Things could have not been much worse. The only hope I had in this whole murder investigation was that Jennifer and her husband Jake were seemingly on my side. The story continues.
Part 6
My initial meeting that Sunday afternoon
with Jake was awkward. I knew nothing about him; he knew so much about me.
Immediately after the introduction he said, “Jen assures me you have not set
your sights on anything in her but help in this mess you find yourself in. Is that
how you see it?” I was so taken aback by his blunt question, I said nothing.
The silence seemed to bother neither of them. Finally Jake asked, “Are you
gay?”
“What the Hell --?”
Jake burst into laughter. I wanted to smash
in his nose, but in light of my plight restrained myself. “Face it, man. Jen is
hot. And unless you’re gay you must have noticed. Do you find her attractive?”
It took what was likely only seconds, but
what felt like minutes, to answer. “Yes, she’s very attractive.” Silence. “But
– hey I never thought of her that way.”
“Enough, Jake.” Jennifer’s voice was firm;
her face full of laughter. “We’ve got problems here bigger than his attraction
to me. We have a murder to solve. This is the most exciting thing that has
happened around here since Martha Cook ran off with that character she met in
Roanoke. That was when? Eight or ten
years ago. So let’s get on with it.”
We considered the situation, sorted the
gossip from the facts and came up with precious little. Jennifer took charge.
“Facts known,” she said. “One- you and the Hayes got off to a rocky start. Your scanty dress and their prudish attitudes
clashed. Two- as far as they know you do not go to church – a no-no of the
worst kind Three- you called her fucking little bitch.”
“Not to her face,” I protested.
“No matter, you did call her a fucking
little bitch. She called the sheriff and you ended up on court on a charge of
something –“
I
bristled and said, “But..”
“But—no buts. You were found guilty of
something. Then she’s found dead in your pond. And according to the autopsy—not
from an accident. So we’ve a murderer to
find.”
“Unless,” Jake said, “it really is you.”
“Give the man a break,” Jennifer said.
Jake’s narrowed eyes traveled my body. If
he had been a woman I would have felt targeted . “Can’t be you,” he said. “I
quite agree with that. Too wimpy. So then if not you, then who?”
Knowing no one in the area Jen and the
Hayes I had little to offer. “You don’t think it might be Harold, do you?”
“Might be except for one thing. He was at
work when it happened.”
“The whole time?”
“The whole time—on a long haul truck
delivery. Left two nights before and didn’t get home until after the fact.”
My thoughts were twirling. Was I the only
suspect? Did I need a lawyer? I had Frank Melton, but all he did was handle my
business affairs. Imagining him arguing a murder case stretched my imagination
past its capacity. Finally I asked in a voice wimpier than I would have liked. “How
bad is it?”
“Don’t know”, Jake said. “Jen doesn’t think
you did it. She’s pretty intuitive. So if she says you didn’t do it, I say so
too. Possible suspects. That’s what we need. You are likely the best person to
know something we might use. You do live next door.”
I couldn’t decide if Jake was trying to
make me feel better or worse. If the only clues we had were to come from me,
there were none. “I’ve tried to avoid them whenever I could since – well since—“
Jake’s face took on a kinder look. “Don’t
ponder too hard. Let your thoughts and memories float.”
Let my memories float. Whatever did that
mean? I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled in a near whistle. It
popped up. In happier circumstances I would have quoted Wordsworth ‘it flashed
upon the inward eye’. “There was someone—at least a car. A little red Corolla-
in and out several times.”
“A red corolla. When?"
“Came and went several times.”
“When Harold was home or gone?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know he was ever
gone.
Jennifer clapped her hands. “I think we
might just be in business. Got any food here. I’ll make supper.”
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