“Are you going to finish that sentence?” I asked.
Jake shook his head. “It’s probably better if I don’t.”
I threw my arms out. “If you really don’t like the food then why are you here?”
“What’s it matter to you?” Jake said.
I looked deep into his eyes. “Are you in the doghouse?”
He broke eye contact with me. “That’s none of your business.”
“That isn’t a no.”
“Sabrina, why don’t you ease up a little and save all your hard-hitting questions for murder suspects?” Jake asked.
“What did you do to get in the doghouse with your wife?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Jake, I investigate murder cases. You don’t think I know when you’re doing something out of character?”
Jake held firm. “I’m telling you the truth.”
I threw my arms out. “So I’m wrong then?”
“A wise person once told me that the key to a successful marriage is to keep your wife happy,” Jake said.
“That person was right,” David said.
“They sure were. So when my wife wants Chinese food, she gets it,” Jake said.
“I have to say, I’m really impressed,” I replied.
“By what? My ability to pick up Chinese food?” Jake joked.
“No. How much you’ve changed over the years. The old Jake was an Antonio’s Ristorante or bust kind of guy,” I said.
“Go figure. A lot has changed over the years,” Jake said.
I could pinpoint the exact moment when everything changed for Jake. When he ceased being a shark in a suit. It was sixteen years ago. The night he was stabbed in the parking lot of Antonio’s Ristorante.
Thankfully, he survived the attack. While his assailant went to jail, Jake headed off to the hospital. Ever since his brush with death, Jake had been a different person. He knew that he’d been given a second chance, and he wasn’t about to blow it.
When he got out of the hospital, he ended up doing some physical therapy, which changed his life in more ways than one. He ended up meeting Clarissa in physical therapy. She did more than just mend his body. She softened his edges. Which, let me tell you, was no small task.
“Unfortunately, some things are exactly the same. For example, the disturbing crime rate in this town,” I said.
“Speaking of, you aren’t really relying on fortune cookies to help you solve this case, are you?” Jake asked.
“No. I was just joking earlier,” I said.
“Good,” Jake said.
“But we should get back to work,” I said.
“Don’t let me keep you from your investigation,” Jake said. “Besides, I really should get this food to my wife while it’s still warm.”
“Say hi to Clarissa for me,” I replied.
“I will,” Jake said.
As Jake left the restaurant, my mind drifted into the clouds.
David let me stay lost in thought for a few moments before he cleared his throat to draw my attention.
“What are you thinking?” David asked.
“About how important it is to keep your wife happy,” I said.
David looked puzzled. “Wait a minute. Did I do something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No. I wasn’t talking about you and me.”
He scrunched his nose. “Then who were you talking about?”
“When I go over the details of this case in my head, I don’t have to look very hard to identify a wife who wasn’t happy with her husband.”
His eyes widened. “Felicia Wilcox.”
“Exactly.”
“Maybe it’s worth paying Felicia another visit,” I said.
“You might be right,” David said.
Before we got the chance to explore my theory, David got a call on his police radio.
He excused himself from the table and took the call outside the restaurant.
Chapter Twenty
A few minutes later, David returned with a shocked look on his face.
“You won’t believe the call I just received,” David said.
I got up from my chair, anxious to hear the news. “Why? What happened?”
David pointed at my chair. “Sabrina, trust me. You’re going to want to sit down.”
“Will you forget about the chair and just tell me what’s going on?”
David was so shaken up that he took a seat at the table to get his bearings back. He held his hand out again. “Please sit.”
I threw out my arms. “David. The suspense is killing me. What was the call about?”
“There has been a development in the case.”
My nose scrunched. “What kind of development?”
He exhaled before replying, “Another dead body has been discovered.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
“I know it’s a lot to take in. I’m still processing the news myself.”
“Whose body was found?” I asked.
“A few minutes ago, the 9-1-1 operator got a call from Michelle Bradford—”
I cut David off. “Wait a minute. Bradford?”
David nodded. “Jeremy Bradford’s sister.”
“So hold on. Are you telling me that—?”
“Sabrina. Jeremy Bradford is dead.”
My jaw dropped. I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t formulate any words. When I finally untied my tongue, one question was at the forefront of my mind. “Are you serious?”
“I know it sounds crazy—”
“I’ll say,” I replied. “I didn’t see that coming.”
“Neither did I. But there’s more.”
I squinted. “What do you mean?”
“It looks like Jeremy committed suicide.”
“Really?”
David nodded.
“But…why would he do that?”
“Apparently, he sent a text message to his sister shortly before killing himself.”
“What did that message say?”
“That he was wracked with guilt about murdering Mark Wilcox.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I spent the entire drive over to Jeremy Bradford’s house trying to process the news. But as David pulled into the driveway of the blue ranch-style house on Pompey Place, I was still reeling. I took a moment to pull myself together as much as I could before we approached the front door.
Michelle Bradford, Jeremy’s petite, black-haired, angular-faced forty-eight-year-old sister, was wiping a tear from her eyes as she opened the door for us and led us into the dining room.
Jeremy’s lifeless body was slumped over at the dining room table. A bottle of bleach, a cup, and his smart phone were also on the table.
A few minutes later, the medical examiner arrived on the scene to take a look at the body.
By that point, Michelle had shown us the text she had received from her brother.
It read: “I can’t go on anymore. The guilt of killing Mark Wilcox is eating me up inside. Goodbye.”
While we waited for preliminary findings of the medical examiner, we spoke with Michelle in the front yard.
“Miss Bradford,” David said.
“Yes,” Michelle said.
“First, I’d like to say that I’m very sorry for your loss,” David replied.
“This is so tragic,” Michelle said.
“Look. I know this is a bad time, but I really need to get a statement from you,” David said.
“This isn’t just a bad time. It’s the worst moment of my entire life,” Michelle said.
“I do apologize for the timing, but I’ll keep this brief.”
“Do we really have to do this now?”
David nodded. “Unfortunately. But like I said, I’ll make this quick.”
She hugged herself.
David continued. “As painful as it is, I need you to walk me through what happened.”
Michelle took a deep breath before responding, “All right. I got a text from
Jeremy about an hour ago. The minute I read it, I frantically called him, but he didn’t pick up. So I jumped in my car and rushed over here. But by the time I got here, it was too late. He was already dead.”
“Is that when you called 9-1-1?” David asked.
Michelle nodded. She started to tear up again.
David pulled a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here.”
She wiped her eyes. “I don’t believe it.”
“I know this is a very tough time for you,” David said. “Losing a family member is incredibly difficult. The grief you must be experiencing—”
“I meant that I don’t believe he really killed himself,” Michelle said.
“Look. Ms. Bradford, considering what an emotional time this is, I hate to rehash the details with you, but things seem pretty clear-cut. Your brother sent you a suicide text and then drank a cup of bleach. So how can you not believe that he killed himself?” David asked.
“He had no reason to end his life,” Michelle said.
David grimaced. “His text says otherwise.”
“I know what the text says, but he didn’t kill Mark,” Michelle said.
“I understand it is a lot to come to grips with, but he confessed to the murder,” David said.
“This is all a mistake. My brother isn’t a murderer.”
David winced. “I really don’t want to argue with you right now.”
“Good. Then just listen to me. Jeremy would never kill anyone, much less Mark.”
“I don’t want to be insensitive, but look at all the evidence proving otherwise,” David said.
“Detective. Don’t you think I know my own brother?” Michelle asked.
“I’m not questioning that,” David said.
“Good. Because killing one of his oldest friends is the last thing he’d ever do.”
“Let me just say this. Sometimes people hide things from their family members.”
Michelle shook her head. “No. Jeremy would never keep a secret like this from me.”
“Ms. Bradford. I do sympathize with your situation, but I don’t know what else to say to you.”
“I know you think I’m crazy, but I’m telling you, something is very wrong about all of this. There’s no way my brother killed himself,” Michelle said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A few minutes later, the medical examiner was ready with his preliminary findings. Nathan Turner was a bald, tall, bespectacled, slender fifty-four-year-old. He was the kind of man who buttoned his shirt collar all the way to the top, and who wore drug store cologne.
“I have a strange question for you,” David said.
Nathan chuckled.
David’s nose scrunched. “Did I say something funny?”
“It’s just that in my line of work, there’s no such thing as a normal question,” Nathan said.
“Right. Well this one might be stranger than you’re used to,” David said.
“Okay,” Nathan said. “What have you got for me?”
“Is there any evidence pointing to this not being a suicide?”
Without even the slightest hint of hesitation, Nathan shook his head. “None.”
David squinted. “Really?”
“There isn’t a doubt in my mind.”
“Because?”
“To start, there’s no signs of forced entry. The cause of death is pretty clear. Also, the time of death is within the last hour, matching up with when the text was sent. Then there’s text itself,” Nathan said. “So yeah, it’s obvious to me that this was a suicide.”
David turned to me. “Do you have any questions for Nathan?”
I had a lot of questions, just none that Nathan could answer. From a forensics point of view, this certainly looked like a suicide. But my gut was telling me that we weren’t seeing the entire picture.
Nathan’s eyebrows knitted. “Is something going on that you aren’t telling me about?”
“Never mind,” David said. “Thanks for your help.”
Nathan walked away, leaving David and me alone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
David and I had much different reactions to our conversation with the medical examiner. I remained contemplative, questioning the story I was being presented with. Conversely, David looked like he was ready to head back to the station to fill out some final paperwork regarding the case.
“It’s safe to say I didn’t see things ending that way,” David declared. “But we finally got the closure we’ve been looking for.”
David’s words hung in the air, waiting for a response. But none came.
My head remained squarely in the clouds. I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize I had let the conversation go quiet for over ten seconds.
David snapped his fingers. “Sabrina.”
I pushed my thoughts aside and turned my focus to David. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”
“About the crazy way this case ended?” he said.
I squinted. “You got the crazy part right.”
“Then again, the whole case was pretty bonkers, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that there was a twist ending.”
Silence fell over the conversation once again as my head drifted back into the clouds.
David stared patiently for a few seconds before speaking up. “Sabrina. What’s going on? It’s not like you to be so distracted.”
“I’ve just been going over what Michelle said.”
“Yeah. She was in rough shape.”
“I feel terrible for her.”
“Same here. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. Trying to come to terms with the fact that her brother was a murderer.”
“That’s where you have it wrong,” I said.
David winced. “Sabrina, look. I know she kept trying to convince us that her brother wasn’t a killer, but that was just her grief talking.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“I’ve seen this happen before. With an event this traumatic, denial is a natural reaction. After all, who wants to believe that their sibling is capable of murder? But after she’s had some time to mourn, chances are she’ll finally admit the truth.”
My nose scrunched. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“Let’s hope I’m right. Even though the truth hurts, it’s better than Michelle going through the rest of her life believing a lie,” David said.
“David, you’re missing my point.”
“Which is?”
“Maybe it wasn’t just her grief talking back there,” I said.
David looked at me like I had two heads. “What?”
I held firm. “You heard me.”
He stared deep into my eyes. “Wait a minute. I know that look.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but—”
“You believe Michelle, don’t you?” he asked. “You honestly think that Jeremy’s death wasn’t a suicide.”
I nodded. “That’s what my gut is telling me.”
“But you heard the medical examiner. There’s no sign of foul play.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Yet you don’t believe his assessment.”
I shook my head.
“Even though Jeremy sent a suicide text?” David asked.
“Honestly, that text makes me more suspicious than ever,” I said.
“Why?”
I threw out my arms. “Because who does that?”
“You know just as well as I do that a lot of people leave notes behind.”
“Yeah, but this isn’t a note. It’s a text.”
“We’re living in a digital age.”
“Look. I get why a suicidal person would type out a text like that. But leaving it behind to be found with the body is a lot different than sending it out while you’re still alive.”
“I just interpreted it as a cry for help. Those are pretty common in cases like this—”
“From women,” I said. “Not men. You
know the psychological studies just as well as I do.”
“True. But you can’t rely on those studies. They focus on depression. Not men who kill themselves because they are overcome with guilt from committing murder,” David said.
“I understand that.” I squinted. “But I still don’t buy Jeremy’s death being a suicide. It just doesn’t add up.”
David exhaled. “What do you think happened then?”
“I believe he was murdered.”
David folded his arms. “Really?”
I nodded. “And I think the killer staged the scene to look like a suicide.”
David’s eyes widened. “Do you have anything to back up that theory?”
“The text—”
“Anything concrete, I mean,” David said.
I shook my head. “I don’t have any evidence at the moment. But my suspicions are really strong about this—”
“Look. You aren’t the only one who wanted this case to come to a close differently. But murder investigations don’t always end with an arrest. Sometimes they end with an unexpected twist.”
“And other times they aren’t really over at all.”
“I don’t believe this is one of those times.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“I don’t think I am.”
“Let me ask you this,” I said. “Can you prove my theory wrong?”
He turned the tables on me. “Can you prove your theory right?”
I shook my head. “Not at the moment.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But that’s what an investigation is for.”
“Based on the medical examiner’s findings, I can’t justify investigating any further.”
“I understand,” I said. “But just say my instincts are right and the real killer is still out there.”
“I think that’s a big assumption to make,” David said.
I bit my lip.
David continued. “Now unless you can produce something a little more conclusive, it’s time to move on.”
I wasn’t about to argue with David any longer. Not without proof of my theory.
David, meanwhile, made one thing clear. Barring an incredible discovery on my part, in the eyes of the police department, this case was officially closed.
Murder and Layer Cake Page 7
