Meredith Potts Fourteen Book Cozy Mystery Set

by Meredith Potts

  Judging by the stern look on his face, he clearly expected me to get up right then and walk away. It was a nice try, but it wasn’t going to work with me. I held my ground, determined to make whatever headway I could.

  “I’m not saying this to be argumentative, but how can you be so sure of that?” I asked.

  “It’s called a hunch,” he replied.

  Could he be more patronizing? Actually, it was probably better not to try and find the answer to that one. It had been a long time since I had been treated like such an idiot. If I wasn’t desperate for information, I would have fired a one-liner back at him, putting him in his place.

  The problem was, I needed as many leads as I could get and telling the detective off would only inflame him. Begrudgingly, I bottled up my feelings and tried to get him to open up a little.

  “I don’t disagree with you that it looks like a suicide. I’m just asking how you can be sure of that when no suicide note was found, nor was her body ever recovered,” I said.

  “You’re not from around here, so you may not know this, but we get a few jumpers every semester.”

  The detective had told Mark Richardson the same thing, but it remained as shocking as ever.

  “I have heard that.”

  “Then you should understand why I came to the conclusion that I did.”

  “I disagree.”

  “You can’t disagree with facts. Oak Gorge is a very demanding and competitive school. As difficult as it is to come to terms with, some of the students just can’t handle the pressure.”

  I grimaced. “Are there really a few every semester?”

  He nodded.

  “Here’s the thing, though. What facts do you have that Jennifer committed suicide if her body was never found?” I asked.

  “The gorge is a hundred and ten feet deep. We never find the bodies of the jumpers. When they take the final plunge, they get swept away by the river.”

  I shuddered at the way he had phrased his explanation. It was so cold and detached, as if he were just relaying statistics instead of talking about a real human being. I knew it was fairly common for detectives to try and keep their emotional distance from the cases they investigated, but this was ridiculous.

  As shocking as Willett’s tone was to me, I tried to stop myself before I lost sight of the reason I was there.

  “What about the fact that Jennifer didn’t leave a suicide note?”

  Detective Willett finally yielded some ground to me.

  “I admit, that threw me for a loop. At the same time, the victim doesn’t always leave a suicide note. Sometimes they are so distressed that they just jump in the heat of the moment.”

  “Or maybe the lack of a note is indicative that something else is at play. Did you look into the possibility that something else might have happened to her?”

  “No,” Detective Willett said.

  He saw my mouth open to respond again, but he stopped me before I had the chance to get a single word out.

  “There was no need to,” he added.

  I floated Mark’s theory out there. “What about the idea that foul play might have been involved?”

  Willett scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Maybe to him but not to me. I needed to know why he was so dismissive of that possibility.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “There’s no evidence of any kind to support that theory.”

  Detective Willett glanced down at his phone, making it clear that his interest in this conversation had waned more than ever. He might have been done talking to me, but I was far from done with him.

  I made a play to grab his attention. “So that’s it? You’re willing to close the case just like that, even with a number of loose ends dangling?”

  The detective pointed to a stack of papers that were on the corner of his desk. “I have a very busy caseload. Why waste my precious time on dead ends when this case is so open and shut?”

  I had managed to keep a lid on my emotions throughout the entire conversation but was unable to hold back any longer. A groan slipped out as it became clear that the detective wasn’t going to give me anything to work with.

  “I can see that your mind is made up,” I said.

  He didn’t waver. “It is. No matter how much you disagree with me.”

  I had too much work to do to continue sitting there arguing fruitlessly with him. It was time for me to cut my losses and move on. “I guess we’re done here, then.”

  Just as I got up from my chair to leave, he stopped me. “Do you have any proof that Ms. Richardson didn’t just jump into the gorge?”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  That answer was far too open ended for him. When the detective saw how much resolve was on my face, he issued a warning to me. “I would not waste your time digging around if I were you.”

  I did not heed his advice.

  “Maybe I don’t think it’s a waste of time,” I said.

  As I stared into his eyes, it became clear that he wasn’t going to budge. Since I wasn’t about to be deterred either, I headed for the exit, knowing full well that the detective was giving me a disapproving look as I walked away.

  Chapter Three

  After all this talk about the notorious gorge, I wanted to check the thing out myself. The detective wasn’t kidding when he said it was deep. As I pressed my body against the steel guardrail that warned of a steep drop ahead, I leaned down, barely able to see the river that ran over a hundred feet below me. Talk about a precipitous drop. It was as scenic as it was deadly.

  In my mind, the guardrail that I was standing behind wasn’t nearly tall enough. Then again, the city had to strike a delicate balance. The gorge was a local attraction that drew plenty of curious eyes. If they blocked off all access to it, visitors would no longer come. At the same time, it was a dangerous attraction.

  My heart grew heavy as I thought about how sad it was that people jumped down there on purpose. Apparently, I was the only one with such troubled thoughts. While I peeked over the edge of the gorge, students walked by me on their way to class, oblivious to my presence.

  I looked down again, this time focusing on the river below. It became quite clear why the detective said it was notoriously difficult to ever recover a body. The river water was moving fast. I could see how quickly a dead body could be swept down the river. Even if it wasn’t, it would be dangerous trying to recover a body from that deep of a source. It would be such a difficult process to get a forensics team down there that the police would have to risk a number of lives just to recover one dead body.

  All that being said, it still didn’t change the fact that in my opinion, the detective had been a little too quick in closing this case. Regardless of my opinion, I knew I was alone on this one. The detective had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to lift a finger to help me.

  Before I dove headfirst into this investigation, I decided to check in with my boyfriend in case there was any insight he could provide.

  Like Willett, my boyfriend was a police detective. Unlike Willett, Detective Steven Griffin was far friendlier to me. Steven would have come to Oak Gorge with me to work on this investigation, but he had his own caseload to wade through back home in Cedar Falls.

  As Steven answered my phone call, it was good to hear his warm, comforting voice. I only wished that I could look at his ruggedly handsome face and crystal-blue eyes in person.

  “How are things back home?” I asked.

  “The usual,” he said.

  It was still interesting for me to think that there were two very distinct sides to my boyfriend’s personality. When it came to work matters, he was a master of the understatement. As an example, about six months ago, he had given me a similar answer. It was only after I found out that he had stopped an armed robbery during his shift that afternoon that I discovered his perception of “the usual” was far different than mine.

  When it came to personal matters, however, h
e had the tendency to exaggerate. Like when he told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. It was amazing to receive a compliment like that, but I scarcely believed that not even one woman he had ever met was more attractive than me.

  Either way, if he was having a tough workday, he wasn’t tipping his hat. As I already had enough on my plate, I didn’t force the issue.

  “So a little bit of this and a little bit of that, then?” I asked.

  “Pretty much,” Steven replied. “Either way, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  It must have been nice to keep such an even keel. That was not my strong suit. My feelings had a way of spilling out of me, whether I wanted them to or not.

  “That’s good to hear,” I said.

  “The real question is, how are things going for you?”

  My feelings weren’t about to let themselves stay bottled up. I found myself letting out an uncontrollable sigh. “Not great,” I said.

  “Let me guess—the detective wasn’t any help.”

  He knew me so well. Steven was also keenly aware that most detectives were not receptive to private investigators deciding to reopen cases they had already closed. Even he had not been keen about me tagging along and investigating murder cases with him at first.

  My determination, or stubborn ferocity, as Steven liked to call it, won out in the end. This case was entirely different—and not just because my boyfriend was back home. I was up against an unhelpful Oak Gorge detective on this one, and talking to Willett had made me appreciate even more how wonderful Steven was.

  “The local detective couldn’t have had less interest in listening to me,” I said.

  “Detectives can be a pain like that,” Steven replied.

  “How do you know? You’re not like that at all.”

  “It turns out I’m not like most detectives.”

  “You sure aren’t—in more ways than one.”

  I could think of a dozen reasons off the top of my head of why Steven didn’t fit the standard detective mold. Right then, the one that I missed the most was his generous heart. I could hear the empathy in his voice, but there was very little he could do over the phone.

  “I’m sorry you didn’t get any good leads from the detective,” Steven said.

  “It’s not the best way to start off a case, but I can’t pretend like it shocked me.”

  “Well, you still have me,” he said. “You know I’ll give you any help that I can.”

  “And I thank you profusely for that. Speaking of, have you been able to pull anything up on Jennifer Richardson?”

  He groaned. “Nothing that a simple Internet search couldn’t pull up.”

  That was the last thing I needed to hear right then. Unfortunately, leads seemed to be in short supply. It looked like I would have to dig them up myself.

  “Yikes. I have a feeling this one is going to be even harder to crack than I originally thought.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t able to do more.”

  I didn’t want my boyfriend to get down on himself.

  “Thanks for trying, anyway,” I replied.

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. It sounds like I’m going to need it.”

  Chapter Four

  The night of Jennifer’s disappearance, the last known person to see her alive was her best friend, Rebecca Watterson. On Thursday nights, they usually walked home together after finishing up their biology class.

  What was of particular interest to me was the fact that Jennifer and Rebecca didn’t walk home together the evening of Jennifer’s alleged suicide. I met up with Rebecca at her workplace. She was sitting on a bench in front of the campus coffee shop where she worked, making quick work of a cigarette while her ten-minute break whittled down quicker than she wanted it to.

  She was an athletic nineteen-year-old girl with a pale oval face, blue eyes, and high cheekbones. Rebecca wore a pair of khaki pants and an Oak Gorge University t-shirt. Her long jet-black hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

  As I introduced myself, she became visibly distraught at the mention of Jennifer’s name. It was clearly still a very difficult topic for her to tackle. I hated to open the wound once again, but talking to her provided me with one of my best chances of getting some useful information. I apologized for bringing up such a sore subject before launching into the heart of the matter.

  “Tell me what you remember about the night she died,” I said.

  Rebecca took a deep breath then recalled the events as best as she could.

  “We had just finished biology class together,” she said.

  “Now, you two usually walked back to your apartment building together after class, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “And you pass the gorge on the way back to your building, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But that night you didn’t walk with her?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I had a calculus test the next day. It’s my worst subject.”

  “It’s a lot of people’s worst subject.”

  Rebecca gave me a knowing look. “So true.” Her mind switched from math equations back to her story in a hurry. “Anyway, I always have a hard studying at my place. It’s too easy to get distracted watching TV or messing around on social media, so I decided to go to the library that night so I could study quietly.”

  “The library is in a completely different direction than your apartment complex, then?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “So that night, you went off to the library while Jennifer walked home alone?”

  Rebecca started getting choked up thinking about Jennifer.

  I tried to comfort her as best as I could. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t dredge up such awful memories if it wasn’t completely necessary.”

  She took a deep breath, managing to compose herself just enough to keep tears from streaming down her cheeks. “I understand. The pain is just still so fresh.”

  “That’s why I won’t bother you much longer. I just want to get the facts, then I’ll leave you alone.”

  Rebecca had done a commendable job keeping her emotions from getting the best of her so far, but the tide turned in that moment. Both of her eyes welled up as regret took center stage. “I just keep telling myself, if I had just walked home with her that night, maybe I could have talked her out of jumping. Maybe she’d still be here.”

  She was so dangerously on the precipice of having a complete meltdown that I had no choice but to use the softest-glove approach that I had at my disposal. “Don’t beat yourself up. I mean, you had no idea something like this would happen, did you?”

  Rebecca snickered like that was one of the most ridiculous questions she had ever heard. “Not a clue.”

  “So she didn’t seem depressed that night before you said goodbye to her?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Did anything disturbing happen at class that evening?”

  “I mean, it was disturbingly boring, but that’s about it. Nothing happened that was depressing enough to make her want to take her own life.”

  Typically, with cases like this, as I dug around I was able to track a trail of metaphorical breadcrumbs to the root of the problem. Yet with each question I asked, I received answers that seemed to contradict the facts as I knew them. Either I had gotten the facts wrong, or Jennifer had been really good at hiding her true feelings from her best friend.

  One thing was certain—Rebecca didn’t appear to be lying to me. Then again, the truth seemed to have eluded her just as much as it had me. None of Rebecca’s answers made any sense out of why Jennifer had decided to take her own life.

  I tried approaching the situation from a different angle. “How about in the days leading up to her death? Did she seem depressed to you?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “No. Not at all. If she had been depressed, I wouldn’t have let her walk to the gorge by herself.”
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br />   “So you saw no warning signs that she was thinking about killing herself?” I replied.

  “I don’t know that I would call it a warning sign, but she had been a little more closed off recently.”

  “Closed off how?”

  “I don’t know. Just more distant than usual.”

  “That sounds like a warning sign,” I said.

  “I guess. But here’s the thing, she was always really private. She wasn’t the kind of person who talked on and on about her problems. She just happened to be a little more private than usual before her death,” Rebecca replied.

  “Do you know why she was being so distant?”

  She shook her head. “I asked her what was on her mind, but she wouldn’t tell me. She said it was nothing to worry about, that it would just pass.”

  “It looks like it didn’t pass.”

  Rebecca sighed. “No.”

  “Even so, the night of her death, Jennifer didn’t seem depressed at all?”

  “Like I said, she seemed just fine. Whatever was bothering her before, she appeared to have gotten over it.” She groaned. “But…obviously she hadn’t.”

  “Did she have any enemies, or had she been fighting with anyone recently?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Not even her boyfriend or anything?” I asked.

  “I mean, they had arguments every once in a while, but nothing life shattering. They seemed to be doing pretty good.”

  “What kind of arguments did they have?”

  “Just basic things. They’d get on each other’s nerves, stuff like that.”

  Another dead end. That was becoming way too common during this conversation, especially considering that Jennifer had been her best friend. My gut instinct told me I was missing something here. But what? And how could I uncover it?

  “I hate to keep hammering the same point, but do you have any idea how this could have happened?” I asked.

  Rebecca shook her head vehemently. “I don’t have a clue. It’s just as much of a surprise to me now as ever.”

  My frustration got the better of me, and I let out a groan.