"He was so kind to us," Cheryl LaBelle whispered with her hands holding onto the kitchen counter. Walter looked down at his red notepad to look at all the information he wrote down beforehand about the family. How they had immigrated to America from France in 1990. But the main question wasn't answered.
Why did they leave their country so suddenly?
"When was the last time you guys saw him?" Seth asked. Cheryl looked at the calendar that hung on the fridge. She slid her finger onto the name of the month, squinting at it.
"Six months ago,"
"And what for?"
"My husband... he needed help with money. So he went to Joe for help and being the good man he was, he helped my husband."
Walter was always good at spotting a liar. He always checked their movements and face every time he suspected they were telling a lie. And he wasn't afraid to call people out on their bullshit. Seth wasn't like that, however. He was a very passive man. Not aggressive like his partner sometimes was.
"Interesting..." Walter whispered as he wrote down the words 'LIAR' in big letters that took up most of the paper. He nudged his partner and showed it to Seth who just frowned.
It was the way she kept moving her light brown hair behind her ear, even when it wasn't in her face.
Seth gently tapped his finger on his thigh. "My partner is telling me that you're lying, Mrs. LaBelle. Mind telling me what the real reason for visiting him was?"
The woman furrowed her eyebrows, looking confused at him. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"You might wanna invest in a hair tie," Walter chimed in. Cheryl turned her gaze to the detective who was faintly smiling at her. "One way to spot a liar is to look at their movements. You have tucked your hair behind your ear nine times since we've walked through those doors. You seem nervous about something. Maybe you should tell us."
There was a few seconds of silence. Cheryl looked at the clock that read seven-twenty pm. She sighed and shrugged.
"I don't know. My husband went to him to help with his money problems. That is all I know."
"Remember, your daughter was murdered. Anything you tell us can only help us find her murderer. Even the smallest details that don't seem that important."
Cheryl felt hesitant to tell the two detectives anything else. She looked conflicted.
"No. I have nothing else to say."
You fucking liar.
"Now if you two could please leave. My husband and I have to get ready for the funeral tomorrow."
Seth nodded his head and pulled Walter along with him.
"Have a great day!"
-x-
Seth closed the door behind him. He was going to have to resume the investigation the next day. He looked at the time on the wall. It was almost ten. The sky was already dark and so was the house. He made his way up the stairs, tired from the argument he had with Walter about respecting people.
He pushed the door open to his bedroom to spot his wife laying on the bed. He nearly had a heart attack when he mistook her red night gown for blood. His eyes wondered over to the book in her hands, remembering that Emily was reading a book when she died.
Evelyn looked up at her husband from the book she was reading. She smiled.
"Hi, honey. How was work?"
Seth furrowed his eyebrow. Its like he saw the crime scene flash before his eyes. Emily LaBelle laying on the bed with her blood everywhere. He white nightgown soaked in the red liquid while her book sat on the nightstand beside her.
"Honey?" Evelyn called out.
"Hm? Oh, sorry. I just spaced out. What did you say?"
Evelyn stared at her husband oddly. She knew he was thinking about the dead woman. "How was work?" She repeated. Seth shrugged as he began to remove his suit jacket and loosen his tie.
"Uh it was..." He suddenly remembered kissing Walter earlier that day. He decided not to bring it up with his wife since that might have been weird and awkward. "...alright."
Evelyn tilted her head to the side. "Seems like something happened. You wanna share it with me?"
Seth shook his head at her question. He didn't feel like telling her about the investigation or about how he kissed his partner because he was so happy. "I'm gonna take a shower." He whispered as he walked out of the bedroom. Evelyn brushed her hair to the side. She felt concern for Seth who was always smiling and willing to talk about his day with his wife after coming home from a long day of work.
But he wasn't like that as much.
-x-
Droplets of water fell from Seth's dark brown hair as he pushed the curtain to the side after taking a hot shower. He stepped out from the tub to dry himself from head to toe. The steam from the water drifted around in the bathroom and even steamed up the mirror. Seth looked at it. He could barley see his own reflection. He rubbed the steam off from the mirror.
The whites of his eyes looked pinkish. Like he had been drinking. Be he knew for a fact he wasn't drunk. He was a bit of a lightweight as well, so drinking wasn't an explanation. Maybe he was exhausted. But was he really that tired?
He threw the towel over his shoulder, sliding on his dark blue pajama pants up his legs, ignoring his boxers. He walked into his bedroom, sitting on the bed while buttoning up his pajama shirt.
Evelyn closed the book she was reading and put it on the night stand. She moved to her husband, wrapping her arms around him from behind.
"You know, its been a little while since we've had sex," She whispered. Seth stared down at his lap. His usual motivation for sex shifted its form into a motivation to solve the case. A lot of the times he would be thinking of his wife. At home, during work, while showering. But ever since he laid his eyes upon the dead body of Emily, he focused all of his attention towards her. He wasn't sure why he cared so much about her. Maybe it was because her family was in a way similar to his. They got married at a young age, had two kids—a boy and a girl—and the wife worked in the medical field. All of these things were true with Seth's family.
Evelyn hugged Seth tightly, kissing his neck. Her hands traveled to his shirt to unbutton them. She was eager.
"Lets make love then," Seth whispered, kissing his wife.
-x-
The bar was relatively empty. Raymond hunter sat at the bar, three empty beer bottle sitting in front of him while his fourth beer bottle was pressed in the palm of his hand. He was drunk again. He knew it was a bad idea to get drunk the night before his wife's funeral. But he couldn't help it. The bartender stared at the lonely man from a distance. He desperately wanted to do something. So when Raymond asked him for another drink, he told him no.
Raymond pulled out a couple bucks and placed it on the table.
The man came back with a new beer, setting it down in front of Raymond. He watched him ruin himself more by drinking a fifth beer.
At the front entrance of the bar, the bell rang when the door opened. The bartender turned his head to the door, seeing a man walking in with a care-free walk and a stoic face. The young man sat a couple seats away from Raymond. He ordered a Bourbon Whiskey and the bartender immediately began with his order, desperate to just not have to care towards Raymond.
The man looked down at his red notepad. Information was written all over it. Even the page that had the words, 'LIAR' written across it.
He moved his blue eyed gaze to Raymond. He furrowed his eyebrows. He knew who the man was. He got up from his seat and decided to instead sit right next to him.
"Detective, what brings you here?" Raymond whispered without even moving his head to look at Walter.
"Just winding down from work," He explained as the bartender finally placed his order in front of him. Walter thanked the man. "What about you? What brings you here?"
What a stupid question, was all that Raymond could think. He was here because of his dead wife, duh. He didn't want to feel anymore. He wanted to be wasted as hell so that he wouldn't think of his wife. But of course, that didn't work. It was like the more he drank, the easier it was to imagine that she was still there.
"Detective, you should just go back to where you were sitting before. No need to be worrying about me."
"You didn't answer my question," Walter said. "Her funeral is tomorrow, are you really going to get drunk before it even happens?"
The beer bottle sat flat on the table. It was quiet in the bar except for the four men across the room playing pool, placing bets on who would win.
"I'm not going," Raymond whispered.
Walter picked up his drink, taking a sip from it. "Thats understandable," He said. "But maybe you should. They say that when a victims funeral is made public, the murderer often ends up being there. This is usually satisfying to them. Seeing them being buried and trapped while they stand free."
"Sickening," Raymond spat. He clutched onto the beer bottle tightly. Walter was sure that if he just gripped on a little tighter, the bottle would explode into a million little pieces. "What percentage would you put that the bastard shows up?"
"Ninety percent."
"I'm not going then," Raymond took a swig of his drink.
Walter pressed his finger against her ear, acting as if he was using an earpiece. "Oh, whats that John? The number isn't ninety percent? Its actually ninety-nine percent?"
Raymond rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Still not going."
"Oh, its raised to one-hundred percent now?"
One second... two seconds... three seconds... four—
"Ok fine," Raymond shouted before Walter could even open his mouth. "I'll go. But just do this one little favor for me." Walter nodded as he took another sip of his drink. Raymond cleared his throat nervously. "Sleep with me."
Walter choked a bit on his drink. First the kiss from earlier, now an offer for sex. Is everyone gay?
"Uh listen, Mister Hunter. I appreciate the offer. And I respect everyone's... life. But I'm not gay."
It was awkward now. Raymond snatched the back of his neck as Walter circled the rim of his glass. Even the bartender felt uncomfortable. He stood to the side, pretending like he was cleaning the counter.
"Detective, did you really think I wanted to have sex with you?"
If it wasn't already awkward before, it defiantly was now. The atmosphere was tense.
"I was asking if you would just... never mind." He finished his fifth beer bottle, putting some money down on the counter before getting up out of his seat.
"W-where you going?" Walter asked.
Raymond didn't even answer his question as he walked out of the bar. He was going to spend the night alone, having the same nightmare over and over again. All he wanted was for someone to sleep next to so that he wouldn't feel so alone. So that it could feel like his wife was there again.
(A/N) I really love seeing the fact that people from different countries and ages are reading my book. Even if its just a small percentage, it still means a lot. Thank you!
Please don't forget to comment and vote, it helps me out a lot :)