One Husband Too Many

In Chapter Five: Detective Jake Munn visits the home of Elise Sheppard, the widow of a murder victim. Though she isn't there, he has a chance to interview her mother, and learns she has moved into the Sheppard, taking care of the children and helping with mortgage payments. Jake learns Geraldine, Elise's mother, has been diagnosed with cancer. He returns to the precinct, where he gets the cell phone records of the murder victim, to whose case Jake has been assigned.

Before he headed to his car for that day’s last trip, preceding happy hour, Jake felt compelled to pull out his last notepad. It had been full a month or so ago, and he had dropped it into one of his top desk drawers to claim its place among the elastic bands, thumb tacks, discarded candy wrappers, and the matches he’d kept to remind himself that he no longer smoked. “Too bad I can’t stick a bourbon in there,” he thought knowing full well it wouldn’t have lasted long.

Jake sat back down on his chair and rummaged awhile in the drawer before pulling out three dog-eared note pads. He found the last among them and flipped through quickly, scanning as he did. It was mostly full of interview notes and an array of phone numbers Jake no longer needed. He looked around and saw the office was empty but for the receptionist who was engaged in conversation with someone at the front desk. He wondered briefly where everyone had disappeared so early? A moment of panic took him as he hoped against hope he hadn’t missed a mandatory seminar. He’d stupidly left his current notepad in the glove compartment of his car; otherwise he could have checked today’s date to see if he’d entered a time when, and a place where he was supposed to be.

Intent on appearing nonchalant in case Rachelle saw him leave his desk, Jake sidled over to the bulletin board wall. Perp lineup was what it was mostly, and some area maps, but there were the odd ‘don’t miss’ and notices of everyday things that mattered in the lives of others. Because most of the people in the precinct were relatively young, they all seemed to have kids involved in team sports which meant fund-raising ventures with cookies or popcorn or some other thing nobody needed. He'd had seemingly endless requests for sponsorship or to help raise money through the team campaigns.

“Should have brought my glasses,” he thought as he squinted. He looked briefly over to his desk where the glasses should be sitting but couldn’t see if they were there. “Of course I can’t without my glasses," he told himself. He opted to continue his perusal of the bulletin boards, glasses or not and, after about five minutes and three furtive glances to make sure Rachelle’s attention was trained elsewhere, he assured himself there was no event scheduled for today.

Returning to his seat, Jake parked his feet on his desk and leaned back in the chair. He picked up the notebook he’d chosen and began to look through it from back to front, hoping it would decrease the amount of time he had to spend looking through it. There were addresses on the last few pages, then a section with his cases’ list for the period, with key contacts for each. As he began to turn to the next page, he saw ‘Elise Sheppard’ among the names, along with her address. He had figured her husband’s murder would be in this last notepad, and quickly went to the 10th page where his interview notes began. He skimmed through a few pages until he found the details from the two interviews he’d had with her more just over six months ago.

“Goodnight, Jake, see you tomorrow,” Rachelle called to him as she picked up her coat and handbag. “Don’t stay too late.”

“Never do,” Jake answered with a smile. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Jake hated these mandatory pleasantries. They always seemed forced and he was lying through his teeth when he wished anybody a ‘good night’ or ‘great weekend’. Everyone was so chipper and always looking forward to something. He hated that, even though he knew he should want them all to be happy. But, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being cheated, that his life was now so empty but for work, the bar, the TV and a bottle. Jake had been to see the therapist that Human Resources arranged for him when the alcohol had begun to interfere with his work performance. All that had done for him was to point out and emphasize how truly alone he was. And the therapist always seemed too happy and positive about life. He hated that, too.

His record of his meetings with Elise was heftier than any of the other cases he’d had over the pad’s duration. Jake remembered how moved he’d been at their first meeting. She was exactly the type that had attracted him in his relative youth, but couldn’t pursue as a married man and father. Jake had never strayed from his matrimonial vows and, though his job had him meeting every manner of woman, he always fought the temptation. Elise wasn’t like any of the others. She resembled a dainty, porcelain doll who seemed about to break into a million pieces. He felt so sorry that her grief had transformed her into more of a rag doll, inanimate as she sank miserably into the couch across from him.

Jake usually forgot all the details of a case a few months down the road. Memories were there, but usually somewhat blurred by time. Elise was different. He recalled everything about their two encounters and quickly conjured her face in his mind’s eye every time he remembered the interviews. He knew he had to see her again, but couldn’t explain why exactly it felt so pressing. Never get involved with anyone connected to cases, he knew that, too. But, until Elise, Jake had never felt so compelled to flout his own rule.

Looking around him, at the empty office area, and realizing how late it must be, Jake decided it was more than time to call it a day. Before leaving, he jotted a few reminders to himself on the small pad he kept on his desk. He needed to catch up on all the records and case files he’d left for ‘later’, and he was well aware that ‘later’ was now. Though it was mostly office work he dreaded that needed attention tomorrow, he circled the last item and underlined it twice. ‘Elise Sheppard’.

Having that visit to anticipate tomorrow, Jake knew, would give him a bit more pep than usual these days. He’d been on the job nearly 30 years, the majority of them as detective. In those years, he’d seen too much blood and death, too many victims and those left behind. Kids who’d lost a parent were the hardest. Jake never knew what to say to them and, if possible, avoided any interaction. He had attended a few of the funerals for murder victims, somewhat covertly, managing to avoid face-to-face moments with their immediate family. He wouldn’t know what to say, especially to the children. This thought, that reintroduced itself occasionally in Jake’s mind, always ended in his ruminations about his own kids. How would they have dealt with things if he’d been killed, in the line of duty or an accident, or had he died of an illness? He berated himself often that he’d more or less drifted from their lives over the years. They probably wouldn’t miss him. His absence would be more of the same, though he indulged his patriarchal leanings by deciding they’d have missed him before they’d hit their teens. They were a pretty happy family then, Jake thought, but reality always intruded and, once again, he realized it had all been a lie. What he’d thought was a relatively happy marriage disintegrated before he’d had a chance to notice. By the time he was confronted with the truth, as Joyce described for him the many reasons it wasn’t working, it was too late. Just another lost cause. Jake had had too many of them.

He’d arranged to meet his old beat partner, Roy, at their usual pub to watch the hockey game on the gigantic screen that put to shame the TV he’d inherited with the divorce. He forced himself to think, realistically. Maybe tonight he would just have something to eat and, to drink, soda water. He’d done it before. It wasn’t easy but neither was liver cancer. His father had died from cirrhosis, and what he’d seem his dad suffer during that last year, he never wanted to see again. Certainly not for himself.

When Jake walked into the pub, the TV was blaring and the loud voices patrons needed to be heard above the din were nearly deafening. Jake blocked it all out. He just wanted a quiet meal and to catch up with Roy. It had been a few months since they’d been there together, and it was playoff season. The game, he hoped, would be a nail-biter.

He saw Roy, half standing beside an empty table, waving at him. Jake could tell he was mouthing his name but it was impossible to hear. He waved back as his friend sat down, then made his way through the gaggle of patrons and wait staff, and took a seat across from Roy.

“Howya doin’, buddy? Jake asked as Roy caught the server’s attention. He motioned that he wanted another pitcher for the table. Jake knew he should say something, and stick to his plan, but he didn’t want to seem preachy or put a damper on the get-together. It had been months since their last get-together, he told himself. Just a few beers, he decided. He’d go to a 12-step meeting tomorrow, before heading to Elise’s place. There was that sudden pin prick of excitement again. Jake wasn’t sure if he should tell himself to “grow up” or to “get a life”. Both probably.