One Husband Too Many

In Chapter 4: Jake has interviewed staff at the bar where Greg was seen leaving, and learns he’d made or received a call just prior to that. He has pieced together information about Elise which will need to be confirmed. He ends the day at his favorite watering hole.

Jake felt like a balloon full of shrapnel had been blown up and exploded in his head. “Never again!” he scolded himself, knowing full well the ‘never agains’ had never been observed before.

He ran a cold shower, then decided he couldn’t manage that degree of shock quite yet. He turned on the hot tap and waited until the shower stream had warmed up sufficiently for him.

At moments like these, Jake hated himself. He should be at a 12-step meeting, he thought, contemplating checking to see what might be available relatively close to home, or to the precinct. He had been to a few meetings years ago when his marriage began to go south, but he worried about being seen by anyone who knew him, friends or perps. “I’ll find one tonight,” he decided, hoping he would follow through.

He thought he’d go to the diner a few blocks from where he worked and order more than one coffee before he ventured into work. He knew he looked rough and that a few would ‘tut tut’ when they saw him. He’d try to avoid all those busybodies today.

At the diner, Jake found a newspaper someone had left and brought it with him to the table. He scanned the first few pages and was surprised to find nothing about the murder. “People aren’t shocked by anything these days. The media’s not even covering it,” he thought. “Makes my job kind of irrelevant to the majority, it seems.”

After a cup and two refills, Jack decided that was enough coffee for one morning. Though not at his best, he wanted to get going on some more interviews, the one with Elise more than any other. Leaving the diner, he clicked the key fob for his car. The familiar headlights greeted him.

“Who first? What’s the best way to swing this?” Jake asked himself. He reminded himself that he would need Greg’s cell phone records but he could do that any time. Now was as good a time as any to pay Mrs. Sheppard a visit.

The neighborhood looked identical to how it had looked the first time he visited, more than six months ago. It seemed like exactly the same cars were parked in the driveways as he’d noticed before. Kids were doing their best to stay off the road going after wayward balls or perched on skateboards.

There was only one car in Elise’s driveway, so Jake pulled in beside it. “Different car.” he noted. “Definitely seen better days.” This made him a bit sad. It suggested Elise had sold her SUV for a bit of extra money to run their lives now. He wondered what it was about her that stirred him so much. Granted she was a beautiful-looking woman but there was something more, something somewhat mysterious that intrigued him.

Jake rang the doorbell and waited. When no one answered, he buzzed again. Still nothing. He hoped a knock would rouse someone inside and, after a few seconds, a woman opened the door. She was not the person he had hoped would answer, but she looked friendly enough. Jake tried to estimate her age to guess how she fit into the picture. A fair bit older than himself, and at least a generation older than Elise, he decided. Perhaps Elise and her family had moved? This would slow him down a bit, but he could easily get any new information.

“Hello,” he started. “I’m Jake Munn.” He flashed his badge. “Detective, 35th precinct. Does Mrs. Sheppard live here? I met with her at this address about six months ago.”

“Yes, officer, yes she does.”

“Detective” he muttered under his breath.

“May I speak with her, please?”

“Well, she’s not home at the moment. Would I be able to help?”

“I don’t know,” Jake told her, “but would you mind answering a few routine questions?”

“Of course, Officer (– !!! –), come right in.”

As she led him into the living room Jake took note. It looked the same as he remembered. Even the chair where he’d sat was in the same position. He glanced at the family portrait that had begun to niggle at him so much.

Jake sat down and immediately launched into the routine questioning. Her name was Geraldine Sommers and she was Elise’s mother. She had moved in with Elise and her family shortly after Rick’s murder to help with the mortgage and look after the kids when Elise was out. Nothing extraordinary here, he thought.

“So you moved in about six months ago, is that correct?” Jake asked.

“I think it was in May. Yes. All I remember is that it was shortly after I got my diagnosis.”

“What diagnosis is that, Ma’am?”

“Cancer,” she replied. “Pancreatic.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Ma’am. How are you doing?” He wanted to tell her she looked fairly healthy but realized that would be too personal an observation.

“Well, OK. I had the surgery and now they’re following up with chemo. Maybe radiation if I need it. Thank you for asking.”

“That must be tough on all of you,” Jake observed. “How is Elise…Mrs. Sheppard coping with everything?”

“She’s always been an amazing girl. It's tough, but I think she’s managing pretty well, considering. At least I hope she is.”

After a few more questions, Jake asked, “When would be a good time to come back and speak with your daughter?”

“She gets home from work around 6. Except on the nights she goes to the gym. She’s been going there a lot. Gets home around 11.”

“Weekends?” Jake inquired.

“Yes, she’s usually home most weekends.”

“OK, I’ve got her number from the first visit. I’ll call ahead to make sure she’s here, so I don’t waste more of your time.”

“Not a waste, Officer.”

Jake winced.

Back in the car again, Jake made a few notes in his pad. Nothing striking to report but he had to have a record of everything. Good thing, too. “The memory is slipping,” he had to keep reminding himself.

“Call Mrs. Sheppard.” He wondered when would be the best time for that. He’d need to do it soon but, in the meantime, he had enough to keep himself busy.

Jake headed to the precinct, and the humdrum mundanity of routine. He was surprised to see Greg’s cell phone records from two nights ago already sitting on his desk. “Someone’s trying to kiss my ass,” he thought. He smiled, then opened the file folder.

He scoured the phone numbers and saw that Greg had made more calls than he’d received. The waitress at the bar hadn’t been sure whether Jake had answered the last phone call, or contacted someone.

“External,” he saw. He’d match the number to the caller and make another visit before he called it a day.

There was something about one of the incoming numbers that caught his attention. It looked like something he’d seen recently, but he couldn’t place where.