The Boston Murder

By

Joan S. Peck

BEJEWELED PUBLISHING

LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Chapter 1

Emily nervously chewed her lip, which had been a bad habit since childhood, and waited for Jacki to arrive at Boston’s large airport, Logan International Airport. Much had changed in the past months since they had last seen each other.

Emily was a beauty—petite, in excellent shape and health, with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. When out in public, eyes always turned her way. Yet, her stunning looks couldn’t hide that her self-confidence had taken a hit during the past year. It showed in the way she stood, looking slightly lost, unsure of herself,

Still in her 30s, Emily was embarrassed to be single again … for the third time. Ever since her first husband died, she’d tried to fill the void with a man who would love her as he had. So far, no man had succeeded, though one had come close, and was still in her heart.

Much to Emily’s surprise and pleasure, her best friend, Jacki, who had shied away from being interested in any romantic relationship, finally succumbed to moving in and living with an older man she had dated for several years. He was an absolute gem of a guy … perfect for her, Emily thought.

When Emily heard the announcement that Jacki’s arrival time would be delayed another 30 minutes, she was annoyed at herself for not checking the flight status before driving to the airport. A lesson learned.

In one of the few vacant seats in the large waiting area, Emily thought of her dear friend. Jacki Brown had moved into the house next door to her at age seven, and they became fast friends for life. They’d had such fun as children, spending hours dressing their Barbie Dolls, skipping rope, and eventually playing Nancy Drew.

Although they looked nothing alike, they used to tell everyone they were sisters. Interestingly, Emily’s older brother Richard had been vocal enough to embarrass both families when he argued that he didn’t want Jacki to be his sister—one sister was bad enough. Delicately, Emily’s mother suggested the girls call themselves cousins rather than sisters. The girls had eyed each other, shrugged their shoulders, and called themselves “the cousins” ever since. And the name had stuck.

Jacki was the opposite of Emily in looks. She stood much taller than Emily, with a straight back and a demeanor that spoke of confidence and a resolve not to tolerate any foolishness, despite her innate kindness. Her brown face was planned with strength and natural beauty that turned heads. Unconsciously, her aura of power made people want to be seen with her.

After the announcement that Jacki’s plane had landed, Emily headed to the gate to wait for her. Her heart lifted as it always did upon seeing the tall, graceful, dark-haired beauty come her way. Emily’s eyes widened. Jacki had cut her hair into a curly bob that framed her face, making her brown eyes more pronounced.

It was a good look on Jacki, Emily thought, taking several years off her life.

When Jacki saw Emily waiting for her, her smile spread joyfully across her coffee-colored face. “Hi, Cuz!”

Unaware that people were staring at them, the cousins hugged—one brown-eyed, tall and dark, and the other blue-eyed, shorter and blond … both beautiful.

Jacki whispered. “My God, Em! Is it true? Your ex-husband is suspected of killing his girlfriend?”

Emily bobbed her head, eyes filling. “Ex-girlfriend, remember. The police are accusing him of something he’d never do, Jacki. We need to help him.”

“Absolutely, or I wouldn’t be here,” Jacki said as she placed her arm around Emily’s slumped shoulders. Then, they headed outside to where Emily had parked her car.

They headed to Emily’s house, a charming, small, older home in Cambridge, the established scholarly part of Boston, where Harvard was located. Boston was a city that Emily had come to love and call home. It was thanks to her second husband, Frank, that she lived there. After her first husband’s death, Emily had been so sad and lonely that, upon seeing the enticing ad, she signed up for a tour of Boston to escape her sorrow. It was there that Emily met the handsome professor, Frank Stevenson. They married within weeks, and, unfortunately, they divorced a few years later. By then, Emily had come to love all that the seaside city had to offer and decided to stay.

Months after the divorce, Emily and Frank discovered they still had feelings for each other, even though they had come to realize they were happier now that they were no longer married. Their friendship grew, and they regularly checked in with each other, often going out together. In time, it was as if they were a happily married couple again. After three years, Frank proposed marriage again, and Emily turned him down. Strangely, their friendship faltered because he asked and she refused. Within months, both had new life partners—relationships formed in the aftermath of rebounding. Neither relationship had lasted that long.

Emily had neither seen nor heard from Frank in nearly two years, so she was surprised when she received a hysterical call asking her to meet him at the police station. “Em, it’s Frank. I realize we haven’t spoken in a while, but I didn’t know who else to call. I need your help.”

Emily’s heart pounded. For Frank to call, it must be something big. “What’s going on, Frank?”

“It’s a long story. It began when my girlfriend, Susan, suggested that we get married. When I refused and told her why I wouldn’t marry her, she got angry and moved out. That was over four weeks ago. Yesterday, they found her body. Susan was murdered, and the police think I killed her!”

“You’ve got to be kidding. You wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Emily sputtered.

“Please, can you meet me at the police station?” he urged.

Emily had raced there and waited for Frank to emerge from the back of the station, where he was being questioned. As she sat in thought, Emily understood that Frank was a “catch” in that not only was he exceedingly handsome with his tall, fit figure and silver hair, but he was financially sound. Susan most likely had left Frank with more than a hurt ego. She was probably young enough (didn’t most men want someone younger?) to enjoy more than his love; she wanted the financial benefits of marriage that Frank would provide.

Since receiving Frank’s phone call, Emily’s heart had raced with worry. She was well aware that the police often sought a quick fix by blaming the person closest to the victim. Frank didn’t enjoy playing games with someone else’s emotions, much less having it done to himself. Frank was accustomed to being in charge of his own life, rather than being at the mercy of others. She feared Frank might easily be angered by the cops playing “good cop, bad cop.”

After sitting for a while in the grungy, grey room, Emily was startled when the door to the police waiting room flung open. When Frank stepped through the door and faced her, Emily’s heart went out to him. He looked ten years older—haggard and slightly unkempt—unlike his usual appearance.

The policeman standing beside him, in a terse, loud tone, rudely reminded Frank not to leave the area. Flustered, Frank straightened himself upright, walked to

Emily’s side, grabbed her arm, and left with as much dignity as possible for a man in his 40s.

The following day, Emily asked Frank to meet at their favorite coffee place as they had in the past. Frank insisted on staying home. He was adamant he wasn’t going outside to be gawked at by the neighbors or hounded by the press, who might have heard that he had been called to the police station.

It was apparent to Emily that Frank was suffering from the accusation of being a murderer, and he needed her help.

Now that Jacki was here a week later, Emily hoped she and Jacki could begin to get some headway on what had happened to Susan Blaken, Frank’s ex-girlfriend, who had ended up dead. Emily was more determined than ever to find the killer.

Settled into the living room, Emily raised her wine glass and clicked it against Jacki’s. “Here’s to you, my beautiful friend.”

“Here’s to ‘The Cousins,’ my beautiful friend,” responded Jacki.

Curled up on the comfy couch before the burning fireplace, the women eased into the circumstances before them. “What does your boyfriend say about us trying to solve this case?” asked Emily.

Jacki smiled. “Robert says if all it takes is persistence, he knows us well, and we can do it. However, he doesn’t condone our getting in the way of the professionals. You know how sensitive he is about that.”

“Working for the Miami police department as their infamous detective can do that to a person.”

“He says he’ll help when he can. In the meantime, tell me about your guy. I always did like Frank, you know.”

“Looking back, it seems so strange now that we couldn’t get it together when we were first married. Especially since Frank and I still have feelings for each other all these years later.”

“You always wanted to find someone to replace your dear first husband. Do you think Frank could fill that spot now?”

Emily blushed. “I was so foolish to think one person can replace another. What a fool I’ve been.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be loved and being adored by the man in your life.”

“But I didn’t recognize that I could have all that…just in a different way,” Emily protested.

“What the hell, Emily? No one has all the answers. Life is a learning experience, that’s all.”

Emily raised her glass to Jacki’s again. “Here’s to all my experiences, then,” she laughed.

“Right on, Em! And here’s to mine,” Jacki chuckled.