Murder Times Four Box Set

Chapter 3-2

I woke Wednesday morning very thankful I wasn’t due in at work until eleven, when I had to get ready for the noon news. I only got six hours of very restless sleep, so the first order of business, after showering and putting on sweats, was coffee—and lots of it. I made a full pot, drinking my first cup while eating breakfast. Once the dishes were done, I poured a second cup and was about to take a sip when the doorbell rang.

Detective Jarrett was standing there when I opened the door. “Do you mind if I come in, Mr. Moore?” he asked.

I knew he was only being polite, so I stepped aside, feeling a sense of déjà vu from Detective Irvin’s visit just over a week ago.

Jarrett looked at my cup of coffee. “I don’t suppose you have more of that?”

I grinned, sort of. “If you’re asking if you can have some. Yes. Come on. We can talk in the kitchen as well as out here.” I poured him a cup when we got there, then sat on one of the stools at the center island.

He took the other stool—and a drink of coffee—before taking a key from his pocket to hand me. “Do you recognize this?”

“I think it’s called a key,” I replied, knowing I shouldn’t be a smartass. I put it down to still being tired—and tense because he was here.

Jarrett rolled his eyes. “I know that. Is it one of yours?”

Since I can’t tell one key from another without checking—and who can?—I took my keys from my pocket to compare it to them. I blew out a breath when I found it matched the one to my back door, and told him as much. “Where did you get this?”

“It was on Mr. Parker’s keyring, with the rest of his keys,” Jarrett replied. “It doesn’t fit anything in his home. I probably wouldn’t have checked, but as you can see, it looks brand new.”

“So you came straight to me, figuring, since I’d had a fling with Jake Wright, I might have repeated myself with Owen,” I said sourly.

“Not really. I’ve been going door to door, to see if anyone who was home knew where it came from. I do know it isn’t to his place of work. I’ve already checked there.”

“You’ve been a busy little detective.” Not that he was. Little that is. He was about my height, which is six foot even, and definitely well-built. Or so I figured, from the way he filled out his suit jacket.

“It’s my job. Did you give this to Mr. Parker?”

“Absolutely not. And I don’t have his house key. You can check if you want.” I handed him my keys.

Unsurprisingly, I figured, he took a set of keys from his pocket to compare with mine. “No matches,” he said, handing mine back.

“Of course, I could have it stashed somewhere else in the house. Do you want to search for it?” I said sarcastically.

Jarrett smiled. “Not really. I don’t think you and Mr. Parker had anything going on between you. I’m sure whoever murdered him planted the key. If you’d killed him, you’d have made certain to take it back before you left him bleeding out on the dining room floor.”

“I hope I’d have been that smart,” I replied wryly. “I’d ask why my key, but if it’s the same person who murdered Jake, he’s doing his best to point a finger at me.”

“Exactly. Do you have any enemies? Anyone who would want you to swing for the murders?”

“It’s lethal injection, in this state,” I pointed out. “Still, as far as I know, the answer is no. The majority of the people I know personally live here on the Lane.”

“What about someone you’ve slept with, casually?”

“That doesn’t happen that often. When it does, I make pretty sure that they get it is just casual, and that it is for them as well. I don’t make it a practice to go around breaking hearts, detective.”

Jarrett nodded, took another drink of coffee, then said, “It’s Steven.”

Call me slow—and given the fact I was running on only two cylinders I probably was—but it took me a moment to get what he meant. “Adam,” I replied. “But you know that already.” Then something funny hit me. “Adam and Steve.”

“Don’t even go there. I’ve seen one too many of those posters and banners during Reverend Thompson’s anti-gay rallies.” He made finger quotes as he said, “God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.”

“Me, too. I’ve had to film some of the rallies, and the counter-protests, as part of my job at with KQBD. Speaking of which, I have to get moving. I’m due in in an hour, and I have to make a stop along the way to pick up a home security system at the hardware store.”

“Unless you’re technically inclined, you’d be better off hiring a company to do that.”

“I can follow instructions and know a hammer from a screwdriver,” I said.

“I’m surprised you don’t have one already.”

“I never thought I’d need it, until now. This is a quiet neighborhood, and as I said, we all know each other.”

“I get that, but…” Steven finished the last of his coffee, put the cup in the sink, and started to the front door. “I’ll keep in touch. Be careful. The two murders might be totally unconnected, but I’m not betting on it. Not after I found your key in with Mr. Parker’s. Not to frighten you, but if I’m right, someone has it in for you.”

“Or for all of us,” I said. “I just happen to be a good patsy, because of my relationship with Jake.” I frowned when something occurred to me. “How would the killer know about that, if he doesn’t live here?”

“Something I intend to find out,” Steven replied. “If I can.”