I polished off the rest of my burger and packed up my notebook. I refilled my diet soda on the way out, reminding myself not to drink anything offered to me by strangers. By the time I arrived at Winter’s house, I was winded, but my bones didn’t hurt. Progress was progress.
The house was small and square, tucked in between two larger apartment buildings. I rang the bell. A very tall and bearded man answered the door. He had bright boyish eyes that warmed his complexion. I introduced myself and told him I was looking for Winter Henderson.
His face lit up. “That’s me.”
I told him I was investigating Brad Avery’s murder. “I want to ask you a couple questions about the night of June fifteenth.”
He twisted his lips to one side of his mouth. “Him again?”
“You’ve already talked to someone about him?”
He stroked his beard. “The cops. I guess my ex-girlfriend, Jennifer, told them she was with me that night.”
“Was she?”
He shrugged. “I don’t really know. That was months ago.”
I sipped on my soda. “Do you keep a diary, or a calendar or anything?”
“Nope.”
So he didn’t remember spending every night with the woman for three consecutive months?
We shared an awkward moment in the doorway. He was obviously not going to invite me in. I had to think up more questions fast or the door would be closing in my face shortly. “Did your relationship end amiably?”
His clenched his hands into fists, his arms dangling at his sides. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. No, it didn’t.”
“I’m sorry to have to ask this. I’m sure you don’t like to talk about it, but do you know if she was seeing anyone else?”
His face flushed. “You mean while she was seeing me? I don’t know. Who would she have been seeing? No. I don’t think so. We broke up because she got this new job at a store near her house and she kind of changed. Sort of became distant and aloof.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t like that.”
“Of course not,” I said, “Who would like that?”
He nodded and seemed to relax. “Yeah, right. See, she kind of turned nasty.”
Why would she change after leaving El Paraiso? Unless maybe she was under some kind of stress. Of course, if she killed Brad, that could have caused some major stress.
“I really fell for her. I thought we were going to get married.” His voice cracked again.
“Sometimes things work out for the best, even though we don’t think so at the time.”
From inside the house a voice called out, “Winter! Who’s there?”
He turned around as though he’d been struck. “No one, Ma. I’m coming.” He turned to me. “I gotta go.”
“Thanks for your time,” I said, retreating down the stairs.
I walked down the street, reflecting on the case. If Jennifer killed Brad, how could she dispose of the body on her own? Maybe Winter had helped her. Perhaps that was why he didn’t want to give her an alibi. If he admitted to being with her, he could implicate himself as her accomplice.
What could have happened?
Brad was in love with Jennifer, Jennifer was in love with Winter. Brad was pestering her. Hounding her. Wouldn’t leave her alone.
Maybe Jennifer grew afraid her boyfriend, Winter, would find out about the affair? Would that be motive enough to kill Brad?
Jennifer knew George, so maybe she knew about the gun in his bag. She could have taken George’s gun and shot Brad and then asked Winter to help her get rid of the body.
But then why would Winter help her dispose of Brad’s body? That part of my scenario made no sense. I’d have to work on it a bit more.
I sipped my soda as I walked into Heavenly Haight. Incense was burning. The chime rang as I stepped on the floor mat. Jennifer looked up. She glanced at me, but turned her attention back to the customer she was waiting on, who couldn’t decide between unscented candles, which her boyfriend liked, or scented candles, which she preferred.
I fingered a collection of handmade earrings as I waited. As soon as the customer left, Jennifer turned her attention to me.
“What’s up?” she asked, nervously tugging at her blond curls.
My visit was clearly annoying her. “Can you tell me again where you were on June fifteenth?”
“I was with my boyfriend, Winter. I already told you, and that fat cop, too. I mean, how many times do I need to answer the same stupid questions? I was with Winter.”
“Winter’s not really sure about that.”
Jennifer blinked. “Well, he’s just bitter. He’s upset because I met his stupid mother and she didn’t like me. She didn’t think I was good enough for her little boy, so he broke up with me. Can you believe it? He dumped me because his mommy said so! I was this close to getting engaged.” She made a gesture with her hands, bringing her fingers together.
I noticed the nail on her index finger was broken, making it the only short nail on either hand.
Could she have broken it in a fight with Michelle or Svetlana?
“What happened to your hand?”
“What?” Jennifer glanced down at her hand.
“Your nail. It’s broken.”
“My nails break all the time. I don’t think I’m getting enough protein. I’m a vegetarian, you know, so I have to eat beans and cheese and those kinds of things, but they’re very fattening, so I try to avoid them and my nails get brittle.”
She looked at me. I suppose she expected me to encourage her or applaud her choices. Instead, I sipped on my leftover Diet Coke and wondered what her opinion of McDonald’s was.
“Yeah, so you say you were at Winter’s but he can’t confirm it, so that kind of leaves you without an alibi.”
“Well, I was there.” She played with one of the silver rings around her thumb. “You can ask the neighbors, or whatever you guys do. I don’t know what to tell you. I was there.”
Should I mention the Brad sighting at her apartment?
“How about Thursday morning? Since she’s your boss, I presume you know Svetlana Avery was murdered.”
Jennifer looked genuinely confused. “I was working. Here. Like I always am. I told the cops that, too. Everyone here was shocked when we heard. But we were told to stay open. Business as usual.”
“Someone sure had it out for Brad’s whole family, huh? First him, then Michelle, now the ex-wife.” I eyed her carefully. “With odds like that, I’d hate to be his mistress.”
She grimaced. Our eyes locked. Was that fear in her eyes? She slipped past me and locked the store door, pocketing the key.
“What are you doing?” I said, the panic in my voice scaring even me.
Jennifer ignored me and rummaged through a shelf behind the counter.
Blood roared in my ears. I felt dizzy.
What was she getting, a gun?
If I moved now, I could take her. I was taller. I could push her against the wall, grab the gun, and call 9-1-1.
I rushed the counter and shoved hard against her shoulders. She jumped, dropping the object in her hands. A bong.
“Hey! What are you doing?” she demanded.
I stared at the bong. “When you locked me in here, I thought you had a gun. For Christ’s sake, I’m investigating three murders!”
Jennifer rubbed at her shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted a little something to take the edge off.” She pulled open a drawer. Inside were baggies filled with marijuana.
Who kept that kind of stash in a store?
She selected a bag from the drawer and squatted behind the counter, safely hidden from street view as she lit the bong and inhaled. “Maybe you need a hit, too.”