Red Picket Fences
Page 12
“I-I didn’t. It was my idea,” John said, and his voice trailed off.
“Then, why is all of the patent paperwork dated two thousand sixteen? A full year before you and Ethan met?” the chief asked. His words hung in the air.
John’s face turned red, and the veins in his forehead started bulging. The muscles in his jaw were clenched. He grabbed a fistful of his own hair and pulled as he shook from head to toe. John was coming undone. He slapped the table, and he was almost frothing at the mouth. Luckily for the chief, he was handcuffed and shackled.
“This app was a gold mine. I knew it from the moment Ethan told me about it at lunch one day. The investors Ethan screwed it up with were willing to contribute a sizable amount of money, more than that pittance of an insurance payout. They wanted the option to buy us out after proof of concept. We would have been set for life! Then Ethan comes in with this mobster’s chump change and uses it to put a down payment on the house in Jersey. He started putting more hours in at Centech and less on our business. I knew the business was going to die if I let Ethan run it into the ground. Like I said, developers are a dime a dozen. I took out business insurance on him because he was technically the business. At first, I went for the murder/suicide route because I thought it would throw you off my scent. I didn’t think cops in Podunk towns like this would have the resources to find out the truth. At the very least, if I didn’t get the insurance money because it was a suicide, I could rename the app, find a new developer and get in touch with the original investors to see if they wanted back in. It was a perfect plan, but that busybody housewife and her drunk friend screwed it all up for me.”
The chief sat back in amazement. He hadn’t planned on John talking so quickly. He had relied on what Jennifer had told him about John earlier to get a feel for what his hot buttons might be. Anyone who acted as slimy as this guy must have a rather large ego. Therefore, the chief had decided to poke him where it counted to get him to talk.
“Well, it wasn’t that perfect of a plan,” the chief said. “That mobster bought the majority of the company with his chump change. He now owns the patent and is entitled to that insurance payout. If you had proceeded with renaming the company, he would have sued you and your investors.”
With that, the chief stood up and met Jennifer in the hall. She was fuming and pacing.
“A busybody housewife! That’s worse than when you called me an armchair detective! I’ll have you know that that sweet man Vinny isn’t a mobster! He’s a loan shark, and his mother makes the best meatballs I’ve ever eaten!”
The chief couldn’t help but smile. “It’s all part of the job, Jen,” he said as he gently punched Jennifer’s shoulder. “This guy’s the scum of the earth. Who cares what he says? You’d better get used to it.”
That last sentence stopped Jennifer in her tracks. “Used to it? Oh, no. My days chasing after bad guys are over. I mean it this time. I’m going back to just being Jennifer, whatever that means. I wanted excitement, but nothing like this. I just want to get home to my sweet little guy and my husband,” she said with such conviction that she almost believed herself.
“Okay, okay. We’ll talk.” He smiled. “I’ll make a PI out of you yet. Bring the boy down soon, and I’ll give him a kiddie badge and let him sit in the squad car.”
The chief’s smile suddenly faded. “In all seriousness,” he said, “you helped us out greatly. While I didn’t agree with your methods, and I’m still kinda mad at you, Sarah and Ethan’s kids are going to grow up knowing the truth. You’ve lifted a weight from the whole family and helped get them justice.”
Jennifer started to tear up. She had definitely not seen this side of the chief before, and she liked it.
“Jimmy!” the chief bellowed across the station. “Let’s get this busybody housewife home to her kid.”
There he was. The good old chief.
Jimmy and Jennifer waited until they were outside of the station to give each other a high-five.
“You did it, Jennifer!” Jimmy said.
“We did it,” she replied. “You’ve got good instincts. I can see you becoming the chief one day.”
Jimmy’s chest swelled just as it had the first day they met. “The chief’s not going anywhere anytime soon. There’s so much to learn from him yet. Let’s get you home, ya tough broad.”
Jennifer smiled and looked back at the station. Maybe there’s a lot I need to learn from him too, she thought.
They drove off, and she was finally heading home to her family. She was content, and even excited about being just “Mommy” for a while.
Epilogue
The days following the murders turned to weeks, the weeks turned to months, and life returned to normal on the quiet streets of Pembury Acres. Summer’s sweltering heat once again gave way to a fresh, crisp and colorful autumn. As Jennifer finished her morning walk hand in hand with William, the cool air reminded her of that day one short year ago when Sarah’s and Ethan’s bodies were discovered and her life had changed forever.
William slipped from her grasp and ran towards the front door. He excitedly pointed to a package that had been left on their doorstep. The box was addressed to Jennifer, and there was no return address.
Jennifer cautiously loosened the tape and peeked inside. The package contained six jars of ‘Mama Malone’s Famous Italian Pasta Sauce.’ The enclosed note read:
Hey-oh Jen!
The sale of Deliver-ease finally went through. The investors from California reached out and said that the real reason they backed out of the deal originally was because of John, not Ethan. They had his number from the get-go. Suffice it to say, Sarah and Ethan’s kids will be well taken care of.
I took your advice and used my modest profit to invest in Ma’s sauce! We’re getting orders from every supermarket in town. They can’t keep it on the shelves! It’s not the glamorous life of a small-time “mobster” or nothin, but it’ll do. It makes Ma happy. As you know, if Ma’s happy, everyone’s happy. Bring Billy boy back for dinner soon. I got a baseball for him.
Sincerely,
Vinny Malone
P.S. I’m taking your friend Suzanne out for dinner again. Wish me luck.
Jennifer smiled and slipped off her knee-high brown leather boots and hung her scarf on the hook by her door. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and smoothed down a single flyaway in her auburn hair. It popped back up, and she left it there. I don’t need perfection, she thought. She smiled as she touched up her lip gloss and thought about how she was finally finding herself again.
She chased after her munchkin and was about to scoop him up to watch TV when her phone buzzed. She almost let it go, but she was worried that Peter might need something.
She looked down at her notifications and noticed she had an email from someone she didn’t know. It was from a man named Stanley Ferguson, and when she read the subject line, her blood ran cold.
She hesitantly opened the email and read the following message:
TO: Jennifer Temple
(JTEMPLE@email.net)
FROM: Stanley Ferguson
(SFerguson@email.net)
SUBJECT: John Miller
Good Morning, Jennifer,
I’m writing to you today because I saw on the news how you helped out the Ashton family in NJ. You see, I fear that I might be in the same situation you were in just one short year ago. My wife recently passed away, and while her death was deemed to be by natural causes, I highly suspect something more sinister is at play. I live about a half hour away from you in Yardley, Pennsylvania, and I would be happy to meet somewhere public so I speak to you further. I completely understand if you can’t help me, but I can’t seem to find anyone who believes me.
I need your help, Jennifer.
Kind Regards,
Stanley Ferguson
Want to be the first to know
when book two will be released?
Join my mailing list!
Or you can visit www.DaphneMcLean.com
Follow me on Social Media
Facebook
Instagram
Twitter
If you liked what you read, please leave a review!
Daphne McLean is a cozy mystery writer living in central NJ. Red Picket Fences is her debut novel and was published in February 2019.
A little more about Daphne:
Likes: Coffee, wine, crochet, French fries, snarky coffee mugs, reading, writing, gardening, chocolate, her chickens, her dogs, Her husband, & children. Depending on the day, the order of those things changes.
Dislikes: Scratchy sweaters, white chocolate, getting up early, hot avocado, bugs, and not having enough time to read.