Elle
Violet Murphy lived by herself, and I think that was part of the reason she chose this neighborhood after her husband died years ago. It was one of the few neighborhoods inside the city limits of Liberty. It was an upper-middle class area, mostly two-story homes with small yards and within walking distance of everything that Liberty had to offer. Her house was nice – very nice, in fact but nothing compared to the likes of the Holts or some of our more wealthy residents.
James Fitzhenry had just bought a home in the neighborhood before he disappeared. I wondered if he even had the opportunity to meet his neighbors. I didn’t know the man very well, but he’d seemed nice enough. He had also been tied to Lauren Holt, so maybe he was horrible.
Not that I would know.
Maybe Violet Murphy would be able to tell me.
The older woman used a walker, but she still greeted me at the door.
“Mrs. Murphy, thank you for meeting with me today,” I said.
She took my hands in hers and stared into my eyes. Her glasses were as thick as coke bottles, and her eyes cloudy.
“Oh, of course, dear. Always happy to help the police.” “I’m not the police, Mrs. Murphy. I-”
“Please, call me Violet.”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry, Violet. As I told you over the phone, I’m a journalist and a good friend of Jeremiah Jenkins, not the police. I’m only here as a friend to
Jeremiah.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. Come on inside.”
As I followed her down the hallway and into her living room, I noticed the window in the room had a direct view of James Fitzhenry’s house and the street in front of it.
I helped Violet take a seat on the sofa before sitting across from her in a chair.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have offered you some tea or something to drink.”
“It’s fine,” I assured with a smile. What a sweet woman, I thought. I wouldn’t dare ask her to get me anything. She barely made it down the hallway.
“Can I get you anything, Violet?”
“No, it’s okay, dear,” she said. Then she cocked her head to the side as if trying to figure something out. “I already told the police everything I know.”
“Oh, I’m not the police,” I said again.
“That’s right. You’re the journalist. I read your paper, have every day since I moved to Liberty in 1977. But you weren’t born yet, were you?”
“No, I wasn’t.” I chuckled.
“Yes, yes, you’re far too young. And you work for the
FBI?”
“No, Violet. I’m a journalist.”
“That’s right. My head gets jumbled sometimes.”
I was beginning to see why maybe the FBI didn’t take her statement seriously. Was I wasting my time?
“So what can you tell me about the night your neighbor, James Fitzhenry, disappeared?”
“Oh, he was the young man who moved in next door, right?”
“Yes, he was.”
“He kept to himself. I don’t think I ever talked to him. His girlfriend wasn’t very nice, though.” She clicked her tongue unhappily.
Okay, she’s in her right mind enough to remember Lauren, so that’s a plus.
She frowned. “Her car was here that night.”
“Pardon?”
“Yes, her fancy schmancy panther or whatever it is she drives. It was parked out front.”
Lauren had told the police she was out of the country. Some tropical island or something. I couldn’t remember her exact story, but she was cleared and supposedly not in the area.
“Do you mean Jaguar?” I asked.
“Jaguar, panther, I can’t keep up with the latest brands.”
“Are you sure it was her car?”
“Of course I’m sure. We may be doing well financially here, but we’re not that rich. Cars like that aren’t usually parked outside, and she never parked on the street, which is why I found it odd.”
Yeah, I did too. I couldn’t imagine Lauren would park on the street, not when the house had a three-car garage and, unlike her dad, James only had one vehicle.
“You sure it was that night?”
“Positive. I was sitting here, watching Jeopardy when her headlights nearly blinded me. I had to get up and close the curtains and saw her car on the street.”
“Did you see her get out or anything?”
“No, I closed the curtain and went back to watching TV. I’m no snoop.”
“Right,” I said, leaning back in the chair. Violet Murphy seemed sure of this. She saw Lauren’s car, and it was parked outside the night James disappeared. Knowing the neighborhood, there was a good chance someone had security cameras. James didn’t. Well, he had, but they were turned off. It was believed he hadn’t set them up yet.
Maybe that was true. Or maybe someone turned them off and deleted everything from them.
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Murphy. I can see myself out.”
I wasn’t sure if I could make heads or tails of what she’d said. At times, she seemed to be confused. At others, she seemed to have moments of clarity. She could recount what she was doing and why it bothered her. She seemed certain it was Lauren’s car parked in front of his house that particular night. But what did it mean?
Lauren and James had broken up several times over the last few years. At the time of his disappearance, she claimed that were no longer together. She’d been away for almost a year, or so she said.
But if she’d been to his home since he’d bought it, well, that changed everything.
Ooo000ooo
“Jeremiah!” I knocked on his door. “I know you’re in there!”
It took him a moment, as I expected it might. He was probably feeding the girls or taking care of them in some capacity. He had his hands full.
But the door swung open and there he was, looking as exhausted as I’d ever seen him. I entered the house without saying hello before I let it all out.
“The witness saw Lauren’s car outside James’ house the night of the disappearance, but she’s not exactly in her right mind, so I can see why the Feds might have dismissed her testimony, but Lauren insisted that she was out of the country and the neighbor had seen her there and she claimed to have been away for the last year or so and-” “Elle-”
“And I believe her because she seemed to remember a lot of details about that night. At least what she was doing,
and why she noticed and her window-”
“Elle-”
“–looks right outside onto the front of his house. But what I don’t get is why would Lauren park her Jag on the street when there’s a garage, unless James didn’t let her park in the garage for some reason and-”
“Elle!”
Jeremiah’s raised voice stopped me in my tracks. I hadn’t even realized my feet continued moving, and I was in his living room. His girls were in their pack and plays, asleep. And I was going on and on, unaware of the tone of my voice.
I covered my mouth and turned on my heels, whispering. “I’m so sorry. I should have been quieter.”
“It’s not that,” Jeremiah said, taking my arm and leading me out of the room and into the kitchen nearby. “Calm down, okay? Slow down. I couldn’t make out half of what you were saying.”
I took a deep breath. “Alright, so Mrs. Murphy saw Lauren’s Jaguar out front of James’ house that night.”
“Mrs. Violet Murphy?” Jeremiah raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Yes.”
“She’s the grandmother of one of my staff, and last time I heard her Alzheimer’s was so bad, they wanted to put her in a home, but the old woman is fighting it. They’re trying to get power of attorney and stand a good chance at it,
Elle.”
“I know, but she had moments of clarity…” As I said those words, I knew he was right. I knew there was no way it would stand up in court. “But she had met Lauren, she even said she didn’t like her. But Lauren told police she hadn’t been in Liberty in around ten months or so, which is a lie.”
“Is it?”
“I mean, Mrs. Murphy had seen her around.”
Jeremiah sighed, the lines in his face growing deeper and aging him. “But you agree she’s not a reliable witness, right?”
“Yes, but maybe at least some of what she’s saying fits,” I tried.
“Maybe? Maybe not,” Jeremiah said. “It’s not Lauren.”
“How do you know? The jilted ex? It very well could be a coincidence-”
“It’s not Lauren. Drop it, Elle.” His voice was raised, his tone heated.
Almost as heated as his eyes, which hadn’t moved off me.
“Jeremiah, I don’t-”
Before I could continue the sentence, Jeremiah moved toward me. His lips pressed against mine, stopping me from continuing my thoughts.
I forgot everything I was thinking anyway.
All I could think about was his lips on mine.
I pulled away for a second. “What if we wake the babies?”
“We won’t,” he said against my lips.
I pressed my lips back to his, and he lifted me in his arms. I’m not sure what changed from the night before, what made Jeremiah react the way he was – but it didn’t matter to me.
I wanted to be his.
“We shouldn’t…” he whispered without pulling away.
“We’re both adults, Jeremiah. I’m a grown woman, and I want this.”
That was all he needed to hear. He carried me to the bedroom at the end of the hallway, kicking open the door, his mouth never leaving mine.
Everything happened so fast – he removed my clothes, ripping and tearing them off me, impatient and demanding. I did the same to him. Before long, I could stare up at him and see all of him.
He sat me on the edge of the bed and stood before me.
And he was as marvelous as I imagined him to be.