bathroom. It’s preposterous and makes no sense at all. It’s like on television when they pick someone to charge, because they don’t have any other leads. They want to throw someone in jail so they can all think they’ve done their jobs, and the mayor and the public are satisfied.”
He looked at me with a slightly humorous look and said, “It isn’t like that, Susan. They must have something else. Do you have any idea who the lead detective is on the case?”
“I’m assuming it’s Detective Malloy,” I said. “He was here to talk with us right after the murder happened. He’s the one who arrested Darby, and he questioned me tonight before they let me see you at the police station. I don’t know where they’re holding him. A female officer said he was at another station.”
He gave me a sympathetic look and said, “Why don’t you go ahead and go to bed? I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow, and then we’ll go from there.”
I nodded my head and stood up from my chair. It dawned on me that it hadn’t taken him very long to arrive in Chicago. “Chuck,” I said. “How did you get here so soon? I didn’t know if you understood what I was telling you, or if you would even come.”
“Everything lined up just right,” he said. “My wife and I had just finished dinner in downtown Akron, and we were headed for the Quaker Square Inn for the night when you called. I didn’t get the whole story from you, but we figured if you were talking police station and murder charge in the same sentence, you were in trouble and needed help. We turned the car around and headed for the Cleveland airport. I already had a bag packed, and I managed to get a seat on the last flight out at 8:45. I think it was the last flight to land, too, before O’Hare was closed because of the weather.”
I felt terrible. I had ruined something special for him and his wife. “Chuck, I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It was my wife’s birthday, and we had a nice dinner together. We’ll stay at Quaker Square another time. With Mick in England, I couldn’t have stayed in Ohio and let you go through this by yourself. Did you call Nate?”
“No,” I said. “Darby asked me not to call Mick or Nate. He only wanted me to call you. He said you would know what to do.”
He nodded his head. “Listen, I’ll call both of them in the morning. I think all of this news might be easier to hear coming from me. If they hear it from you, and you start crying, well, you know.”
I did know.
“It’s ok,” I said. “I understand.” I pulled the number for Mick in England out of my coat pocket and handed it to him. He already had Nate’s number back home.
“Good,” he said. “Where will I be sleeping tonight?”
I showed him into Darby’s room. Something was wrong. Things weren’t thrown around, but it wasn’t neat and tidy either. I looked in my room and found the same condition. The folded clothes in my suitcase were now in a heap.
“Someone’s been in here,” I told him.
He immediately did a quick search of the entire condo, even checking closets and under beds. “It could have been someone looking for something,” he said. “Do you have any idea who it might have been?”
“Probably the guy in the gorilla head,” I told him. “But it’s a long story, and I’ll tell you in the morning if that’s ok.”
“It is,” he said. “Goodnight, Susan.”
Chapter Eight
Uncle Jack’s bed was super comfy. The sheets must have had a high thread count, because they were wonderfully soft. I snuggled deeper into the bed and rubbed my cheek up and down against the pillow. Hmmm … heaven.
But it only took a few seconds for my brain to become active, and the events of the previous day flooded in creating an intense ache in my heart and in my head. Darby wasn’t in the next room. He was in a jail cell, and it was Detective Bentley in the next room. The anxiety was overwhelming, and it felt
He looked at me with a slightly humorous look and said, “It isn’t like that, Susan. They must have something else. Do you have any idea who the lead detective is on the case?”
“I’m assuming it’s Detective Malloy,” I said. “He was here to talk with us right after the murder happened. He’s the one who arrested Darby, and he questioned me tonight before they let me see you at the police station. I don’t know where they’re holding him. A female officer said he was at another station.”
He gave me a sympathetic look and said, “Why don’t you go ahead and go to bed? I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow, and then we’ll go from there.”
I nodded my head and stood up from my chair. It dawned on me that it hadn’t taken him very long to arrive in Chicago. “Chuck,” I said. “How did you get here so soon? I didn’t know if you understood what I was telling you, or if you would even come.”
“Everything lined up just right,” he said. “My wife and I had just finished dinner in downtown Akron, and we were headed for the Quaker Square Inn for the night when you called. I didn’t get the whole story from you, but we figured if you were talking police station and murder charge in the same sentence, you were in trouble and needed help. We turned the car around and headed for the Cleveland airport. I already had a bag packed, and I managed to get a seat on the last flight out at 8:45. I think it was the last flight to land, too, before O’Hare was closed because of the weather.”
I felt terrible. I had ruined something special for him and his wife. “Chuck, I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “It was my wife’s birthday, and we had a nice dinner together. We’ll stay at Quaker Square another time. With Mick in England, I couldn’t have stayed in Ohio and let you go through this by yourself. Did you call Nate?”
“No,” I said. “Darby asked me not to call Mick or Nate. He only wanted me to call you. He said you would know what to do.”
He nodded his head. “Listen, I’ll call both of them in the morning. I think all of this news might be easier to hear coming from me. If they hear it from you, and you start crying, well, you know.”
I did know.
“It’s ok,” I said. “I understand.” I pulled the number for Mick in England out of my coat pocket and handed it to him. He already had Nate’s number back home.
“Good,” he said. “Where will I be sleeping tonight?”
I showed him into Darby’s room. Something was wrong. Things weren’t thrown around, but it wasn’t neat and tidy either. I looked in my room and found the same condition. The folded clothes in my suitcase were now in a heap.
“Someone’s been in here,” I told him.
He immediately did a quick search of the entire condo, even checking closets and under beds. “It could have been someone looking for something,” he said. “Do you have any idea who it might have been?”
“Probably the guy in the gorilla head,” I told him. “But it’s a long story, and I’ll tell you in the morning if that’s ok.”
“It is,” he said. “Goodnight, Susan.”
Chapter Eight
Uncle Jack’s bed was super comfy. The sheets must have had a high thread count, because they were wonderfully soft. I snuggled deeper into the bed and rubbed my cheek up and down against the pillow. Hmmm … heaven.
But it only took a few seconds for my brain to become active, and the events of the previous day flooded in creating an intense ache in my heart and in my head. Darby wasn’t in the next room. He was in a jail cell, and it was Detective Bentley in the next room. The anxiety was overwhelming, and it felt
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