Анна Керн - A Paw-sible Theory

David sat behind his desk and leaned back. Tim sat facing him, legs stretched out in front, his fingers laced in a steeple.

“The ex is the one who hired me; I speak to him often. Nothing there. They only occasionally communicate and, more important, there’s no motive. My understanding is that they’re not the best of friends, but they don’t hate each other either.”

Tim raised a questioning eyebrow. “I didn’t see any transcribed interview for Ethan here in the file. What did he have to say?”

“It hasn’t been typed yet. I have it right here.”

Hunter clicked the play button and skipped it forward. Hunter’s voice and Ethan’s responses poured forth from the machine:

“Your father overheard Maggie talking to someone about moving the store to another location. Did she discuss it with you?”

“Yeah, Maggie called me about it last Thursday. She said a real estate broker contacted her and told her the developer of the condominiums going up down the street was interested in buying their property, offering double what they had originally paid. Maggie thought it was worth thinking about, but Mom just got mad at her. Maggie wanted me to bring it up again to Mom just to explain that Maggie didn’t necessarily want to sell but that the offer should be discussed.”

“How do you feel about selling?”

“Me? I don’t have any say in that.”

“Well, you’re part owner with your mother, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess, but that’s only on paper. I’m not involved in any decision making––and I don’t want to be.”

“Did you talk to your mother about it?”

“No, I didn’t get the chance. I was going to bring it up at breakfast on Saturday, but I didn’t know Maggie was going to be there too, so I probably wouldn’t have said anything about it.”

Pause.

“I know why you’re asking me,” Ethan continued. “I swear the only reason I agreed with Maggie to bring it up to Mom was that I didn’t want anything to break up their friendship or partnership; I’ve never seen Mom happier and I would never do anything to change that.”

“Okay; I know we’ve been over this, but sometimes small details that seem unimportant are left out. Tell me again what happened Saturday morning. Start from the beginning––from the time you left your building and don’t leave anything out, no matter how small or insignificant you think it is.”

“You want to know if I spoke to someone in the parking lot?”

“Yes, who you spoke to, who you saw, what you saw and what you heard.”

“Yea, right. I don’t usually get up before noon on weekends, and I was reluctant to get up to have breakfast with Mom at ten. I took a shower, didn’t shave––didn’t have time to shape the black stubble on my face, soon to be a chinstrap beard.

I left my apartment, going down the outside stairs, taking the steps two at a time. I almost ran into a beautiful girl about my age––tall and slender, with short blond hair and slanted blue eyes, or maybe turquoise. I don’t know. The color is hard to describe. I introduced myself and she said her name was Nikki.

She was lost and asked me for directions, which I gave her. She was looking for the guy who lives next door. You know how that goes; some guys have all the luck.

Before I climbed in my car, I saw this Nikki pause at the top of the stairs and look back. I smiled and waved. She waved back.

When I turned the key in the ignition, I noticed I was almost out of gas. I didn’t have time to stop at my favorite station a couple of miles in the opposite direction, so I stopped, instead, at the one along the way where gas is usually a little higher. Standing there at the pump, watching the dollar amount race along made me think about the mess I had made of my finances even after all the warnings from Mom about spending.

After thinking about it, I decided to swallow my pride and ask Mom for help, telling myself how much worse it would be if I had to move back home because I couldn’t afford to pay the rent.

I was sure that’s what Mom wanted to discuss with me, and my stomach churned when I saw Maggie’s car pull up the driveway. It’s not that I don’t like her; she’s pretty cool. I just didn’t think I could handle both of them ganging up on me.

I turned the knob on the door and took out my key when the door didn’t open. While I waited for Maggie to get out of the car and come to the door, I could hear the cats’ loud, distressed meowing. I had a feeling something was wrong, and I was sure of it when Mom didn’t answer my greeting. I ran to the kitchen and saw her slumped forward on the table. I checked her pulse, pulled a towel from the drawer and pressed on the gash on her head. I told Maggie to call 911 and we waited for the ambulance. And that’s it.”

“According to my notes, the last time we spoke, you said you saw a blue car in front of your mother’s house that drove away as you turned down her street. Was it parked there?”

“I don’t know. All I saw was the brake lights flash briefly and the car driving away.”

“Could you tell the make of the car?”

“Naw; I really wasn’t paying close attention. For all I know, it could have just been going down the street and the driver hit the breaks for whatever reason.”

“Did you see the driver?”

“No.”

“You told Detective Smarts that you found the door locked and used your key to get in. Did you use your key to unlock both locks?”

“What difference does that make?”

“I understand your frustration; please bear with me. If the dead bolt was on, then the perpetrator would have had to have a key to lock it back up when he left, on the other hand, anyone could have turned the knob on the other lock from inside, locking the door behind them. That helps our case because it means anyone else could have entered, not just you.”

“Yeah, I understand, but I don’t know. The door didn’t open when I turned the knob. I was distracted by the cats’ loud meowing; I don’t remember which one I unlocked.”

“Okay, that’s enough for today. I’m on my way to speak to Maggie next and hear what she has to say about the real estate proposal she received. Are you doing okay? Anything you want me to do?”

“I want you to get me out of here. There’s this crazy tattooed man who killed another homeless man, stabbing him ten times because he touched his rusty old bicycle. He rambles on all day and all night… I’m about to go crazy myself. Please, get me out of here.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, Ethan. I’ll see you soon.” With that, Hunter clicked off the recorder and glanced over at the man Tim. My ears perked up.

“I see you have a note here about Ethan seeing a blue car in front of his mother’s house, and I heard you question him in the taped interview,” said Tim, “but there’s no follow up on it. Why?”

“I wasn’t sure there was enough to pursue it after I interviewed Moresby,” said Hunter. “That interview hasn’t been typed yet either, you’ll have to listen to it.

“There were only two cars in the parking lot of the small stand-alone building when I arrived,” said Hunter, “a blue expensive foreign make, and a red economy one.”

“I walked in and Rupert Moresby––easily recognized from his picture in the real estate ads which is a good thing in the real estate business––stood at the reception desk speaking to the young woman sitting there. I introduced myself, and Moresby, slightly stooped as if carrying a heavy load in his arms, with thinning, dirty blonde hair and a walrus mustache, offered a limp handshake. I assumed other realtors occupied the other three offices, but at that moment we were the only three people in the building.