Chapter 6

“Please, Mr. Calhoun. Please, have a seat. We shouldn’t be too much longer.” He kept standing. His impatience was annoying the hell out of me. “I promise.”

With a loud drawn-out sigh, he sat. But he kept his gaze fixed on me the entire time. I never came out of my chair despite his mini-tantrum. I didn’t need to stand and hover over him. He was a smart man. He knew I could dominate him if I chose to. I needed things to remain calm, though, because I needed answers.

Jones flipped the page in the notepad so he had a blank sheet of paper.

“Are you sure I can’t get you a bottle of water?” I asked.

“Yes, please.” He rolled his eyes as he strained to remain civil.

I stepped out of the room and returned with a bottle of water for each of us. I handed them out, then took my seat.

“Tell me about Larissa, your mother’s secretary.” I encouraged him to continue talking, knowing this woman would certainly be another very sore subject with him.

“You’ve talked to my mother so that means you know full well we were in a relationship and she was my fiancé. I’d proposed to her on our one-year anniversary. Six months before we broke up.”

“Your mother referred to her as just a girlfriend, not your fiancé.” My comment yielded no reaction from him. “How was the break-up? Who initiated that?”

“She did, and it was awful. Well, awful for me because I had no idea my fiancé was tramping around behind my back. I’m sure for her it was just peachy. I’m just happy her little affair came out before we were married. I’m still flabbergasted that the father of her child is that ... that ... asshole!” His nostrils flared and his fists were clenched tight as his arms tensed on the table. At that moment, watching him seethe, I could envision Effridge being strangled by those hands, had strangulation been the method of his demise. The anger he was trying to stifle was immense. Had Effridge died of asphyxiation, we’d have a new #1 suspect.

Jones wrote a single word on the blank page – another adjective for the book.

“What made you follow her after you two had broken up? Were you hoping to reconcile?” Jones asked.

“God, no. I had no intention on reconciling once she made it perfectly clear she no longer wanted to be with me. I wanted to know who the father was. At the time, I didn’t know. I’d suspected it was him, but I needed proof. Not just for me, but for Mother. And for Larissa.”

“Why for Larissa? She already knew who the father of her child was. Right?”

“Because that wretched excuse for a man was cheating on her with McKenzie Sims.”

“The model?” I asked.

“Yes, her.” Calhoun raised an eyebrow. He began cracking his knuckles.

“Okay, so let me make sure I’m following you here. You followed Larissa because you suspected Effridge was the father of her child. You did that to prove to your mother that her husband was cheating on her. But you also wanted proof to show Larissa … what exactly?” Jones asked. He and I both seemed to be on the same confused page regarding Calhoun’s illogical thought process.

He took a deep breath before he began talking. “I had seen that snake Effridge with Sims a couple of times. There was no kissing or hand-holding in public, but it was the way she’d lean in toward him and laugh. She’d touch his arm. I kept asking myself why on earth would she be out with that joker if they weren’t a couple?”

“So it really was nothing more than a hunch that he had been cheating on your mother and Larissa with Sims?” Jones questioned.

“I knew he was! I just needed to catch them to prove it.”

“What provoked you to lose control and blow his brains out?” I asked. It seemed like a good time to interject a little pressure.

“I didn't fucking kill that waste of human flesh!” He slammed his fist onto the table. “I wish I had. I was at Mothers’ house that Friday morning talking to him, the same home she’d abandoned because of him. But I left him sitting at the table drinking his bargain-brand coffee. I guarantee you he was alive.”

“Who do you think could have killed him?” Jones asked.

“How should I know? He had at least four people who wanted him dead but, I’m telling you with no uncertainty, it wasn’t me.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us that might be helpful?” I asked.

“Talk to Larissa and McKenzie. Maybe they can help you. I don’t know what else to say.”

“Do you think either one of them may have been let into the apartment after you left, or possibly had a key to your mother’s house?”

“Mother wouldn’t have given a key to McKenzie, as she didn’t work with her in that type of capacity that would warrant it. Larissa definitely had a key when she worked for Mother. She ran errands for her. Personal and professional errands. Jesus, she betrayed my mother even more so than that ass-clown.”

“I think we have everything we need today, Mr. Calhoun. Thank you. We may be in touch if we think of any other questions.”

“Yeah, you do that. Just remember what I told you: as much as I wish I’d been the one, it wasn’t me who took that nitwit’s life.”