Chapter 20

The days seemed to drag on. Two days after our faux pas with Billy, Effridge had a large, solemn funeral service. I hated funerals. We attended and hung back to observe the attendees and their reactions. Everyone we’d expected to see was there except Mr. Buckley, the neighbor.

Mrs. Dupree, the not-so-loving wife, played the part of a grieving widow quite well, with Jonathan at her side. We watched her dab at non-existent tears near the bottom of her dark sunglasses, and wipe the handkerchief under her nose a few times. Knowing how she felt about her husband, I couldn’t help but be suspicious about any emotional sincerity. But to other attendees who came to pay their last respects, she had to have looked sincerely devastated.

Ms. MacDonald was surprisingly seated in the front row, her squirming toddler son on her lap. Her grief seemed to have subsided quite a bit since Jones and I had talked to her. It was hard to tell if the son was distracting her, and because of him she wasn’t teary-eyed, like when we went to her house. Or was there something else that was behind her unemotional reaction to her baby’s father’s send-off?

The funeral home was packed. Every available seat was taken and the crowd overflowed into the lobby/reception area, and outside.

“Surprising turnout,” I whispered to Johnson.

“Not really. You figure the wife’s circle and his circle from the college have to be quite extensive,” he said. He was right. My initial assumption of a small turnout was based on the comments of our people of interest, namely Calhoun and Clark.

I was surprised when I saw Ms. Sims and Billy Clark, but given how he’d said on several occasions how much respect he had for Mrs. Dupree, I’m guessing that was his motivation.

In the crowd we noticed Professor Daniels and Ms. Green. They were somewhat near each other, but definitely not together. There were several older gentlemen and women, most likely from the college near Professor Daniels, who was visibly upset. Her tears seemed genuine. A couple of the ladies patted and rubbed her back to comfort her. From our conversation, I had no good reason to suspect that they weren’t tears of sincere distress. After all, she was the one who had called in that he hadn’t shown up for work.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn’t believe it took me this long to think of it. Why hadn’t anyone missed Effridge before Monday?

We left before the service was over. That was more than fine with me, too. As soon as we were out of earshot of any of the mourners, I stopped walking and called Johnson’s name.

“Why would a man who has a child and mistress, is a tutor, a husband, who asked someone to dinner Friday night, and who knows what else, not be missed until Monday morning?” I asked.

“Damn good question.”

“You would think he’d have wanted to spend time with his son and girlfriend at the very least. And if she hadn’t heard from him all weekend, she should have gone over to the apartment. Right?”

“It makes sense to me. I also think there was a tutor appointment scheduled for Saturday with his little co-ed. We need to talk to both of those women. Something just isn’t copasetic,” Johnson said.

We drove back to the precinct and pulled out the binders with all our notes and the professor’s schedule, and then we began reviewing everything together.

We went over the gathered details. Johnson asked me questions about a few things, then we continued until Sarge appeared at our desks.

“How was the funeral?” he asked.

“Same as they always are – sad. Everyone was there except the neighbor,” I said.

“Maybe you should go check up on him and make sure he’s not the next case we’re investigating. See why he didn’t go today, too. Surely you don’t plan to haul anyone in here today for more questioning, do you?”

“I want to. We have two people we need to talk to again. Effridge’s girlfriend and the co-ed he was tutoring,” Johnson said.

“Why them? And which one of them wears men’s sneakers?”

“I’m going to bet neither of them do, and that’s still a confusing piece of the puzzle. But what we’re wondering is why neither of them checked on him or got concerned enough when they hadn’t heard from him over the weekend to call the police.” I said.

“Good question,” Sarge said. “Who have you definitely eliminated?”

“The wife, her son, the model, and her boyfriend are off the list, unless something extremely compelling points back in their direction,” I replied.

“Well, keep at it and keep me posted.”

“I surely will.”

We looked through the pages for the next hour to make sure we both were on the same page. I was also getting Johnson’s feedback on some of the questioning that took place. He offered up a lot of suggestions for the next time I began a case, and gave me a couple of suggestions for the remaining interviews we needed to do. Johnson assured me he wasn’t trying to take over, and he was not going to step in unless I needed him to, but he may still ask a few questions along the way. I was more than fine with that.