The Taylor home was a 1950’s vintage house, with a well-maintained lawn, a large flower bed, and a fenced area where 2 dogs were playing. Keith knocked on the door, and a tall man with a salt-and pepper beard greeted us. “Mark Taylor? I’m Detective Jennings and this is Detective Perry. We’re from the NYPD Cold Case Unit, and we are looking into your sister’s case. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?” I inquired. “Sure, come on in,” Taylor said while pointing to the kitchen table. “It’s been a long time since anyone from the police has come around to talk about Melanie. Ask anything you need to.” We sat at the table, Keith arranged his files, and Mark went into the living room to tell a teenage boy playing video games to go to his room; he needed to talk to these gentlemen. The boy looked too young to be Mark’s son, but there was a resemblance. “ That was my stepson Kyle. My wife is out doing errands, she should be back in a bit. All right, what would you like to know?” Mark asked while pouring coffee for the three of us. “To start, tell us a little about Melanie and what was going around here at the time of her death, “ I said while getting my pen and paper ready to take notes. “My sister was a wonderful kid. I’m not saying she was a saint, and she wasn’t a golden child; she did get into her fair share of trouble, but nothing major. . Mel was the type of person who would help without being asked to, didn’t have trouble making friends, lit up the room with her smile, and it was hard not to love her.” “What kind of trouble?” Keith inquired. “Just the sort of trouble a normal teenage girl would get into: staying out late a few times, getting caught smoking, having an occasional attitude. But she was no juvenile delinquent. She loved school, and when she got hired at that steakhouse, she was over the moon,” Mark beamed. Then he pointed to a photo on his wall. “This was taken a few weeks before she died. That’s Mel, me, and our parents having a dinner celebration the day before I left for California to start my first year at USC.” I looked at the photo closely. It showed Melanie smiling with her arm around Mark, her blonde hair framing her face. Around her neck was a gold cross necklace, which I remembered from the crime scene photos. It was found under her body, the chain broken. Maybe the killer tugged at it when he grabbed her throat and ripped it off? I made a mental note to ask Barrett to check and see if any prints or DNA had been taken from it as well. “Anything else you can tell us? Did Melanie say if anyone was giving her trouble?” Keith asked. “Not to me,” Mark replied. “You might want to talk to her friend Trisha. She worked with Mel at the steakhouse, was a classmate of hers, and probably her closest friend. She still lives around here, so if Mel had anything on her mind, Trisha might have been the one she went to.”
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway brought our conversation to a pause. Looking out the window we saw a tall, dark haired woman exit a medium blue Audi. “That would be my wife Cheryl,” Mark smiled. “Let me see if she needs help bringing stuff in, then we’ll finish our talk.” A few minutes later, Mark and Cheryl entered the house, each carrying a couple of bags. “Honey, these are detectives looking into my sister’s case,” he explained while depositing the bags on the kitchen counter. “Nice to meet you,” she smiled. “Mark has been looking for answers to who killed Melanie, and hopefully the two of you can make some progress into it. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect crime, but wow ... it’s crazy that there have been no leads over the past 40 years,” Cheryl remarked as she opened the refrigerator and deposited several packages of food. “Well, Mrs. Taylor, science has changed over the years, and you won’t believe what we can do now. Even the smallest trace of DNA can be detected and evaluated,” Keith explained. “If there’s anything there that can be analyzed, like touch DNA, our forensics expert will be able to see if he can match it to any of our databases.” “It’s a downright sin,” Cheryl mused, sliding a carton of eggs onto the shelf. “The way this family has suffered.”
“The not knowing is what hurts the most,” I agreed. The kitchen felt suddenly cramped with the weight of the past.
“Well, we have to get going, our next stop is to talk to Trisha Moore, who could possibly be the last person that we know of to see Melanie alive,” Keith said. “Let me walk you out to your car,” Mark offered. We went to the car, gravel crunching under our feet. After handshakes, Mark gave us a parting plea. “Please, do whatever you can to find whoever killed my sister. They say that the loss of a child can end a marriage, but for my parents, it didn’t. They had been together since middle school, and I don’t think they could imagine a world where they weren’t , they were so much in love. They were never the same after Mel died. Mom sank into a deep dark depression, and in the end, it finally did a number on her heart. Dad never was much of a drinker, but after the murder, he hit the bottle any time he could, and it caught up to him as well. For me, I was the dutiful son trying to keep things together. There are so many memories in this house. I’ve considered selling it many times, but I always get the feeling that doing that would be a betrayal to Mom, Dad, and Mel. Maybe if you come up with a resolution, we’ll all be able to find peace and move forward.” “We’ll do our best,” I nodded. “We’ll call you immediately if we come up with anything.” “Thank you so much,” Mark waved as he went back into the house.
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