The Porn Identity

Chapter 17

       Destroying an eighteen-year marriage was definitely murder worthy—depending on your perspective. And since David's gun was the murder weapon it reasoned he was the most likely killer.

       All I needed to do was get a confession.

       The sky outside was pink and luminous; the sun hid behind the distant skyline though it did little to dull the heat. The terrace was paved with simple concrete accented with symmetrical bushes that lined both sides. A garden just beyond it was impeccably manicured with holly bushes and blue sage flowers.

       David had staggered further into the gardens. It was a good place for privacy. A good place for a confrontation, too. The cobblestone trail that led straight through was lit by a string of softly glowing pathway lights.

       I stepped fully into the garden then hurried after David. He hadn't gotten far since his inebriated state basically left him toddling like a two-year-old. I could see his hunched form hobbling about seven yards ahead so I powered forward. I caught up to him just as he was stumbling past an ornate stone bench.

       "David Howell!" I called to him.

       He turned back, his face a mask of bewilderment. "Huh?"

       I hurried over, worried someone would overhear, but the chunk of land we'd entered was empty of noisy prying ears. "I know your dirty secret."

       He shrugged. "So does everyone else."

       "Not that secret." I stepped closer into his space, but my comparatively smaller body probably wasn't much to be intimidated by. "I know you killed Noah Walker."

       His face scrunched together; his eyes narrowed. "Noah...Walker..."

       There were a few seconds of awkward silence, but he didn't say anything else. "...So, you admit it!"

       "Admit?"

       "That you killed Noah Walker."

       Finally, the light of recognition breached his eyes. "Noah Walker! Noah Walker killed my marriage!"

       Keep your cool, Evie. "And then you killed him!"

       He put a hand to his forehead like he had a fever then pressed his eyes closed. When he opened them, they shined, glossy as two pools of water. "I love my wife..." His shoulders began quaking. He sniffled and sunk to the ground. And then, to my utter horror, he started sobbing.

       My stern pose relaxed. I crouched down until we were level. "I'm trying to confront you with scandalous information. Can you please keep it together?"

       Tears ran freely down his cheeks. His voice cracked. "I kept it together for forty-four years. I deserve some leniency!"

       As he huffed and puffed, I caught the pungent scent of liquor. "Oh my god, you are stinking drunk!"

       He smiled as snot dribbled from his nose. "Yeah!" I wonder if he even remembers his own name let alone Noah's.

       I scoffed, "Can you get undrunk? I have questions."

       He swayed back and forth. "Questions?"

       "About when you murdered Noah."

       He blinked then wiped the snot from his nose with the sleeve of his expensive suit. "That little shit was alive last time I saw him."

       "And when was that?"

       He paused in thought, staring off across the grounds like he was contemplating the meaning of existence. A thin sheen of sweat washed across his face. A look of pain marred his features. "Did I ever tell you about the time I ran the hundred meter in four point four seconds?"