The Husband - Part VIII
Within several weeks,
her face wasn’t recognizable,
and her body was slowly discomposing –
Detective Rouse didn’t find any clue
beyond what he could have hope.
She made a quite impression to say at least
with her curling blond hair, slender but muscular body
she could have been mistaken by a model.
He stared the discomposed body,
studying for small details, for any evidence
praying silently hoping for any clue
before the night was through.
It seems that the victim didn’t put much of a fight,
but she was dragged from the left to the right.
Maybe she recognize her killer,
or maybe she was only another victim.
There standing closer to him,
was an old lady with her dog
she looked tired like she hadn’t slept much.
Her body was shaking,
maybe from the cold wind,
or maybe from being frightened.
Detective Rouse slowly stood up and before he introduces himself:
he studies her facial expression.
And right away he felt sympathy toward her,
she reminds him so much of his own mother.
She has grayish short hair with very pale face.
She was shivering, because she wasn’t wearing enough winter clothes
and definitely she wasn’t wearing comfortable shoes.
In that moment, she doesn’t seems to notice him,
she seems to be daydreaming, or maybe trying to wake up this awful dream.
No old lady deserves to go through this,
finding a dead body very close to where she lives.
And once he found his voice, he spoke.
“I’m Detective Rouse. Could you tell me, how did you stumble upon the dead body?” Detective Rouse asked, patiently waiting for an explanation.
She stared at his eyes, and his glance made her whole body tingle.
“I…I…I was taking my walk with Nicky…and he got away from me and… I started to walk faster with… with my cane. The next thing I know, I felt upon this… this…”
“I do understand. Mrs.?” said Detective Rouse.
“Mrs. Rudd. Jessica Rudd.”
“Do you live alone, Mrs. Rudd?”
“Yes, I do. I was married to Jack Rudd; rest in peace… my dear husband. He was good man, but he had his moments. At times, he could be egoistic, hardheaded, argumentative, but I did loved him. You could give him hard work to do around the house; he would do it without complaining, just like his son Ben.
Mrs. Rudd went babbling forth, afraid to stop…
because once she stop talking, she knew the detective will continue with his interrogation. She just wants to go home, back to her protective bed, under the covers.
“Where’s your son Ben?”
“I haven’t heard from him many years. He went away before his father passed away.
They exchanged some nasty words, they quarreled all the time
and the next thing I knew Ben was gone. He didn’t even say good-bye.”
Detective Rouse needs her complete attention and her full cooperation,
before she breaks off into the pass.
So he asked: “Where do you live, Mrs. Judd?”
She pointed out to Detective Rouse where her cabinet was located. “Oh, I… live in the cabinet. You see… you take this path in your right, go up for a mile or so… and you could see my cabinet.” She smiled proudly like a child.
After couple of minutes of torturing Mrs. Judd with endless questions,
Detective Rouse gave the order to the officer to take Mrs. Rudd home.
When they were out of his sight, he thought…
“Why on earth, an old lady will walk her dog in the middle of the night… of course there’s no crime walking your dog, but… for a mile? Meaning back and forth it would have been two miles… accordingly with her appearance, she isn’t wearing tennis shoes… she couldn’t make a mile walking with a cane…. Unless, she drove here, or maybe somebody drove her… but I don’t see any car… it doesn’t make sense.”
Copyright@2006 Michelle Carreiro
Enviado por Michelle Carreiro em 21/07/2006
Reeditado em 15/06/2011
Código do texto: T198861