Later, they drove over to Aglamesis Brothers in Oakley Square for ice cream. There were two kinds of people in Cincinnati: those who liked ice cream from Graeter’s and the ones who preferred Aglamesis. It was like Gold Star vs. Skyline Chili. Will was definitely among the latter, and he was delighted that Cheryl Beth was, too. He brought the conversation back to light things, telling her about his days as a student at Miami. “Let’s say I’m not one of the really successful alumni they name buildings after,” he said.
“Well, they should,” she said.
He was happy to be off the clock, had even turned off his cell phone. He had briefed the chief late that afternoon and felt safe in being gone awhile. The case was spooling out, if too slowly for the chief. Will wasn’t happy about it either and felt the pressure. But it was what it was. Some homicides went that way. Woe to the detectives when it was this high profile.
Kristen Gruber’s phone records had turned up two more boyfriends. One was a thirty-five-year-old patrol sergeant in District 2 on the east side. The other was a diving instructor who lived in Butler County. Both were cooperative. Will was able to keep internal affairs away from his talk with the sergeant, so that smoothed things out. Both were tall, good-looking, and muscular; both single.
Neither knew about the other, or about the attorney she was also seeing. Both said she liked rough sex, where she would be bound or handcuffed during the act. It didn’t go both ways, however. She didn’t handcuff the men. Both voluntarily gave DNA samples. The sergeant had been with her on Friday night. The diving instructor wanted to take her out on Saturday night, but she said she had plans: she was going to take her boat out.
News stories were starting to say “the police are baffled” by Kristen’s murder. The chief and Lieutenant Fassbinder would love that. Will was not baffled. He was beginning to wonder if the killer was random, not someone she knew. That would complicate things.
This far into an investigation, you knew some victims like they were brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers. Others were like Kristen, cloudy at best. She had grown up on the West Side, the daughter of a mail carrier and a teacher. She was a tomboy, a star athlete in volleyball, swimming, and lacrosse at Seton High School in Price Hill. It was the female equivalent of Elder High, right next door. Her grades were good. At Ohio State, she majored in sociology and came back to join the force. Her parents said she had always wanted to be a police officer, even being a police Explorer in high school.