Bellamy hesitated, and that hesitation told Isla everything she needed to know. There was something in there he didn't want them to see.
"Mr. Bellamy, I asked you a direct question. Are there any weapons in your apartment?"
"No weapons," he said finally. "But there's... equipment from my old job. I took it when they fired me and I've been selling it online to make rent. That's why I ran—I thought you were here about the theft."
The admission hung in the cold air. Isla processed it quickly—stolen equipment, sold online, explaining the neighbors' concerns about power usage and surveillance. It fit a different pattern than murder, but it didn't rule him out as their suspect.
"James, call Morrison. Tell him we need an evidence collection team here. Mr. Bellamy just confessed to theft of city property, and we're going to need to document it." Isla turned back to Bellamy. "You're going to show us exactly what you took and where it is. And then you're going to answer questions about where you were last night between midnight and 2 AM. Do you understand?"
Bellamy nodded miserably, his earlier panic replaced by resignation.
They cleared the apartment methodically, James taking point while Isla kept Bellamy secured by the door. The interior was cramped and messy—takeout containers scattered across a coffee table, dirty dishes piled in the sink, the musty smell of someone who'd stopped caring about maintenance. But no immediate signs of violence, no obvious connection to David Langford's murder.
The second bedroom had been converted into a workspace, and that's where they found the equipment Bellamy had mentioned. Thermal imaging cameras, temperature sensors, digital monitoring devices—all branded with Duluth Public Works logos. The equipment was arranged on makeshift shelves, some of it still in original packaging, all of it clearly expensive and specialized.
"Jesus," James muttered, taking in the haul. "How much did you steal?"
"About forty thousand dollars' worth," Bellamy said quietly from the doorway, where Isla had positioned him. "Over three months, before they caught me accessing the inventory system. They fired me but couldn't prove what I'd actually taken withoutdoing a full audit, and by then..." He shrugged. "I'd already moved it here."
Isla walked through the room, careful not to disturb anything before the evidence team arrived. This explained the neighbors' concerns—all this equipment would draw power, and Bellamy would have been paranoid about being discovered. The "surveillance" Cindy Kim had reported was probably just Bellamy watching for police or city officials, not stalking potential victims.
"Tell me about the complaint David Langford filed," Isla said, turning to face Bellamy.
He shifted uncomfortably, the handcuffs making his posture awkward. "It was three weeks ago. He claimed I was misusing city equipment—which was bullshit because I wasn't even working there anymore—and that I'd created a hostile work environment before I left. He dragged Thomas Sanders and Rebecca Whitmore into it too, said we were all part of some scheme to defraud the city."
"Were you?"
"No!" Bellamy's denial was immediate and emphatic. "Look, I took equipment after I was fired, yeah, that was stupid. But while I was working there, I did my job. Thomas and Rebecca had nothing to do with anything. Langford was just pissed because..." He trailed off, looking away.
"Because why?" James pressed.
Bellamy sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Because I told HR he was cutting corners on safety inspections. Filing reports without actually doing the work, signing off on tunnel sections that needed repairs. I thought I was doing the right thing, but it made me unpopular. And then when I got fired for the inventory access thing, Langford saw an opportunity to get back at me by filing that complaint and dragging my name through the mud even more."
Isla absorbed this, recalibrating her understanding of the relationship between Bellamy and the victim. Not a straightforward revenge scenario—more complicated, with grievances on both sides and workplace politics adding layers of motivation.
"Where were you last night between midnight and 2 AM?" she asked.
"Here. Asleep." Bellamy met her eyes. "I live alone, so I don't have an alibi, but I swear I was here. I haven't been in those tunnels since they fired me. I haven't even been downtown in weeks—I've been too worried about running into someone from work."
"You sent David Langford text messages," James said. "Three of them, between 11 PM and midnight. Asking him to meet you at Access Point 7."
Bellamy's face went blank with confusion. "What? No, I didn't. I don't even have his number anymore—I deleted everything work-related when they terminated me."
Isla studied his reaction carefully. Either he was an excellent liar, or he genuinely had no idea what they were talking about. "The messages came from a burner phone purchased six weeks ago in Superior, Wisconsin. Cash transaction, no name attached."
"I've never bought a burner phone in my life," Bellamy said, his voice rising slightly with frustration. "You can check my credit cards, my bank statements, whatever. I didn't send David any messages. I didn't even know he was dead until you told me five minutes ago."
The conviction in his voice gave Isla pause. She glanced at James, who gave a subtle shake of his head—he wasn't buying it completely either, but there was reasonable doubt.
"Mr. Bellamy, I'm going to remove your handcuffs," Isla said, making a decision. "But you're not under arrest for DavidLangford's murder—yet. You are, however, under arrest for theft of city property. Duluth PD is going to transport you to their station for processing on those charges. In the meantime, we're going to execute a search warrant on this apartment and collect all the stolen equipment as evidence."
"But I didn't kill David," Bellamy insisted as she unlocked the cuffs. "I swear, whatever happened to him, it wasn't me."
"Then you should be hoping we find evidence that proves that," James said. "Because right now, you're our primary suspect."
Morrison came inside ten minutes later with his evidence collection team and two uniformed officers to transport Bellamy. Isla watched as they loaded him into the patrol car, noting how he kept his head down, avoiding the stares of neighbors who'd come out to see what the commotion was about.
"What do you think?" James asked once they were alone on the porch.
