The Jumper (SF Mystery)

The Jumper 04: Frustration

It was time for a little pressure. Maybe I can shake him up a bit.

"We know you did away with the old man," Jeff told him. "We don't have enough evidence to prove it yet, but we will."

The man laughed, his blonde hair shaking. "I was in the apartment at his invitation," he said.

"How do you know that, if you can't remember anything?"

Startled, the man recovered quickly. "The nurse showed me the video camera footage. Besides, they were talking about it on TV. The old man was a weirdo, and he committed suicide, according to the TV. The cameras showed I tried to stop him, and the doctor told me I almost died myself. From where I sit," he said with a smirk, "that makes me some kind of hero."

It was the smirk that did it. This wasn't just a killer, Jeff decided. This was a stone-cold killer who was sure he was going to get away with it. Jeff had been a homicide detective for two years, and seen all kinds of things, but this was the first one of these he'd seen outside movies or television, watched on lonely nights at his apartment before Carol. You are not getting away with this on my watch, he thought behind his glare.

Jeff had never lost his temper with a suspect yet, but he badly wanted to, now. "Listen, punk! I know you did him in, and I am never going to stop looking, until I prove it. Never. For starters, I'm going to go over all of your finances and his, for the past ten years. I know, I know, you're pretending you don't have any memory. You do, though, and you and I both know it. You know exactly who you are, and I'm going to keep looking until I do, too."

Jeff was pleased to see that he had broken the man's composure, when he talked about the money. He had seen the eyes widen just a touch at that. That had to be it, of course. The answer was in there, somewhere. Somehow, this guy had either gotten the old man's money, or was working for someone who had. Money always left a trail, and they would always be able to track it.

The young man stood up, slowly. He was taller than Jeff, and looked down into his eyes.

"Either charge me with something or let me go, Detective," he said, evenly. "Now."

Jeff was not intimidated by the younger man, even though he looked very fit. In excellent shape himself, Jeff clenched his jaw. Damn. He knew he had no choice. His bluff had been called. With no real evidence, he would have to let him go, and hope he was there when the creep messed up. He knew he would. They all did. Maybe it would take a few months, but it would happen.

He had already started the paperwork to investigate Mr. Crane's finances. Jeff knew the old man was broke when he died, but what he really wanted to know–and he fully expected it to be tied to his John Doe–was how he had gotten broke in the first place.

They held the man a few more hours, but that was all they could do. They let him go, after instructing him not to leave the jurisdiction for any reason. Jeff didn't want to do it, but his hand was forced by the captain.

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