The Caller

Sixty-Two

As soon as he disconnected from the call with Hunter, Mr. J urged his exhausted brain to pick up speed. Until then, he had to admit that he was sold on the assumption that the idea for the killer’s wedding question had been something he had come up with on the spot, instigated by the photographs on the mantelpiece. The thought that maybe the killer had been to his home before had never crossed his mind. At least not yet, but it made sense. It made a hell of a lot of sense. When Hunter mentioned the possibility of a stranger entering the house — someone doing some sort of repair work, like a technician — then, and only then, the memory came back to him.

About two months ago, while he was away on another ‘business trip’, a major pipe had burst in their utility room, flooding most of the kitchen with it. Cassandra had called a plumber who had been recommended to her by a friend of hers. According to what she had told Mr. J, the plumber was a very skillful and friendly man. Not only did he fix the problem in a lot less time than she expected he would, but he also helped dry the kitchen floor and put everything back in place. She also told him that he was a very pleasant man to talk to. Very chatty. She even mentioned that he had paid her a very nice compliment, saying that her husband was a lucky man. Once in conversation, extracting the information about Cassandra’s wedding anniversary would’ve been child’s play.

On the phone, while speaking to Hunter, Mr. J made a split-second decision to keep that information to himself, at least for the time being. He wanted to talk to the plumber first before the police did. Even if the detectives found out about the repair work, and Mr. J had no doubt they would eventually, Mr. J could easily blame his forgetfulness on his exhausted brain.

Cassandra had paid the plumber in cash, he clearly remembered her telling him that, but, as always, she had obtained a receipt, which also served as a guarantee for the work done. The receipt would be with all the other house receipts — in a drawer in their kitchen — but, before getting back to his house, Mr. J had to make one more phone call.