Harold's Been Found If He Was Ever Lost

Harold and Callie, his Sweety, were missing. I had been completely cleared of any part in the murder of Harold's late wife. In fact I was engaged to help the Sheriff solve the case. And solving it was of great importance to me because it was the STUFF of new novel. 

                                                                         Part 21

At half past seven the banging at my front door jarred me from sleep.  Sleep badly needed since I was up most of the night plotting possible scenarios of this story.

After Jennifer's hardly breathing between the words of her report on Callie Everson’s demise I said, “I know.”

“How the hell would you feel if you went out of your way to share this critical news? Only to find out it is not news.” Jennifer said to me clad only in a wrap around towel. “And how the shit did you know?”

“Sheriff Marlings told me yesterday.”

“And you didn’t feel you should share that?”

“Jennifer, get a grip. I was going to call you later today. How did you find out?”

“Jake got it from Mike last night.”

“Any word on Harold?”

“Not that I know. But then you might since you do seem to know more than I do.” The hostility of her tone equaled that of her fiery eyes.

“Jen—I can call you Jen?”

“You may not,” she snapped. “My close friends call me that. Jennifer will do just fine for you.”

I could see she was not about to thaw. “Jennifer,” I said. “It’s not like I was keeping anything a secret. I just found out for Christ’s sake. Give me a fucking break.”

She burst out in laughter. “I’m sorry, but this whole thing is getting to me.”

It was my turn to laugh. “It’s getting to you. In case you haven’t been paying attention it me—not you – who’s being suspected of murder.”

“Was being suspected, not is,” she said looking at her watch. “God I have to get to work. Ok if Jake and I come by tonight?”

I spent the morning arranging and rearranging known facts into one possible plot after another. At noon Sheriff Marlings called, “Harold’s been found.”

“At his parent’s house no doubt.”

“Yep. How did you know?”

“Only possible place. If he’s guilty of something running away just makes him look more guilty. If he’s innocent why would he run away?”

“Makes sense. Any other ideas?”

“If I were in charge I’d be looking into Sweety Pie’s other romantic interests.”

His laughter seemed unusually raucous. “Being done as we speak.”

"Keep me in formed,” I said.