Murder Times Four Box Set

Chapter 1-3

I got off work at ten. The fireworks over the lake on the east side of the city were impressive. The reporter’s story about them—not so much so. Not really her fault. After all, there wasn’t much she could do other than interview people watching while I filmed them.

I was tired, so I decided to forego stopping at a bar for a couple of beers and headed home. As I pulled into the cul de sac, I saw two police cars, a CSI van, and an ambulance in front of Jake’s house, which is on the turnaround circle at the end of the Lane. I parked my car and walked up to see what was going on. Half the residents of the Lane were milling around, on the outside of the crime tape the cops had put up. That included Brent. I corralled him, asking, “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Jake’s dead.”

“What the f**k! You’re shitting me. What happened?”

“From what Dave said, Jake came home with him and Luke after the party ended, around six. They had a few more beers, watched the fireworks on TV, and then Jake took off for home. About fifteen minutes later, Luke found Jake’s phone beside the sofa. He went to take it back, but when he rang the bell, Jake didn’t answer. He tried the door and it was unlocked. Figuring maybe Jake had gone inside and then passed out, because he definitely was feeling no pain, Luke checked.” Brent paused, taking a deep breath. “According to Luke, Jake was lying face down in the middle of the living room floor. His head was bashed in.”

Shocked, all I could say was, “A burglary?”

“The cops haven’t said. They showed up about ten minutes after Luke called 9-1-1, along with the ambulance. A few minutes ago the CSI people arrived.”

For a second, I considered calling the news desk at the station to let someone know what had happened. After all, I worked for them, so technically it was part of my job to phone in any breaking news. I quickly reconsidered. My loyalties lay with the people who lived here. Beside which, the news outlets probably knew already and reporters would be showing up soon—from the TV stations and the paper.

“Have the cops begun questioning people?” I asked Brent.

“Not yet. Well, probably Luke and Dave, but not the rest of us. Hell, what can we tell them?”

“We’re talking murder. They’ll want to know if anyone saw someone around who didn’t belong.”

By then, Tyler and Owen had joined us. Tyler asked, “Have the police said anything to either of you?”

“I just got here,” I told him. Brent shook his head.

“He must have surprised a burglar. Right?” Owen said shakily.

“Of course,” Brent assured him. “What else? Probably some punk looking for the main chance. He didn’t see any lights on and decided to break in and take what he could get his hands on. Jake surprised him and paid for it with his life.” He turned to me. “You might want to check your place, since you were gone.”

“I think I’ll leave that up to the cops,” I replied. “The same goes for Chase’s place, since he’s working.”

A man, I presumed one of the detectives, since he was wearing a suit and tie, came out of Jake’s house at that point. He paused on the stoop, and then came over to the four of us.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Detective Warren Irvin. I have a few questions for you. First, who are you and do you live here?”

We told him we did, and he began taking our names and addresses. As he did, I realized I recognized him. Undoubtedly from some story I’d filmed when he was working another murder. He was older, in his fifties I estimated, with short graying hair, dark eyebrows, and a five o’clock shadow.

When he got to me, he apparently recognized me as well, because he frowned momentarily before saying, “You work for KQBD.”

“Yes. I’m one of their cameramen. Was it a burglary? I’m only asking because I live here. Not as part of my job.”

“That has yet to be determined,” he replied, adding my name and address to his list. “My first, obvious question is, did any of you see anyone hanging around in the last hour or so who didn’t belong here? I understand there was group barbecue earlier today. Did someone try to join in who doesn’t live here? Or watch from across the stream? Someone who seemed overly interested on what was going on?”

“Not that I saw,” Tyler replied. “But then I wasn’t really looking. Beside which, the barbecue ended hours ago. When it broke up, we all went home.”

“Not all of us,” I pointed out. “I headed to work, and Chase said he had to be at the hospital by four. That’s Chase Clark,” I explained to the detective. “He’s an ER doctor.”

“He left right after Adam did,” Owen said.

“You were at work from four until you got off at what time, Mr. Moore?”

“Ten,” I told him. “I took a half hour break to get dinner. Around seven.”

“Someone can confirm this?”

“One of the guys I work with came with me. This wasn’t just a burglary, was it?”

“As I said, we’re still working on that. Did you see anything out of the ordinary, Mr. Parker?” he asked Owen.

“Nope. I went home, kicked back, and watched baseball. The Brewers were playing a twi-night double header. Since I grew up in Milwaukee, I follow them when I can.”

“And you, Mr. Saunders?”

“The same as Owen,” Tyler replied. “Well, not the baseball part. I studied my lines for the next show I’m in at the Playhouse, then watched a movie. I was about to go to bed when I heard the sirens and came out to see what was going on.”

“Before you ask,” Brent said to the detective, “I have about as much of an alibi, if that’s what you’re looking for, as Tyler and Owen. I ate too much at the barbecue, so I went for a run to work it off, got back home, and collapsed in front of the TV.”

“Where did you run? And did anyone see you?” Detective Irvin asked.

“I went along Pinecrest.” He pointed to the street at the open end of the Lane. “Up to the school—it’s about three miles from here—then back. I suppose someone could have seen me. There were people on their porches or in their yards, but no one I know. Not that it matters, I’d think. From what Luke said, Jake was alive at nine thirty and I was staring at the TV at that point.”

“Did you see anyone when you got back to your house?”

“Lurking around? No. Reed—he lives on the corner, across the street from Adam—was sitting on his patio. I waved to him when I went by. But, as I said, that was well before Jake was killed. Probably around…” Brent paused. “I left the party when it broke up, which was six or so. Went home, changed clothes, and took off. So I was back home by seven thirty, I think. Yeah, I must have been because by the time I showered and dressed again, the show I was going to watch was about to start.”

Detective Irvin thanked us and went over to where the Nelsons and Dunns were standing.

“He thinks someone murdered Jake,” Tyler said as soon as the detective was gone. “I mean, intentionally.”

“Sounds like,” I agreed.

“Who would want him dead? And why?” Owen said quietly, glancing at me.

I wasn’t sure if he was asking me, or thinking I might be the culprit. After all, Jake and I had had…Well, not an argument, but at least a disagreement of sorts this afternoon. Anyone who happened to see it would know I wasn’t happy with him, just by my expression. Most of the guys also knew Jake and I had dated a few times before I decided Jake wasn’t the man for me.

“Maybe one of his clients?” Brent said. “Someone who was found guilty of something and blamed it on Jake’s not giving him a good defense?”

“Possible,” Tyler replied. “I’m sure the detective will check it out.”

Headlights lit up the area at that point, announcing the arrival of reporters. I saw the KQBD van pull up and sighed when Brent said, chuckling, “Will they expect you to get back to work?”

“They better not,” I muttered. Actually, I knew they wouldn’t when I saw Jim, another of our cameramen, climb out of the van. Ella Field, the reporter, started toward Jake’s house, veering off when she saw Detective Irvin. From the look on her face, and that of the reporter from our rival station, he must have told them he had nothing to say. So she looked around and, of course, saw me.

She made a beeline in my direction, asking as soon as she was within talking distance, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” I told her.

“Great.” She waved Jim over, then stuck her microphone in my face—more or less. “Will you please tell me, Mr. Moore, what you know about the murder of Mr. Jake Wright?”

“Nothing,” I replied shortly. “I just got here myself. I will say, from what little I’ve heard, that he surprised a burglar. That’s it.”

She tried to get me to say more. When I clammed up, she turned her attention to the guys standing with me, getting the same results. She scowled, immediately turning it into a smile when she realized Jim was still filming, and headed off to talk to some of the other Lane residents who were still watching the scene.

“She is not happy with you,” Tyler said, grinning.

“Not my problem. She should know better than to expect me to say anything just because we work together.” Not quite true. My boss would probably read me the riot act in the morning for not calling in as soon as I knew about the murder, and for avoiding her questions. But as I said, in this case, my friends come before my job. Now more than ever if Jake’s murder really wasn’t the result of his surprising a burglar.