We're Learning About What Harold Is Doing

                                                         CONSIDERING MURDER

                                                                       Part 11

When Jennifer and Jake appeared at my door I was in my scantiest swim suit, seated at my dining table covered with pages of messy hand written text. I had focused, finally, and was well on my way to finishing my first chapter.

“I see you focused on your writing,” Jennifer said as she surveyed the pages strewn across the table. “Can I read what you’ve got?”

“It’s not to the sharing stage yet.”

“And when will that be?” Jake’s voice bordered on hostility – or so it seemed to me.

And apparently to Jennifer sounding like an over involved parent of a rude child. “Jake, writing books is not like pitting the electrical wiring in a house or driving a truck. It takes inspiration. And speaking of truck driving—“

“Just who’s speaking of truck driving?” Jake snapped.

“Speaking of truck driving.” Jennifer ignored Jake. “It seems that Harold is – well here’s the latest gossip. It seems that Callie Everson has been ever so helpful to Harold – during the funeral and all.”

“And who is Callie whatever?”  I asked.

“The sweet young things living a few houses from Harold’s brother’s house—the house where Harold is now staying.”

Scenes of my own family’s pre-occupation with gossip or what they commonly called ‘dirt’ pushed forward in my mind. “Having what to do with anything?” Jake said before I could utter the same sentiment.

“Can it, you two. What it has to do with anything is this. Two nights this week—both Friday and Saturday—our grieving Harold has sought the consoling comfort of the sweet young thing. Friday to dinner and a movie. Saturday to a concert over in Hapsburg. Now I ask you—how much grieving do you think went on those two nights?”

I felt a fifth wheel as Jake and Jennifer discussed the varied possibilities of the Harold-Sweet young thing alliance. Finally Jake relented. “Ok Jen. So Harold’s seeing another woman. So what? Amy’s dead. He’s alive."

Jennifer dropped onto my sofa, buried her head in her hands. Jake and I watched and waited. When she did not look up Jake asked, “What do you want of him?”

She rose, stood with her hands on her hips and glared at Jake. “What do I want of him? At least a month after he buried his wife before hopping into bed with some bimbo.”

Jake raised his arms in an ‘I give up’ pose. “You’re right. Sorry Jen. What now?”

“Find out if he’s fucking sweety- pie and if he is – how long has it been going on. Connie, you got any beer. I could use one or two or maybe three.”

Over beer we discussed our next move.

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