Message one (7:35): He told me that I look ’yummy.’ Gag me! He’s pouring us Scotch in the other room. There doesn’t appear to be an alarm system or cameras. There’s nothing to steal. This place is … sparse. He calls it ‘minimalist.’
Message two (7:45): He collected this first edition of something or other he just has to show me. There’s an office located off of the living room. I’d search there first.
Message three (7:50): BLACK. LEATHER. COUCHES and cowhide rug. He’s a neat freak too. He asked me to take off my shoes, and he’s in the kitchen washing our glasses before we leave. Lick one of them for me. If this guy wasn’t a murderer, this would have been our last date anyway. There’s a back door by the kitchen. That’s the door I’ll unlock. GOOD LUCK!
Jennifer looked up from her phone and saw John’s car pulling out of the driveway. It was time. Her heart started racing as she waited for them to be far out of sight. She checked her phone one last time to make sure the coast was clear. Nothing from Suzanne. She texted Peter, Going in and sprinted toward the house.
John had lights in the ground illuminating his entire house, so she had to walk along the edge of the yard in the darkness. She rounded the corner to find that the back door also had a light, and it was on.
I guess Suzanne didn’t think of everything, she thought.
There were too many busybodies in this place for her to feel safe enough to go walking up to the door. She began to backtrack a bit, looking for something to throw at the light to break it. She noticed some gardening stones in the front, but she couldn’t get close enough to the house to get them because of the dramatic lighting. So she did the only sensible thing a person could do in a situation such as this: she army-crawled. She’d seen William do it a million times before he could actually crawl. It was really quite efficient.
Jennifer dropped down, shuffled across the lawn on her stomach, and grabbed a handful of stones. It was a challenge to crawl back with the stones in her hand, but she did it. She moved swiftly, only pausing once to check her buzzing phone. It was Suzanne.
At the restaurant. It’s nice. I’m ordering lobster.
Jennifer giggled but then quickly remembered that the clock was ticking. She hustled her way to the back door and threw the first stone. It hit the house. She was out of practice. When she was younger, she used to be able to throw any object she had handy at her siblings with such precision that it had impressed them too much for them to be angry. She had once nailed her brother in the back of the head with a canvas shoe from around a corner.
After multiple failed attempts, she was down to the last rock. She took a deep breath, pictured her brother’s face, and hit the target immediately. The light was out.
She removed her shoes and slunk through the darkened house as carefully as she could. If John was truly a minimalist neat freak, he would be sure to notice if something was out of place or there were shoe prints on the floor. The house was pristine. She made her way to the kitchen using the flashlight on her phone to guide the way.
John’s house was cold. It lacked any personality or warmth. Fitting for a killer, she thought. As she looked around, she spotted a metal letter sorter on the kitchen counter. She looked through it carefully and saw that it contained a few bills and some copies of Wealth Magazine. She was liking John less and less by the minute, if that was even possible. Then she rounded the corner into the living room. It was as dreadful as Suzanne had said it was.
She walked toward the end tables and looked through the drawers. They were empty. She turned and noticed a large hard-cover book on the coffee table. It was the first-edition book John had shown Suzanne earlier. It was in another language, written by someone she had never heard of. Did he really want to impress Suzanne that much? she thought as she scanned the room.
“Bingo,” she said as her eyes met the door to the office. Luckily, it was open.
In her mind, she had imagined that the door would be closed, and she would have to somehow quickly and impressively pick a lock. Her lock-picking skills would have to wait for another time.
She walked into the office, which was also sparse except for a diploma on the wall, a desktop computer, and a file cabinet. She beelined to the cabinet, which was … locked. She had been so excited by the prospect of having to pick a lock that she hadn’t realized that she had never actually learned how to pick a lock. She pulled up the search engine on her phone, typed in ‘How to pick a lock,’ and within seconds she had her instructions, which seemed fairly simple.
Straighten out one end of a paper clip, leaving the other end bent.
Insert the bent end of the paper clip into the keyhole.
Turn the clip back and forth to figure the correct unlock position.
Give the clip one last turn in the correct direction to unlock the filing cabinet.
Luckily for Jennifer, Mr. Minimal had a small leather tray with green felt lining on his desk that contained fancy pens and gold paper clips. Jennifer rolled her eyes and followed the instructions. With one quick turn and a click, she was in. She was so pumped about picking a lock that she stopped and texted Peter before diving into the files.
I’m OK. I just picked a lock! Pretty sexy, right? ;)
Peter responded, but she was already too busy thumbing through the files to check what it said. John’s filing cabinet was the neatest and most organized filing cabinet Jennifer had ever seen. She started reading the file names out loud as she searched. “Taxes, medical bills, pay stubs, insurance … ” Is it going to be this easy? she thought.
She slowly opened up the file folder, and there it was: the envelope from Fident, and within it, the instructions to start filing a claim. It was that easy.
Jennifer snapped pictures of the letter and John’s office. She then put everything back exactly how she’d found it.
She was about to head upstairs to check John’s room for the cufflink when her phone started ringing. The ringtone jarred her as it pierced through the silence of the nearly empty house. It was the chief. She didn’t really have time to be chatting with the chief at the moment. She was about to swipe the call to voicemail, but she paused for a moment to consider her options.
If she didn’t answer, Chief Fitzgerald would probably call the house, and Peter would answer. He was an awful liar, and the chief would be on to them. While Jennifer didn’t really enjoy lying either, she thought it would be best to answer. Besides, John was so predictable and organized, the cufflink was probably upstairs in a box labeled ‘Cufflinks.’ She had a little time to kill while Suzanne and John ate their clams casino or whatever it was you ate at a fancy seafood restaurant.
“Hello?” she said in her best I’m not completely ignoring the promise I made to you, and I’m definitely not snooping in the killer’s home tone of voice.
“Hey there, Jen. How’s the head?” he asked. The chief almost sounded cheerful.
“I’m doing much better, Chief. To what do I owe this pleasure?” she asked, hoping to keep this conversation short.
“We got a hit on the prints! The ones from the window!”
“What? Who? How?” Jennifer was completely stunned. It felt like her stomach was doing somersaults inside her.
“John Miller. Ethan’s business partner!” the chief replied. “Centech is a contractor for the state, and each employee was required to be fingerprinted at the beginning of the project. It didn’t take long to get a hit. There’s a team headed over to his house right now. We’re gonna haul this sucker in for questioning tonight!”
Jennifer was sweating. She had to get out of there.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, and it was Peter. She finally looked at the message he had sent earlier, which said:
They’re headed back! Leave!
Suddenly, Jennifer saw headlights coming up the driveway. She ducked down and looked out the window. She saw John emerge from the car and
go to the passenger side to help a very unsteady-looking Suzanne out and onto her feet.
“Chief, I have no time to explain, but I figured it out too. I’m at John’s house. He’s coming home from dinner with Suzanne. She doesn’t look good. Get here now!”
“Jennifer, you listen to me. Leave the house immediately! Not only are you putting yourself in extreme danger, you’re going to blow this whole case by breaking and entering the suspect’s home,” the chief said. She could almost feel his hot breath and anger through the phone.
“I didn’t break. I just entered,” she said. “Suzanne’s not acting right. He might have drugged her. I have to help her. Please, just get here!”
She hung up the phone, then crawled over to the front window and peeked outside.
John dropped his house keys, and a very giggly Suzanne picked them up and wouldn’t give them back.
“C’mon, sweetheart. The sooner you give me the keys, the sooner we’ll get inside to play,” John said.
The sound of his voice made Jennifer feel like she was going to be sick. Suzanne would never have gotten this drunk on her own. He must have drugged her. That’s why he washed the glasses. That snake! she thought. She army-crawled again, this time to the office to stay out of sight while she came up with a plan.
She finally heard the keys jingling and the door opening. She peeked around the corner. John had his back to her and was coaxing Suzanne into the house.
“Suzanne, I had the waitress pack your lobster up. You’re in no shape to drive. Come in and eat, and then we’ll have dessert … upstairs,” he said.
Jennifer’s skin crawled. Who says things like that in real life? she thought.
“Why did we leave the restaurant? I’m fine,” Suzanne said. “You’re a bad boy. I know what you’re up to.”
She was slurring her words. It wouldn’t be long before she would be passed out cold or would spill the beans about what she knew. Jennifer had to act fast.
“Oh, I am a bad boy. Want me to show you how bad I can be?”
Jennifer had to bite her hand to keep from laughing or puking. This guy was a complete loser on top of being a cold-blooded killer.
“You killed Ethan and Sarah. I already know how bad you can be,” Suzanne said.
Adrenaline started to surge through Jennifer’s body. She knew she was going to take action, but she didn’t want to risk everything by John seeing her.
John’s demeanor changed from wanna-be suave to downright evil in a blink of an eye. He grabbed Suzanne by the throat and pushed her up against the wall.
“What did you say?” he snarled.
Without thinking, Jennifer ran to the coffee table, grabbed the big hard-cover book, and flung it with force across the room. The thud it made when it came into contact with John’s head was a sound Jennifer wouldn’t soon forget. He dropped to the floor and was out cold.
Suzanne sank to her knees and in a very wobbly fashion checked John’s pulse. “Don’t worry. You didn’t kill the bastard,” she said, then promptly passed out right next to him.
Jennifer rushed over to Suzanne to try to wake her. Thankfully, it was just as the police pulled up, sirens whooping. Seconds later, the chief and Jimmy came running into the house. The chief took one look at Suzanne, and another at the man passed out beside her, and glared at Jennifer in disbelief.
“He’s alive, and I can explain everything,” Jennifer said. “Please, let’s get Suzanne to the hospital first.”
Chapter 22
The station was buzzing with activity, as if it were 3 pM instead of 3 AM. Jennifer was sitting in the chief’s office drinking stale coffee, wrapped in a scratchy blanket. She had just finished explaining everything, from the found cufflink to the passed-out perpetrator. The chief wasn’t happy with her, but it seemed like it was more out of concern than anything else. Luckily, John had never seen Jennifer, so he couldn’t claim that anyone had planted the evidence. Besides, the blood, the fingerprints, and the insurance claim were enough to press charges. The cufflink would just be the final nail in John’s coffin. The chief had a search warrant, so that covered everything on the investigation side.
John was arrested at the hospital after the team recovered the other cufflink and the insurance documents. All they needed now was a confession. That would spare Sarah’s and Ethan’s families the pain of going through a lengthy trial.
John had been released from the hospital an hour previously, and Jimmy was on his way back to the station with him. He didn’t have a concussion, and had been cleared by the doctor for questioning.
Jennifer had made it a point to keep in constant contact with Peter to assure him that she was okay. She wanted Peter to fall asleep knowing that his family was safe. She had a strong sense of relief knowing John was in custody. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, and this would all be over soon. She was looking forward to getting some sleep herself, but the chief had said she could listen in on the interrogation, and that was something she couldn’t pass up.
The station erupted as Jimmy proudly walked John, who was looking a bit less dapper and a bit smaller, into the interrogation room. Jennifer stood near the window of the chief’s office, and as John passed by, they locked eyes. She stood there, not averting her gaze for a second as he was led into the interrogation room. Jimmy brought him coffee, and the chief let him sit and wait for a bit before he walked in. Jennifer took her place behind the glass in the room next door and watched the chief go to work.
“Mr. Miller, as you know, you’ve been arrested for murdering Sarah and Ethan Ashton,” the chief said. “Can you please verify for me that you have been read your rights?”
“Yes,” John said flatly.
“All right, then,” Chief Fitzgerald said as he looked down at his paperwork. He paused then, and Jennifer guessed it was to let the tension and suspense build in the room. After a minute, he continued. “Am I correct that you have also waived your right to an attorney?”
“That’s correct,” John said. “I didn’t do anything, so I don’t need one.”
“Now, Mr. Miller,” The chief said as he turned his chair around and rested his arms on the top. “As you are aware, we found a very intoxicated woman at your home this evening. You’ll be happy to know that she’s at the hospital and is doing quite well. She’s talking, and there’s a lot she had tell us about you and about how she became so intoxicated. Care to tell us your side of the story?”
“Suzanne drank too much wine at dinner,” John said with a smirk. “I wouldn’t believe much of anything she tells you. You yourself said she was intoxicated, right?”
Jennifer noticed that some of John’s vibrato was returning. Did he know she was watching?
“Okay. We’ll let her tox screen results sort that out,” the chief said. “Looks like it’s going to be a long night. Let’s just start at the beginning. How did you know Sarah and Ethan Ashton?”
“You know how I knew them,” John shot back.
“Humor me. Maybe there’s something I don’t know that you can illuminate for me.”
The chief was playing John. He was never this nice. Jennifer wondered where this was going.
“Ethan and I worked together on a few projects for our company, Centech. I’m a project manager, and he was a developer. He and I became friendly, and we decided to create our own app together. That’s how I met Sarah. We would meet at his house after work. He was developing my idea in his spare time,” John said. It almost sounded like he was reading from a script.
“Ah, yes! This — app,” the chief said. “Deliver-ease. A revolutionary delivery service! Wine and ice cream for every stranded stay-at-home mother. Ethan was an integral part of this company. It seems as though it lived or died with him.” He sat back and watched John shift in his chair.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” John said. He sounded tense. Did the chief strik
e a nerve? “I was the brains behind the thing. I thought of the idea, I procured investors, I created the marketing plan.”
“Oh, sure, sure, sure,” the chief said. “I mean, Ethan was the developer, though, right? There’s nothing to market or procure investors for if the application doesn’t exist. Am I understanding this correctly?”
“Developers are a dime a dozen. This was my app,” John said, clenching his fists.
The chief chuckled and opened up a folder that had been lying on the table in front of him. “Well, I guess I’ve gotten this technology stuff all wrong, then. I’m confused, John. Why, if developers are a dime a dozen and Ethan was so replaceable, did you file a business insurance claim stating otherwise?” Chief Fitzgerald pulled out the letter from Fident. “From what I’m gleaning from this letter, the company suffered a great loss from Ethan’s death. A loss that you had a lot to gain from. What’s that say, there? Three million dollars? Also, were you aware that Ethan had a safety deposit box at the local bank here? We decided to look through it as part of our investigation. Were you aware that Ethan had filed a patent on Deliver-ease?”
John’s eyes widened. He took a swig from his coffee cup and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t,” he said, putting the empty coffee cup back down on the table.
The chief noticed a slight shaking in John’s hand. “Tell me, John, and please don’t insult me with any lies, as this can be easily checked. When did you start working for Centech?”
“Two thousand seventeen,” John replied.
Chief Fitzgerald smiled and closed the file folder. Jennifer nervously bit her thumbnail. She didn’t know anything about Ethan’s safe deposit box.
“John,” Chief Fitzgerald began. “You seem like a successful and intelligent guy. You have a nice house, a well-paying job, Italian leather sofas. You’re a successful guy in your own right. You added value to your company. Why would you lie about Deliver-ease being your idea?”
Red Picket Fences Page 11
