Officer Jones

Chapter 40

I tore out onto Skyview, struggling at first, not having driven a car since Lauren and I took a regrettable trip to the Hamptons last Memorial Day weekend. The pain in my leg throbbed, but just the thought of those six hours stuck on the Long Island Expressway with her reminded me of an important lesson-things can always get worse. By the time I passed through Main Street I’d located my inner Dale Earnhardt, but still no sign of Gwen. I dashed onto Zycko Hill, following a hunch.

I found her van hidden in the woods, just inside the entrance of the nature preserve-not sure what type of amateur she thought she was dealing with. The Natty was a place where Gwen and I had some of our most memorable moments. I got the idea that this might be a memorable point in our relationship, but perhaps not in the good way.

I looked into the vehicle and saw her black funeral dress neatly folded on the seat. I also noticed a bicycle pump tucked under the seat. Whatever she was doing, she didn’t want anybody to know. I figured she’d changed into some rock climbing gear and biked. What are you up to, Gwen?

I drove the minivan up to Samerauk Bridge and parked. I removed my suit jacket, and searched the vehicle. I found nothing useful, except a pair of football cleats. Mixing the cleats with an expensive suit was admittedly an outfit that J-News wouldn’t be caught dead in, but all JP cared about was making his way to Gwen. Without a flashlight, I descended the sharp, rocky incline.

Gwen was attempting to balance herself-her legs straddled on two adjacent rocks at the river’s edge. As I’d suspected, she had changed into a sweater and blue jeans with hiking boots. When I got close enough for her to hear the rhythmic tapping of my cane on the rocks, she turned with fright.

“So are you trying to cover the tracks of your boyfriend?” I went on the offensive.

Her look turned annoyed. “You scared me, JP. What do you think you’re doing here?”

“I might ask you the same. Except I know what you’re doing.”

“And what would that be?”

“Working with your boyfriend to cover up his crime. You might as well come clean-I’ll get to the bottom of it sooner or later. And if I was a betting man, I’d put my money on sooner.”

Gwen laughed, which didn’t seem to fit the context of our conversation. But I was too busy noticing how beautiful she looked with the moonlight shining off her perfect cheekbones, to contemplate it.

“With the way you’re going about it, JP, it looks to me like you might want to hold off on placing that bet. I’m pretty sure whatever answers you’re looking for, I’ve already found them. So don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

A brief silence filled the night, except for the sounds of the rushing river in the background. Despite my bravado, I was no less confused about her purpose than when I arrived. But suddenly I had a theory-one that made me smile. “Are you investigating your own boyfriend?

She shook her head in disgust. “It’s hard to find answers, JP, when you don’t even know what the question is.”

“Why don’t you fill me in.”

“The most important question is: what were you thinking when you put that outfit together? Was Brooks Brothers having a sale on athletic cleats?”

“Maybe I should give your boyfriend a call so we can sort this out. I hear he likes to hang out by the bridge at night.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” she exclaimed, then caught herself.

If my relief happened in a forest without anyone around to hear it, would I still be relieved? The answer was, oh yeah.

“So you’re pretending to date this guy to get a story, Miss Ethics and Morals?” I asked with a sheepish grin. I couldn’t help it.

“Shouldn’t you be at your brother’s funeral?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Leaving is one thing you’ll never need help with, JP. The only thing I’m trying to do is investigate a possible crime.”

“I already took care of that-Noah didn’t kill himself.”

“Tossing a hose over a bridge isn’t research, it’s a childish prank.”

“What do you know about this guy, Gwen?”

She continued to sift through rocks. “Did I just hear the great JP Warner actually ask little ole me for information?”

I moved closer, struggling to balance the plastic cleats on the rocks. Miraculously, I arrived safely at the river’s edge and sat next to her on an adjoining rock. When I took a closer look, I saw the vulnerable girl from our younger days.

After a moment of awkward silence, she asked, “Have you ever heard of Casey Leeds?”