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  At the moment, though, I found it useful, because it left the man in front of her in a befuddled state. He was not used to that sort of confronting attitude, and he couldn’t deal with it the way he wanted to in here.

  “Mr. Hensley,” McAllen said, “This is Ms. Evans. She’s an interrogations consultant who works with us now and then. She’ll be joining us today as we resume our interview from earlier this morning.”

  “Sure thing,” Hensley said, forcing a smile back to his face.

  We all went through the ritual of stating our names and presence for the recorder and cameras. Hensley still refused a lawyer. He was pulling himself together now, though his eyes rested on Evans all the time.

  “So, Mr. Hensley,” she began when the formalities were done with. “I hear you’re suspected of doing unpleasant things to your girlfriend.”

  He shrugged at this. “So they keep claiming, and yet, they have no proof. I don’t think an interrogations expert is going to help with that.” He actually leaned back a little, looking down his nose at her as he said this. There was only one thing I agreed with him on: an interrogations expert she was not. She was usually referred to as a consultant by the cops in the building. That could, after all, mean so many things. Her technique was not something she’d learned in law enforcement anywhere. No, I had figured out early on that she used the simple tricks that charlatans and scam-artists all over the world use. Cold reading. She could pick up on subtle expressions and details that people gave without realizing. The same trick used, for example, to scam those who wanted to know that their loved and departed ones were all right. Those kinds of schemes were not okay with me. It’s unbelievably cruel to do that to people. And yet, here we were doing exactly that. Although, I had to admit, my conscience wasn’t too shattered in this situation.

  “He didn’t call me an expert,” Evans said, “but I do all right.”

  “Oh, I’m sure, sweetie.”

  Her smirk came back at this. Even I thought it justified at that comment.

  “Did you kill her?” she asked bluntly.

  “Of course not. I loved her.”

  Evans sat relaxed in the chair, leaning back a little, her left hand resting on her thigh. I was standing a little to her left behind her, so I could pay attention to this, as was McAllen where he sat. It was the system we used. As Hensley answered her she slightly lifted two fingers, something Hensley couldn’t see through the table. Two fingers meant he was lying. One meant the truth was being told.

  Where were you two nights ago?”

  “At Harrigan’s with Anne.”

  One finger.

  “Just the two of you? No friends with you?”

  Hensley seemed somewhat impatient, having been asked these questions several times already.

  “Just us. A date, you see.”

  One finger.

  He always gave the same answer here. It was no wonder they were alone, though, since he had managed to alienate and isolate her from most of her friends.

  “Was it fun?” Evans continued.

  A ripple of uncertainty crossed his face at this.

  “What? They didn’t ask that.” He pointed at McAllen and me.

  “No, but I am. Was it fun?”

  “Sure…it was okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  “Yeah. It was okay.” He answered while looking at Evans, trying to seem above it, but not quite concealing a look of disdain. I could see it by his flared nostrils and barely narrowed eyes.

  “So no one made contact with you?”

  “What?”

  “There’s something called surveillance cameras, Mr. Hensley,” McAllen said. There were none in the club that had caught Hensley and Stanton, though he didn’t need to know that right now. What we did have, was witnesses.

  “Did someone hit on Anne?” Evans asked.

  Hensley drew a breath and nodded slowly. “Yeah, some guy tried to hit on her when I was at the bar getting us drinks. So what?”

  “What kind of drinks?”

  “Why is that important?”

  “We need to see if your story matches with events as we know them or not,” McAllen said. We had learned by now to go with whatever Evans asked. To read the suspects, she needed them to react. For them to react, she needed to ask questions we didn’t always ask ourselves.

  Hensley looked silently at McAllen a moment, obviously not liking him taking Evans’ side. “Beers,” he answered and focused on Evans again.

  One finger.

  “Doesn’t take very long to get a couple of beers. Was the place packed?” She added the last question to McAllen, who shook his head, and then answered for the sake of the recorder. “Doesn’t take long at all,” she concluded. “How much could one guy really have said to your girlfriend?”

  Hensley didn’t answer this, and he did not look happy despite his best efforts.

  “You afraid she was gonna go off with someone better than you?” Evans asked, blunt as ever. I understood it under the circumstances, problem was, she was usually like that.

  “I mean, that’s normal,” Evans continued seeing Hensley’s eyes darken at the implied weakness of his manhood. “You don’t exactly strike me as an alpha-male. Must have lost many girlfriends that way. No wonder you were afraid.”

  Hensley scoffed. “Fuck you. I sent that guy packing. No way he was going to make a pass at her right in front of me.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the problem, though, huh? The problem was your girlfriend, all willing to cheat on you. I totally get it. I would, too, if I were her.”

  Hensley’s eyes widened a bit at what must to him have seemed like insolence.

  “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “How did you send him packing?” Evans continued unperturbed.

  “Told him to go screw himself.”

  One finger.

  “No violence?”

  “Surely the surveillance tape shows that,” he said.

  “Again, Mr. Hensley,” McAllen broke in. “We need to verify your story.”

  “Fine. No violence.”

  One finger.

  “Anne wasn’t so lucky that night, though,” Evans said.

  “What can I say? The world is full of violent people. I am not one of them.”

  Two fingers.

  “Did you argue after that guy made a pass at her?”

  “Of course not.” Hensley shook his head vigorously.

  Two fingers.

  “So, if we ask around no one will testify to seeing you arguing, say…on the way home

  from the club?”

  “We didn’t walk home together.”

  Two fingers.

  “So Anne was hit on, you didn’t like it, and then you went your separate ways?”

  “Yes.”

  Two fingers.

  “You didn’t go over to her place later that night? To apologize?”

  “No,” Hensley answered her.

  One finger.

  I could see what she was doing. Checking different possibilities to see how he reacted. I caught myself staring intently at his smug and confused face trying to catch what she could see. The smugness and confusion were there like they were lit up with neon-signs. But the small reactions…the little expressions of unease, pleasure, uncomfortableness, malice and so on…I simply couldn’t see them. Whether it was an innate skill or not, one had to have a knack for it. She certainly did. What was worrisome was how she potentially used it outside this room.

  “Did you go there to make her apologize?” Evans went on. She was focused where she sat, still seemingly relaxed. But I’d seen her reaction to the photo of Anne Stanton, and she did not like this man.

  “No,” Hensley said.

  One finger.

  “So, you claim that you didn’t follow her home, nor did you go there later in the night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any ex-girlfriends, Mr. Hensley?”

  The shift in t
opic caught him off guard a moment.

  “What?”

  “Ex-girlfriends?” she repeated. “Do you have any? Or was Anne your first?”

  “Of course I have exes. What has that got to do with it?”

  One finger.

  “Care to give us their names?” McAllen asked.

  A light seemed to be switched on inside Hensley’s brain as he relaxed and breathed out. “I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, “It’s amazing what you can find on people’s social media accounts these days. It’s like people helping us in advance.”

  “Also, there’s friends and coworkers. Everybody knows something. It’s only a matter of piecing it together,” McAllen chimed in. Former girlfriends could testify to violent or coercive behavior if there had been any. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. We had already started tracking a couple of them.

  “Go ahead. I have nothing to hide,” he said, and I have to admit he managed to rein himself in enough to look composed at this point.

  “Sure about that?” Evans asked.

  “Of course.”

  Two fingers.

  “Anne was stabbed eight times,” Evans said, changing the topic again.

  “Yes, very sad. You can never trust thieves to just steal.”

  “Nothing was stolen.”

  “No signs of forced entry,” McAllen added, allowing this piece of information to be given to Hensley. “Which means she let her killer in.”

  “Well, I loved that girl, but Anne wasn’t the smartest.” Hensley shook his head and smiled sadly.

  “You’re blaming her for getting murdered in her own home?” Evans asked.

  “She should perhaps have been more careful.”

  “Well. We’re looking for the murder weapon still. Wouldn’t know where that is?” Hensley made a flicker of a smirk at this. “No, I don’t.”

  Two fingers.

  “Didn’t take the knife with you? If you did it, of course,” she pressed.

  “No…and no,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

  Two fingers.

  “Didn’t throw it away along the way home? Into the harbor maybe?”

  “No.”

  One finger.

  “Did you bring it home with you?”

  “No. I thought you’d checked my house.”

  Two fingers.

  “The warrant still applies. We can do it again,” McAllen said.

  Hensley shrugged again like this didn’t concern him at all.

  “Did you hide the knife somewhere in your house?” Evans asked.

  Hensley looked confused again at this, like he couldn’t tell what made her ask the questions. If he had known, he might have tried masking his face more.

  “As I said, I didn’t bring it home because I didn’t kill her.”

  Two fingers.

  “So if we look again it’ll be for nothing?”

  “Yes.”

  One finger.

  Whether or not this was true, he certainly believed it was.

  “So, if we start all over, say in the kitchen…we won’t find an extra knife in one of the drawers?”

  “No.”

  One finger.

  “Stabbed eight times.” Evans repeated. “That’s a lot of rage for a thief who’s never met her before.” She leaned forward at this, left hand still on her thigh while placing her right elbow on the table, chin resting on her hand. She gave him a small smile. Like a double smirk, I thought.

  “There’s almost something, sexual, dominating about it. Must have given the murderer quite the satisfaction.”

  I was surprised to see him smiling back at her. She might be on to something.

  “The knife used for that kind of thing…whoever did it, wouldn’t have thrown it away, not a mighty…phallus like that.”

  Hensley’s smile vanished in an instant, a sneer replacing it, but he didn’t say anything.

  “No, something like that doesn’t belong in the kitchen, does it?” Evans pushed. “Oh, but the bedroom…now that’s where you’d keep your stand-in dick.” She smiled broadly as he sat back.

  “You bitch,” he snarled at her.

  “Calm down, Mr. Hensley,” McAllen warned.

  “Yeah, the bedroom.” Evans nodded more to herself than Hensley. “More sensual, exciting, no?”

  He didn’t say anything, only gave her a venomous stare. That seemed to be enough for her, though.

  One finger.

  “Hidden somewhere special, I imagine. Like the bed.”

  Again, he must have given her some clue McAllen and I couldn’t see.

  One finger.

  “I bet we can find all kinds of things hidden there.”

  Hensley looked absolutely furious at this, staring at her with wide eyes, mouth open, visibly shaken by how the interrogation had changed on him.

  “Yeah,” Evans said softly and turned to McAllen. “I’d put that warrant to use again, Detective.”

  “You fucking whore,” Hensley suddenly shouted and tried to go at her over the table, forgetting he was cuffed to it. McAllen was on him before I could take two steps. He wasn’t the biggest man, medium build, dark blond hair. About a head shorter than me, but you did not want to mess with him. He got Hensley to back down immediately. Evans sat back in her chair but gave no sign of being frightened of the man. She knew his range when handcuffed like that. It wasn’t her first time in this room.

  “May I remind you that you are under suspicion of murder, Mr. Hensley,” McAllen said. “Attacking us or our consultants can leave you with all kinds of other problems. If you have something to tell, then please do so, but do it in a civilized manner.”

  Hensley’s lips tightened at this and he breathed heavily. I didn't have a knack for cold reading, but his eyes were pure venom. If he’d been alone with Evans and not handcuffed–it was obvious what he would have wanted to do. However, from what we knew about her, she would have put up one hell of a fight.

  “I think I got what I needed,” she said and looked up at me. I nodded and walked her out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind us, she leaned against the nearest wall and sank down to the floor, leaning her head back and closing her eyes a moment.

  “You okay?” I asked. I did not trust her, like her, or approve of her methods, but I knew that interrogation must have taken its toll on her. Hensley was, to put it mildly, an unpleasant man, and she could perceive more than most.

  She sighed heavily and nodded before opening her eyes. “Yeah, it’s just…that guy…you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay,” she said and started getting up again. “Let’s get out of here before McAllen brings him out.”

  Chapter 4

  “I’m telling you,” Evans said as we made our way toward the exit. “Hensley liked what he did.”

  “We gathered that,” McAllen said.

  “Yeah, but he really liked it,” she pressed on, worry in her voice. “As in he wants to do it again. This guy won’t stop now that he’s begun. You need to stop him.”

  “Let’s hope we find some evidence then,” I began when Maureen at reception broke in as we passed by.

  “Maggie, hon. You need to sign out before you leave.”

  “Oh, sorry, Maureen,” Evans responded and headed over to the front desk.

  McAllen and I stopped to wait. “She’s getting too comfortable here” I commented, making McAllen chuckle.

  “Hey, that reminds me,” he said. “Rosita said to make you come along to dinner tonight.”

  “Uh, but—”

  McAllen held up a hand to silence me. “Those were her exact words. Make you come, not ask.”

  “I’m sorry about last time,” I said. “But Kona began throwing up and…” I noticed a man seated in the small waiting area. Middle-aged, short, tawny-colored hair, a serious expression on his face. His eyes were directed at Evans, who stood with her back to him as she chatted with Maureen.
/>   “Seen him before?” I asked McAllen who shook his head as his eyes followed the stranger’s line of sight as well. He raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As Evans came back toward us, the man’s eyes went with her.

  “Do you know that guy?” McAllen asked her, showing her where to look with a slight indication with his head.

  Evans, not being one for subtlety, turned around and stared at the man, making him avert his eyes instantly. “No. Some old fart checking out my ass,” she said loud enough for the man and anyone else to hear.

  “Okay then.” McAllen gave a cough. “Let’s go.”

  As he led the way out, I thought I saw the tawny-haired man blush at Evans’ comment. What I certainly did see, was Evans looking back a moment, a look of confusion on her face. I gave a mental sigh and filed the information for future reference.

  The drive to Hensley’s house was not a long one. He lived in a two-story light-green house about a twenty-minute walk from the town center, and half an hour walk from Anne Stanton’s apartment. This, we had checked and double checked. The house was not the largest in town, but more than enough for one person.

  Sweeney, the town’s only crime tech, met us there, ready to help go through the house again. He was a year out of college, a skinny dark-haired man, with a happy disposition, in general. I wondered how long it would last in that job.

  “Hello, Francis,” Evans said as we joined him on the porch.

  “Oh, hiya, Maggie. I heard you’d been called in.” He was checking something on his camera. “Let’s hope we find something this time,” he added and lowered it, his tool-bag hanging ready on his shoulder.

  “I hope so, too,” Evans said. “You filming?”

  I nodded as I got my phone from my jacket pocket and opened the application. In this respect, she’d come a long way since the beginning. It was odd how the chief didn’t seem all that enthusiastic about using Evans, and odder still that Evans didn’t seem to want to do it, either. At first, she had not liked being filmed or recorded. Only once had she been required by the DA to appear in court, and with her blunt and rude behavior, that had not happened again. If the DA could avoid using her that way, all the better for everyone. Which was why everything was filmed, and there were always police officers with her who could testify instead.