Chapter Eighteen
Hours of looking at bad pictures and calling people for their drunken recollections of the birthday party later, Ambrose and I are spent.
He throws the phone back on the hook and angrily scratches another name off the list. “This is going nowhere. Everyone was drunk and nobody remembers when they last saw Valerie or Ralph. All those pictures prove is that they were both at the party, but it doesn’t show when either of them left.”
“There must be someone who saw them.” I rub my eyes to try and rid myself of the sting that's come from staring at a screen for so long.
“Even if so, if they were even slightly tipsy, it’ll be easy to convince the jury they didn’t remember it correctly. We can’t rely on the statement of a drunken witness. We need hard evidence. Proof that he d
