Emily Montgomery

It was only eight-fifty in the evening, and already chaotic in the living room.

“Where is my bag of Cheetos?” Jim shouted. “Emily! Emmy! Where is it? The show is about to start! Doug, get the bottle of Johnnie at the bar, and grab two glasses with you, will ya?”

Emily Montgomery rolled her eyes. Her boyfriend Jim’s new friend Doug is again back at their small apartment.

Jim Jones and Doug McKinley both work at the prosecutor’s office. And tonight, both of them decided to forgo their late-night brainstorming sessions, where their living room and dining table would be full of piles and piles of folders, both of them bringing work home, to Jim and Emily’s apartment.

Never at Doug’s.

That infuriates Emily. 

Emily didn’t cook dinner tonight. Jim calling earlier that he and his new work bff will instead grab some pizza from the restaurant just around the corner, and asked if she wanted something.

She doesn’t want to touch anything from that garbage of a restaurant. Instead, after leaving her office, she stopped by Nobu, and got herself some light dinner, all vegan too, no less. She already knows the chef who works there, and called in advance to prepare something for her before she even got there.

She still enjoys eating alone. Enjoyed her dinner with a small serving of sake too.

Now back at her apartment, the only thing that comforts her is her full bottle of Lagavulin, her favorite whiskey.

“Em, come on, join us for once. Just grab a glass and join us at the couch! The show is about to start!” Doug said, in his arm a bottle of Green Label, and two whiskey glasses.

Emily snorted. 

“Nah, I need to write a deposition due Monday.” Emily spoke calmly, though the presence of Doug irritates her. 

He walked back to the living room, handing a glass of whiskey to Jim, and started opening the bottle of whiskey.

“Em! The Cheetos!” Jim shouted.

“Fucking hell,” Emily muttered under her breath, as she stood up and went to the pantry room, where she keeps all of her boyfriend’s junk food.

Taking the bag of Cheetos, she thought of a brilliant idea. 

She grabbed her own small packet of toasted coconut chips, and went out of the pantry room, calm.

Taking a whiskey glass, she poured a generous amount of Lagavulin for herself, and walked towards the living room.

“You know what? Yeah, fuck the deposition. Let’s watch this crap of a tv show you guys are so horny about.” Emily said, with a smirk on her face, sitting herself in between Jim and Doug.

She just realized, ‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’ This will surely piss off Doug.

“That’s the spirit!” Doug said, putting his arm around her and squeezing her, tight. He took his whiskey glass and clinking it together with Emily’s.

Fuck you, you retard. Emily thought.

“And tonight, a devastating tragedy gripped a small town in the big city...” the TV host started.

“Em, this is totally up your alley,” Jim said, without looking at her, “Right, Doug?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Emily was busy opening her bag of coconut chips.

“Emily? Need help with that?” Doug said, looking at her.

Emily met Doug’s eyes, and for a brief moment, she felt something strange in her. Was it the way he bent down his head when he spoke to her? She doesn’t know. But she certainly has never actually looked Doug straight in the eyes before. Or been this close to him.

Maybe that’s that. Emily thought, as he handed him her bag of chips.

“What is this shit about?” Emily asked, to no one in particular.

“Oh, a triple homicide. It’s a developing news. You seriously have not heard of this?” Doug said, handing her back her bag of chips.

“Nopes. I am up to here with work,” Emily motioning with her hand up above her head.

“A police friend of mine is working on this case. Very exciting stuff. Right, Doug?” Jim said, with his hand inside the bag of Cheetos and shoving several pieces into his mouth.

“You’re disgusting, Jim. Don’t eat like that.” Emily said, squinting at Jim.

“And how in the world is a triple homicide ‘exciting’? People have died.” Emily shook her head, as she sipped on her whiskey.

“Because, the circumstances were very vague, and tricky. I like that. It’s a challenge if it was me who gets to represent the killer,” Jim spoke with finality.

Emily glanced up on the tv, and paid attention.

Three people dead. A mother, a father, and their 14 year old daughter.

Some speculated that it was the father, who murdered his family, and then killed himself.

The father got fired from his high-profile job at the bank. Good severance pay too. Except he took to drinking, and hated the fact that it was now the wife’s job to ‘support’ the family.

And then there’s the father of the mother, who lived with them. The tv host went on and on about how he was alone in the house when it all happened.

He did it. Emily thought to herself.

“You said you have a police friend who’s working on this case?” Emily asked Jim, without looking at him.

“Yep,” was Jim’s short reply.

“And? That’s it?” Emily asked.

“Well, what do you want to know?” Jim replied.

“Well, I want to know what he thinks of this case? Hello?” Emily asked incredulously.

“Do you actually think he’d tell me?” Jim said, “Ask Mr. Hotshot here, he’ll tell you.”

Ask Doug? What the fuck does he know? Emily thought.

“Yeah, well,” Doug started.

And then his face appeared on the tv screen.

“Mr. McKinley, tell us all the latest development in this horrendous triple homicides,” the reporter began, “Are there any leads? New development in this case?”

Emily looked sideways at Doug, with her eyes furrowed, and turned her head back to the TV to listen to the prosecutor, who is sitting right next to her.

“We are keeping a tight lid on this case at the moment. The police chief has informed me that though it would appear that Mr. Gonzaga shot himself, some sort of foul-play may have been involved. The only person in the house when the crime occured, the father of one of the victims, is still in custody and is still not talking to anyone, so that’s that.” Mr. Douglas McKinley answered.

“Does that mean he is going to be treated as a witness, or the prime suspect in this case? What are your thoughts on that?” The host asked.

“As of this moment, we are treating Mr. Jimenez as a witness. When he starts talking, that’s a different story. No further comment. Thank you.”

The reporter turned her head back to the camera. “The case is still very fresh, still no new leads as to the real circumstances of this very tragic, very sad event involving a family. The only question that’s on people’s mind is: What drove Mr. Gonzaga to...”

Emily turned around to Doug, “You’re handling this case?”

“Yessss...” he said with a hiss.

“And?” Emily asked.

“And what? I don’t know anything yet. The police are working on it.” Doug said, his eyes fixed on the tv, as he sipped his Johnnie.

“Who do you think did it? Was it a murder-suicide?” Emily asked curiously.

Doug grinned, and then turned his gaze from the TV to her, looked at her straight in the eye, and winked.

She squinted at him, and she thinks she stupidly blushed.

“Em, if I know something, do you actually think I’d tell you?” Doug said, still with that huge grin on his face.

“And why not? I am asking as a concerned citizen,” Emily retorted.

“A concerned citizen who happens to be the best criminal defence lawyer in the city? And up to 10 minutes ago, you had no clue about this case! So, no. No way I am telling you anything!” Doug laughed.

Emily furrowed her eyebrows at him, and shook her head. She glanced back on the TV and listened to the news anchor went on and on about the possible leads. Speculations wether or not Mr. Gonzaga has suicidal tendencies, or even left a suicide note somewhere, or if the old man living with them has got something to do with...

“I mean, of course it’s the only person in the room who is not dead who killed the whole of them,” she spoke more to Doug than to Jim.

“Em, the man’s seventy-five!” Jim laughed.

“So? It doesn’t stop a child to commit a murder, what would stop an adult?” she retorted.

“So you mean to say, he killed his own daughter and granddaughter, is that it?” Doug replied.

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but she closed it again as soon as she heard her phone ringing.

She got up to answer the call, and went straight to her bedroom.

Fifteen minutes later, she reemerged, fully clothed and was heading to the door.

“Where are you going?” Jim asked, mid-sipping from his whiskey glass.

“It was Susan. Her boyfriend broke up with her. She needs a shoulder to cry on.” Emily said rather flatly.

“And your deposition?” Jim has his eyebrows furrowed, “Didn’t you say you had to work on it tonight?”

“Friends are important. And besides, I already wasted my time watching your TV show.”

Emily went out of the apartment and drove her car, straight to the police station.

She showed her I.D. to the guard and they let her in a small interview room, and sat herself in front of Mr. Joselito Jimenez.

“Thank you for coming in so late, Ms. Montgomery,” Mr. Jimenez spoke, sounding very weak.

Looking at him, straight in the eye, she can tell the man is very fragile, and very old.

“Thank you for contacting me, Mr. Jimenez. I am so sorry for your loss. How are you holding up?” Emily asked.

The man just shrugged his shoulders, and closed his eyes.

“Is there anything I can get you? Water? Coffee?”

“No, no...I have had those. What you can get me is...” he paused. He hasn’t opened his eyes.

“What you can get me is peace, and in a way, some sort of justice.” Mr. Jimenez spoke slowly, and then looked at her straight in the eyes.

“And how would I be able to do that, sir? Is there anything you wished to tell me? I would be able to...”

“Yes, and no...” the old man answered. “I will tell you what happened, and I hope you would be able to judge, and see how it would bring peace to me, and my poor daughter and granddaughter.”

Emily nodded.

“Enrico...” Mr. Jimenez began, “was a bad man.”

“Mr. Gonzaga...was a bad man?” Emily inquired, “Did he do all these?”

Mr. Jimenez didn’t reply immediately, instead he placed his shaky hands together on the table.

“He did my daughter wrong, on many, many occasions,” he went on speaking.

Emily did not speak, she wanted him to go on. 

“He treated her bad, with his womanising, and gambling, and drinking,” he muttered rather slowly, “Had no respect for her, and his daughter. A daughter!” he shook his head.

“My daughter Celia asked me to live with them over a year ago. Of course I agreed. But he did not like it.”

“Mr. Jimenez, did Mr. Gonzaga ever abused your daughter?” Emily asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “I know it was worse before I arrived at their home, but it happened every once in a while. Specially when he had a drink, or when she...”

He paused again.

“When she what?” Emily asked.

“When she told him he should stop abusing their daughter as well, that if he didn’t stop, she will go to the police.”

He didn’t cry, but his face contorted, as if pierced with agony.

Emily’s heart was racing, but she tried to take deep breaths and steadied herself.

“I know they were laying off people from his bank. He was boastful and laughing about it. Except he didn’t know that it was his turn to get fired two weeks after this whole tragedy occurred.”

“Not only did he beat my daughter to a pulp, not to exposed body parts where she cannot show up to work the next day. She was a paediatrician, by the way...”

“But him, probably due to the fact that he cannot anymore spend money on women, just went on, doing this filthy things with his own daughter.”

Emily’s was in shock, and disgusted. But she tried to keep a straight face, listening to this old man, spilling his soul to her.

“My daughter, I was so proud of her, but also so angry with her too, that she did not have the guts to get out,” he shook his head. “I told her several times, that we can run away. I can help her. I still have my pension, and she can practice somewhere else.”

“But she loved him,” he sighed very deeply, “despite of what he does to Melissa. In that, she was so, so, so wrong to think...to think he will change.”

“Because men like that do not change.”

“Last week, I have observed him. Always on his computer. Always making secret calls in the bedroom, never in my presence. I though he was planning something.”

Emily nodded slightly.

“I know he has already prepared a luggage, I think he realised Celia has had enough and is ready to turn him in, just like what I have urged her to do.”

“He started acting very strange. Being very nice to me, and to his daughter and wife. We even went to have dinner somewhere nice. You know L’Ossobuco? Yes...” he closed his eyes, nodding, “yes, we went there. It was a good dinner.”

L’Ossobuco is a new Italian fine-dining restaurant. Emily and Jim had been there, twice.

“That night, we arrived back home, and I went straight to the bathroom,” he paused.

“I heard some commotion outside, and...”

Mr. Jimenez covered his face and started sobbing in his hands.

“Mr. Jimenez, if you want to take a pause and...” Emily spoke.

“No, no...I just need to take a moment.”

He went on, “I went in the room of my granddaughter...”

“Blood...” he muttered, his eyes wide opened, looking not straight at Emily, but as if relieving the memory of a horrendous discovery.

“I ran to their room, and I saw Enrico...on top of my daughter, with a gun in his hand...”

“He shot her...” Mr. Jimenez looked at her straight in the eye.

“I...sneaked up behind him. He didn’t knew I was there. He must be in shock, with what he has done. And I immediately grabbed the gun...”

“And I...I...” his breathing was shallow. Emily thought the man is going to have a heart-attack.

“I...I shot him on the side of the head.”

He sobbed in his hands once again.

Fucking hell, Emily thought. Fucking hell. 

“Mr. Jimenez, I, um, I understand you predicament.”

Mr. Jimenez went on nodding his head, his face still buried on his hands.

“They will, they will put me in jail for...for the crimes committed by that man, that devil,” he managed to say with all the sobbing.

“They will punish me for his...”

“There now, Mr. Jimenez.” Emily assured him.

“Can you...can you help me?” Mr. Jimenez spoke, silently. “Please, I know you can. I know you can help me.”

“I will. I will help you, Mr. Jimenez. I will get you out of this.”

Emily went home that night, her mind swimming of all the information that Mr. Jimenez has told her.

Fucking hell. She went on repeating to herself.

She got home, and went straight to the kitchen to pour herself a drink.

“Baby’s back!” Doug said, getting up from the sofa from which he was napping.

Baby? Psycho. Emily thought.

“Where’s Jim? Why are you still here?” Emily asked, sipping her whiskey.

“He took a shower and went to bed. He said I should stay the night,” Doug pointed to the empty bottle of Johnny Walker and four bottles of beer.

“How convenient.” Emily retorted, sitting herself in the bar stool of the mini bar of her kitchen.

“Nah, I could go home if you like...” Doug asked, with a smile on his face.

“Nah, stay. What’s the point? You were already sleeping before I arrived.”

“So, where were you? Were you really at your friend’s house or went off to meet another boyfriend of yours?” Doug smirked at her, taking a sip from her whiskey glass.

Emily squinted at him.

Source of information. Emily was having a victory dance in her mind.

“You want some? I can get you a glass,” she asked.

“Nah, let’s just share this glass.” Doug winked at her. 

She smirked at him.

“You looked nice on TV, by the way.” Emily started.

“You think?” Doug grinned at her.

“Yeah,” Emily said, “yeah, I do.”

She began, “What a horrible crime, don’t you think? A wife and a daughter...”

“There’s the husband too,” Doug added.

Emily started unbuttoning the top buttons of her shirt. It was hot in the apartment.

Doug’s eyes fell on her chest, exposing the bright crucifix pendant studded with diamonds.

“You think he really did it, and then did himself?” she asked Doug, speaking rather slowly.

Doug didn’t speak immediately. Instead he took a deep breath, and then sighed. 

“No.”

Fuck, he knows. Emily thought.

“You think it’s the grandfather who did all of them?” Emily asked, pouring more whiskey into the glass, and looked Doug straight in the eye.

Doug smiled at her, and winked.

Why does he always do that? Emily thought.

“I mean, let me ask you a question: Who do you think did it?” Doug asked her back, smirking at her.

“Well, it is a murder-suicide.” Emily answered flatly.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Doug retorted, “I mean, you, of all people, would surely think there’s some sort of foul-play somewhere.”

“Well, there’s the evidence,” Emily replied.

“Evidence points to a suicide yes, but...” Doug shook his head, and looked straight at her.

“I am pretty sure it’s the old fart who did them all.”

Emily bit her lip, Fuck, what does he know that I do not know? 

“How could you say that? Just hours ago, you and Jim were saying he’s too old and all that shit...”

Doug smiled at her, “Because...” he went to stand right next to her, taking the whiskey glass from her hand, his warm hand brushing with his. 

“Because, he was the only one who is...” he sipped from the glass, “not dead.”

Emily giggled, and bit her lip to stop herself.

This is fucking ridiculous, why the fuck am I giggling like a fucking school girl?

“Don’t laugh, it’s true,” Doug placed his hand on Emily’s shoulder. “You looked tense. You need a massage? I can massage your back.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Emily asked incredulously.

“Nopes, we’re not gonna have sex, Em.” Doug replied.

“Fine.”

Doug went behind her, and started massaging her back slowly. The touch of his hands was very soothing. She finished off her drink and just closed her eyes as Doug went on.

“It’s not the whiskey, Em,” Doug whispered behind her. “I always come here, so I can see you.”

Doug turned her around the bar stool to face him, placed his hand on her nape of her neck, and kissed her. And she kissed him back, deep in the mouth.

Thursday. Day One of the preliminary hearing. Emily Montgomery sat beside Mr. Joselito Jimenez, with all the files and folders from her interviews, evidence from the police, and her plea ready. Confident with herself, and the evidence and testimonies she has acquired.

Doug Montgomery representing the state. Finally, he got up.

“Your honour, I would like to begin by saying, what a tragedy. To have lost a loved one is devastating, but to have lost three, is nothing short of hell on earth for anyone who is left to deal with the pain and suffering of this horrific event,”

The judge nodded.

“As much as I would like to aggravate the fact that the man sitting with us, is seventy-five years of age, and have lost not just a daughter, but also a grand-daughter, I could not, as a representative of the state, the voice of the people, and the victims just easily say, that based on the evidence submitted to me just yesterday, as you can see from Exhibit E.,” he paused.

“That not only did Mr. Joselito Jimenez, forced himself into the household of Mr. Gonzaga, who was been, despite of the hoo-haas in the news, of his infidelities, was a good father, and a good, providing husband to his wife...”

“Mr. Joselito Jimenez managed, under the pretence of old age, to insert himself in the household of Mr. Gonzaga but under a very sadistic and malevolent reason.”

“Please turn your page on Exhibit D, you will see previous evidences of abuse by Mr. Jimenez on his daughter, when she was still under his care, in his own household as a young girl.”

“Exhibit F, medical records of abuse suffered by Melissa Gonzaga. This was her last check-up, clearly indicates signs of rape.”

“Exhibit G, a post-mortem check, of an abuse, after she was murdered.”

“And lastly, Exhibit B, just to give you a much clearer information. A man such as Mr. Gonzaga, who is a right handed man, can not, in any possible way, shoot himself, on his left temple.”

Emily sat there, listening to Doug, her heart pounding, and her hands shaking.

She looked at Mr. Joselito Jimenez, who was looking straight ahead, completely expressionless.

He turned his head around and looked at her straight in the eye.

“You fucking son of a bitch.” Emily muttered straight at Mr. Joselito Jimenez.