One Husband Too Many

Detective Munn toed the knife, moving it just a scintilla away from the body. “Why did I do that?” he wondered to himself. His 27 years of police work taught him explicitly not to touch a murder weapon. Or an assumed murder weapon. It could have been a suicide, but how many people kill themselves with a knife? It seemed a particularly barbaric route to choose.

Jake was tired, to the marrow of his bones. The case he had been working on before today had sapped him of energy. He had never got used to the loved ones, those left behind after their lives have been devastated by a murder. And the last one had been brutal on his stamina. The young widow, left with three children now had no way to support the family. Like most young people, she and her husband Neil believed the need for life insurance was something to worry about in a few years. Not only had she been left without the extra income that had kept them above water since their wedding, there was not a scrap of life insurance or death benefits.

Her tears still glistened on her face as he pictured her. She was a beautiful person, he could tell. He had learned to read people like playing cards. There were good hands and bad hands and the individual cards that comprised them. Elise’s sorrow had cut through his resolve deeply. “Never get emotional about a case.” He knew that. But she had been so distraught, so lost, so vulnerable. And how was she going to get by with three young kids and a part-time job at a homeless shelter? It was heartbreaking.

“Not my problem,” he reminded himself.

He returned to the murder he was now investigating. Or suicide, though that was highly unlikely given the circumstances and murder weapon. Jake was waiting for the Forensic Unit to come and document what evidence lay strewn about the corpse and, with a shred of luck, construct the events and movements that had resulted in this poor guy’s death.

He was face down, the victim. Jake had arrived on the scene only a half hour after the night shift cops had reported the situation. All he could tell from the guy’s back was that he had a thick head of sandy brown, slightly wavy hair and, from his clothing, seemed to be fairly young. It was hard to tell these days. A lot of adult men favored the same wardrobe they’d had as kids. He looked at what his victim was wearing, knowing the style wouldn’t reveal anything about income bracket.

“Evening, Jacob” Stu Simmons said as he walked past Jake. “How’s it going?”

“Peachy,” Jake mused aloud. “Just ask our friend here. He’s had a peachy night.”

Stu headed the Forensic Unit that quickly got to work, measuring and laying markers as the beat cops interviewed the bystanders who, they hoped, had witnessed something useful to what was now officially a murder investigation.

“Didn’t think anyone would off himself with a knife. How many stabs would you have to attempt before you hit something that might do the trick?” Jake said to one of the police officers. “Any clues from the witnesses?” It didn’t seem likely.

The officer confirmed his thought. “No one saw anything strange or suspicious in the area. Or heard anything. The lady there in the parka found him and called it in.”

Jake wanted to conduct his own interview. He knew these young cops were eager and tried to follow precisely the approach and methods they’d learned at the Police Academy. In his 25 years since being made Detective, Jake always got more information from witnesses at the precinct.

He walked over to the woman and her friend and asked that she come into the station in the morning.

“Is that really necessary, Officer?” she asked him.

Same old question. “It’s Detective, and yes, it is.” He gave her his card.

“I’ve got enough for now,” Jake muttered to Stu. I’ll go open a case file and follow up tomorrow.”

He knew it would be more than tomorrow. Most cases that came his way took months, or even years, to resolve. He was senior in the department and got all the tough cases, the ones that promised to be long and drawn out.

Jake looked again at the still figure on the pavement, threw his Coke can in a trash bin nearby and headed to the precinct for what would likely be another long night.

By the time Jake got home, it was 2 a.m. the next day. He was bone tired and had to will his body to perform for him. Flipping through the mail, he opened the refrigerator and got himself a beer. He wanted something stronger but remembered he’d polished off the whiskey last night. Jake was drinking more than ever before in his life. It helped dull his mind to the horrific things he witnessed in his job; it also helped him blank out his own personal demons.

Shirley and he had got married right out of high school. Shirley quickly became pregnant and, within a year, the young couple had grown to a family. Jake worked odd part-time jobs for a few years, but knew he needed something more, and he was very much career-oriented. Two weeks after his 21st birthday, he made his way to Police Academy to begin his training.

He excelled and finished first in his class. The Police Department in the next city quickly swooped him up and he spent a few years partnering with Roy Jamison as a beat cop. When he applied for the promotion, he was fairly certain he’d get it and, before he got the good news, was already missing Roy. Roy was a rock. And it wasn’t long until they became drinking buddies, with their families socializing on a regular basis. Shirley loved the Jamison family and was soon best friends with Holly. With the birth of the second Munn child, their family and the Jamisons each had a three-year-old and a newborn. The two women spent a few days a week together at one another’s houses and, as the years past, the kids became inseparable.

“Those were the days,” Jake thought, “and they were pretty damned good." Once he’d got the promotion, the increase in salary allowed the family to move from their two bedroom apartment to a small house on the other side of the city. What a perfect time it was. He sighed.

Life then resembled life now in no way. When their first child turned 11, he, his sister and mother were living in the same house they loved without Jake. Jake had found an apartment nearby to be close to the kids. The divorce was finalized after a prolonged battle over alimony. Jake had no qualms about paying child support. He was financially responsible for his kids; the argument was over alimony amount. Shirley seemed oblivious to the amount of money she knew Jake made, and had demanded more than she finally got. Once the dust settled, Jake could barely afford the one-room apartment he still called ‘home’.

“Home is where the heart is,” he heard playing in his head regularly. Home was with his children, and he was heartbroken that such a distance had been forged between them.

Bills. That’s all the mail had to greet him.

He had wanted to play a major part in the kids’ lives, even after Joyce remarried but, in his line of work, his time wasn’t really his own. He worked long days well into the night and missed too many sports games and recitals. Jake still met with Roy fairly regularly for a night’s commiserating over drinks in the bar most of the cops tended to frequent. It was Roy who kept Jake up-to-date on his own children’s activities and accomplishments. Joyce retreated into her new life with Cameron, blaming Jake for everything that went wrong in their marriage.

She was probably right. For the most part. Jake’s late nights took their toll on both of them and, even more he believed, on Andrew and Cassie. Their initial surprise at their parents’ separation turned to anger as the divorce dragged out. Cameron had come on the scene months after Jake and Shirley bid their final adieu as a couple, and was doing his best to be a second father to the kids. Of course, Jake resented the time this stranger got to spend with his children, but was careful not to bad mouth his replacement.

The kids were his. Blood was thicker than water. He firmly believed it was true. Cameron couldn’t take that from him though, with his impressive lawyer’s income, he could provide more opportunity financially for Shirley and the ready-made family that came with their marriage.

Jake put the empty bottle on the counter, opened the fridge door and retrieved another from the top shelf. The last one, he noted, wishing he’d had the time to stop by the convenience store down the road. It would be a long stretch of no sleep without the comfort of a few more beers to tide him over until morning.

The sun was just about to peek through the clouds outside Jake’s balcony door when he finally fell asleep watching television.