It was not a dark and dreary day. It was just the opposite. The sun was shining and I swear, I could hear a few birds in the area. Funerals are all supposed to be held when it is cloudy and rainy. I know that because that is how they always show it in the movies. Nothing has been going right lately.

We kept the service private. Eight people in all; my brother and his wife, my sister-in-law and her husband, my daughter, and her husband, and the minister. Funerals are not happy occasions, but this was one of the worse. My wife, Carla, had committed suicide. Nothing fancy; just the run of the mill overdose of pills and booze. We didn’t want a lot of people there celebrating her death.

We all went back to the house after the service, spent about an hour doing the ritual commiserating, and then split up. Before they left, I gave my daughter, Grace, all of my wife’s jewelry. It was quite extensive; her only vice. Many of the pieces were hand-me-downs from her family. We had it all appraised and insured about ten years ago and it was over one hundred thousand dollars. I did not need for any of it, and I was sure that Carla would have wanted Grace to have it.

The next few days were spent packing up all of Carla’s clothing and personal items for the Goodwill. There wasn’t anything that Grace wanted so most of the small knick-knacks and decorative things were included. I stripped the kitchen of all the fancy appliances and kept only a few things that I felt I could use to feed myself. I wasn’t planning on any fancy dinners. By the end of the week, what was once a fancy, homely home, now looked like a bachelors’ pad.

A few of the neighbors stopped by to commiserate, but not too many. By this time, they all knew what had happened. It was never mentioned or discussed. My week of compassionate leave was up, so I started back at work Monday morning. It was apparent that someone had said something to the staff, so I did not have to endure endless insincere condolences. A few did slip by, but most of the people left me alone.

In the evenings, I sat and drank beer and contemplated revenge. I had no idea what was to come.

It was a week later. I had just returned from a safety audit in Baltimore and found two police detectives waiting at the house. “Mister Templer, my name is Detective Greene and this is Detective Naranja. We would appreciate a few minutes of your time.”

“I would like to get settled in. I just got back from an out of town job.”

“Yes, we know. We contacted your office and they told us that you were in Baltimore for the last three days. We just need you to verify it.”

“Okay! I verified it. Anything else?” Greene and Naranja appeared to be a little uneasy. Greene cleared his throat and leaned forward.

“We have a few questions about your relationship with Bill and Marsha Dobbs. We realize that this is a sensitive subject at this time, but a little clarification would be appreciated.”

“What exactly do you know and what do you want to know?”

“The neighbors told us that you and your wife had been very close friends with Bill and Marsha and there had been a falling out of sorts. Can you confirm that?”

“Yes, I can confirm that.”

That both sat looking at me as if anticipating more.

“Can you elaborate?”

“How much do you know?” They both seemed to squirm a bit.

“The neighbors seemed to think that some wife swapping or similar partying was going on, but we have nothing to verify this. It was all rumor and conjecture.”

“Okay! I had enough of this crap. I am going to have to insist that you gentlemen leave. I don’t know why you are asking these questions and I don’t want to know. Now get the hell out of my house!”

I rose from my chair and gestured them towards the door. Reluctantly, they complied. Detective Greene turned before leaving. “Marsha Dobbs was murdered last night. We are just trying to tie up some loose ends. Sorry if we upset you, Mister Templer. If you have any questions or need anything, give us a call.” He handed me his card as I closed the door.

The report in the morning newspaper explained everything. It appeared that Marsha was leaving work and someone grabbed her in the building parking garage and held a plastic bag over her head until she stopped breathing. The rest of the article just listed all the things that the police were doing to solve the crime. The article indicated that they had no suspects or motive. There were no cameras in the garage. It was a good day at work.

Things were different in the cul de sac that weekend. I did all the required yard work and noticed that I was getting odd looks from everyone. Bill Dobbs stood on his porch and watched me for about thirty minutes, but did nothing more than that. I went for sushi Saturday night. It wasn’t as much fun by myself.

Things were back to normal for a week and then the company sent me on a safety audit in Elko, Nevada. When I got back my two favorite detectives were waiting for me at the airport. I needed a ride home anyhow, so I let them provide the limo service. Instead of taking me home, we ended up at the police station.

“Can I get a cup of coffee?”

Detective Neranja brought back three cups. Greene and I were already settled in.

“What did I do this time?”

“We are working on that. We think that you are holding out on us.”

“You know where I was last week, right?”

“Yes! And it was checked and double-checked. We do believe you were in Elko all week.”

“Why am I here this time?”

“Tell us about your relationship with Frank Crawford.”

“We live in the same cul de sac. He and his wife socialized with us. We are no longer friends. What is he accusing me of?”

“Nothing. Frank Crawford has disappeared.”

“How is this my problem?”

“We understand that Frank and his wife Sandy were close socially with Bill and Marsha Dobbs, as well as with you and your wife.”

“There you go with the innuendos again. How do you know that Frank hasn’t just gone away fishing or something? I am tired and I would like to go home now. I am done talking to you. I will be getting a lawyer. The next time you want to talk to me, go through him.”

“Mister Templer. There is something important that you are keeping from us. We will find out what it is but would appreciate it if you would level with us first. We have a dead person and a missing person and we feel that you are somehow connected to both of these incidents.”

“I would really like a ride home.”

Grace stopped by that evening with the biggest surprise,

“Dad, Bill, and I took mom’s jewelry to the Ohio Gemologist Office for a new appraisal. The total present value is just under four thousand dollars.”

“That’s impossible! The last appraisal was in the hundred thousand dollar range.”

“Donald Curry, the gemologist that we talked to, told us that mom had been in over a month ago and had the evaluation updated. It came to almost a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He said she asked about getting replicas made so that she could wear them without worrying about losing them. She also asked him where the best place would be to sell the stones if she decided to go that way. She left after getting the contact numbers for both services.”