Chapter 18

Calhoun was waiting for us when we walked into the station. He didn’t have a scowl on his face, like the last time. His face was emotionless.

“Good morning, Detectives,” he said as we approached him.

We each greeted him back. We quickly moved our conversation into room number one. I was hoping a change of room would change the result of our conversation. I’d never admit it to anyone I worked with, but I was very superstitious. When I was younger, I tried to believe it was just certain behaviors that yielded me good results. I thought my habits were driving positive things for me on the football field and classroom. When my mom or someone tried to force me to alter my habits, I’d freak out. If I ate pasta before the last game and we won, I was supposed to eat pasta again, so we would win, again. I tried really hard to pretend it wasn’t something driving me to behave a certain way, but my mom finally told me I was just being superstitious.

“Thanks for coming down to meet with us, Mr. Calhoun,” I said.

“Please, call me Jonathan. I understand you have questions about my private investigator.”

“Yes, we do. Can I get you anything before we get started?” I asked.

“No, thank you.”

I couldn’t help but notice the drastic change in his demeanor from the last time we talked. He seemed much calmer, and nicer. I motioned to the seat and we all sat down.

“The private investigator was hired by me several months ago to follow Effridge and take pictures of who he was with. I know you asked me about letting things go between Larissa and me, but I suspected my mother’s husband was up to his old tricks of sneaking around with other women. I felt a need to protect Larissa.”

“I’m sorry, please help me to understand. Exactly who were you trying to protect Larissa from?” Johnson asked.

“From Effridge, of course. He was a troll, a despicable cad. He used women and moved on to the next without the common decency of taking into consideration the previous conquests’ feelings or knowledge. Effridge was no gentleman!” Jonathan moved in his seat, then took in a breath and released it. “My only intention was to let Larissa know what he was doing behind her back and prevent heartache several years down the line, like he made my mother suffer.”

“Tell us what the PI found, and what you did with the information,” I said.

“I guess it depends on how you interpret the photos the investigator took,” he said snidely.

 

Jonathan Calhoun

“Can you expand on that? What exactly do you mean?” Detective Oliver asked.

“The photographs could be interpreted as seeing two friends, Effridge and McKenzie, strolling and chatting. Or you could see the photos for what they are – two people flirting openly, without a care in the world and with no regard for their alleged significant others.”

“Was there anything else you deemed significant that you received from the PI?” Detective Johnson asked.

“Effridge had been caught red-handed. He and his filthy lies were exposed.” I knew what the smoking gun had been. I reached into the envelope, extracting the original photos. I set the stack of seven on the table in front of the detectives.

Detective Oliver picked up the pictures and thumbed through them one at a time. The first five were of Effridge and McKenzie. The other two were the clinchers. They were the two that sent my mother into a tearful fit.

“I’m not sure how you can conclude they’re flirting. The images aren’t projecting that to me at all. You also told me, the time you saw them together, there was no touching or kissing in public.”

“The investigator told me he’d witnessed flirting.”

“Wait a minute. Who’s this?” They’d finally made it to the last two photos.

“That’s Effridge’s student and mentee, Megan Green. Isn’t she stunning?” I said.

I noticed the two detectives looking between the picture and each other. They laid the two images of Effridge and Megan side by side and stared, as if memorizing every detail. There was no need to interpret what was happening in either. In one photo, Effridge was embracing the small co-ed in his arms and smothering her with a salacious kiss as she stood between his legs. Her fingers were intertwined in his hair and holding him tight to her. The other photo had the petite strawberry-blonde sitting on his lap. Her arms were snaked around his neck while one of his arms was holding her tightly around the waist. The other hand appeared to be easing its way up her slightly-parted thighs, his fingertips under the mini-skirt closing in on the barely-visible pink panties.

“Is there any way we can keep these two?” Oliver asked.

“I suppose you can. Will I be getting them back anytime soon?”

“Probably not soon. We’ll see what we can do,” Johnson said.

“Fine.”

“Who all did you show these pictures to?” Johnson asked.

“I showed them to my mother right away, and eventually mailed them to Larissa and McKenzie.”

“What prompted you to mail them to McKenzie?” Johnson asked.

“If she wasn’t involved with him yet, but was contemplating it, I felt she had a right to know what was going on. She already knew about Larissa and that Effridge was married.”

“When did you put them in the mail to Larissa and McKenzie?”

“Monday, the week Effridge was murdered. I strongly doubt they had anything to do with his death.”

“Really? You don’t think? You know how jealous Billy is, yet you sent the pictures to his girlfriend who lives with him. Did you think Billy would end up seeing the pictures?” Oliver asked. His eyes stayed fixed on the two pictures with the gorgeous co-ed.

“I guess I knew he’d see them at some point.”

“You guess. They live together. More like you knew without any uncertainty. And you must know he has a terrible temper. What were you hoping would be the result?”

“I didn’t care, honestly, but if you’re asking if I thought Billy would kill him the answer is no. I guess I thought possibly Effridge would be threatened to stay away from Ms. Sims.”

“Billy had already threatened Effridge. Ms. Sims was the one who’d breached the warning from her boyfriend and made the effort to see Effridge again as friends, according to her,” Oliver said.

“She can say whatever she wants. If she wasn’t interested in him, why bother seeing him? Especially after Billy had already blown his top about it. If it were me I wouldn’t keep pressing my luck with someone like Billy who is a known gun-enthusiast and owns several.”

“Let’s get down to brass tacks, Jonathan. Be completely honest with us. You hired a PI to frame Effridge. When that didn’t work, you moved to plan B and let the hothead photographer do your dirty work. You knew he’d snap seeing his girlfriend with Effridge. You were counting on it. Your plan all along was to eliminate the guy from the lives of you and your mother. Am I right?”

The preposterous allegation came from Oliver. He seemed itchy to get this case closed. I wasn’t taking the fall for any of this. I had nothing to do with Effridge’s death, but I sure wish I had masterminded it. I hated the man and everything about him.

“You couldn’t be farther from the truth, up until the point about getting that clown out of our lives. Mother was weak, and she never would have seen the divorce through. I wanted the ties to be severed between them.”

“Well, they definitely are now. Did you have to pay Billy? Or did he do your deed for free?”

“My deed? I never spoke with that maniac, Clark. If he killed him, it was of his own volition.”

“So, that’s your story,” Oliver said.

“That’s the truth. I didn’t kill or hire anyone to have Effridge killed.”

“When was the last time you spoke with Larissa?”

“It’s been weeks since I tried reasoning with her. She’s been blinded by Effridge’s bullshit. With any luck at all, the photos helped to bring things into perspective.”

“You knew her and her temperament. Do you think she could’ve gotten angry enough to have killed Effridge?”

“Absolutely not. She can barely bring herself to kill a fly. No, I can’t fathom it in my wildest imagination.” I looked at my watch. I needed to get out of there. I’d already spent more time than I’d planned to. “Gentlemen, I need to leave for my appointment. If you need anything further, I trust you know how to find me.”

“Thank you again for meeting with us, and for the photos.”