Ralph--chapter 3

Ralph nodded. “Yep. I’m Steven Byrd. Jenna was my wife. Someone murdered her and it wasn’t me. That buddy of yours thinks it is. The whole world thinks I did it. They always look at the spouse first.” He rubbed his temples.

“Most of the time it is,” Eric answered. He set the picture down on the coffee table. “Bert Hunter is doing his job. Why did you come here?”

“I took some time off from the magazine. My boss knows where I am. I had to go someplace where I could be left alone. I need to figure out who killed her. I can’t do that in Bow Creek. But, I didn’t want to be too far from Jenna. The Boss gave me six months. That’s next Saturday. I’m not farther along than I was six months ago. And neither are the police.”

Eric shook his head. “I still can’t believe it. Up until tonight I was pretty sure you were a jerk who killed his own wife. But now, man, I don’t know.” He picked up the picture of Jenna Byrd and stared at the smiling brunet. “Jeannie has one of her paintings. We bought it last spring at an art show in Baltimore. It’s a small one of hummingbirds. She wanted a big one, but I couldn’t affo---” He stopped and set the picture down again. “I saw your photography at the show, too. I really like your sailboats and sunsets.”

Steven nodded and Eric continued. “What are you going to do? Don’t you have a lawyer?”

Steven shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m losing my mind. When Bert walked into that bowling alley tonight, I freaked. I was sure he was after me. I’ve never been officially charged. They questioned me and then released me. I decided to take off to work on my own investigation and then my boss told me Hunter had come around looking for me. Leon told him he didn’t know where I was. I fired my lawyer. He thinks I’m guilty and should try to get off on an insanity plea, or something.” He threw his hands up in the air. His eyes blinked rapidly. “I loved Jenna. I would never hurt her. You have to believe me. I wouldn’t hurt her even if---”

Eric nodded. He finished the sentence. “Even if she had left you like they said.”

“Yes,” Steven answered. He rubbed his temples again.

“So, you came here and got a job at the paper.”

“Leon helped me there.” Eric looked puzzled and Steven explained, “Ken Taylor is the younger step brother of Leon Dalton. There’s quite an age difference and after their old man died, Leon became responsible for him. I don’t know how much you know about your boss, but he wasn’t an angel when he was a kid. Got into lots of trouble. His Mom gave up on him and left. Just packed her bags and left. Ken was only about 17. Leon came to his rescue over and over. Leon called his brother and arranged for me to come here.” He took a sip of his beer.

“I’m confused, though. Of course I read all about this case and I know she was seeing, um, well,” he cleared his throat, “well, you know. Anyway, what about him? They were questioning him, too, weren’t they?”

“Max Conrad is a big time publisher and makes a lot more money than I do. He can afford a good lawyer and unfortunately, I’m the husband. And, we had an argument. A public one.” Steven gulped the rest of his beer and crushed the can with his foot.

Eric looked at the floor, “I know.”

An awkward silence filled the air. Steven grabbed the empty cans and walked to the kitchen. “Anything else to drink?”

Eric glanced at his watch. “No, I really need to get home. Tomorrow is a work day.”

Steven grabbed another beer for himself, opened it, and took a long drink before setting the can down. He caught Eric staring at him. “I know. Ralph isn’t much of a drinker. But Steven is. You know, I’m glad you found out, I do miss being Steven.”

“Well, I’m still trying to take this all in. Up until a couple of hours ago, I thought you were this shy, new guy in town who I felt sorry for because his wife died. Now I find out you might be a guy who murdered his wife. I want to believe you. I really do. How much information do you have?”

Steven stood up and said, “This way.”

Eric followed Steven down the hall to a large master bedroom. Steven waved his arms in the air, “Now this is Steven’s room. Out there is Ralph. This is my room.” He watched as Eric looked around the room and took it all in. There was a bed in one corner and a dresser squished up against the wall right next to the bed. The comforter was rumpled and newspapers were strewn across the bed. The rest of the room was taken up with a table, filing cabinet, a computer and a combination fax, copier, printer. The walls were crammed with Jenna Byrd original paintings and Steven Byrd’s photography. The table and floor were covered with papers and newspaper clippings.

Eric walked over to the table and picked up the now famous photograph of Jenna. He studied it for a minute then set it down next to other family photos on the table. He pointed to the picture of Jenna’s parents. “They seem like nice people. They came across as nice people in the interviews. They believe Steven is innocent.”

Steven nodded, “Yes, I’m very grateful for them. And to my family, too. If it wasn’t for their support, I’m not sure I’d be here now. My mother-in-law helped me with this.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

Eric slipped his hands in his pockets. “So, this explains why Ralph is so antisocial. He’s busy investigating at night.” He opened his mouth to say something then looked at the phone hooked to his belt. “Excuse me. Hello?” He was quiet for a minute then said, “I’m still at—Ralph’s. No-no—I’ll be home soon. You go back to sleep.” He put the phone away. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. It is late. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” They walked toward the living room. The doorbell rang. Steven looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight. The men exchanged looks.

Eric tapped his chest. “I’ll look.” Steven nodded gratefully.

Eric walked to the front door and looked through the little hole in the door. “Oh, my gosh,” he spun around and looked at Steven. “It’s Bert Hunter.”

Ralph part 1

To read chapter one of Ralph, click the link below:

http://mdskiswriting.blogspot.com/2008/03/writing-exercises.html

Ralph--chapter 2

As they left the bowling alley, Eric said, “Let’s go to your place. Jeannie will be putting the kids to bed by now.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Hon, I’ll be a little late. Um—something came up, I’m going to Ralph’s for a little bit.” He was quiet for a minute, “no, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” He snapped the phone shut and climbed into his truck and followed Ralph out of the parking lot.

They drove about 5 minutes and turned into the oldest subdivision in town. The houses dated back to the fifties and sixties. Ralph rented a second story apartment in the largest house on the street. He pulled into the driveway and drove around to the back of the house. Eric pulled in behind him. They walked up the stairs and into a small, two bedroom apartment. Ralph flipped on a light. “Beer?”

“Naw, better not. Had two already. Still have to drive home.” Eric pointed to the bare, white living room walls. “Still haven’t hung your pictures, huh? You planning to move soon?”

Ralph shrugged. “Just haven’t gotten around to putting anything up, I guess. My wife was the decorator.” He walked into the living room with a beer and a Pepsi. He handed Rick the Pepsi and nodded toward the black leather sofa. Grabbing a coaster, he slid it down under the Pepsi just before Rick set the can down on the coffee table. He grabbed another coaster for his beer. He shook his head. “Sorry, my wife used to have a heart attack when anyone set drinks on the coffee table without a coaster. I guess she drummed it into my head more than I realized.” He laughed.

Eric laughed. “Jeannie is the same. I’ll bet she would have loved your wife. They probably would have gotten along fine. Oh—I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok. It’s been six months. I have to get used to the fact she’s not coming home.” He stared across the room at the two large cartons, one stacked neatly on top of the other. “I—I only took out the essentials when I moved in. Never felt like putting the pictures and stuff out, I guess.”

Ralph knew Eric had noticed the bare walls, empty bookcase shelves and cheap white blinds on the windows. I guess I should’ve put out some books and things that didn’t matter. But, I never really planned on having people over. Besides, I couldn’t tell anyone why I couldn’t have those things here. Thank goodness Rick had never seen the Clairol Nice 'n Easy in the master bath. He noticed Rick glance at his watch. It’s time. He blew out a puff of air. Plants. I should’ve bought plants.

Eric leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs, “Well, tell me. What’s up?”

Ralph sighed. “Well, um—music, do you want to hear some music?” He picked up one of several remotes from the coffee table and aimed at the state-of-art stereo.

“Ralph!”

“Ok, man, ok.” He turned the stereo off. “It will be easier to show you, I guess.” He walked over to the boxes and opened the lid on the top one. As he fished through the box he said, “It’s not Ralph.”

“What?” Eric asked.

Turning around, Ralph said, “My name, man, it’s not Ralph. Ralph was my Dad. He’s dead, so, I didn’t think he’d care if I used his name.”

Eric shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Steven. I’m Steven.” He turned toward the box and began to dig. Again, he felt Rick staring at him and it made him nervous. He pulled something out and walked across the room.

He handed the picture frame to Rick. “This is my wife.” His hands shook.

Eric’s eyes opened wide with astonishment as he stared at the picture in his hand. “This is—was your wife?”