Who Did It?

It is the 13th of May, 1988, 8:29 PM.

I am a cop, or I guess I was. Only a few days, two weeks to be exact, passed since I went to my desk at NYPD and indulged with my favorite warm bagel. I can still clearly remember the sound of people coming in and going out of the office. The clicks of keyboards in each cubicle, the whiteboard with the photos of the faces of suspects in the criminal cases I handled and investigated, were all so clear in my memory.

Now, all I hear is the air conditioner , my breath too. It is so silent here, I think I can even hear my own heartbeat. Alright, that is ridiculous. I just do not understand. It is dark here, and I am all alone. What happened? How did I get here? Why am I here? Where is everybody? I am definitely at home, but I could not get out. The doors are all locked from the outside.

My cellphone rings. It is Rex, my friend who is a cop too. I have to answer this. Otherwise, how else would I know what the fledge is going on? 

“What the hell did you do this time, Jane?” I hear the usually impatient tone of Rex, the one that I always hear whenever he insists on rushing the investigations. Rex is my friend, but he is just so damn reckless. Ambitious, yes, but an idiot sometimes. I think I sense his concern, too much, in fact, that it feels overboard already. Many times we were tagged as some sort of “love team” - always together, never separated. At work, that is. I just have to point this one out. To me, Rex is no more than a brother. I just hope it goes the same for him.

“You know I care about you, Jane, right? Not just because I know you are already divorced with Bob, although I know you know that counts, but it is all the more because you are all alone right now. Hell, I cannot even get near you!” Rex says as his tone gets softer, romantic even.

I cringe.

“What is going on, Rex? Do you have an idea why I am stuck here?” I am already at wits end here. I hate this feeling that I am completely clueless and incapable of knowing what I have to know.

“You are under house arrest, Jane.”

“For what? Last thing I remember was I went home and I slept. Next thing I know, I cannot get out. Why am I locked inside my own home? My landline is cut too. I did not do any crime whatsoever that even qualifies for a house arrest. There is something up, and I have to know it. Tell me, Rex! Tell me!”

“Calm down, Jane.” 

“You know I could not do that, Rex. Just, please let me know what is going on. Then I can consider if I can calm down, based on what -or who I am up against. This is definitely a set up, and you know it.”

“I figured. Alright then, you are accused of murder of Violet Cane, your neighbor,” Rex coldly said.

I pause for a few seconds. Flashback sinks in. I remember her.

“Violet Cane? Yeah, she is our noisy neighbor. She annoys me, yes, but that is not enough reason for me to want to kill her. It is not me, Rex. You know that, right?”

“All evidence point to you, Jane. How could I not think otherwise?”

I should have known. “Why are you even talking to me right now? I do not need your distrust, hypocrite.”

“You know I am the only one you can trust, Jane.”

“I doubt it. Where is Carl? Has he arrived yet?” Carl is my son. He is twenty years old. He went out of town for a couple months to ‘seek himself out’ after we, his parents, finalized our divorce. I miss him so badly. He is already working part time while in college, and i am just glad that he already lives on his own. Tough guy, I love him. He makes me proud. 

Speaking of proud, he cannot see me like this. I am practically his superhero. He should not see me in this situation.

“Rex, please do not let Carl know I am under house arrest. My heart cannot take it.”

“Sure, Jane. My lips are sealed. If at all, I think you should talk to Casey of BBS Network. Media cannot hide the truth from your son, you know. Even if you cut his cable, there is the internet now, honey. Nothing is ever hidden online.”

“Casey the journalist? She knows? Dodgy little radar machine. I do not have her number.”

“She is in touch with your case, Jane. She will call you. Speaking of which, I have to go now. I am not allowed to call you, but heck, what I would not do for you, sweetie. If house arrest is not enough for you to look at me as a lover, what will? Geez. Do not think this changes how I feel. I am not giving up on you, Jane.”

What did I just hear? If house arrest is not enough for you to look at me as a lover, what will?

I freeze.

“Rex, you bastard. Do not tell me you have anything to do with this just to get me. What’s it now?”

The line drops.

I cannot believe it. Rex has a motive, and he just told me that. His tongue slipped. Or did it?

My phone rings again. It is from an unknown number.

“Hi, Jane. This is Casey of BBS Network. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure. Let me start, though. Is my case already out for the world to see?”

“Not yet. That is what I am here for. How do you want it onto appear out there?”

There is dead air. The question struck me. How do I really want this case to appear out there? Do I want everyone to see that this is all a set-up? That I did not kill Violet Cane, my neighbor who blackmailed my son Carl into sleeping with her, just so she can have someone to pass the obligation of her unborn baby to? That I had no motive whatsoever for killing her because she practically ruined by beloved Carl’s life, when he dropped out of school just to work and provide for a baby that is not even his? How do I know? Her noise revealed her. She got pregnant even before my son came to town. I hate her. Yes, that is enough motive for me to kill her. 

Did I? 

No. However, I saw the one who did it. It all comes back to me now. When I heard from Rex that she is dead, and that I was the one who allegedly killed her...

I pause for a few seconds. Flashback sinks in. I remember her.

“Hello? Ms. Jane Summers? Are you there? How do you want your case to appear in the news?” Casey asks once again.

“It was me. I did it. I killed Violet Cane. Also, please tell my son Carl that I love him so much, and that I am okay. Everything is going to be okay. Thank you, Jane.” 

Then, I hang up.

Let me reveal to you my secret. It is not me. It is my son. He could not take it any longer. He is not ready. He is definitely not the father too, in the first place. I saw how he did it. So after the killing, I got the knife and I held it. I out my marks all over the scene of the crime.

Why? I love my son. He is all I got. 

Happy Mother’s Day to me. I am okay. I got my son’s back. I am okay...