Police Elicit Connie's Help

I was on a roll which was short lived. All I knew was Harold had impregnated both his wife and his girlfriend.  Until new facts in the case came to light, it was going nowhere. I was going nowhere.

                                                          CONSIDERING MURDER

                                                                         Part 14

All my books are sheer fiction, designed and controlled by me. I admit sometimes a story takes on a life of its own and does the leading—not the following. But that is a different matter. This book I had decided to base on facts—as soon as I could get the facts. It might turn out to be giant mistake. But I was committed. I e-mailed a first chapter to my agent Jackie Mathis, whose enthusiasm is beyond description. “The best idea you’ve had in ages. How long?”

“How long? I have no idea. This is not over yet. It’s an unfolding case. I can’t just make it up.”

“And why not? It’s done all the time.”

“Even so. I can’t do that. We’re quietly working the case.”

Silence. I wondered if we had been cut off or if Jackie had hung up. Finally she asked in what I have more than once called her school teacher voice. “And who is this we?”

“A couple of new friends. Jake and Jennifer.”

“Good Gods, Jake and Jennifer. If you name two characters Jake and Jennifer you’ll be labeled a hack.” More silence. Then she said, “Well not too long. If I haven’t heard from you in two weeks I’ll be on your case. Now get to work.”

Get to work. What the Hell did she think I could do?  What I knew about Harold’s paternity problems would take one paragraph that any high school English teacher would give an F. Bothering Jake or Jennifer at work was something I would not do. Tonight I would call if I had not heard from them. Meanwhile I would mow my yard.

I had made four swaths across the front when the sheriff arrived.  With not an easy spirit I turned off my mower.

“Mr. Murdock,” he said. “They tell me you are a murder mystery writer.”  His expression revealed nothing.

“Yes, I do.”

“Don’t read’em myself. But I hear you’re good. I’d like to pass some things by you. Would that be all right?” I hesitated. Searching for what to say. He flashed the first smile I had seen from him. “Relax. You’re not on out suspect list any more. But I do think you might help. Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Sure. But I have nothing to add to what I said in my long interrogation.” I did not try to hide my hostility.

“Sorry about that. But you were – and notice I said were—our best suspect. The whole neighborhood knows about your little set-to with Amy Hayes.” I rolled my eyes. He laughed. “You are no longer a suspect. Now can you spare me a little time?”