That Doesn't Seem Write

The shrill tone of the telephone ringing woke me from a deep sleep. I had been dreaming about a pleasant vacation in the Bahamas and was cut off at an ironic sentence, “I’m just glad I don’t have to hear that cursed telephone ring--” I groaned, rolling over and pushing some of Jean’s hair off my pillow. I closed my eyes but they flew open again as the telephone let out another other shrill scream.

“Oh for goodness sake Dear, just go get it. It won’t answer itself.” My wife of 10 years shifted slightly in bed pulling her pillow over her delicate ear. I slid out of bed reluctantly and shivered at the cold, hardwood floor. The grain of it seemed icy and thick against my warm feet. I walked briskly to my office. The sound of my feet padding on the floor filled in the silence between the tones of the phone ringing.

“Hello?” My voice sounded angry but I didn’t try to hide it. I needed sleep. The voice on the other end scared me. It was too chirpy for this early.

“Reynolds! Oh good I’d thought you’d be asleep!”

I rolled my eyes, “Well I was but--”

“We might have something for that case of yours. The author one? Mr. O’Connell? With the crazed fan?”

A sigh escaped my lips, “yes I’m aware. Why? What’s happened?”

The male voice on the other end got hushed as though they were in a crowded room, “well, O’Connell and his wife had been going through a rough divorce and things had gotten pretty bad a week or so before he was murdered. 

My hand went up to my mouth in surprise, “Really? Well then, hm.” I thought as I scratched the back of my head. “I don’t think the crazed fan really has anything to do with this then. I mean, maybe but then….”

“Reynolds, tell me you’ll start on this right away. Please tell me you will.”

“I will. You can count on me. And remember, if you find anything else, let me know immediately, unless it’s this early then save it.”

“Yes sir. Oh yes I will. Sorry.” I set the telephone down on the receiver feeling more awake then I had when the call began. I had to get started. I walked into my room changing into pants, a shirt (with fashionable suspenders, of course) and my favorite coat. It fell just below my knees and the sleeves stopped just at the wrist. I sat on the small chair across from the bed as I tied my shoelaces. I watched my wife as she stirred slightly.

“Dear, I must go. There’s been an important new development in the O’Connell case.” I kissed her forehead gently. She opened a single eye peering at me as she muffled a sleepy, “be safe”.

The brisk fall air sent a chill up my spine. I got in my car sliding the key in. The old engine sputtered a few times before turning. As I drove, the sun rose giving small light to the roads. Not many cars were out. Only the wealthy had cars, and the wealthy tended to sleep in on weekends. I pulled into the large driveway. As I knocked on the solid wood door, I heard a small dog from the neighboring house bark maniacally. Rat dogs. I’ll never understand the appeal. Mrs. O’Connell dabbed lightly at her red, swollen eyes.

“Oh good. Detective Reynolds I’ve been waiting for you. Please come in.” I stepped in the large home taking in its grandeur and beauty. It was well decorated. “None of this is what it seems. Yes, we were going through a divorce but I would never do anything to harm him. I still loved him.” She looked at me with pleading eyes as I took my hat off. 

“I understand that but we still need to investigate. May I take a look around?” I didn’t wait for a response. I began downstairs. Both of their offices were down there. First, Mr. O’Connells. It still looked like it was being used. A small table lamp lit the oak desk. Among many papers, one in particular caught my attention. It had an illustration of what I presumed is one of the main characters of the story. The clothes were in Regency style. A red, empire waisted dress and a long necklace of pearls. It looked almost identical to what my wife had in her closet. From the hair feather, to the red lace gloves, to the black velvet shoes with small red accents. I set it down and finished inspecting the rooms. They were both empty of clues. I waltzed up to the kitchen. A metallic gleam caught my eye as I turned on my heels to address Mrs. O’Connell. Down, on the granite counter, was a knife. It was a bigger knife. It had a red substance on it and when I touched it, the liquid stayed on my finger. It was viscous and dark. Almost like… my stomach turned as I realized. The stab wounds in Mr. O’Connell resurfaced.

Mrs. O’Connell stopped dead in her tracks. Her small voice bounced around in my head, “I swear Detective. That’s from a deer. I was making jerky last night as a way to get my mind off things. I must have missed it.” I grabbed her arm and drove her down to the station. She sobbed as the policemen cuffed her. Then an image entered my mind. A red, regency style dress. Accessories the same head to toe. It couldn’t be. It had everything to do about the crazed fan. It had everything to do about my dear wife. Jean’s face flashed through my mind. The previous night, a knife had been missing from the block that night. She had said it broke. When she walked in the door, I had noticed a red splotch on her white tights. I thought nothing of it, but I should have thought everything about it. My own dear sweet wife.

“Wait!!” I ran up to the police officer. “You have to let her go. We have the wrong person.” The officer looked at me then to Mrs. O’Connell, then back to me.

“I’ll follow, right behind you, detective.” The officer rushed out with me. This would hurt, but it had to be done.