"Gracie? This is Jennifer. I, um, thought you should know. I wouldn't, like, talk to your dad about the car for a few days. We got broken into this morning, some stuff was taken. He's not going to be in a good mood for awhile. He's not home yet, but I left him a message. So, you know, don't bug him about it for awhile. Um, Bye."
"What time is it, Love?" Jennifer asked. "Seems like we've been working for
hours
." In spite of having drunk most of the bottle of wine Jennifer was surprised she wasn't tipsy. Apparently she'd needed it to calm herself down.
The den looked better now simply because the cushions were back in place on the furniture. It was a big rectangular room with a yellow spruce floor and wallpaper with subtle rippled stripes in yellow and white. The furniture all stood on chrome legs and was covered in yellow, orange, or brown leather. The chrome and glass coffee and occasional tables echoed the rectilinear theme. In one corner a large mirror was surrounded by glass shelves full of liquor bottles and glassware, with a white marble-topped bar in front. The opposite corner was taken up by a large plasma screen TV and stereo system. The wall next to the television was completely covered by bookshelves above pine cabinets topped with sunshine-yellow cushions to make a bench seat.
Cindy looked up at the clock from where she sat on the floor putting old magazines and games back in the cabinets. "It's just now 5:00," she said. "It does seem like it should be later."
Jennifer had a bucket of water and a sponge, she was trying to soak the Scotch out of the tan area rug. "At least he could've smashed the vodka," she muttered. "It wouldn't stain so badly." She paused in her efforts to look at Cindy.
"I wonder where Charles is?" she asked. "I mean, he said he'd be home early and I, like, left him a message. You'd think he'd want to come see what was stolen."
"Maybe his 'big deal' went south, and he's drowning his sorrows," suggested Cindy.
"Oh, God, don't say that!" Jennifer replied with some heat. "That's
all
I need. I'm hoping he made the sale and will be in such a good mood that he'll just blow this off." She thought for a minute, then asked, "Do you remember what time he said the meeting was?"
Cindy shut one set of doors and scooted over to the next pair. "Do you really need to keep all this stuff? I thought he said 2:00. How long could it take?"
Just then the doorbell rang. Jennifer stood up and grabbed a towel to dry her hands, inspecting her nails in the process. "I've ruined my manicure," she complained. The bell chimed again and she went to answer it.
There was a nice-looking middle-aged man in a brown suit standing on the porch. "Mrs. Charles Greene?" he asked. He held out an official-looking badge and said, "I'm Lieutenant Kenneth Freeman, may I come in and talk to you please?" Lieutenant Freeman was about average height, with slightly graying brown hair cut just a little longer than what used to be considered the department standard, as if he hadn't quite gotten out of that habit. He had soft brown eyes and the beginnings of a padded middle.
Jennifer said, "Of course, Officer. Please come in." She stepped aside to let him in, and shut the door behind him. "You're here about the robbery. We're still cleaning up, I mean, the other officer said it was OK. My, um, husband hasn't come home yet if you're, like, here to talk to him. He should've been here by now."
"Robbery?" Lieutenant Freeman asked in surprise. "There's been a robbery here today?"
Jennifer looked thoroughly confused. "Yes," she said firmly. "Someone broke in while I was out shopping." She began to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Isn't that why you're here? To, like, follow up from Officer Barker?"
Cindy walked in at that point and said automatically, "It was 'Barclay', Jen." She turned to the policeman and said, "I'm Cindy Stone, a friend of Jennifer's. She called me when she got home and found it had been burgled." She paused a moment, looking shrewdly at Lieutenant Freeman. "There's something wrong, isn't there?"
The lieutenant looked down the hall trying to see the layout of the house. "Is there somewhere we can sit, Mrs. Greene?"
Jennifer's face had turned white, and Cindy put her arm around her friend's shoulders. "Let's go to the dining room, we can talk in there." She guided Jennifer and Lieutenant Freeman followed.
Ken Freeman looked at the two frightened faces across the dining room table and thought that this was the absolute worst part of his job. There was no way to soften the blow, and he always felt the consummate stranger when he had to deliver the message.
"Mrs. Greene," he began. "I'm very sorry to tell you this, but your husband is dead."
"Oh God, NO," she wailed. "Charles? It can't be true!" She'd been sitting with her arms on the table and now dropped her head onto them, sobbing loudly.
Cindy looked equally shocked. "Oh my God," she said rather quietly. "I guess you're sure or you wouldn't be here. What happened, was it a car wreck?" She was patting Jennifer gently on the back, trying to let her know she wasn't alone.
"No, Ma'am. There's no easy way to say this, but it appears to be murder," the lieutenant said.
Jennifer sat bolt upright and shrieked,
"Murder?"
Tears were running down her face, her mascara running down her cheeks.
Ken thought to himself that she was being a little obviously melodramatic. Most people went into shock and the tears came later. He was cynical enough to think that since she was much younger than her husband she was probably more attached to his money than to him. She certainly looked like a gold-digger. Then again, if she'd come home to find she'd been robbed she
would
already be quite emotional. Could there be a connection? He allowed himself his opinions, but wouldn't let them interfere with the facts.
"I'm afraid so, Ma'am," he said. "He was found shot to death outside the gates of the Bixby mansion this afternoon."
"Shot!" Cindy said. "He had an appointment with Mr. Bixby this afternoon at 2:00. We were just saying that he should've been home by now." She was quiet for a minute before saying, "Now we know why he wasn't."
Jennifer had returned her head to her arms and was crying again.
"Yes, Ma'am," Ken said. "We know about the meeting, it was Bixby's staff that found the body and called us. I know this is a bad time, Mrs. Greene. But did your husband have any enemies? Anyone that might've wanted to kill him?"
Jennifer sat up and sniffled, tried to compose herself. "My husband was a generous and friendly man," she said. "He made a lot of money, I suppose there are people who thought, I mean, he might've done some things they didn't like. He liked to flaunt his money, maybe it, like, made someone mad."
Tears started running down her face again. "Please excuse me, Officer," she said in a shaky voice. "I need to go get a tissue." She got up and left the room.
"Ms. Stone, did you know Mr. Greene?" Ken asked. "Can you think of anyone who might've wanted to kill him?"
Cindy pondered the question for a minute. "Yes Sir, I knew him. Jen's my best friend, I was over here quite a lot. Jen wouldn't say it, but Charles wasn't really a nice man. He
thought
of himself that way, but the only person he really cared about was himself. He could be very generous, that's true - but he only did it to show off or so he'd get some favor down the line."
"He cheated on Jen," she continued. "
And
his first wife, that's why she divorced him. He drinks quite a bit, too. I don't know it for a fact, but I wouldn't be surprised if he cheated anyone else if he had the chance, especially if there was money involved. He certainly lied to Jen, he probably lies to others, too." She smiled a little cynically. "I think that goes with the territory of selling insurance, don't you? Anything to make the sale."
Ken agreed that salesmen
did
have that reputation. "Sounds like there are a lot of possibilities. Do you know of anyone in particular?" he asked.
"No," Cindy replied. "I don't think Charles much liked me, so I didn't hang around when he got home. I don't know anything about his professional life, I'm afraid I can't help you there."
Jennifer came back in, her eyes dry and makeup repaired. "I'm sorry, Officer," she said sweetly. "I'll try to answer your questions now. She sat down demurely.
"I was asking if your husband had any enemies that you knew of," he said.
"Charles? No," she replied. "Of course I don't know about work, but, like, he seemed to get along with everyone. Well, George, the, um, guy next door, he always complained about the noise when we, like, had a party." Jennifer smiled brightly. "We always invited him, but I guess he's just a party pooper."
"So, tell me about the break-in," Ken said.
"Well, there's not much to tell," Jennifer replied. "I mean, I came home and the house was all torn up and all my jewelry was gone."
"What time did you come home?" he asked.
"It was 2:45," she said. "I remember looking at the clock in the car when I got here, because I had a lot of stuff to do." She started crying softly again. "We were supposed to celebrate his big sale tonight. Oh, I don't even know if he made the sale or not!"
"Yes, Ma'am," Ken said. "Mr. Bixby signed the contract and your husband left at 3:00. A staff member noticed his car was still in the driveway around 4:00, went to check on it and found the body." He paused a moment, then said as diplomatically as he could, "I have to ask this, Mrs. Greene. Is there anyone who can verify what time you got home this afternoon?"
Jennifer looked indignant. "Of
course
there is!" she exclaimed rather heatedly. "I called the police as soon as I got here, and then I called Cindy because I couldn't, like, deal with it all by myself. Oh, I called Charles too; only I got his voice mail and left a message. You can check my phone records!"
In a calm voice Cindy said, "Jen, Dear, you told me you'd gone through the house before you called the police."
"Oh, yeah," she said. "Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just
so
upset. Yes, I walked through the whole house, in a kind of, like, shock first. Then I came straight downstairs and called the police, and then Cindy and Charles."
Ken was inclined to let that little detail go. It was natural enough that a person would want to see the extent of the invasion - and clearly this one was quite concerned about her jewelry. He wondered how much it was worth, probably quite a lot in this neighborhood. And what else was missing?
"She called me just before 3:00," Cindy said. "I was running a little late for work or I'd have been gone already. We'd been shopping all morning and she'd dropped me off around 2:30." Cindy's manner was factual without sounding cold.
Cindy smiled a little ironically. "But I'm afraid you just have our word, Lieutenant. Unless maybe some of the neighbors saw us. Jen
did
buy a dress, I'm sure she's got the receipt in her purse; but we found it first thing out so it doesn't prove much. We were having fun so we just kept on shopping."
Ken said, "It'll be easy enough to check with the officer that investigated the burglary, but I can't see how you could possibly have a better alibi than talking to the cops at the time of the murder!" He made a pained face, having realized how bad that sounded. "I apologize, ladies. That was out of line."
"It was an Officer Broccoli," Jennifer said eagerly.
Ken automatically looked at Cindy for confirmation. He'd already figured out that Jennifer was either very distressed (quite possibly the explanation under the circumstances), or not very good with names.
Cindy smiled kindly. "Officer Barclay," she said. "But I'm afraid I don't remember his first name."
"I'll find him," Ken said. "Did you and your husband live here alone?"
"No," Jennifer said in a slightly irritated voice. "Justin lives here, too. Um, he's Charles' son, like, from his first marriage. He's, um, eighteen, he's still in high school."
"No love lost there!"
Ken thought to himself. "Where is Justin now?" he asked.