Blood and Motive

8

I knocked on the door and waited a while, then I knocked again.

“I'm coming, hold on.”

She opens the door, her face screwed up.

I've been here about three or four times I can't remember. Before Cassidy and I started staying at hotels, she and I used to come here. She always loved Jeanine’s apartment, which was so luxurious, she always said.

"Oh!” she exclaimed.

She's dressed in a short denim dress, and a charming brown coat, and her long brown hair is free. She’s not wearing any shoes. I can't tell if she's on her way out or she just came back.

"Manuel, come in," she cheered.

Taking a step back to make room for me to enter

"Oh, darling, I heard what happened. I'm so sorry.”

She hugs me, but I don't hug her back, my hands still in my pocket. I wonder if the apology is for the death of Cassidy or the fact I'm being charged with her murder.

"Thanks, Jeannie, but I have a few questions to ask.”

She looks at me with a glazed look before she rolls her eyes.

"Fine, you have 10 minutes. I have somewhere to be,” she said.

She disappears into the kitchen and comes out with a glass of wine. It's never too early for a glass of wine. That's the way Jeanine lives her life.

“Who was Cassidy meeting on Saturdays, Jeanine?” I question

Her face goes white, and her hand freezes the glass of wine still in her mouth.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she answers with a tight-lipped smile.

“You're lying,” I counter.

“Daniel told me Cassidy went out on Wednesdays and Saturdays and she wouldn't come back home; she was always with me on Wednesdays, so who was she meeting on Saturdays?”

"Daniel, poor Daniel, how is he doing?” she cooed

“I should make time and go see him; I'm sure he'd love that,” she blushes, adjusting her dress.

She knows something, and I'm not leaving here without any answers.

“Who was she meeting on Saturdays and why?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

I slam my hand on the table next to me, and she jerks.

“I'm going to ask you one more time, Jeanine, who was Cassidy seeing on Saturdays,” I ask, my voice deadly serious.

“I don't know who he is; she never told me his name,” she replies in a taut voice.

That wasn't the answer I was expecting, but I needed to find something.

“How did she meet him, and where did they usually meet?”

"She, I, They,” she hesitates.

She takes the glass of wine, gargles it down, and takes a deep breath before she replies.

“I don't know where they met, but it wasn't long ago she started seeing him—maybe six months ago or eight, I can't say.”

“They'd always meet at the Century Hotel, she always looked forward to it. She didn't tell me much.”

“She'd always tiptoe around the subject, shut down the conversation if I tried to bring him up.”

She stands up and drops the glass into the sink, comes out, and points to the door.

“If you don't mind, I'd like for you to leave. Your ten minutes are up, and I have somewhere to be,” she reminded.

She leads me to the door, but before she slams the door in my face, she says.

“That bitch deserved it,“ she says in a tone so low it sounds like a whisper before she slams the door shut.

What does she mean by that? Was Cassidy involved in something that led to her death, and does Jeanine know about it?

Who's the mystery guy she was meeting on Saturday? Is he connected to her death?

All these thoughts are swimming in my head as I take the train home. I have a lot of questions but not a lot of answers, and I don't have enough time.

I get back home and Michael isn't there. I open my laptop and go through articles to see if there's anything new about the case, but there's nothing.

The story isn't getting the coverage it was in the beginning, and I guess that's good, but I can't stop thinking of the words Jeanine said today: “That bitch deserved it.”.

I take a random book from my table and a pen and write down my suspects. I can't depend on the police to solve this case, so I'm going to do a little detective work of my own.

Suspect list

1) Daniel

2) Jeanine

3) Mystery guy????

I write down Daniel's name first. He might be the grieving husband, but in most cases, it's always the husband who has a motive, the divorce.

If Cassidy left him, she'd take half his company and walk away; hell, if it was me, I'd kill her too. I don't know about his alibi; I didn't get a chance to ask the last time.

I write Jeanine's name next. She's the best friend but she didn't look like she lost a friend today. She looked normal. Maybe she was jealous of Cassidy?

Cassidy had it all: a loving husband, a beautiful job, and a wonderful home. I'd understand if Jeanine wanted that. She was divorced, living off the money she got from her divorce.

I remember she'd look at Cassidy in a certain kind of way; it makes sense now that she was envious, but would she go as far as killing her so-called best friend?

I'd have to go back and ask her where she was the night Cassidy was murdered.

And lastly, the mystery guy Cassidy would always see on Saturdays. I don't even know how I'm going to find out who he is, but what if he is the killer? Why would he kill her?

What happened between them, and why were their meetings a mystery? Why didn't she?

Tell Jeanine about this guy. Why was she hiding him?

She didn't keep me a secret, so why was she keeping him a secret?

I think this might be a real lead, and I'm about to start searching until I find what I'm looking for.