A Manipulation of Murder -- Part II

The following morning was usual, same as it always was.  I believe the greatest torture is a mundane life; you have your few twists and turns every now and then, and they could be treacherous.  But me?  Pah, my way of dealing with those twists -- turn around and don’t look back.  Don’t look back at the affair, Nate, don’t look back.
         “Eggs, honey?”  My wife was hovering over me like a saucer, the skillet of fresh scrambled eggs in my face.
         “Uh, sure.”  I raised my eyebrows, and went back to sliding my bacon side to side on my plate with my fork.  Slightly burnt, and covered in oil.  Suddenly, I wasn’t so hungry anymore. 
         It was my turn to take the kids to school this morning.  Jennifer had a brunch outing with the girls, you know, that group of snobs you always stare at in the restaurants.  High society, I suppose, but the outer appearance always washes away the fraud inside.  I’m amazed at what a little cash and a tennis instructor can do for a woman.
         As Keith got out of the car he whispered, “Dad, if I don’t make it out alive today, I just want you to know you can have my dinosaur egg collection upstairs.”
         “Beat up?” I said, “By who?  And for what?”  The school bell rang.
         “I can’t explain it dad, I’ll see you after school.”  He charged away, stopped and turned back at me.  “Maybe.”  His face seemed so sad, filled with fear.  Being the genius in class doesn’t always have its perks.
         Dropping Claire off to school was another story.  We didn’t have a relationship.  We didn’t talk.  I know as a father I should speak up more, show my concern, but with her…it’s different.  She opened the car door and slammed it behind her -- no goodbye.  What do I care?  I’m used to it by now.  You know, the first child is always the experiment.  Jennifer and I didn’t always start our foundation strong.  We were young, and stupid.  I guess growing up, knowing you were the “unexpected child” can be devastating, but with Keith we did it right.  Half and half is better than none at all, right?
         I was on my way to work.  You don’t have to know where I work, I wouldn’t want you to stalk me.  How ironic right?  Because I’m a private investigator.  I’m the guy who sips coffee late at night, sitting in his car, waiting for the suspect to make one interesting move.  It takes days sometimes, even weeks, but I love it. 
         I know what you’re thinking.  White picket fence?  Blue shutters?  I thought this guy was made…and he’s a private investigator?  Well, several years back, I helped win a major case for the county.  Serial killer that was on the loose for months, murdered about twenty innocent people, including two families.  Won several awards, including money, and I was able to afford the home we have today.  Not to mention I was able to buy my wife’s ego with the cash I was rewarded.  Today we were investigating a case involving someone you would hardly expect to be a suspect.
         
***********

         “Now, let’s retrace our steps.  Let’s not even mention the murder today, how about that Mr. Bower?”  Dr. Smith’s calmness was really irritating my nerves.
         “I give up.”  I slouched in the leather seat, imagining myself waving a white flag back and forth.  Dr. Smith just smiled to the side and pondered for a moment.  She looked around and seemed to have gotten a bright idea.  She grabbed the picture of her son in his little league uniform.  “What does this remind you of?” she asked.
         “Baseball?” I said in an obvious tone of voice. 
         “No…you only glanced at it, look at it…stare at it.  Rather than what, who does this remind you of?”
         “My son?  Is that what you want me to say?”
         “Only if it’s the truth.”
         “My son.  I don’t even remember him anymore.  I only remember him because you say I had one.”
         “You did.  You did until you killed him.”
         “Why do you have to get so serious all of a sudden?  I thought you said you wouldn’t even mention the murder.  You know, you start off innocent, showing me a picture of your boy, and now you bring such a heavy topic to the table?  You know, you got some real nerve trying to make me dwell on such a gruesome issue.”
         She placed the picture on the end table next to me.  “My apologies Mr. Bower.  Would you like to continue this tomorrow?”
         I paused and thought for a moment.  It was going to be the same routine tomorrow too.  We were going to end up in this same, exact position -- it was a dead end.  “No, no, no.  Let’s not stop.  I want to see what other horrible things you want to talk about today, Dr.  You obviously know what you’re talking about; you got a degree for it, right?”
         She grinned.  “Alright then, let’s continue.”

***********

         “How was work today, honey?”  My wife always tried to make small talk -- small talk that would eventually turn into a complaint later on.
         “Good, nothing happened yet.”
         “Oh, well I’m sure it will eventually.  By the way, were you able to pick up the clothes from the dry cleaners?”
         “…I forgot.”
         Jennifer turned to me, a disappointed look slathered on her face.  “How could you forget?  I asked you three times yesterday.  You know that my dress for the charity event this weekend is there.  How could you be so irresponsible?”
         “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve just been so caught up in my fifth birthday just around the corner.”
         “Very funny Nathan.”  She shook her head in disgust.  “How can we make this marriage work if you never listen to me?”
         I thought to myself, “I don’t need to listen, you just tell me what to do.  I’m your robot, you’re my master.”  But I just kept silent.  Her nag account was at fifty, I just cashed it out last week, so I could handle it for a little while longer.  I just shrugged and walked off.  Don’t you love me for that?