by Chris Taylor
Jett studied her closely and tried not to be moved by her fierce beauty. Her breath came fast and her chest rose and fell, drawing her generous proportions to his attention. With a sound of self-disgust coming from the back of his throat, Jett forced his attention elsewhere. Once again, Franklin bent forward and held his head in his hands.
“The truth is, Detective,” Franklin said, his words muffled behind his hands, “I haven’t even opened the results. I should never have requested proof in the first place. I knew when I demanded it, that it wasn’t right. My wife would never be unfaithful. But it was like, once it was out there, I couldn’t take it back. It seemed easier to go ahead with it than call it off.”
He lifted his head and gazed at Jett, his eyes now filled with pain. “I never got to tell her I was sorry. She died before I got the chance. How will I forgive myself? She died thinking I believed she’d been unfaithful. She died uncertain of my love. It’s wrong! So wrong! I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do and it’s killing me!”
His words were drowned out by noisy sobs as, once again, he held his head in his hands. Danielle looked stricken. Seating herself beside him, she put an arm around his shoulders and offered him murmured words of comfort.
“Shh, Franklin, it’s all right. And don’t be upset. Sabrina knew how much you loved her. She knew. She told me about the roses. She knew you hadn’t meant what you’d said. She understood you were tired and stressed and those words had come out without thought or premeditation.”
Franklin lifted his head and stared at his sister-in-law, his eyes wide with surprise. “She… She told you about the roses?”
Danielle held his gaze. It was like Jett was no longer there. “Yes, she told me and she knew exactly what they meant. She told me it was your way of apologizing for your behavior. So please, stop crying. Let’s remember her and Marnie, the way they were, full of sunshine and love. They deserve nothing less.”
Jett stared at Danielle with admiration. She’d just lost her niece and sister in the most horrific way. She was standing mere feet from their grave and yet, despite her obvious pain and loss, she cared enough about her brother-in-law to comfort him and ease him through his grief. Jett’s certainty that she wasn’t involved in the deaths was strengthened, but he still had one more question. He cleared his throat to get her attention.
“Ms Porter, I read through some of the text messages on your sister’s phone. I noticed you two seemed to be arguing over something a week before her death. Can you tell me about that?”
She turned her head and glared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He’d taken a screenshot of the messages.
“This might refresh your memory,” he said and handed her his cell.
She looked down at the screen and scanned its contents. A frown creased the smooth skin of her forehead. A moment later, it cleared and a hint of embarrassment colored her cheeks.
“Okay, I guess you could call this an argument, but it was nothing. A disagreement, that’s all.”
Jett eyed her curiously. “What were you disagreeing about?”
The color in her cheeks deepened and she kept her gaze fixed to the ground. “It’s not what you’re thinking, Detective. It was nothing.”
He regarded her steadily. “I think I need to be the judge of that.”
She drew in a deep breath and then let it out on a sigh. “Sabrina was trying to find me a boyfriend. A few times she’d tried to set me up with men from Franklin’s work. She wouldn’t believe me when I told her I wasn’t interested.” She threw her head back and stared at him, a look of challenge in her eyes.
He stared back at her, refusing to acknowledge the leap in his pulse when she revealed she was single.
“All right,” he finally replied, giving her a nod.
“Will that be all, Detective?” she asked pointedly.
“For now.” He looked at Franklin. “I’d like a copy of those paternity tests, if you don’t mind.”
Franklin barely acknowledged his request. His gaze remained fixed on the grave. Jett felt a wave of sympathy.
“Thank you for your time, Mr Cook, Ms Porter,” he said quietly. “And once again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Just find the bastard who did this to my family,” Franklin urged, his voice rough and unsteady.
Jett compressed his lips and nodded, feeling the full weight of their joint stares. He was responsible for finding the killer. In silence, he vowed not to rest until that was done.
CHAPTER SIX
Jett closed the door to his squad car and approached the four-storey red brick apartment block that was surrounded by similarly ugly buildings. Built in the 1950s and subsidized by the government in an effort to provide cheaper housing options, they dotted the Sydney skyline. Though many of them had been demolished and replaced with sleeker, more modern versions, a few of them still remained, including the one where Kevin Thompson lived with his sister.
Fuelled with renewed determination after his conversation with Franklin and Danielle, Jett had run Thompson’s name through their system and discovered the man had a record. Given Thompson’s employment, the discovery had taken Jett by surprise. For some time, almost every employer demanded a criminal history check prior to commencement of work. He wondered how Thompson had managed to avoid it.
Though the most recent entry on Thompson’s record was added more than a decade ago, previously, there were a number of convictions for break and enters and assaults. Fifteen years earlier, Thompson had done jail time for assault with a weapon, namely a knife. Jett didn’t know if Thompson had finally cleaned up his act, or if he’d just gotten better at evading the law, but this time, he was determined to find out.
His sharp knock on Thompson’s front door was answered quickly, as if someone had been watching his approach. Margaret Thompson opened the door the length of the security chain and peered at him, with a narrowed gaze, through the crack.
“Go away. He’s not here. I already told you I’d call you if he showed up.”
Jett held her gaze. “I need to talk to him, Margaret. He’s not doing himself any favors hiding himself away. It makes me think he’s guilty of something and I don’t want to jump to any conclusions. You’re his sister. Talk to him. Try and make him see sense.”
Her mouth set in a mutinous line. The flicker of a curtain in the window beside the front door snagged Jett’s attention. Someone else was inside. He turned back to Margaret and gave her a hard stare.
“He’s in there, isn’t he? Let me come in. I need to talk to him.”
She shook her head. “No, he’s not home. I already told you. Now, go away before—”
A dark hand flashed in the narrow space of the open doorway and a moment later, the security chain was released. Kevin Thompson pulled the door all the way open and stared down at Jett with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What do you want?” he growled.
“Kevin, don’t say anything. I’m going to call—”
Kevin shot his sister a look and the rest of her protest died in her mouth. “Don’t go callin’ nobody, Margaret. I ain’t got nothin’ to hide.” He turned back to Jett. “Ask your questions and then leave us alone. We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”
Jett nodded and pulled out his notebook. “Why did you stop going to work, Kevin? Your boss tells me he hasn’t seen you since the morning Sabrina and Marnie Cook were murdered. You were seen by one of the residents outside the Cooks’ condo not long before her husband found them dead. Is that why you stayed away? Did you have something to do with their deaths?”
Kevin’s hard gaze remained on Jett’s. “It’s like I already told you, I had nothin’ to do with what happened.”
“Then why did you run, Kevin?”
The man shrugged and looked away. He scuffed the toe of his shoe on the doorstep.
“I ran your name through our system,” Jett continued, re
taining his conversational tone.
Kevin’s dark skin lost a little of its color and his gaze stayed fixed to the ground.
“You have an extensive criminal record,” Jett said. “Care to tell me about it?”
“What’s the use?” Kevin exploded. “You’ve already made up your mind. You think I did it, don’t you? Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Jett eyed him solemnly. “If I thought you’d done it, Kevin, you’d already be cuffed by now. I’m here to talk to you, to find out the truth. Now, are you going to remove that chip on your shoulder and tell me what the hell happened that day?”
The bravado suddenly went out of Kevin and his shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what happened,” he muttered. “That poor woman and her baby…” His voice trembled and Jett caught the glint of tears in his eyes.
Forcing any feelings of sympathy aside, Jett continued his interrogation. “You were seen outside the Cooks’ condominium. What were you doing there?”
“Mrs Cook had put in a call to the super. She had a blocked drain. I was there to repair it.”
“What time was this?” Jett asked.
“About twelve.”
Jett nodded. The time coincided with what Marcia Willis had recalled. “Did you go inside?”
Kevin lowered his gaze and shook his head slowly back and forth. “No. I knocked on the door, but nobody answered. I knocked again and called out, yelled my name. I could hear the sound of water runnin’. Mrs Cook shouted back at me from somewhere inside. She said she was takin’ a bath and could I come back a bit later. So I left.”
“How did you know it was her?” Jett asked, making a note.
“I recognized her voice.”
“Did you come back later?”
“No. I didn’t get the chance. Before I went back Mr Cook came home and found them and…” Thompson’s voice faded away again. His lips compressed.
“Why did you run, Kevin?”
Anger flickered in the black man’s face. He stared hard at Jett. “You know why I ran. I ran because of this. I ran because I’d been outside that condominium not long before. It would only be a matter of time before the police discovered my record. I’m a black man who’s seen the inside of a jail on more than one occasion. I knew I’d be the first suspect on your list.” He threw Jett another hard look. “And I was right.”
Jett refused to be intimidated. The truth was, the man had been seen outside the Cooks’ condominium. According to the autopsy reports, death had occurred sometime within the hour prior to the arrival of emergency services. That put Kevin Thompson squarely within the frame, whether he liked it or not.
“Don’t play that race card bullshit with me,” Jett growled. “I won’t buy it. I don’t care if you’re black, white or brindle. I’m investigating a brutal double homicide. You’re on the suspect list because you were seen in the vicinity of the crime scene shortly before it happened. That is the only reason we’re talking.”
Thompson’s expression remained belligerent, but a little of the anger and tension eased from his tall frame. He shrugged. “So, we’ve talked. Now what are you gonna do?”
Jett eyeballed him. “I want the clothes that you were wearing the day Sabrina and Marnie Cook were murdered.”
Kevin’s eyes flared with anger, but he turned and disappeared into the house. A short time later, he reappeared, carrying a set of dark green work clothes.
“Here,” he said and shoved them toward Jett.
“How do I know these were the ones you were wearing that day?”
“You don’t,” Thompson growled. “But it’s the only set I have. I work Monday to Friday. They get washed at the end of the week. I haven’t worn them since the Monday it happened. They weren’t dirty enough to wash.”
Jett acknowledged Kevin’s explanation with a nod. “Fair enough.” He tucked the clothes under his arm.
All of a sudden Thompson’s expression turned fierce. “It wasn’t me, Detective. I swear. I know it looks bad. I was there, outside their unit, right before it happened. But they were still alive then. At least, Mrs Cook was. I left, like she asked me to. I didn’t get time to go back. When I heard about what happened…” He shook his head, looking a little bewildered. “I couldn’t believe it. I’d been up there and spoken to her not long before. I got scared, Detective. I panicked. That’s why I ran.”
Jett held Thompson’s gaze. The man appeared to be sincere. Still, Jett would take the clothing and have it analyzed. There was no way the killer could have murdered the mother and child so violently and not be covered in blood.
Acknowledging Kevin’s words with a brief nod, Jett tucked his notebook back in the pocket of his shirt. “Thanks for talking to me, Kevin. I appreciate your time. Don’t go leaving town, all right?”
“You still think I done it?” Kevin said, his voice tinged with desperation. “I swear, it wasn’t me!”
“I’m not sure what to think right now, Kevin. We’ll see what the evidence shows.” He held up Kevin’s clothing. “Starting with these.”
“You’re wastin’ your time. You won’t find nothin’ on them.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Jett replied.
Turning on his heel, he made his way back down the cracked pavement that led to the street. He tossed the clothing into a plastic evidence bag he found on the back seat of the squad car and then climbed behind the wheel and headed in the direction of the office.
Dropping Thompson’s clothing on his desk, he checked through his email messages. A call had come in from Franklin Cook. With all the guy had going on that day, Jett was surprised to hear from the man. He’d only spoken to him a few hours earlier, at the cemetery. Tugging the phone out of his pocket, Jett called him.
“Detective Craigdon, thanks for returning my call.”
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I was just wondering if there have been any new developments. Have they found the maintenance man, yet?”
“Yes. I just came from his apartment,” Jett replied.
“So, you arrested him?” Franklin’s voice was filled with sudden hope.
“No, I’m sorry, Mr Cook. It doesn’t quite work that way.”
“What are you waiting for? He was seen outside our condominium right before it happened.”
Jett drew in a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. “You’re right, but you’re a smart guy. You know how this works. We need more than just the testimony of an eyewitness placing him in the vicinity. After all, the building super confirmed he was there to unblock a drain.”
“Sabrina never mentioned anything to me.” Franklin’s tone held a belligerent edge.
“Was that normal for her to apprise you of such things?”
“Yes. Well, sometimes. It depends what it was.”
“Is it possible she might not have considered a blocked drain important enough to mention to you, given how busy you were with the Al-Jabiri case?”
Jett heard Franklin sigh heavily on the other end of the phone. “Yes, you’re right, Detective. She wouldn’t have bothered me with something like that. Not at that time.”
“She would have simply picked up the phone and reported the problem to the super, right?” Jett asked.
“Yes,” came the reluctant reply.
Jett remained silent. He knew how Franklin felt. Helpless, frustrated, angry… The same way the family of crime victims usually felt. He decided to cut the man some slack.
“Look, Mr Cook, I understand how you’re feeling. We want to find the person responsible, too. We’re doing everything we can, but so far, we don’t have much to go on. I’ve collected the clothes Kevin Thompson was wearing the day of the murders, but a cursory examination doesn’t show any evidence of blood. No perp could have done what they did without being covered in it.”
“How do you know he’s given you the clothes he was wearing that day?” Cook demanded.
“I put that very question to him,” Je
tt responded calmly. “He told me he only owns one set of work clothes.”
“And you believed him?” Cook’s voice was filled with disbelief.
Jett understood his reaction. He doubted if Cook had worn the same thing twice in his life. “I’ll check with his supervisor, of course, but yes, I believe him. And that reminds me,” he added. “Did anyone collect your clothes?”
“My clothes? Don’t tell me you still regard me as a suspect?”
Ignoring Franklin’s question, Jett replied, “It’s standard procedure. We need the clothing you were wearing the day of the murders.”
The man blustered a little more, but eventually sighed. “Of course, Detective. They’re… They’re not in the best of shape. I got blood on them when I tried to pull Sabrina out of the bath. Keep them for as long as you need. I don’t want them back.”
“Thank you. I’ll drop by after work. Is six okay?”
“Sure. I’ll make sure I have them ready.”
“Are you still at your condominium?”
Franklin sighed again. “Yes, I’m here. Dani’s staying with me. Neither of us want to be alone tonight.”
Jett nodded. Images of Sabrina’s beautiful sister surfaced in his mind. A sudden unwelcoming thought intruded. Could there be something going on between Franklin and Danielle? Could that be a possible motive? One he hadn’t thought of? It wouldn’t be the first time such a thing had happened and it could have provided enough incentive to do away with the woman standing in their way…
Jett shook his head. Danielle Porter appeared distraught at the deaths. Surely she wasn’t that good an actress? Jett didn’t think so, but how could he be so sure? After all, he’d known her less than a week.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dear Diary,
Today I buried my little sister and her gorgeous baby girl. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, even harder than walking away from the only life I’d known and starting again.
I’ll never see their faces, never again feel the joy from their laughter. The pain of loss tears me to pieces. How will I bear it?
