by Becky Durfee
“Did you ever give your father any indication that you knew about his affairs?”
“No, not directly, but if he thought about it for a minute, he probably would have figured it out. As soon as I realized he was cheating on my mother, my attitude toward him became even worse than it already had been.”
“How old were you when you figured it out?”
Trevor gave the question some thought. “I don’t know. Mid-teens, I guess? As soon as I became old enough to stay home alone, my father started going out on the nights my mother was out of town. Initially, I wondered where he was going; I found it strange that he always had places to go when my mother wasn’t around, but then he’d stay home when she was in town. It didn’t take a whole lot of time for me to figure out he was doing something she wouldn’t have approved of.”
“When did you figure out it was affairs?” Kyle asked. “How did you know it wasn’t gambling or strip clubs?”
“At first I didn’t know, but we’d get these phone calls where the person would hang up after I answered. This was a time before caller ID and all that, so I couldn’t see who was calling, but one time I picked up the phone in my room the same time my father picked up the downstairs phone. Before I had a chance to say anything, I heard him say hello. Of course I stayed on the line to eavesdrop on their conversation—I wanted to figure out what he had been up to all those nights. Well, the woman on the phone said her name was Danielle and she asked if they were still on for that night. It was that moment when I realized what my father’s mystery plans had been all those times.”
Jenny felt bad for Trevor; that must have been a terrible discovery for a kid to make.
Kyle, however, remained emotionless. “You said your relationship with your father became worse after that…meaning it wasn’t very good to begin with?”
“My relationship with my father was bad from the moment my mother’s pregnancy test came back positive.” Jenny could detect a good deal of resentment in his tone. “Have you done the math? Do you know how old my father was when I was born?”
“According to my calculations, he was eighteen,” Kyle stated. Jenny looked at him, wondering why he hadn’t mentioned that earlier.
“Yup. Eighteen when I was born; seventeen when I was conceived. I have accident written all over me. Mind you, my father did the honorable thing and married my mother, but I don’t really think he wanted to. He was just a man who was overly concerned about his image, so he didn’t want to come off looking like a rat.”
“It didn’t stop him later,” Jenny said before her filter had the chance to operate. “He wasn’t afraid to look like a rat when he was cheating on his wife in his forties.”
Trevor turned to Jenny, and she couldn’t help but notice he had many of the same mannerisms and facial expressions as his father. She wondered if he realized that.
With a scoff, Trevor replied, “Oh, believe me, my father was still very much concerned with his image then. That’s why he only went out with younger women…attractive younger women.”
Jenny was a bit surprised. “All of his mistresses were younger?”
“All the ones I saw were,” he said with repugnance. “You know, I was eventually able to figure out who that Danielle person was. I knew she had sounded young on the phone, but it wasn’t until a few weeks later that I realized she was my friend’s older sister. I think she was twenty or twenty-one, maybe? And my dad was, like, in his thirties.”
“How did you find out who she was?” Jenny asked.
“I was hanging out at the mall with my friends.” Trevor let out half a laugh. Holding up his hand, he explained, “I know, but it was the eighties. I was fifteen. Hanging out at the mall was the thing to do.”
“I remember,” Kyle said without expression. “I was there too. It’s where the girls were.”
“Exactly.” For once Trevor actually smiled. “But anyway, I was at there at the mall when I noticed my father in a lingerie store with my friend’s older sister…Danielle. That’s when I put two and two together.” Disgust once again gripped his face. “Do you know how mortifying that was?”
“Was your friend with you? Danielle’s younger brother?”
“No,” Trevor replied, “not that day, thank God. And none of my other friends noticed them, so I just directed the group to hang out somewhere else.” He shook his head. “I was the only one to see them, but it was still humiliating.”
A thought occurred to Jenny. “What was Danielle’s last name?”
“Church,” Trevor said. “Ironically.”
“You said there were other mistresses.” Kyle asked, continuing his line of questioning. “Do you know about how many?”
Trevor thought about the question but ultimately said, “I’m not sure. I left for college when I was eighteen, so he probably went hog-wild after that. Who’s to say how many women he ended up with?”
Kyle took a moment to review everything he’d written down. “Do you know how long your father’s relationship with Stella lasted?”
“Longer than the others,” Trevor replied, “although I’m not sure exactly how long. All the other women—or should I say girls—had a pretty rapid turn-around, as far as I could tell, but I already knew Stella was dating my father at the Christmas party my father threw at the house.” He leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “It was so disgusting to see her having a pleasant little conversation with my mother, telling her how delicious her hors-d’oeuvres were, when she was regularly sleeping with my father.”
“Do you think your mother suspected there was an affair going on?” Jenny asked. Her heart ached for Katherine.
With a shrug, Trevor replied, “If she did, she didn’t let on.”
“Okay, so they were already dating at Christmas,” Kyle proclaimed without looking up from his notepad, “and they broke up the week before she was killed in June…so the relationship lasted at least six months?”
“Sounds about right. Like I said, that was long for my father. As far as I can tell, there must have been something special about Stella.” He rolled his eyes, his annoyance still evident after all these years.
“You said you ran into her a few times,” Kyle said. “Did you ever have any interactions with her? By that, I mean conversations beyond your typical hello.”
“No. She repulsed me, really. She and every woman like her.”
Kyle looked up with just his eyes. “You mean every woman who had an affair with your father?”
Shaking his head, Trevor elaborated, “No, every woman who didn’t have the sense to recognize a decent man when she saw one. My father was such an obvious schmoozer, yet all these beautiful young women fell for his BS. Meanwhile, guys like me who had honest intentions weren’t given the time of day. It would have been fascinating to watch if it hadn’t been so infuriating. I mean, why would these women prefer to be with an old, married, smooth-talking womanizer when they could have been with someone who genuinely cared about them? It was absurd.”
“Because they were young and dumb,” Jenny found herself saying, surprising herself with just how much she sounded like Zack. “Young women tend to fall for the aura, not the substance. It isn’t until they get older that they realize the value of character.”
Trevor flashed Jenny a look of displeasure, which only intensified his resemblance to Shane. “Character is something my father sorely lacked, along with morals and decency.”
Jenny wondered if this deep-rooted anger Trevor had toward young women had manifested itself into something horrible one June afternoon in 1988. Before she had the chance to elaborate on that thought, Kyle asked, “Did you happen to hear a phone message at your parents’ house shortly before Stella was killed?”
“A message saying what?”
“I think you’d remember what it was about if you’d heard it.”
“I don’t think so, then,” Trevor said. “Nothing stands out. Besides, even if I went to visit them, I wouldn’t have played their messages. That would
have been weird.”
The notion made sense to Jenny.
“Can you tell me where you were the afternoon Stella was killed?” Kyle asked.
Trevor looked straight at Kyle. “I have absolutely no idea what I was doing the day Stella got killed. I mean, do you remember what you were doing on that day?”
“Nope,” Kyle said flatly. “Sure don’t.”
Trevor let out a snort. “I hope this doesn’t mean I’m actually a suspect in this thing. That would be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous or not, we’re covering our bases,” Kyle said as he closed his pad. “The fact of the matter is that your father’s mistress ended up murdered. We would be remiss if we didn’t investigate everyone who would have been upset by the affair.”
“Well, you can investigate me all you want, but you’d be wasting your time. I assure you I didn’t have anything to do with her murder.”
“Okay, then, let me just ask you one more question. Where were you living at the time of the murder?”
“I lived in an apartment on Roseland Court.”
Jenny recognized the name; those were the apartments that backed up to Stella’s house.
Chapter 12
Jenny stood with Kyle in front of the series of buildings that comprised Roseland Apartments. “It’s huge,” she noted, recognizing how little justice the aerial view had done during her computer search. “I guess it’s not surprising that both Colin and Trevor lived here.”
“With its close proximity to Braynard College, I’m sure a lot of young people called this place home. It may have been the place to stay back then, or even now.”
Jenny heard the faint sounds of the renovation coming through the trees, causing her to wonder how Zack had fared with his father. Sticking to the matter at hand, she added, “If the handprint on the back sill means the killer lived here, we may have a big suspect pool.”
“Not necessarily. Stella must have been acquainted with her killer—she referred to him as the son. It could be Trevor, it could be Ed Pryzbyck, or it could be someone else who lived here and whose parent she knew.”
Letting out a sigh of frustration, Jenny noted, “It’s never easy. I wish there could just be one case where the killer is obvious.”
“There was,” Kyle said. “This one.” He looked at Jenny out of the corner of his eye. “Nate Minnick was arrested within hours, remember? Cut and dry. Slam-dunk. See what it got them?” Patting her on the back he noted, “Any good investigator is going to look at multiple angles, even if one seems to stick out as the most promising.”
Jenny furrowed her brow; she knew Kyle was right, but she still didn’t like it. “Well,” she said, “I guess we’re not doing anybody any good just standing here; maybe we ought to call it a day.”
“Actually, I’d like to take a look at Stella’s old house considering how close we are to it. Maybe we could even walk there through the woods and get a feel for the path the killer took to get back here—if, in fact—that’s what he did.” He flashed a smile. “Investigate all angles, remember?”
Jenny had to laugh. “Yeah, we can take a walk. Oh…and I want to pay you. Every time I get home after seeing you I remember that I haven’t paid you for your time yet.” They started heading behind the apartment buildings toward the sound of the renovation. “Have you been logging your hours?”
“I have,” Kyle admitted. “Does that make me a bad person?”
“No,” Jenny replied, “it just makes you a man with a family to feed. So what’s the damage?”
After pushing a few buttons on his phone, Kyle announced a number that most people would have found staggering. Jenny, on the other hand, simply asked, “Can I write you a check?”
Reaching the back of the buildings, the two started across the short patch of lawn that served as a buffer between the apartments and the trees. “You fascinate me, you know that?” Kyle remarked.
Jenny laughed. “Why, because I can cut a check for that amount?”
“In a word? Yes. Most people would be reaching for their credit cards right about now.”
“Well, I’ve got to be honest with you.” They reached the patch of trees and began their journey through. “Do you remember that first case where I asked you to track down Elanor Whitby for me?”
“I do,” Kyle replied.
“Well, I wasn’t exactly honest with you about why I wanted to find her.”
“Jenny Watkins,” he said with mocked offense as he cleared away some branches with his hands. “You lied to me?”
“First of all,” she replied with similar feigned anger, “it’s Jenny Larrabee. Watkins was the other husband.”
“Oh,” Kyle said sincerely. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry; I forget too, sometimes.” Jenny stepped in something mushy; she refused to look down and see what it was, choosing to believe it was only mud. “And second, I felt like I needed to lie. The reason I wanted to find her was because I moved into her old house and had gotten contacted by a spirit who encouraged me to find her. If I had come in claiming that, you would never have given me her address. You would have thought I was a lunatic.”
“You know what?” Kyle said. “You’re right. On both counts.”
“I know I am; that’s why I lied.” They were nearing the end of the woods; Rob’s house was becoming clearer. “Anyway,” she continued, “I was able to solve a mystery for Miss Elanor just before she died, and she was so grateful that she left me the bulk of her estate…which my ex-husband took half of, but whatever. She left me the money under the pretense that I use it to help people, which is what I’ve been doing ever since.”
“Your ex really got half?” Kyle asked. “That’s a shame. That means you can do less good.”
“I know, but I don’t want to think about that,” Jenny admitted as they entered Rob’s backyard. She pointed to the slider that led to the deck. “See that? That’s the door that had the bloody handprint.”
“Mmm hmm,” he said in affirmation. He looked behind them and declared, “It wouldn’t have taken someone very long to run out the back and get into the cover of those trees.”
“That’s what I figured,” Jenny said. They continued to walk around the side of Rob’s house, eventually catching sight of the ever-present barrage of contractor vans that had been littering the driveway and cul-de-sac. “Wow,” Kyle noted, “it looks like he’s getting a little work done.”
Jenny briefly summed up the story behind the renovation, but before she finished the tale, she noticed Rob outside talking to a man in Willy Sanders’s driveway. She recognized that man to be the African American man from the pictures in Rob’s hallway. Stopping in place to finish the explanation, she concluded by gesturing in the men’s direction, “And on a different note, I think we might have our witness here.”
“Most excellent,” Kyle said. “Perhaps we should go introduce ourselves.”
Jenny nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.”
As Jenny and Kyle approached, she heard Rob say, “And here she is…my other guardian angel.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jenny said with a smile. “How are you doing, Rob?”
“Great,” he replied. “Just telling my neighbor, here, about all of the good work you’re doing to my house.”
Jenny extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Jenny Larrabee.”
“Willy Sanders.”
She glanced subtly in Kyle’s direction, indicating that was indeed their witness. With a look that suggested he understood, Kyle shook Willy’s hand as well, moving on to do the same to Rob.
It turned out Jenny didn’t need to find a way to bring Nate Minnick into the conversation; Willy went ahead and did that for her. After a short discussion about the renovation, he added, “Rob tells me you’re looking into the Stella Jorgenson case again.”
“Yes, sir,” Jenny replied. “I am under the distinct impression that Nate didn’t actually do it.”
“Are you sure about that?” Willy asked. “I saw t
hat boy running out of the house all bloody with a knife in his hand.”
“I know, but I think that was just an unfortunate coincidence. Let me ask you this, Mr. Sanders. Did you hear anything that day?”
He shook his head. “No, I was in my garage with the door closed, getting my lawnmower ready.”
Willy spoke slowly, with an easygoing southern drawl that Jenny found remarkably relaxing. Jenny wondered if that had always been his way or if it had come with age.
He continued his story. “When I opened the garage door, I saw Nate running out of that house. I went over there to check on Megan and Stella, you know, to make sure everything was alright, and what I saw was horrible.” Hanging his head, Willy clearly recalled the image that Jenny, too, had witnessed; she could understand why he was so disturbed by it. With renewed energy he stood up straight and added, “I called 9-1-1 from their house, and the police and ambulances came a few minutes later.”
“Was Stella still alive when you were there?”
He nodded solemnly. “Barely.”
“Did she say anything to you?”
“She looked like she was trying to, but I was on the phone, and the cord only went so far. I couldn’t get close enough to hear her. The 9-1-1 operator told me to stay on the phone until help arrived, so I did.” He looked sad again. “When I look back on it, I wish I didn’t. That way I could have potentially heard what she was trying to say. Those would have been her last words.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I think I know what she was trying to say,” Jenny replied.
Willy looked at her incredulously. “You do?”
Jenny nodded. “Her dying message was to look for the son.”
Furrowing his brow, Willy repeated, “Look for the son?”
“She told that to Nate, so I know she wasn’t referring to him when she said it.” She squinted as she looked up at him. “Do you have any idea who she might have been talking about?”
“The son,” Willy muttered again. After some deliberation, he added, “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”