Blood and Motive

5

I get home just as Michael starts making dinner. I ask him about his day.

Michael is a bartender at one of those overpriced rich people clubs in Manhattan. We have been friends ever since I met him at a bus stop and asked for directions.

He asks me about the meeting with Jill while we eat, and I tell him everything she told me.

“Damn man, that's a lot. But if you do go to prison, I'll visit you,” he laughs dryly.

I turn my face away.

“Too soon? Sorry man, I was just joking.”

“You want to play a match; take your mind off things; it'll be fun,” he encouraged.

And we played games on the PlayStation until my fingers hurt.

Jill calls me the next morning to meet her at her office, and when I leave the house, I find out the media is camped outside my apartment building, so I walk very fast, and luckily they don't see me. I wonder how they found out where I live.

“Good morning,” she greeted

I take a seat in the same spot I sat the last time I came and stare at my feet.

“So the prosecution doesn't have a lot of evidence against you, but your DNA is all over the hotel room, and you were the last person to see her alive, and you have no alibi, she explains.

“Of course, my DNA is all over the room. I slept there. I'm not denying the fact that I was there, but I didn't kill her.”

“I have already filed a motion to dismiss on the grounds of insufficient evidence. The evidence they have is circumstantial at best, but it was rejected, so now we prepare for the plea hearing.”

She sits down in the same spot we did yesterday and asks me about how I met Cassy, and I tell her

I met Cassy on my first night as a male escort. I was so nervous after working as a cleaner, waiter, and bartender on and off I couldn't do it anymore. The bills were too much.

I was just starting as a psychology student. I needed money for textbooks and transport so many things, and then I met Nick. I thought he was gay at first because of the way he spoke, but he wasn't. He told me I was a good-looking guy and I didn't need to suffer; he took me under his wing, and I started working as a male escort.

Cassidy was my first client. I met her at a hotel suite. I was so nervous my hands wouldn't stop shaking I couldn't even sit still.

It's not like I was a virgin or anything, but the idea of having sex with random women wasn't the most appealing.

She wasn't pushy, judgy, or rude; she understood my uneasiness. We just spoke that night; she asked why I decided to be an escort, and I told her

She told me about her marriage and her job; she was an interior decorator; she was working on a new project with Jessica Biel or something. I was just listening, not like I understood any of what she was saying, but it was nice.

We even shared a kiss, but we didn't have sex or anything like that, and the next morning she paid me in full, not a dime less.

And since that day she always asked for me specifically. We always saw once a week sometimes twice. We'd go out to dinner or go dancing and try different things. It was like we were an actual couple.

We didn't let our conversations go too deep; I didn't want to upset her. She even bought me my first designer piece of clothing. She bought me a lot of stuff.

It made it feel like I wasn't some jiggle. I looked forward to seeing her, and she was a beautiful person to look at. She had blonde hair with green eyes, and her skin was always tan. She had the nicest pair of breasts I'd ever seen. They were fake, but still, she had a nice body.

I did care about her. I didn't love her, but she was good to me. I didn't have a reason to kill her. Why would I?

“I forgot to ask last time, how long did you know Cassidy, Manuel?” she asked

“A little over a year, almost 2 years, I think.”

“So did you and Cassidy ever have a misunderstanding? Anything the prosecution can use as a motive?" Jill implored checking the time on her phone.

"No, never, but who do you know found the blood?” I ask

“A witness statement was provided by a cleaning lady, Ilma Cooper; she was the first witness on the scene; she called the police,” Jill explains, bringing out files from her table to the couch.

She shows me the pictures of the crime scene and tells me the blood splatter expert says Cassidy was killed in her sleep. The trajectory of the blood splatter indicates no defense, and because we don't have a body, we can't be sure of the murder weapon that was used.

“Well, we have to review the CCTV footage from the hotel and see if anyone else entered the room. I'm positive we have enough to build an airtight defense for you,” she assures.

Her assistant, whose name I find out to be Brie, comes in with coffee and more files. She tells me she has another meeting and leaves me in her office, but I can't help but wonder if Cassidy is alive.

If she were dead, we would have found her body by now. I think of her husband and what he's going through; he must surely know something.

Maybe he can help me.