A Little Hope

Chapter Forty-one

Janelle unlocked the front door of her house then turned to Ben. “Thanks for following me home.”

He lingered beside her on the porch. “You can’t be too careful, especially with everything that happened last week.” Glancing around the neighborhood, his gaze swung back to her. “Everything looks quiet. I guess you’re safe for tonight.”

Janelle grinned. “You would make a good private investigator.”

“Thanks.” He gazed into her eyes and jiggled his keys in his palm.

Her heart quickened its pace. “Uh, would you like to come in—for some coffee or something?” She opened the door and stepped inside.

The phone rang in the kitchen.

Ben took a step back. “No, I’d better not.”

The phone rang again.

“See you tomorrow.” He sprinted out to his BMW.

She sighed and closed the door as the phone rang for the third time. She jogged to the kitchen and grabbed it. “Hello?” 

“Janelle! Where have you been?” Her dad sounded mad. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour.”

Leave it to Dad to interrupt a romantic moment. “I was out with some friends.” At least, Ben was her friend. She wasn’t sure about Ida and Elliot.

“And who are these friends?”

She should have known a simple answer would not suffice for the private eye. “Ben Thorne invited me to his aunt’s house for supper.”

“Oh, Ben.” Dad’s angry tone disappeared. “He’s a nice young man, Nellie. He would make a good husband.”

“Dad…” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. Her father had lectured most of the boys she dated, telling them how to behave if they had any intentions toward his daughter.

No wonder she wasn’t married.

“I’ve only known Ben a week, so don’t jump the gun. And please don’t talk to him about marriage. After all, I’m twenty-two years old, and he must be around thirty. We’re old enough to make our own decision.”

“Sure, sure. I won’t discuss it with him. But keep that in mind. You know, my wise advice worked with Scott and your sister.”

Yes, in spite of Dad, Sherry managed to get married. “Uh, why are you calling? Is something wrong?”

“I’m stuck at the airport in Helena. My flight to Saskatchewan was canceled, and I finally got a new one, but I have a couple hours to kill.” He paused. “I want you to answer some questions for me.”

“About what?”

“About Howard Chapman. He’s my number one suspect in Thorne’s murder.”

“Dad! I want to solve this case.”

He continued as if she had said nothing. “Tell me about Chapman. What do you know about him?”

Janelle sighed. “Howard didn’t kill Jed. He gave Sheriff Horton a tape recording—”

“I heard it. That proves nothing.”

“Nothing? But I interviewed him. Howard is a quirky guy, but he said he didn’t do it, and—”

“Of course! That’s what they all say. You can’t be so naïve.”

“I’m not being naïve!” Ooo—Dad was so frustrating! “Howard is not a murderer. He’s a nice man, and…and very emotional. He got upset when a portrait of his cat fell off his desk.”

For a moment, there was silence. “A portrait of his cat?”

“Howard’s strange, Dad. You wouldn’t believe his eating habits.”

“Let me write this down.” The sound of paper rattled over the line. “Okay, so you interviewed Chapman. What did he tell you?”

“He said he would never take someone’s life, and he especially would not strangle a person with a bra. He thought that was ridiculous.”

“Well, I’d have to agree with him there.”

“So Howard is not your man.”

“Not necessarily. The most unlikely candidate could be a murderer. Anyone can kill another person, and I mean anyone.” Dad paused. “You have to dig below the surface, Nellie. Let’s supposed Chapman did kill Thorne. Did he have a motive?”

Janelle shrugged. “He admitted he hated Jed.”  

“See there. If you want to be a private eye, you can’t trust people. They lie with a straight face and don’t feel a hint of conscience. This testimony of Chapman’s is characteristic of most murderers. First they deny they would ever kill anyone. Then they tell you that type of murder would not be their modus operandi. I hear it all the time. But it’s usually a cover-up. People are out to protect their own interests.”

He lectured Janelle for another twenty minutes before saying goodbye. She hung up, walked into the living room and sank on the sofa.

Why did her father have to be such a go-getter? Dad hadn’t been hired to investigate this murder. Why couldn’t he leave it alone?

In her mind she replayed the conversation, her eyes widening at one phrase. She sat up straight. “If you want to be a private eye…” Did that mean Dad was willing for her to solve this crime? Would he consider hiring her to work in his company?

Hope seeped into her soul, and her determination grew. “I’m going to solve this murder, Mr. Private Eye.”

Dad would find out that Janelle Weaver could be a good PI, just as good as any man.

* * *

Until tomorrow, may the Lord bless your day!