A Master's in Murder

by Katie Moon

  “Get up, you worthless little--!”

  “Please, Daddy, please stop, it hurts, you’re hurting me!”

  “You want people to treat you with respect, then don’t cower behind the chair like a little princess! You take your punishment, like a man! Get OUT HERE, NOW!”

  “No, Daddy, PLEASE!”

  “You stupid little piece of trash, you little COWARD!”

  Mason’s eyes flew open as the crack of a palm against flesh echoed through the recesses of his mind. Hands trembling, Mason gripped the armrests of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned stark white. A little coward. That’s all he ever was. All he ever would be. Mason stared unseeing at the television screen as the head and shoulders of a boxy-looking man with salt and pepper hair filled the screen, speaking quietly. Mason could only imagine what his father would say about him if he saw him now, hiding nervously in bushes.

  Trying to take his mind off of the worry that constantly plagued him, Mason pulled out his phone and clicked on a small, simplistic logo of a blue square framing a white “f”. Dragging his thumb lazily up and down the screen, Mason only half looked at each photo that passed by, while soft voices issued quietly from the television playing idly in the background.

  As the words “University of North Carolina” cut through his half-distracted mind, Mason looked up at the television screen with mild curiosity. The square-faced news anchor was speaking soberly. “—college senior Claire Kunis has been found dead. Kunis was found at Falls Lake, having apparently drowned after a slippery fall into the water that rendered her unconscious.”

  Mason raised his eyebrows in surprise. Another one bites the dust, he thought darkly as the face of the deceased Claire Kunis dominated the screen. Mason recognized the woman he had seen on the news days before. But no, that’s not it, he thought. Muting the TV, Mason squinted at her face, his face clenched in concentration. His eyes slid down her stunning red hair, searched her large, ocean-blue eyes, examined her soft, languid smile. With a soft “oh!”, it dawned on him. She hardly looked like the same person, but it was definitely her. She had worn heavy dark makeup that day, hiding the baby-like innocence that her face naturally held in the displayed photo. It also hadn’t helped that she had been so heavily inebriated when he saw her last. Turning back to his phone, Mason thought absently how strange it was that it could not have been long after he had seen her that she had had her unfortunate accident.

  24

  The wind bustled around her hair as she pushed open the heavy door. She felt the warm heat kiss her cheeks, a pleasant contrast to the ice daggers that had been thrown at her in the blustering, wintery air. Rubbing her hands rapidly together, she let the door fall closed behind her with a crash as she strode forward. She thought grimly that she had become more familiar with these unwelcoming white hallways than she ever wanted to be.

  She couldn’t wait anymore. She needed to find out something, anything, about the progress the police had made on Eric’s case. At the sound of the door clunking closed, a curly, grey-haired head popped up behind the tall front desk. Brielle recognized her as the gentle receptionist who had smiled at her as she rushed past on her prior visits. Smiling politely, Brielle stepped up in front of the desk.

  “Hello, dear. How may I help you?” the friendly woman asked with a thick English accent.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Officer Corey. Is he in the office?”

  The older woman looked around, as if Officer Corey would walk in on the spot. “I believe he is, love. But I know he has a lot on his plate right now. Did you see it on the news? A second college student died, right here in our city!” she gushed.

  “Yes, I know, that’s what I wanted to talk to him about. I’m Brielle Daymon, I was dating the man who was—”

  “Oh, I know who you are, sweetheart,” the cheery woman interrupted, giving Brielle a sympathetic smile. “I’m Lauren Perry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. How have you coped with this whole investigation? I heard,” she added in a breathless whisper, “you were attacked! Is that true?”

  Brielle could sense that Lauren was one who lived for the next great story, which was something that, unfortunately, Brielle was not willing to give her at the moment. “Uh, yeah,” she said, and plowed on quickly as Lauren covered her mouth in shock, “look, I really need to speak to Corey, could you tell him—”

  Almost as if in response, the doors to the right of the reception desk swung open, and out walked Officer Corey, followed by Mrs. Artimer and Bruce Artimer, both of whom were still in the same clothes from their interrogations. Bruce looked untidy and drained, a stark contrast to the chipper, exuberant man Brielle had spoken with a week ago. But that contrast was nothing in comparison to the effect of the past week on Mrs. Artimer. Shoulders stooped and head down, she sniffled pitifully into a handkerchief. Her once-elegant makeup had been smeared away by countless tears, leaving the face of an older woman, adorned with the worries and miseries that only a mother who has lost a child could understand. Brielle could hear her whispering quietly to herself, “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t get him killed. It wasn’t my fault,” over and over again. Brielle noticed that neither Mrs. Artimer or Bruce seemed to want to look at each other.

  Seeing Brielle standing by the desk, Officer Corey nodded to her and said gently to Mrs. Artimer, “You are free to go, ma’am. You’re right, it wasn’t your fault. You really should be going.” For some unknown reason, Officer Corey kept glancing at the front door, looking anxious. Leaning over to Brielle, he muttered in a low voice, “We’re releasing them both since we don’t have enough evidence to convict either of them. I just told her we don’t believe her involvement with Bruce led to Eric’s death.”

  Brielle nodded and walked towards the tearful woman hesitantly. She whispered gently, “Hello, Mrs. Artimer. Are you alright?”

  Mrs. Artimer looked up from behind her handkerchief and made eye contact for a long moment with Brielle. For a moment, Brielle thought Mrs. Artimer might scream at her. It had been Brielle, after all, who had uncovered her affair with Bruce and accused her in front of everyone of killing her own son. Brielle waited for the explosion, but to her surprise, Mrs. Artimer straightened up, stared directly into Brielle’s eyes, and said in wonder, “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “I know,” Brielle answered softly, a mixture of pity and shame brewing in her. She glanced over at Bruce, who was staring numbly at the ground. Mrs. Artimer was by no means innocent of any wrongdoing, and to betray her husband and family would leave a wound that would take a long time to heal. But to feel incorrectly responsible for her beloved son’s death had clearly taken a painful toll on her. Brielle reflected back on Officer Corey’s final discussion with Theo Walters. We will all have to answer for our own choices, Brielle thought, but no one should have to bear the weight of guilt that comes from someone else’s evil.

  Officer Corey cleared his throat, and Brielle looked at him. Looking a little uncomfortable, he said, “Mrs. Artimer, you really probably should be going. I’m sure you need some rest and recovery from this ordeal.” His eyes jumped again to the front doors as he gently rested his hand between her shoulders and began to guide her forward. Catching her puzzled look, he gave his head a small shake. Before he could take another step forward with Mrs. Artimer, however, Brielle heard a loud creak, and Officer Corey groaned softly.

  The entrance doors rolled open, and Brielle felt the biting cold nip at her face as a strong gust blew in behind two burly officers. Each of the stocky, uniformed officers wore a harsh grimace that reminded Brielle of a bad-tempered bulldog, and Brielle thought that if their brute size wasn’t enough to intimidate others, their hostile appearance certainly would.

  “W-what’s going on?” Mrs. Artimer yelped in a high voice, and Brielle stared at her. She was gaping at the officers, mortified. “Why do you have him?”

  Slightly confused, Brielle looked back at the two officers and saw a much thinner figure mostly obscured behind
their hefty bodies. She had been so caught off guard by the sheer mass of the two officers that she hadn’t seen the pale face framed by tight red curls peering out from behind them. Peeking miserably between each thick shoulder was Jared. Brielle’s eyes darted down to where she could just barely see his hands peeking out from behind his threatening bodyguards. Each hand was clasped inside a silver handcuff.

  Speechless, Brielle turned to stare at Officer Corey with Mrs. Artimer. Officer Corey, avoiding both of their gazes, said curtly to the two officers, “Take him to Interrogation Room 1.” Nodding silently, the two officers marched forward, each gripping one of Jared’s elbows.

  As they passed the small group, Jared bent back around his gigantic escorts. “I promise, I didn’t,” he said hoarsely, looking past his mother at Brielle. “I didn’t, I wouldn’t.” He stared beseechingly at Brielle as the doors to the next hallway thudded shut behind them, disappearing from view.

  Brielle swung around to look at Officer Corey, her eyes pleading for an explanation. Glancing between Brielle and Mrs. Artimer, he grimaced. “We finally were able to trace the username from the chat room back to a source. The user going by Brute2e had gone to a lot of trouble to hide his identity. It was registered under a shell corporation name and looped through several false identities, but it eventually linked back to one name: Jared Artimer,” he explained, watching Mrs. Artimer sadly. She looked as if she had just had the last of her will to live sucked out of her. Her shoulders sagged heavily and her jaw went slack. In terrifyingly slow motion, Brielle watched as Mrs. Artimer’s eyes rolled back grotesquely into her skull, and her knees buckled under her. At once, Brielle and Bruce reached out and snatched Mrs. Artimer, saving her quivering body from crashing onto the tile floor. Brielle heard a sharp gasp from the reception desk and looked over to see Lauren bent over the desk, Brielle’s own shock mirrored on her face.

  “C’mon, Mrs. Artimer, we should get you back to your hotel so you can lay down,” Brielle urged softly, but even in her befuddled state, Mrs. Artimer shook her head weakly.

  “No…. no….”

  “You’ll feel a lot better if you get some rest. You’ve been through a lot,” Brielle encouraged.

  “Nnno!” Mrs. Artimer protested groggily. “I wanna sstay here… ferr Jared.”

  Brielle looked at Officer Corey and Bruce for help. Tentatively, Officer Corey muttered, “If she wants to wait, she can. I need to go question him.” And with a nod and one last look of concern at Mrs. Artimer’s crumpled figure, he turned and swept past the doors through which Jared had disappeared minutes before.

  Looking around a little uncertainly, Bruce lifted Mrs. Artimer gently to her feet. “We’ll just go sit in those chairs, okay?” he said gently, guiding her unsteadily to the line of wooden chairs against the wall next to the reception desk. Lauren hurried through the door directly behind her desk and returned a moment later, balancing a steaming cup in one hand while she aggressively dipped a tea bag into the cup with the other.

  “Here you are, mam,” Lauren said sweetly, setting the teacup gently on the chair next to Mrs. Artimer. “It’ll be alright, don’t worry.”

  Brielle gave Lauren a small smile as she returned to her desk and sat back down, eyes darting back and forth avidly between her work and Mrs. Artimer. Checking to make sure that Bruce was attentively watching over Eric’s mother, Brielle settled wearily into one of the uncomfortable chairs, letting her face fall into her hands. First Mrs. Artimer, then Bruce, then Theo Walters, and now Jared. Would this finally be the person who was behind it all? Was Jared capable of that? Brielle massaged her temples, feeling another headache develop, a now common occurrence for her. She knew that Jared harbored some cool resentment towards Eric. She expected it was connected to the very open favoritism his mother had always shown toward Eric. But Eric and Jared were on completely different paths now. They were attending different schools, studying different subjects, both set to succeed. If anything, Jared’s success as a neurosurgeon would have been more ambitious. What would have sparked him to retaliate now? Around and around, Brielle’s mind spun in circles, searching desperately for answers. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into an hour, as Brielle thought every which way, trying to make sense of it all. Every question seemed to pull her deeper into the dark chasm of uncertainty and doubt.

  Brielle did not look up as a gentle trilling erupted from the receptionist’s phone. With a gentle click and a few murmured words, Brielle heard Lauren clear her throat loudly. “Excuse me, Brielle?” Brielle looked up in surprise. “Officer Corey wants to talk to you,” Lauren said, pointing her open hand toward the hallway doors. With a loud creak, Brielle pushed herself up from the wooden chair where she had been planted and shuffled through the door. It felt good to stretch her legs after sitting in that seat for so long.

  Brielle strode quickly through the corridors, glancing left and right as she passed small offices, some occupied by uniformed officers and others by clerical workers sporting typical business attire. What would Officer Corey want to talk to her about while he’s in interrogation with Jared? Had Jared confessed? Or had Jared offered information that further complicated an already convoluted case, like every other interrogation so far? A deeper fear churned dangerously in Brielle, however. Brielle’s last discussion with Randall had opened her eyes to the fact that people would be looking at her as a suspect just as much as everyone else. Or perhaps more, she thought suddenly. Love and passion were some of the most common reasons for homicide, after all. Wouldn’t that make her the prime suspect in that case?

  Now trembling slightly, Brielle turned the corner next to the interrogation room and saw Officer Corey leaning against the wall, lost in thought. He looked up as she slowed to a stop, and he straightened up.

  “Hey,” he said. “I was hoping you’d still be here. Listen, Jared wanted to talk to you.”

  “To me?” Brielle said, startled. “Why me?”

  Officer Corey shrugged. “He said he doesn’t want to face any of his family right now. He thinks that until he can prove he didn’t kill Eric, he’s most likely disowned in their eyes. So he asked to talk to you, and I said that was fine,” he explained. Hesitating, Officer Corey’s lip curled into a frustrated frown. “Between you and me, I think he did it. I mean, it’s clear he hated his brother. Or rather, he hated his parents for worshipping him. All it would take is something happening to trigger a break. But after looking at both Eric’s and Jared’s phone records, we know they hardly ever talked. So I’m thinking it’s possible something went down between Jared and his parents recently to cause the reaction. I’m about to go ask his mother about it,” Officer Corey finished, pointing a thumb down the hallway behind him.

  “Be gentle with her. She’s really fragile right now,” Brielle warned, astonished at the rush of protectiveness she felt for a woman who had long disliked her.

  Officer Corey gave her a quick thumbs up and pointed at the interrogation room door. “You can go on in. The arresting officers that brought in Jared are still in there with him, so you should be safe.”

  Exhaling sharply, Brielle pressed her mouth together in a hard line and grabbed the door handle, twisting it firmly. Jared was sitting at the same table where Brielle had seen Bruce and Theo Walters, hunched over and looking distraught. Perched at both corners of the large metal table were Jared’s guards, still looking like they had each downed a ten pound bag of protein powder for breakfast.

  At seeing Brielle, Jared sighed a breath of relief. “I wasn’t sure if you would come talk to me,” he admitted.

  “Why me? Why not your mom or dad?” Brielle asked, settling into the chair across from him.

  “Pfft, I doubt they’d even want to see my face right now,” he answered grimly. “They think I killed the golden boy. I’m on the same level as worm droppings to them now. Probably less, actually,” he corrected.

  “You said they think you killed him. So you didn’t?”

  Jared looked angry. “Of
course not! I wouldn’t kill my own brother!”

  Brielle leaned in, eyeing him skeptically. “I honestly don’t know if I believe that. It was obvious you had a problem with him, that you were jealous of him—”

  “I wasn’t jealous!” Jared interrupted crossly. Apparently regretting his outburst, Jared relaxed. “At least not in the way everyone thinks. I was happy with my brother, and I was happy with me. We were even close when we were little. But my parents saw their firstborn as the paragon of what all children should be. I could have been the next Nobel Peace Prize winner, but because I wasn’t Eric’s carbon copy, I wouldn’t be good enough.” He threw his arms up in frustration. “I was going to be a neurosurgeon, for Pete’s sake! So yes, I was jealous of my parents’ love for him. But I never wanted to be him, and I never had a problem with him as a person. And I was happy to be following my own path. It was my parents I hated more than anyone,” he finished resentfully.

  Brielle frowned. “That bitterness doesn’t make you sound very innocent, you know.”

  Jared looked desperate. “Look, okay, think of it in this way then. If I were really that obsessed about being better than my brother, I was on my way to doing just that. I didn’t need to kill him. But to kill him would mean I would have sacrificed all of that success just to get revenge. Not only that, but Eric’s death will make him forever a martyr in my parents’ eyes. His perfection will be unattainable. Why would I ever attempt such a stupid plan that would completely backfire?” he reasoned, staring intensely at Brielle.

  Brielle opened her mouth and closed it. He had a valid point. Even she knew Eric’s parents well enough to know that if they could build a shrine to honor his passing for the rest of their lives, they would. Jared would have surely known that. But was that enough to make him innocent?