The Sarah Woods Mystery Series (Volume 7)

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “People change,” Carter said. “Everyone has a breaking point. And you knew him when he was gainfully employed. Losing a high-paying job is not just about money. It’s a huge blow to the ego. Some can’t recover from that.”

  “It’s just . . . well, now that we’re standing here, looking down, I can’t imagine Jeffrey doing it.”

  “Come with me.” Carter took my hand and led me off the bridge and down the embankment toward the riverbed, passing through massive pricker bushes that snagged my clothing.

  “OK,” I said, “what are we looking for, exactly?”

  “Just wanna take a look around. I wonder if the first responders took photos of the body lying on the rocks before they took him away.” Carter got out his cell phone and began taking pictures of the rocks that were jutting out from under the water. “Didn’t Mary say something about the fact that Jeffrey liked to sit on the rocks by the riverbed and write in his notebook?”

  “Yeah, she did. Why?”

  “Well, she never mentioned if Jeffrey actually had the notebook with him that day. And if he had, what happened to it?”

  “You know, I hadn’t thought about that. I can call Mary right now and find out.”

  I got on my cell and dialed her number. When Mary answered, I asked, “Can you tell me what happened to Jeffrey’s notebook? The one he brought with him on his walks to the park.”

  I didn’t get a reply right away, and I wondered if she had understood the question. “Mary, are you there?”

  “Yes,” she finally said, clearing her throat. “I’m sorry. The question just caught me off guard. But the answer is no. I have no idea what happened to his notebook. Why do you ask?”

  “What kind of notebook was it? One of those lightweight spiral-bound notebooks, or was it a fancy leather-covered notebook?”

  “It was just a cheap spiral-bound notebook. Nothing fancy.”

  “And you think he brought it to the park with him that day?”

  “Well, he must have, because I haven’t found it here at the house.”

  “Carter brought up a good point,” I said. “Why would Jeffrey bring his notebook if he planned to kill himself?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe out of habit? Or maybe he had planned to write a suicide note but changed his mind. Why are you concerned about the notebook?”

  “Carter and I think it’s odd that the notebook was never found at the scene by the police. I mean, it’s possible that the notebook is lying on the bottom of the river, but those light spiral-bound notebooks would probably float on the surface of the water, at least initially. A police officer, or one of the paramedics would have spotted it, if it was close to the body.”

  “I’ve gone through most of Jeffrey’s things and that notebook hasn’t turned up, but I can check the house one more time. Give me a few hours, and I’ll get back to you if I find it.”

  “Thanks, Mary.”

  After I slipped my cell phone back into my purse, I noticed Carter, with hands on hips, surveying the area with squinty eyes. He was standing on one of the large rocks, the water just inches from his boots.

  “Mary has no idea what happened to the notebook, but she’s going to double check the house.”

  “You know,” he said, looking up at the bridge, “unlike the boy who dove head-first to show off to his friends, a person who intends to kill himself doesn’t dive. They would jump feet first. In most cases, the drop is so far that when they hit the water, it’s like hitting cement. It crushes every single bone in your body. You die from impact.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I’ve fallen off buildings higher than this. I sprained an ankle and my wrist, but no broken bones. So, I’m having a hard time believing that Jeffrey really wanted to kill himself. Maybe it was intended to be a cry for help. An attempt to get his wife to forgive him. Think about it, how could she leave him if he’s in the hospital recovering from an attempted suicide?”

  Carter negotiated the rocks and made his way back to the riverbed where I stood. “I’d like to take a look at the autopsy report, if there even is an autopsy report. Mary didn’t happen to mention if they performed one, did she?”

  “Why do you want to know what’s in the autopsy report?”

  “Just curious what the actual cause of death was.”

  “Blunt force trauma or drowning,” I said. “What else could it be?”

  “If he jumped during low tide with all these rocks, he would have suffered broken bones, but death would not be certain unless he hit his head just right.”

  “Doesn’t really matter now,” I said. “Whether he really intended to kill himself or not, he took a gamble and lost.”

  When Carter and I got back up to the path and headed to our car, I noticed the mom and kid were still in the park. The mom was sitting on a bench, scrolling on her cell phone. A large insulated cooler was next to her, probably filled with drinks and snacks. I told Carter I’d meet him back at the car, that I wanted to ask the woman a question.

  The mom looked up from her phone as I came closer. She stared at me as if she thought she was supposed to recognize me.

  “Hi there,” I said, offering a friendly wave. “Sorry to bother you. Do you have a minute?”

  She gazed at me with trepidation. “Sure.”

  “Do you and your daughter come to this park very often?”

  “Almost every day in the summer. Why?”

  “Do you ever come here in the mornings? Say, between nine and eleven?”

  “Depends on the day.”

  “Last week, a friend of mine jumped off the bridge here and died. His name was Jeffrey Kendrick. Did you hear about that?”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. “Yeah, I heard a man had jumped. I’m real sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks. I’m trying to find someone who might have seen him that day, before he jumped. It happened on Saturday, June 25, around ten in the morning.”

  “I work Saturday mornings, so I wasn’t here. Sorry.”

  “OK, well, thanks anyway.”

  Just as I turned to leave, my cell phone rang, but I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Sarah?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Jessica Knowles from the writers group.”

  “Oh, yes, hello. I’m so glad you called.”

  “I know it’s sort of last minute, but Ben and I are going to meet up tomorrow morning again at Book and Bar around nine. Any chance you could join us?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m free tomorrow.”

  “Perfect, so I guess we’ll see you then?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

  When I got back to the Buick, Carter was scribbling in his notebook. “How do you feel about going to the police station?”

  “Why?” I asked. “Are you still curious about the autopsy?”

  “Yeah. It’s not an open investigation,” he said. “I don’t see why they won’t let us see the file.”

  “Maybe we should talk to Detective James first. I hate to go behind his back.”

  “Fine by me. It’s almost four o’clock, so he might still be around.”

  “By the way,” I said, “I just got a call from Jessica. I’m meeting her and Ben in the morning to read our chapters.”

  “Are you still going to maintain your cover?”

  “No, I’m going to fess up to them about who I am. They might walk out on me, but that’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

  “I think it’s a good call, Sarah. It’s pretty obvious at this point that Jeffrey was involved in something more complex than an affair.”

  Chapter 12

  When we got to the Bridgeport Police Station around four-thirty, Detective James was in his office, sitting at his desk. The fifty-something homicide detective had become a trustworthy friend to me and Carter over the years. The police don’t generally hire private detectives to help with cases, but Carter and I know their boundaries. Showing respect has kept us in g
ood standing.

  “What brings you two in today?” James said, removing his reading glasses while looking up from his computer monitor.

  “Hope it’s not a bad time,” Carter said. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  “Have a seat. I’d offer you a coffee, but the machine is broken again.”

  “Nah, that’s fine. This shouldn’t take very long.”

  James leaned back into his chair, and it squeaked in protest. “So, what’s up?”

  “Guy by the name of Jeffrey Kendrick died last Saturday. Jumped from Heritage Bridge.”

  “The suicide? Yeah, I didn’t work the case, but I remember hearing about that.”

  “Well, Sarah knew the guy.”

  James turned and raised an eyebrow at me. “No kidding. Were you close?”

  “Jeffrey and his wife Mary used to be massage clients, but I hadn’t seen them in years. Long story short, she hired us to find out who her husband was sleeping with. I think she wanted to confront the woman, but we haven’t had much luck.”

  “OK,” James said, looking at us in turn. “I’m not sure how I can help.”

  Carter briefed James on the case, finishing up with the latest discovery: “Jeffrey’s wife found a large amount of cash hidden in one of his shoes. They were barely making their bills, so this cash must’ve been acquired illegally. Mary has no idea how he got it.”

  James shrugged. “I’m sorry about your friend, Sarah, but I’m still not sure what you need from me.”

  “Are autopsies usually performed in apparent suicide cases?” Carter asked.

  “Usually, yes, but it depends on the situation. Are you not convinced he actually committed suicide?”

  Carter paused. “Apparently there’s a witness who saw him jump off the bridge. She called nine-one-one, and when the first responders arrived, Jeffrey Kendrick’s body was lying on the rocks just below the bridge. It’s not that far of a drop. Two or three stories at the most. If he jumped feet first, there’s a good chance he’d survive.”

  “Well,” James said, “what do you think happened?”

  “Maybe he wasn’t trying to kill himself. Just a cry for help. That’s why I’d like to see the autopsy report. It might show that he landed with his arms stretched out in front of him in a protective manner, trying to buffer his fall. An autopsy would confirm if his hands and arms sustained the most damage.”

  James nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense to me. I’d be interested to see if you’re right. As far as the autopsy, we might need Mrs. Kendrick’s approval to view the report, but I’ll try to get around that.”

  “We haven’t discussed this with her, yet,” I said.

  “I’ll contact the coroner’s office and see what I can find out.”

  Chapter 13

  The next morning I got up early and went for a run. It had been months so I had to take it slow. My shoulder was about ninety percent back to normal, but it still ached most nights. Which was probably why I hadn’t been sleeping well.

  I’d only made it two miles before I had to slow to a walking pace. The funny thing about it, my shoulder didn’t hurt at all. It was my lungs that burned.

  I ended up walking the last mile to the house, feeling discouraged and cranky. Thankfully, Carter had just finished making a pot of coffee. He was in the shower, so I decided to sit at the kitchen table and wait for him.

  I checked my phone, hoping to see a message from Detective James about the police and autopsy report, but there was nothing from him. There was, however, a missed call from Molly. She hadn’t left a message.

  I called her number and on the third ring she picked up. “Hey, Sarah.”

  “I noticed you called this morning when I was out for a run. What’s up?”

  “Actually, I’m at the end of your street, at the bus stop.”

  “What? Right now?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to drop something off for you. Was gonna be a surprise, but I’ll tell you. I made zucchini bread.”

  I smiled to myself as I pictured Molly standing at the kitchen counter of her small apartment, with electric mixer in hand as she tried to balance on her one good foot. Then, walking to my house on crutches, the bread getting smooshed inside her backpack. “Stay right where you are, I’ll come get you.”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m almost there now. Three houses away.” Her breathing was heavier than normal” “I guess I feel bad about the other day at your office. I was acting like a complete dweeb.”

  “So, now you’re bringing a peace offering?”

  “Sure.”

  When Molly arrived at my doorstep, I helped her into the kitchen and sat her down, taking her crutches and setting them by the door. She produced the bread from her backpack, wrapped in aluminum foil.

  “This smells wonderful.” I accepted the bread and was delighted to feel it was still warm. I peeled back the aluminum foil and sliced it into inch-sized pieces. “You really made this yourself?”

  “No,” she said, deadpan. “I bought it at the store and wrapped it in my own aluminum foil, just to try and impress you. Of course I made it myself.”

  I served us up three plates, figuring Carter would want some with coffee when he got out of the shower.

  “This is really good!” I scarfed down my first slice in no time, then went back for seconds. “Want some coffee or tea?”

  “No thanks,” she said. “I’m not gonna stay long. I just wanted to drop off the bread and say I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I do appreciate it, Molly, but you could’ve called. You didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

  “What trouble? I’m bored off my ass. I can’t go back to work for another few weeks, so I might as well bake something.”

  I laughed. “Well, I can think of worse ways to spend your time.”

  When Carter waltzed into the kitchen wearing only his jeans, Molly looked away in embarrassment, like she’d never seen a guy without his shirt on. “Morning,” she said, staring at her plate.

  “Morning,” Carter said, pouring himself a mug of coffee. “What do we have here? Homemade bread?”

  “Molly made it.”

  He took a bite and nodded in appreciation. “Tasty.”

  “Well, I should let you two enjoy your morning,” Molly said. “I have to go do some stuff.”

  “Why don’t you stay and visit with Sarah,” Carter said. “I’m leaving anyway. Need to hit the bank and grab some supplies.”

  I knew Carter was lying. He didn’t have to go to the bank, but it made me proud to know that he was sensitive to her feelings. He must’ve sensed that Molly needed some girl time.

  Carter downed his coffee, finished the slice of bread, then disappeared into the bedroom. When he came back out a few seconds later, he was wearing a black T-shirt. He grabbed his wallet and leather jacket, then headed to the door. “See you later, ladies. Enjoy breakfast.”

  After he left, Molly gave me a sheepish grin. “Your boyfriend is kinda hot. I tried not to stare at his chest. But what’s with the leather jacket? It’s like, almost eighty degrees outside.”

  “Tell me about it. He’s attached to that thing, and I don’t understand it. Like a baby and their security blanket.”

  Molly fidgeted with the slice of bread on her plate. “So, did you guys get a new case to work on?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. It’s slow going, though.”

  “Can you talk about it?”

  Since Jeffrey’s case wasn’t an active police investigation, I didn’t see the problem in giving her a few details. “Did you hear about that guy who jumped off Heritage Bridge last week and died?”

  “I don’t think so. Was it suicide?”

  “Yes. I knew the guy. He and his wife used to be massage clients of mine back in the day. He’d lost his job and was battling with depression. Something happened the week prior to his death that precipitated the suicide, and Carter and I are trying to figure out what it was.”

  “I know Heritage Bridge,” she said. “The
one in Manning Park, right?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I took care of a dog whose family lives just a few blocks from that park, and I used to take him for walks over that bridge every day. It’s not very high, though. I’m surprised anyone would think they’d die if they jumped off it.”

  “Jeffrey hit his head on a rock, which is what killed him. I haven’t actually seen a police report or the autopsy results, but we’re waiting to hear back from the detective about that.”

  “Did anyone see him jump?”

  “A woman called nine-one-one right after it happened. She was running on the path and saw him jump off the bridge. Apparently, she was the only person around, and when the police first showed up on the scene, they took her statement.”

  “That’s weird,” Molly said. “What time of day did this happen?”

  “I don’t know the exact time, but it was around ten a.m. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering, that’s all.” Molly checked her phone briefly, then pushed herself up from her chair. “I should head out now.”

  “Why in a rush all of a sudden?”

  “No reason, I just have some stuff to do. You probably have to work anyway, right?”

  I noticed it was eight-forty-five. “Shoot, I have to be at Book and Bar in fifteen minutes. Can I drop you off somewhere on the way?”

  “Nah, I’m good. Thanks anyway. I’ll see ya later.”

  Chapter 14

  When I showed up at Book and Bar at nine, I spotted Jessica and Ben sitting at the table in the back with their notebooks open in front of them. They each had coffee mugs and appeared to be chatting easily. I felt bad knowing what I had to do.

  I sat down at the table. “Hi guys. Thanks again for inviting me.”

  “Sure.” Jessica said. “Did you bring a chapter to read?”

  “No, the reason I came here was to apologize. And to ask an important favor from you both.”

  Ben set down his pen. “What’s going on, Sarah?”

  “First of all, I’m not a writer. I’m a private investigator.”