“Maybe some of that with Lynne did start from familiarity—she’s been around my world since she was six, and she grows on you. I’ve always liked her, even if you have to wince sometimes at how she doesn’t understand people as they really are. Lynne’s not perfect, but she’s genuinely good. Jenna, well, the wrapper fools people. I’m not saying it’s not flattering to have a good-looking, ambitious, and smart woman pause and take another look at you. But a wise man knows if you take a bite of that, you’re going to get snapped by jaws that don’t let go. I wasn’t buying what she was dangling. And that annoyed her.
“She had other guys on her line. I was lower down her priority list, but she kept coming back. I started getting worried about how Jenna was going to play Lynne, cause problems from the other direction since I wasn’t falling in line. Jenna was just starting to drop hints that direction when she disappeared. Had it gone on another few months, I would have been fighting a battle against the damage she was doing on that front. I can’t say I wasn’t relieved Jenna was gone, even as horrible as that sounds.”
“Lynne’s someone I imagine you instinctively want to protect,” Evie remarked, “and you saw trouble coming. I’ve got no problem with your instincts, Jim. They were the right ones, given what I’m learning about Jenna.”
“Thanks.” He thoughtfully turned his coffee mug between his hands. “I may not be the smart college guy, but I can hold my own with your psychology-trained graduate. I’ve seen a lot of soap operas play out here, having spent my middle school years doing homework at the side table over there, and my high school after hours on the cash register. I’ve seen the college crowds come and go. Jenna was rare, unique—and not in a good way, I’m afraid. She was probably the most calculating for how to play a guy of anyone I ever saw up close.
“This is the coffee crowd,” he explained, with a gesture to the room. “Come evenings, this place will be crowded and the music loud, and we’ll be hauling in folding chairs so you’re not sitting on the floor. The ones who drink the beers get emotional; that’s the other side of campus. This is the subtle crowd, weighing tone of voice and choice of words. ‘How do I want this next conversation to go?’ Jenna had the good-girl wrapper. Didn’t drink or smoke, cry about her weight, make a scene. She was smart, came with a pretty smile—and the guys fell over like bowling pins. I don’t think many people noticed the real Jenna. Candy did. I did. And surprisingly, I think to some extent Steve did.
“He wouldn’t say much, but he had her pegged and wasn’t letting her set the agenda. Jenna wanted the proposal, the engagement ring, and Steve wasn’t going to give in to her on when that should happen. She was subtly suggesting she might move on, lining up his possible replacements. She didn’t get the fact Steve was the adult in the relationship, while she was still immaturely playing high school pecking order. My sense of it is he really loved her or he would have given her the shock of her life and let her go. He was willing to put in the time for her to grow up, but he had his work cut out for him. She was playing other guys right up until the day she vanished, and that has always left a queasy feeling in my gut.”
“Did Lynne know Jenna was pushing your buttons?”
He recoiled, shaking his head. “No. No, she didn’t realize what was going on. Lynne . . . well, she just doesn’t catch on to subtle. Innuendos go right by her. Even actual rudeness often registers only as someone being abrupt. She hadn’t known what Jenna was doing, and her true friends were sympathetic, patting my arm, doing what they could to edge Lynne’s time away from Jenna. But most of them were state college, not Brighton, and weren’t around as much as Jenna. On the surface, Jenna was Lynne’s friend, and Lynne couldn’t see deeper than that.”
“When did you last see Jenna?”
“You mind if we shift to the music store? There’s an office in back.”
He wanted a smoke, she realized, fidgeting rippling his fingers. A good guy with a vice he’d want to hide from this very green, nothing-as-crass-as-nicotine college crowd. “No problem. Lead the way.”
David had been deliberate in not making it seem like two on one. Evie caught his eye with a tiny shake of her head as she passed, and left him to fill the time spending more money on music for his girl.
The back office was a desk and two mostly comfortable chairs tucked in behind boxes neatly shelved floor to ceiling. “I saw Jenna the night she disappeared,” Jim told her.
Evie sincerely hoped her phone recording in her pocket was doing its job. She settled into one of the chairs, forced herself to relax, and simply waited for what he might be willing to say next.
Jim opened a desk drawer, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, held it up till she shook her head with a smile, then lit one for himself. “It was after the concert. It’s a huge, Mount Everest kind of Friday night for Lynne, with Triple M playing and Maggie herself in Lynne’s dressing room. Lynne cleaned that dressing room and adjoining bathroom for a good six extra hours on her own time, fussed over every towel, handpicked flowers for the bouquet on the dressing room table, polished every surface until it shone. She had to make sure everything was perfect for Maggie.
“Under normal circumstances I would have been in the audience that night because Triple M is solid music and Maggie’s got an exceptional voice I enjoy hearing. But Lynne would be distracted—‘My boyfriend’s here, I should introduce him to Maggie’—and she’d stew over how to do it without making Maggie uncomfortable, get stuck in a planning loop on what exact words to say and when . . .” Jim stopped and grinned. “I love that about Lynne, even as it causes no ends of problems, that true-north sense in her about how things are supposed to be. She’s got a good heart.
“So instead of the concert, I worked the coffee-shop counter, let Lynne have her perfect night without distraction. I knew she’d be here by the time I was closing up at midnight to tell me about every—and I do mean truly every—minute of her special night. So I pushed off eating, figuring I’d put in a pizza and get a slice into her when she came—she wouldn’t have thought of touching food once she went in to work about two that afternoon.
“The door chimes at two minutes to midnight as I’m turning chairs up, getting ready to mop.” Jim blew out a steady stream of smoke. “It’s not Lynne.”
Evie could see the soap opera setting itself up. Lynne’s most exciting night, and Jenna’s timing for when to stir the pot playing out to perfection.
“I realized later that Steve was out of town. Had I caught there was an away game, I would have been braced and prepared. Instead, here’s Jenna with her apologetic smile and her, ‘Am I too late to get the last coffee in the pot? And can you add whipped cream?’
“It’s been policy ever since the coffee shop opened that a customer even a minute before midnight gets served, and the full menu stays available. Doesn’t matter if it’s Dillon nursing a black eye after a fight with his wife and wanting a pizza, Officer Kelly looking for a refill for his thermos, or a group of eight students wanting specialty drinks. So I get Jenna her coffee and reopen the register to make change. Jenna’s chatting away, and I’m not paying much attention. I’m finishing out closing and watching the door for Lynne. I don’t notice Jenna’s getting annoyed with my lack of attention.”
Jim paused as he considered what came next, glanced over to see if Evie was still engaged, seemed relieved she looked relaxed. “Jenna never mentioned she’d been at the concert, never mentioned she’d been at her apartment only long enough to drop off her things and head back out. No, her spin for this is she’s got an important paper to write, but she can’t stand to be inside another minute, even if it’s coming up on midnight; she just had to get in a walk. She’d just walk over here, stop for coffee, and if I was through for the night, I could be a gentleman and walk her back home.
“It wasn’t the first time she’d done the late-night-stroll, I-walk-her-home pitch—it had become just something else to avoid with her. I’d started leaving Greg on the clock—the guy who covers nights on the music si
de—paying him the extra half hour so I could send him to walk Jenna home, given he lived two buildings down from her. It wasn’t worth the grief I’d get from the women in my world when it got around—and Jenna would make sure it did—that I had told her to walk herself home.”
Jim gave a pained smile. “Jenna was setting Lynne up to see us in a clinch. Only thing I can figure she was thinking. ‘Steve’s out of town, I’m bored, not ready to call it an evening, so let’s make some mischief.’” He stubbed out the cigarette. “Lynne was going to walk in on a kiss or a slap to the face—I’m not sure which way Jenna had it planned. But Lynne doesn’t show. Jenna’s checking her watch, nursing that coffee to make it last, and I finally realize what the witch has in mind. Burns me good. The best night of Lynne’s life, and Jenna’s looking to cause her grief.
“So I move to the door, watching the street, ready to intercept Lynne, while Jenna takes her sweet time on the last sips. It would have worked. I’m sure Jenna had her cover story planned. She was waiting at the coffee shop because ‘I just had to hear about how great your night with Maggie went. I had no idea Jim was going to get flirty,’ and Lynne would have bought that in a heartbeat, even as she looked at me with crushed hurt for kissing someone else. Jenna was out to ruin Lynne’s happy evening, use me to do the hurting.
“It’s getting later than normal for Lynne, and I’m getting worried about her. Her agreement with her mom to ‘settle somewhere by midnight’ has always been pretty much gospel with Lynne. So I kill the lights at twelve-thirty, walk Jenna home mostly to get rid of her, who’s stewing now and not talking. I figured I would meet up with Lynne, because if she’s coming from either her home or the Music Hall, that’s the street she’ll take. I know she’s going to be brimming to overflow about her night, wouldn’t just decide she’s tired and turn in for the night. But there’s no sign of Lynne.
“It’s twelve-fifty when Jenna enters her apartment building. This I know for certain because I’m standing on the sidewalk looking at the time, trying to decide if Lynne, running late, would have gone to my dad’s place expecting to find me there, or if Lynne’s more likely at her parents’, thinking it’s too late to go out on her own, waiting for me to show up so she can tell me all about her big night. As her boyfriend, this is a serious problem, a real dilemma. If I text her, ask where she is, I’m saying I can’t even figure out her mind on such a matter.
“So I walk over to Lynne’s. But she’s not home—she turns on the desk lamp in her room to let me know she’s there. I reverse course and head home. Pop’s asleep. Lynne isn’t there either. She knows where the spare key is so she makes herself comfortable in the living room if I’m running late. Now I’m just plain worried. At one-fifteen I finally send a text and get one back saying I’m busy. In Lynne’s shorthand that means her hands are full, she’s doing something physical, and literally can’t type right now.”
Jim smiled at a memory. “Lynne’s never done passive-aggressive in her life. When she’s mad and doesn’t want to talk with you, the text says I don’t want to talk to you. I’m mad about . . . and you get the ‘why’ full barrel. So I plop down on my dad’s couch and wait for Lynne to tell me where she is. Two hours and ten minutes later, she sends a text that says It works! Maggie’s a Genius! But she still doesn’t tell me where she is. It’s becoming that kind of night. I text her back an all-caps WHERE ARE YOU? so I can get an actual call.
“Turns out she’s writing songs, trying out Maggie’s advice. She’s at the twenty-four-hour FitClub, using one of their stair climbers. She’d done the treadmill, but running and thinking music was too involved. Free weights did better, but she thought steps might be the best. I won’t tell you all the details she laid out in that call, but Lynne had turned Maggie’s advice for how to write songs into her own method, and she’s jazzed.” He stopped for a moment, gave Evie a quizzical look. “I can do an edited version if this is too boring.”
Evie chuckled. “No, no, Jim—having met Lynne, if you weren’t giving me these details, it wouldn’t be her and I’d wonder what you were fabricating. I appreciate the playback.”
“Okay, so we finally end up over at a friend’s house at four a.m. Lynne gives me the entire blow-by-blow of her night, shows me the lyrics she’s already written while we help stuff circulars into the Saturday newspaper and slip on the rubber bands. Laura Pip’s a teacher we’ve both known since grade school, she delivers Saturday and Sunday papers for extra money, and we help her prep when we can. Lynne talked nonstop from the time we met up until I walked her home for a seven a.m. breakfast with her folks.”
Jim shifted in the chair, and his voice took on a more matter-of-fact tone. “The crisis of the night averted, Lynne safely home and happy, I walked myself back, absolutely wiped, and hit the bed face-first. I worked two to midnight that Saturday, noon to midnight Sunday, and then I hear the news Jenna is missing Monday afternoon about three. It was my day off and I was painting a friend’s garage to pick up some extra money. I packed up my stuff, got over to the apartment building shortly after four, found Jenna’s friend Robin organizing a flyer distribution. Lynne’s already out with a stack in her hands, papering every business window on her way toward the Music Hall. I mostly just walked with her, since Lynne was panicked and sounding desperate—like her dad. Letting her do it herself was probably better for her, I figured. We were out until one a.m. and on it again the next morning at six. I hung around Lynne nearly twenty-four seven those first few days, so her mom didn’t have to worry about her.”
He went to light another cigarette, needing something in his hands, Evie decided, as he mostly ignored it once lit.
“Lynne told me she’d heard the last thing Jenna did was send a text to her mom saying she was back at the apartment. I assumed that text was sent after I saw her walk into the building. It was weeks before I heard the time on that text, realized it was sent before midnight, before Jenna came to the coffee shop. By then it had also become clear this wasn’t a casual mix-up or accident; someone had likely done her harm.” He gave a long sigh. “And with a swarm of cops looking in every corner, I took the coward’s way out, didn’t raise my hand.”
Jim stopped talking, but Evie knew the value of silence and simply waited.
“I was never interviewed, so I never lied.” He blew out smoke. “And I know how that statement itself sounds, how it makes me look.
“Those first few days I was still angry at what Jenna had been preparing to do, and when conversations would come up about Jenna, most of the time I was standing right beside Lynne. Lynne didn’t need to know her friendship with Jenna had been more a mirage than authentic, and she certainly didn’t need cops grilling her, ‘Tell me about your boyfriend and his relationship with your friend Jenna.’
“I always assumed the cops would eventually be at the coffee shop or the house to ask me about that night. I would have been seen walking Jenna home, what time was that, what had we been talking about, they’d want to see the texts with Lynne, put on extra pressure because I would have been one of last, if not the last, to see Jenna. But no cops came.
“At first I was relieved. Evidence had them looking at something that happened to Jenna Saturday morning, and they hadn’t been around because they don’t need my statement. Then I’m wondering maybe no one saw us that night or thought to mention it to the cops?
“So it’s a couple of weeks later when I hear the time on Jenna’s text to her mom is before midnight, before she came to the coffee shop. Cops had been working on the assumption Jenna was home at eleven-fifty p.m., and I knew Jenna got home exactly an hour later than that. If I’d thought that time difference was significant, I would have come forward. But by then everybody was hunting for blood, and I hadn’t been involved. I’d re-created that walk in my mind numerous times. Had I seen anything out of place—a van, a car, a person who didn’t belong? Except for the bright, near-full moon, I couldn’t come up with one fact that distinguished that night from others.
“
I got as far as the police station twice, but self-preservation turned me around. I wasn’t sure who was going to believe me other than my dad, Lynne’s parents, a few others who really knew me. It’s a pricey college, and an arrest would have made people more comfortable—guilt or innocence wasn’t going to play into it. The lawyer fees alone would have cost my dad the coffee shop, probably the music store, likely both.”
Evie raised a palm to stop him there. “Is there anyone you can think of who might have seen you walk Jenna home that night, someone you know from the neighborhood who maybe kept quiet for the same reason? If so, I’d like the name.”
Jim thought about it and shook his head. “I didn’t notice anyone in particular that night. The close-at-midnight crowd—we pass each other, say a friendly good-night, but no one lingers to talk. And it was twelve-thirty before Jenna and I left the coffee shop that night. The streets were quiet by then.
“Those who live on that route, who would know me at a glance if they saw me, who might have been up at that time of night—there are a few. Paul Sanders waits up for his wife, Lisa, to get home. They sometimes sit on the porch and talk if it’s a nice night. There’s Jerry Verma—he owns the bakery and deli, sometimes goes in around midnight if he’s catering a breakfast meeting. And the corner house is where Wilma Parks lives. She likes to read, and her living room light is often on until two or three a.m. The only other one I can think of would be Neva Timber. She works for the local paper, comes home after it’s gone to the printer. Sometimes they hold off for a late-breaking story in which case she gets home after midnight. Those four might know a few more I haven’t thought of.”
“No dog owner taking a late-night walk, the dog wagging his entire body wanting to say hello to you?”
Threads of Suspicion Page 29