“Leo Chandless works in the kitchen,” he said, looking over the notes he had written about him, “He had a confrontation with the first victim, Andrea Salazar, several days before her death. She had called him a ‘creep’ and overturned the dishes in his hand.”
Turning the page, Theodore began to jot down the details the doctor was giving him. He had already read the files on both men, but it never hurt to have a fresh account. To see if everything fell in line. It did as far as Zeckendorf went right now. He seemed to be a good man with a good reputation, but even good men had their secrets. If he was going to be honest, Dr. Desmond Zeckendorf was one of the primary suspects on his list. Chandless might have had a history of stalking and assault, but he didn’t believe that he was the killer. He wasn’t going to rule him out, but he also didn’t fit the bill.
Chandless was temperament and impulsive. He was definitely a creep, no question about it, but he was also, for lack of a better word, too easy. He was far too easy to be blamed for the murders. Based on his own insight and the professional opinion of Sebastian, he believed the killer was someone highly intellectual and meticulous. He was careful, cautious, patient. Traits that Chandless clearly lacked.
Zeckendorf, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. An honest and affable man who was dedicated to his job and cared about the people he helped. But he was the one who had found the bodies in a room locked from the inside. Theodore had examined that room. There was no way the killer could have gotten out unless it was staged to look like the exam bed was pushed against the door. And who was better to cover it up than the one who had found the victims? Zeckendorf rubbed him the wrong way far more than Chandless did. There was something invariably off about him.
“Yes, it is,” he answered with a reassuring smile, “Thank you.” Resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, Theodore twirled the pencil in his hand as he glanced cursorily at the design of her office. He didn’t say anything for a long moment before his gaze finally resettled on her. “Do you think you could check something for me?” He asked as his play with the utensil came to an abrupt stop, “Following the death of Salazar on the 18th of June, was anyone treated for a laceration or a serious wound?”