The Perfect Crime

CHAPTER 13: LIES

Men in general judge more from appearances than from reality. All men have eyes but few have the gift of penetration.
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It had been a rather uneventful morning for soon-to-be-fired Detective Archer Finn. Well, that would be true if you considered almost being led out of your house at gunpoint by Harleigh's mother uneventful.

Lindsay had somehow managed to find out that he had been kicked off the case and she, just like every member of the Boston Police Department, had jumped to her own conclusions. Archer had had to convince Lindsay that he was not involved in whatever had happened to Harleigh, while simultaneously staying in the safe zone of Lindsay's shotgun. Eventually, she had believed him, but that was after he had haphazardly narrated his childhood story. Lindsay had even allowed him to leave a piece of chocolate cake and a goodbye note for Emilia before she had whisked him away.

Now, they cruised the city like best buddies.

Their journey had began at the Community center where Harleigh had worked. Lindsay and Archer had interviewed everyone present from dancers to actors and even puppeteers. The janitors were not spared as well. They all had the same thing to say about Harleigh Amari. She was a beautiful, kind and committed dancer. Her death was a tragic case of one gone too soon. She would have gone far with her dancing blah blah blah. Archer found it funny how everyone had something nice to say about you when you were dead.

They had also managed to get hold of the manager of the Community center right before he was taken up by an "important" board meeting. The manager had introduced himself to them as Carlos Johnson. Carlos was a plump, short man with a gut that bulged in his charcoal grey suit. His round head held an endless supply of wrinkles, a pair of thick round spectacles and thinning grey hair. It was safe to say that time had been unkind to him. Whether his appearance was a result of stress or bad lifestyle choices, Archer wasn't sure.

Carlos had said that he didn't know of anyone that would have wanted to harm Harleigh. He had been sad about Harleigh's death, but his sadness seemed more as a result of the loss of profits than the loss of life. He had, however, added that a week before Harleigh went missing, Thelma and Harleigh had gotten into an argument. He had claimed not to know what the argument was about and had advised us to ask Thelma about it. Archer had given Carlos his business card and they had left the community center to find Thelma.

Archer parked opposite the entrance of the Easton College campus. They were going to wait for the lunch bell to ring so that they could pounce on Thelma immediately she got out for lunch. It was now more than clear that Thelma was hiding something and Archer was not leaving unless he found out what she was hiding. He was willing to use unorthodox means if it came to that.

Archer's six foot two frame was literally folded over like a burrito in the driver's seat of Lindsay's extremely short mini cooper. The steering wheel dug into his knees, cutting the supply of blood to his legs and the air in the car was stifling. As a result, his clothes were soaked through with sweat. Archer was sure that Lindsay, who was tapping a jolly beat on the dashboard, was having fun seeing Archer fidget. Lindsay still held the determined look in her steely grey eyes. Momma Bear at work.

Looking at Lindsay made him think about his own mother. He was sure that Abigail had already gulped down an entire barrel of vodka today alone. Why wasn't his mother like Lindsay? Why didn't she love him the way Lindsay loved her daughter? Archer was saved from his debilitating thoughts by the shrill ring of the bell. They both checked their watches. It was one pm. Show time.

Archer got out of the car and spared a few seconds to make peace with his back. He cracked it back into an upright position and stretched his legs to restore the flow of blood to his lower body. Nerve endings fired to life causing Archer to wince. Damn he felt old. He pocketed his backup gun in the waistband of his black jeans and pulled down his grey shirt so that it was not so visible.