Your Chariot Awaits by Lorena McCourtney

realized Detective Sergeant Molino—who was intimidating enough that I couldn’t think of him with anything less than his full title—was approaching the same subjects from a variety of angles, which might indicate he was simply an expert at digging out information. Or was he trying to trap me into a give-away contradiction about something I’d said earlier?
    â€œHave you seen a doctor about this injury to your head?”
    â€œMy neighbor cleaned it up and put salve on it, and it seems okay. Though there’s still a bump. When one of the deputies was photographing everything, he took a picture of it.” I wondered if they were buying into neighbor Tom’s accusation that I’d somehow deliberately whacked myself on the head. “Would you like to see it?”
    He looked mildly alarmed, the first time I’d seen him a bit off center. Not a man who liked personal contact, I suspected.
    â€œI’d prefer a medical report, if one is available.”
    I watched him write something, but his handwriting rivaled Uncle Ned’s hieroglyphics.
    â€œAnd this breakup you mentioned,” he went on briskly when he’d stopped writing. “Was this at Mr. Norton’s instigation or yours?”
    â€œHis.” I swallowed, trying to keep it from being an audible gulp. Now it was out. The woman scorned. One of the oldest motives in the world for revenge. “But it was mostly because he’d be moving to San Diego soon. He was offered a transfer rather than being let go, as most of the employees at F&N were.”
    We went into more details about the relationship, how long we’d been seeing each other, etc.
    Finally he said, “Thank you. I know this must be difficult for you. Do you know if Mr. Norton had other personal relationships?”
    I was startled. Another woman? I’d thought all along that our relationship was exclusive, but had I been incredibly naive? Was Jerry in fact working on his Web site business all those evenings he wasn’t with me, as he’d said? Maybe there was another woman, one who’d just found out Jerry was also see-ing me. One who felt betrayed and angry enough to commit murder?
    â€œI wasn’t aware of any other current relationships, but it’s possible one . . . or more . . . could have existed that I didn’t know about.”
    What I did know right now was that from Detective Sergeant Molino’s viewpoint, jealousy about another woman was another potential motive to tie me to the murder.
    â€œWhat about previous relationships?”
    â€œThere was his ex-wife, of course, but I don’t know that he had any contact with her. And once he got a phone call when we were barbecuing on the balcony at his condo. The call annoyed him, and he said something about ‘ex-girlfriends who won’t give up,’ but I don’t know any details.” I’d heard that Jerry had dated a couple of other women at F&N before we met, but he hadn’t volunteered any information, and I hadn’t had the nerve to quiz him.
    Detective Sergeant Molino moved on to ask about Jerry’s family.
    â€œHe has a brother, Ryan, I think his name is, but I don’t know where he lives. And there’s the ex-wife and two children and the rest of his family back east.”
    â€œBack east where?”
    â€œI’m sorry. I don’t know.”
    More notes. I wondered if he didn’t trust the tape recorder, or if he was one of those obsessive-compulsive types who double-do everything. Like save files on the computer but then print it all out too. Or maybe he liked to make comments in the notes that went beyond what would show up on the tape. S ubject exhibiting excessive nervousness during questioning. Crossing and uncrossing legs. Twisting fingers. Excessive blinking. There was an intensity about him that I found disconcerting.
    I gritted my teeth and willed my legs to stop crossing and my fingers to stop