Rachel's Folly

by Bruno, Monica

  “I’m going to pay that ‘mystery’ Jack a visit.”

  “I hardly think that’s a good idea. We need to think about this. We should probably take this message to the police and let the—”

  “Ben, you just told me that Jack had sex with my wife in my house, and I just heard her voice in distress over this asshole, and now she’s dead. I’m going over there right now. You can come with me or stay here. It makes no difference to me.”

  “Let me get my coat,” Ben said, wishing more than ever he had gone for a glass of wine instead of the cup of hot tea he now put down on the table.

  * * *

  Ben tried to keep up with Edward as he hurried down the hall to knock on Elena’s door. They were both breathing hard when she answered. She looked surprised when she saw them working hard to catch their breath.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked with wide eyes.

  “Sorry to barge in on you like this. Is Jack around?” Edward asked.

  “Yes, of course, what’s going on?” She moved aside and gestured for them to come in. Just then, Jack came out of the master bedroom holding a spoon in his mouth and a small container of ice cream in his hand.

  “I think it’s best we let Edward and Jack have some privacy,” Ben said to Elena, leading her to the guest room.

  “What? Why? What’s going on?” Elena asked again. She resisted his attempt to lead her out of the room. She pushed past Ben and stood by the couch, her eyes fixed on Edward.

  “Hey, Edward. What’s up?” Jack asked casually.

  Edward’s fingers closed tightly to form a fist. Before Jack could move, Edward had pulled his arm back and smashed his knuckles into Jack’s face, his punch landing firmly on the left side of Jack’s jaw. Both Edward and Jack tumbled to the side and Jack fell back onto the china cabinet. There was a loud crash as one of the glass doors shattered. The spoon and carton of ice cream flew across the room.

  Elena rushed towards them with Ben at her heels. It was in that moment, in the commotion, that Ben got a glimpse of Jack’s face. He had just brought out his tongue and rolled it along the inside of his bottom lip to taste the blood that spilled out of his busted gum. Jack wore a deadly cold look in his eyes. He was almost unrecognizable. With that look, Ben wondered if Jack could have actually killed Rachel. Jack’s expression quickly changed back to his familiar face as soon as Elena reached him and tried to put herself between Jack and Edward. Ben grabbed her and held her back from the men, who were struggling to get to their feet.

  “Do you have something to tell me, you son of a bitch?” Edward shouted as he pulled his fist back again and took another shot. This time Jack caught his hand in midair and held it. Jack was nearly a foot taller than Edward and was obviously in better physical condition.

  “Oh my God, Edward! What are you doing?” Elena screamed. She pried herself from Ben’s grip and tried to get Edward away from her husband.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jack shouted.

  Edward backed off and shook out his aching hand. “Did you sleep with my wife?” he asked.

  “What? Are you crazy? Of course not. Where did you get that idea?”

  “I know you had sex with her,” Ben said. “She told me herself.”

  “What?” Elena’s jaw dropped as she turned around to face Ben.

  “Look guys, I don’t know what you’ve been smoking—” Jack started to say.

  “Just stop now before you make a complete ass of yourself,” Ben interjected. “You slept with her and you had something to do with her death.”

  “What?” Elena and Jack asked at the same time, staring directly at Ben.

  “I have her voicemail right here.” Ben pulled out his phone. “She left me the message the morning she died. She said she needed to talk to Elena, to tell Elena what happened, and she called you a selfish bastard,” he said, pointing at Jack.

  Elena grabbed the phone and listened to the message while looking at her husband. “What is going on?” she asked him.

  Jack looked at Edward, then at Ben and finally at Elena. He rubbed his jaw and said grimly, “Okay. Alright, I know this looks bad. I never wanted this to come out.” Now they all stared at him. It seemed like no one was breathing.

  “The night before the rehearsal dinner, the night that we all went out dancing, we had been drinking. When I drove Rachel home, she was very drunk. She asked me to help her to the door because she could barely walk.” He looked at Elena endearingly. “I did, and then I helped her inside. I went to the kitchen to pour her a glass of water and when I was getting ready to go, she grabbed me and started kissing me.”

  Edward’s face reddened again and he closed his hand back into a fist. Ben walked over and stood between him and Jack. He put his hand over Edward’s chest and said, “Let him talk.”

  “She started kissing me. I told her she was drunk. I told her I couldn’t do it. She got really upset and yelled at me to leave,” Jack continued, still looking at Elena. “I swear, I didn’t do anything.”

  “That’s a lie!” Edward shouted. He lunged forward, but Ben held him back.

  “I’m sorry, man. That’s what happened,” Jack said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Elena asked Jack.

  “I didn’t want to upset you, honey, especially in your condition,” he replied gesturing to her pregnant stomach.

  “I don’t buy it,” Ben said flatly. “It just doesn’t mesh with what Rachel told me.” Ben looked down at Elena who was now sitting down on one of the dining room chairs. She rested one hand on her belly. Ben went on, softening his voice, “Rachel told me they slept together. She wanted to tell you the day of the wedding, but I told her not to say anything to anyone.”

  Jack looked at Ben and said softly, “I realize you guys are grieving for Rachel and are searching for answers because of the way she died, but I swear I didn’t sleep with her and I most certainly had nothing to do with her death.”

  “I just can’t believe Rachel would do that,” Elena said, shaking her head.

  “Exactly,” Edward chimed in.

  “She was so drunk, I was sure she wouldn’t even remember it happening at all. But when I saw her afterward, she wouldn’t look at me, and I realized she must be ashamed. You said yourself she had been depressed,” he said to Elena. “Maybe she felt so bad about it, she wanted to tell you but couldn’t bring herself to do it.”

  “She had been acting weird,” Elena agreed. “But why would she come here and take her life? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I have no idea, but you can’t honestly believe I had anything to do with that, do you?” he asked Elena in earnest.

  “No, no,” she said, “of course not. But you’re right about her probably being ashamed of what happened. Maybe that was the reason she was depressed. In a way, it could help explain why she took her life. At least now I know why she was so distraught.” Elena looked at Edward who was staring coldly at Jack, then she turned back to Jack and said, “I just wish you would have told me.”

  “I know, honey. I’m so sorry,” Jack said gently. He put his hand on her shoulder.

  Clearly distressed, Elena turned her attention to Ben. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so confused right now. But one thing I’m sure of is that Jack didn’t kill Rachel. He’s just not capable of anything like that.”

  “How can you be so sure? How well do you really know him anyway?” Ben asked her while glaring at Jack. “Where were you last Monday?”

  “He was with me,” Elena answered.

  “The entire day?” Ben demanded.

  “Yes. We had the day off. We went shopping for the baby. We had lunch in the Hill Country. We stopped by here for just a few minutes to get my phone, but that was it.”

  “What time was that?” Ben asked Jack.

  “Around eleven. We already told the police all of this. I have nothing to hide,” Jack replied decisively. Ben walked over to him and put his face right up to Jack’s. He loo
ked directly into Jack’s eyes. They were almost equal in height. He could feel him breathing. “I know you slept with my sister, and I know you had something to do with her death.”

  “I think you guys better leave now,” Elena said softly. “You need time to—I don’t know—heal.”

  Edward backed up a few steps while massaging his right hand. He surveyed the room and then said to Ben, “Let’s go.” He looked toward the broken china cabinet. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ll pay for the damage.” He then turned back to Jack. “I suggest you get yourself a good lawyer, because I’m having Rachel’s body exhumed, and if there’s anything out of the ordinary, they’ll be coming to talk to you.” Jack stood erect and didn’t respond, just tightened his jaw.

  Ben walked over to Elena and kissed her head. “I’m sorry, El,” he said gently. Then he and Edward let themselves out.

  * * *

  The next day Ben and Edward found themselves sitting in the waiting area at the police station downtown. They were waiting to see Detective Robert Elms. They had gone straight there the previous night after leaving Elena’s, but it was after eleven when they arrived. The only person at the station was the watch commander who couldn’t do more than take down their information. She assured them that the detective would call the next day and set up an appointment.

  They waited for almost an hour before Detective Elms came out. He looked like he was in his mid-fifties, had an athletic build, green eyes and a full head of salt-and-pepper hair. He was finishing an apple as he approached them.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. This way,” he said, indicating towards a hallway. “Just hold my calls,” he told the officer behind the front desk. “This should only take a few minutes.”

  They walked down the narrow hall and took an elevator to an office on the third floor. Ben was expecting to enter a room with a large double mirror on one side, like the ones he saw on TV shows, but they went to the detective’s office, which was dull and ordinary. Only one small window overlooked the crowded highway.

  “Have a seat.” Detective Elms closed the door behind him. “Okay, what would you like to report?” he asked Edward and Ben as they sat down in the two chairs directly in front of the detective’s desk. “I’m told you have some pertinent information about your late wife, Mrs. Richards.”

  “We have evidence that she might have been killed,” Ben spat out. Detective Elms quickly turned his attention to him and began to respond, but Edward interrupted.

  “Detective, it turns out my wife had an affair.” Edward looked uncomfortable. He paused and readjusted himself in his chair. “It turns out my wife slept with Jack Spencer, Elena Wilkinson’s husband, right before they got married.”

  The detective nodded slowly. He glanced at his wrist watch. “That’s really unfortunate.” He waited for a few moments. “Is there more?”

  “Well, my wife became depressed and, right before she died, left a voicemail on Ben’s phone saying she was going to confess to Elena.”

  Ben cut in. “My sister was distraught for months and I convinced her to keep the affair to herself. But, she couldn’t contain herself and decided to tell Elena, the very day she supposedly committed suicide. I have the message right here.” He held his phone out for the detective to hear.

  Detective Elms jotted down a few words on his notepad, then turned his attention to his computer and hit a few keys with his index finger. Keeping his eyes on his computer screen, he asked, “Have you spoken to Mr. or Mrs. Spencer about this?”

  “We were there last night. Jack denies it. He claims Rachel came on to him and he tried to stop her. I assure you, that is a lie,” Edward said confidently.

  Detective Elms remained calm. He looked away from his computer and over at Ben and then at Edward. He interlocked his fingers and put his hands down on his desk. “Look, I appreciate you coming in with this information and I’m really sorry for your loss, but I have to tell you …” He paused and addressed Edward. “People have affairs all the time. You’d be surprised if you knew just how common it is. I don’t doubt that they did sleep together, but it’s a real stretch to say there was a homicide.”

  Ben began to speak, but the detective interrupted him before he could start.

  “We’ll look into it. I’ll have an officer interview Mr. Spencer again. We’ll need to borrow your phone before you leave so we can make a zip drive of the voicemail and have it transferred into evidence. That’s what we can do, but I have to be honest here, everything points to a suicide. Mr. Spencer was with his wife on the day in question. He has no criminal record. There was no forced entry; Mrs. Richards had a key to the condominium.”

  “We want Rachel’s body reexamined to see if there was any foul play,” Ben interjected.

  The detective leaned back in his chair and gripped his chin. “We can do that, but … and forgive me for asking, but didn’t Mrs. Richard’s father also commit suicide years ago? And … wasn’t Mrs. Richard’s taking antidepressants?” He raised his eyebrow and looked directly at Ben. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Mosley?”

  “They were tranquilizers, not antidepressants.” Ben said. Edward’s brow wrinkled and he turned to look at Ben with a confused expression. “We still want her body reexamined,” Ben said firmly.

  “Exhumations can take a while. They’re expensive and they can be pretty traumatic for the family members.” Detective Elms looked at Edward. “Is this what you want?”

  Edward sighed deeply. “It will help us with closure.”

  “Okay,” Detective Elms said, “I’ll need you to fill out some forms before you go, to get the process started.”

  * * *

  After the officer returned Ben’s cell phone, Ben and Edward walked down the steps of the police headquarters and up 8th Street to a public parking lot three blocks over. The sun was bright. Ben blinked into the sunlight and grabbed his sunglasses. There was a cool headwind blowing as they made their way towards Red River Street. Ben was feeling anxious knowing he would have to go back to Maine soon. He hoped the police would uncover something, anything before he had to leave.

  They walked side by side without saying a word. Ben noticed a tour van parked alongside the famed Stubb’s BBQ, where a few roadies were unloading instruments and equipment for an upcoming show. It reminded him of how Rachel would drag him to concerts at Antone’s in the eighties when Stubb’s was just starting to sell barbeque there. They passed a few tourists taking pictures of the city and a couple of homeless people asking for change. As they approached Edward’s truck, Ben could see the gold star of the Statue of the Goddess of Liberty on top of the State Capitol poking out over the swaying treetops. He looked over at Edward who was walking with his head down, not seeming to be paying much attention to anything.

  At last, Ben broke the silence. “The detective didn’t seem that interested in what we had to say.”

  “We sounded crazy,” Edward said flatly, staring down at the pavement.

  “What?” Ben was stunned.

  Edward stopped walking and looked at him. “Ben, I’m pissed beyond belief about Jack, but as much as I’d like to go and beat the living shit out of him again, I don’t think he killed Rachel. Their little escapade probably was the reason behind Rachel’s depression and it was probably the reason she took her life, but Jack surely didn’t push her off that balcony.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Come on, man. Think about what you’re saying. That’s just crazy.”

  “I don’t think it’s crazy. There’s something about that guy. I felt it the minute I met him. I’m telling you, there’s something off.”

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t make him a murderer. You’ve got to get a hold of yourself. Stop chasing theories, or you’re gonna go nuts.”

  THREE

  BEN YAWNED AS HE DROVE down the street towards his house. It was after midnight and bitterly cold. There was fresh salt on the street in preparation for the slick roads which awaited the early morning commuters. It was dark
and only a couple of houses had their porch lights on, which made the street look dreary. For a moment, he wondered if everyone was mourning Rachel’s death. He parked alongside Janelle’s light blue Volkswagen Bug.

  His tiny house was a two-story brownstone in Portland, Maine. Built in 1939, it was tucked away on a traditional, residential street just north of the Fore River. Ben had lived there since he left Austin. He had fallen in love with it immediately because of its charm and proximity to the water. It had belonged to an older woman who lived there most of her life. Ben was able to buy it at a reasonable price because it hadn’t been updated and needed some repairs. The house creaked and cracked when there was inclement weather, and the old hardwood floors were badly worn, but Ben loved it anyway.

  The house was now dark with the exception of a soft light coming from the upstairs window. He walked to the covered entrance and fidgeted with his keys before he found the one he needed. He opened the door to find Homer waiting anxiously, eagerly jumping up and down, letting Ben know he wanted to be picked up.

  “Just a second, Homer. Let me put my stuff down.” He could hear his own tired voice. He closed the door behind him and set his bags down in the dark, constricted hallway. After he pulled off his coat, he flicked on the light, grabbed his dog and held him tightly. “It’s been just awful,” he said. Ben carried Homer close to his chest as he made his way to the living room. “Janelle,” he called out, “I’m home.” He looked around the house and noticed how remarkably clean and organized everything was. Normally, there were so many books, papers and clothing hanging around, he could hardly see any of his furniture.

  “Hi, Professor Mosley,” Janelle said from the top of the stairs. He smirked because she knew she didn’t have to call him Professor Mosley when they weren’t on campus. She walked down the narrow, squeaky stairwell carrying a paperback novel and smiling warmly. Her auburn hair was pulled into two soft, long braids which fell on either side of her freckled face. Her big, blue eyes hid behind her glasses.

  Janelle was a welcome sight for Ben. They had known each other for a little over three years, but it felt like they had been close for so long. She had been a student in one of his creative writing classes. He was immediately impressed by her creativity, love for learning and sharp wit. By the next year, he had offered her a job as his TA. Now, he couldn’t imagine doing his job without her.