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.”
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