by R E Swirsky
***
Hours passed before Brad returned with some limited information. He spoke to Detective Dean Daly and the crown prosecutor, Ron Baxter, but neither would disclose the evidence collected at the crime scene. Both said they had telling evidence. Dean seemed agitated and upset. Dean also made it very clear that Jack was not all in the clear and would have to be brought back to the police station for more questioning.
“The evidence they have will surely point away from me,” Jack said. “I didn’t kill her.”
“Good. If you are truly innocent, then any evidence they collect will be in our favor,” Brad said.
Brad escorted Jack back to his house to collect some personal items. Officers guarded every entrance and the driveway. Yellow tape stretched across the front of the house and down the side path to the back. There was something odd about the placement of the tape, but Jack couldn’t figure out what it was as he walked to the front door. There were two officers at the house; Dean was not one of them. Both wore white coveralls, booties and gloves, and they were going through drawers and cupboards, taking photographs, and placing samples into sterile bags with tags and labels.
Jack and Brad were given white booties and quickly escorted upstairs to the master bedroom. Nothing looked that different to Jack except the sheets on the bed that were mussed and out of order and there were little paper numbers on folded pieces of cardboard scattered around the room. Donna would never have left the bed unmade. Her body had been long since removed. Jack stopped and stared at her side of the bed. On any other day, Donna would simply be in the shower or in the kitchen. But she would not come back to bed tonight. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to sleep in that bed again.
Jack was instructed to indicate which personal items he wanted. Each item of clothing Jack requested was systematically logged and photographed before it was given to him. The process was efficient, and Jack was soon back on the street, holding a garbage bag of clothes.
Jack looked at the Anderson's house next door and the strangeness of the tape placement suddenly struck him. He expected the tape to surround only around his house, but it also stretched across to the Anderson's, enclosing the entire area between the backdoors of both houses.
Jack stopped Brad and pointed to the tape.
"Why is the tape over at the Anderson's house? Did something happen there as well?"
"Jack, get in the car and we'll discuss this."
"What haven’t you told me? Was somebody killed there too?"
"Nothing like that. Get in the car and I'll tell you what I know."
Jack was suddenly upset at Brad for withholding information. He got in the car and slammed the door.
"Josh Anderson is a suspect. They believe they may have evidence that places him in your bedroom prior to the murder. That is the evidence they are following up on right now."
Jack's mouth dropped open.
"The evidence has not been disclosed to anyone yet. This is strictly private information, and no one outside the investigation knows anything about it."
Jack opened the door, "Fuck! That little fucker! I'm..."
Brad grabbed Jack by the collar and yanked him back inside the car. "Stay the hell in here! And close that door! Josh isn't there. He is down at the station. Has been since early this morning."
"I don't fucking believe it! Josh? Why the hell would Josh kill Donna?"
Brad shook his head. "Jack. Let's get out of here. You need a drink, my treat. And we need to talk some more."
Brad and Jack went to the Station restaurant and sat down in a small booth in the corner, away from the other patrons. Brad ordered drinks and told Jack what exactly he knew and what the police suspected.
"The evidence supposedly puts Josh in your bedroom. I don't know what the evidence is, but from what they are telling me, there is no doubt that Josh has been in your bedroom at one point or another. Has Josh ever been in your bedroom that you know of?"
"Never. He's only been on the main floor as far as I know. What kind of evidence do you think they have?"
"I don't know, but this doesn't mean you are no longer a suspect for the prosecution."
"What do you mean?"
"If it was Josh, what motive would Josh have to murder your wife?"
"What are you suggesting?"
"Only what your friend Dean is suspecting. Why would Josh kill Donna when, coincidentally, you’re out of town? You have an alibi. Alibi's sometimes lead to more questions."
Jack chugged back the rest of his drink. "You think I put Josh up to this? Is that it?"
"I'm just saying what others are thinking right now."
"Fuck them!" Jack shouted angrily. “Fuck all of 'em! I had nothing to do with this!" Jack stood up and waved his arm in the air to get the attention of the waitress. "Bring me another!" he shouted. "And make it a double!"
The few others guests in the restaurant were now staring at Jack and Brad. Jack sat back down and buried his head in his hands.
The barmaid quickly returned with another whiskey for Jack.
Jack was silent. Brad assured him that if he was innocent it would all come out, and he told Jack to get a hold of himself. These outbursts would not help him in any way.
Brad's cell phone rang. It was detective Dean. He asked Brad to bring Jack down for more questioning right away. Brad said they would be there within the hour.
