nick would’ve had to cool his heels in a cell until Monday to get a bail hearing.
“Yeah,” Pierce said. “In fact, Judge Williams is looking over the arrest and booking information, and I provided recommendations from not only myself but other officers and a couple of attorneys in the prosecuting attorney’s office. We asked for judicial review. If she grants such, Nick should be released without a bail hearing.”
“What are the chances?” I asked.
Pierce shrugged. “I have no idea. We have to do everything by the book, and a special prosecutor has not been appointed yet. However, Basanelli has strong ties to the community, has done a good job as the prosecuting attorney, and I think there’s a decent chance the judge will trust that he won’t run.” Pierce stared at Nick. “Right?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Nick said grimly.
“Good.” Pierce nodded toward a couple of uniformed officers waiting down the short hallway. “We’ll meet in the interrogation room in about fifteen minutes, Anna. Tessa, you can’t be there.”
She held up her hands. “Fine. I’ll go hang out in your office again. Do you have any doughnuts?”
“No.” Pierce took Nick away.
I couldn’t believe this. The timing could not have been worse. I walked up to Pierce’s office with Tessa and got her settled in. She was already on the phone with our cousins, having everybody check in about Violet.
“Why don’t you set up a group text?” I asked. We’d all been calling each other all night, and it was getting tedious.
“That’s a good idea,” she said. “I’ll do that so everybody can be involved. We’ve been scrambling so much all night. I’m surprised we didn’t think of that before.”
Panic would do that to a family. I hurried out of the room, stopping by the bullpen to get what smelled like a fresh cup of coffee. I turned to see Bud Orlov in the doorway. “Hey, Bud,” I said.
“Albertini,” he returned.
Bud was a uniformed police officer who had provided protection duty to me more than once. I’d accidentally gotten him shot, so he always stepped warily around me. “I heard about Basanelli.”
“Yeah, he didn’t do it,” I said.
“I hope not. We all make mistakes when we’re kids.” Bud was a broad guy with a buzz cut and seemed to be in a philosophical mood today.
“How’s the wife?” I asked.
He gave me a look, turned on his heel, and disappeared. I had thought he was interested in my sister Donna for a little while, and then we’d found out he was married but separated. Rumor had it his wife was in town, but that was all the information I could obtain. Not that it was any of my business. Still, curiosity sometimes got to me.
I took my coffee down to the warmer of the two interrogation rooms and sat inside, waiting for Pierce and Nick to return. They soon did, and Nick looked none the worse for the wear. It must have been a quick procedure to get fingerprinted and all.
Pierce engaged the cameras on the walls and gave the date and time of the interview of Nick Basanelli with his attorney present. “Did you kill your father?” Pierce asked right off the bat.
“As I said before, no,” Nick returned.
“What evidence do you possibly have?” I asked.
Pierce pulled the knife out of his briefcase, still encased in the evidence bag. “The knife has your prints on it, Basanelli.”
“It’s my knife—or it was years ago. I had no idea what happened to it.”
“Are there any other prints on it?” I asked.
Pierce shook his head. “Nope.”
Great. “I find that odd. Didn’t everybody use that knife?” I asked.
Nick nodded. “Yeah, anybody who wanted it used it. At least one of my brother’s prints should be on there—and my dad’s, too.”
“We just have yours. There are some smatterings and smudges toward the tip of the handle, but nothing we could identify,” Pierce begrudgingly shared.
“We know it’s the murder weapon?” Nick asked.
Pierce turned the bag around. “Yes. This has been identified as the murder weapon. Is there any chance you and your father got into a scuffle or fight?”