Who Killed Jenny Schecter? Ch. 26

"If he took it with him the night he killed Jenny, we're fucked," Lauren said.

"Yes," Carmen said. "Lauren, you know what I like about this fold-up camping chair? I've got one just like it up in San Francisco, I take it to outdoor concerts. A million people have one like it. And you know what? It has arm rests, and each arm rest has one of those pockets that you set a beer can or a soda can in."

Scofield looked at the beach chair and cleared his throat. "Can I butt in here, no pun intended. Neither of you ever smoked, is that right? Well, I did, in high school and college. And yes, you can tip your ashes and drop your finished butts into a bottle or a soda can. But here's the thing: the hole in the top of a beer or soda can is kind of small, and you have to pay attention every time you flick, because you can miss. But see, something like a jar with a wide top is much easier. That's what I'd use, if it was me. And here's the other thing. You can't tip your ashes into the can until you're finished drinking from it. So you have to have a separate container for ashes."

"Thanks," Lauren said. "Always happy to hear from an expert."

"Something's wrong," Carmen said. "Here's what I don't get. Our squatter has been staking out Jenny and Niki and Shane for some time, weeks or maybe even longer. And then one night, for no known reason we can think of, he crosses into Bette and Tina's backyard, climbs their deck, and murders Jenny. That makes no sense unless it was accidental. Or unintentional. Whatever you want to call it."

"Unpremeditated."

"Yes. That. And like you and Marybeth said, blackmailers don't kill their victims. They keep bleeding them. Why do you spy on somebody for weeks, film them, blackmail them, and suddenly decide to kill them? You don't. And one other thing has been bothering me."

"Yes?"

"Where was Jenny? What was she doing all that night, right up until the murder?"

"What do you mean?"

"They were all there to watch Jenny's goodbye video she made. Fine. And they are all up in Bette and Tina's media room, and Jenny starts the video, which we know is three hours long, what with all the stuff she put into it. She leaves the room, people are watching, somebody gets up, gets a drink, comes back, they get some potato chips, whatever. They come and go. They go to the bathroom to pee. And you know what? For most of that time, Jenny's not in the room. Why not? Where was she, and what was she doing?"

"Hmmm," Lauren muttered. "The last conversation we know Jenny had with anyone was with Bette, who kind of threatened her, and said she wouldn't abide anyone harming her family. That was the phrase she used, wouldn't abide. Then Jenny starts the tribute video sometime a little after seven, and leaves the room."

"Right. And no one sees her alive again, according to their testimony. But let's focus on the Creep. He's sitting here. What does he see?"

"When does he get here?"

"We don't know, but let's assume he's here before anyone else. So he's sitting here, smoking and sipping his Mountain Dew, and he's seen Bette and Tina getting ready for the party all day, setting out Japanese lanterns, and so on. He's seen contractors working on their house for several weeks, adding the whole second floor and the big deck, and he also knows they are moving, because of the real estate sign on the front lawn. Maybe he's seen a realtor looking around, other realtors, potential buyers, who knows. Their house has been a beehive of activity, there's been a lot to see. Then he sees Shane come home."

"Jenny's been out all day, at Shane's photo studio, editing her tribute video until the last minute. Shane picked up three videos for her from Fedex."

"Right. So Shane comes home, she's just met Molly, she's pissed about her coat and Molly's letter in it. Can he tell that she's pissed?"

"No, I don't think so," Carmen said. "Shane might wear her heart on her sleeve, like I do, but that doesn't mean she's all that transparent. Remember, she internalizes anger, she swallows it, she doesn't express it. And I don't know that she's pissed just yet, anyway. She's been told Molly delivered her coat and a letter, and she sort of knows what the letter says. She thinks Jenny did something with it, but she isn't sure, but by god she's going to search for it. But I don't think any of that is evident on her face, walking from her truck in the driveway into the back door of the house. That's just not Shane."

"Okay, good. Shane comes home. She searches, and after what, fifteen minutes, half an hour, she finds the negatives and the letter in the attic. Meanwhile, next door, Bette and Tina are running around getting ready for the party."

"Yes, that would be evident from here."

"Shane comes out, goes to Tina's house, brings Tina back, they go in. He sees that."

"Yes, but I don't think it means anything. For all he knows they're going to get trays of hors d'oeuvres from Shane's refrigerator," Carmen said.

"What about when they come out?"

"That's a better question. We should ask Shane to describe that moment. Then we'd know what he saw. Maybe they just walked back to Tina and Bette's house."

Lauren sighed. "I don't think we're getting anywhere."

"Not to rain on your parade, but there's something I haven't told you, and it has me scared shitless."

Lauren unconsciously placed her hand on her holster.

"Hey, take it easy," Carmen said, seeing the look on Lauren's face. "That's not what I mean. Here it is. Ever since I climbed up here and sat down in this chair, I've been aware of something. It made me think, and ask the questions I did."

"Point?" Lauren asked.

"Lauren, there's something in the pocket of this arm rest. It looks like maybe a bottle. A baby food jar, maybe."

"Oh, shit," Lauren whispered. "Don't tell me you touched it."

"Hell, no," Carmen said. "That's what scared me shitless. I don't want to touch it, if it's what I think it is. If it's his."

Lauren reached into a pocket of her leather Dani Reese-wannabe jacket and brought out a pair of latex gloves. "Don't move," she said.

"Don't worry," Carmen said.

Lauren came around the weightlifting bench to the right side of chair sitting on it and looked at the pocket on the arm rest. Carmen leaned left, to give Lauren room. "I'll be damned," Lauren whispered.

"Uh huh," Carmen whispered back.

"Captain Scofield, do you know anything about a jar in this soda can pocket?"

"No, nothing," Scofield said. "We haven't used those chairs in a couple of years."

"Okay, before I do anything else I need to take some photos. Everybody stay where you are." Lauren used her cell phone to take a photo of Carmen sitting on the beach chair on top of the weightlifting bench. Then she took a photo of the top of the armrest, showing the lid of the jar. Then she turned around and took a photo of the other folding beach chair in its bag. "This is covered in cobwebs," Lauren said. "Carmen, was your chair covered in cobwebs when you opened it up?"

"Yes, a few," Carmen said. "I brushed them off. Is that a problem?"

"No. The cobwebs are good, and it confirms for us what Captain Scofield just said, that they haven't used the chairs for a few years. Captain, you and your wife have to go to the beach or the mountains more often."

"Tell me about it," Scofield said.

Lauren put her fingers under the pocket underneath the armrest and carefully pushed upward. A small jar rose slowly out of the pocket. It had a black lid on it. Lauren had a manila evidence envelope in her left hand. She stopped.

"You have evidence bags in your jacket pocket?" Carmen asked.

"Carmen, I'm a cop," Lauren said.

"Oh. Right." Lauren seemed to be concentrating. "What's the matter?" Carmen asked.

"I don't want to smudge any fingerprints. Just trying to figure out the best way to do that."

"The chair's light. I can stand up and slowly turn it upside down while you hold the envelope under the armrest. We can drop the jar into the envelope. Can you see what's inside it?"

"No. Looks like a mustard jar."

"Grey Poupon?"

"No. Maille Old Style, but it's a Dijon. Be careful. Move very, very slowly. I don't want to drop it on the floor."

"Yeah, Maille Old Style, that's the kind of mustard we like. I probably had some nuts or bolts or screws in it."

Carefully Carmen stood up, turned, picked up the chair and began to turn it upside down. The jar was already halfway out of the pocket, and Lauren had her manila envelope around the top of it.

"Easy," Lauren breathed. As gently as a baby, the jar came all the way out of the pocket and into the envelope.

Carmen sat the chair back down. "Can we look at it?"

Lauren carefully maneuvered the jar inside the envelope so they could see into it.

Cigarette butts, and their ash. No mustard.

***

Lauren's cell phone chirped. "Hey, Shane," she said. "I'm gonna put you on speaker. Carmen's here."

"We're are you guys? I'm in the conference room and you guys aren't here."

"And a cheery good morning to you, too," Carmen said.

"Oh. Sorry. Good morning," Shane said. She even sounded a little sorry.

"Good morning," Lauren said, feeling she should jump in before this got out of hand. "As a matter of fact, we're in the garage behind your old house, where the Creep hung out."

"Yeah? What are you doing there? You find anything? Oh, wait. Marybeth just put her head in. No, she's here."

They heard Marybeth say from a few feet away, "Is that them? I need to talk to Lauren." Then they heard Shane say, "Here."

Marybeth came on the line.

"Where are you?" Marybeth asked.

"Carmen and I are in the garage behind Shane and Jenny's house. We found something. Something big."

"Yeah? What?"

"Can Shane hear?"

"No."

"We found cigarette butts. We think there's DNA of the killer on them. Maybe fingerprints on the jar they were in, too. Keep your poker face on so Shane doesn't react. We think it's Shane's father."

There was a moment of silence, and then Marybeth said, "Okay, sure, Yeah. No problem. You guys coming in soon?"

"Yes, we're leaving here in a minute, coming straight in. Marybeth, there's something else."

"Yes?"

"Is there any way Jack could be there when we report in?"

Marybeth took a moment to process it. "What have you got?" she asked.

"Can you go on speaker phone? Shane might want to hear this. I don't want her to think we're keeping secrets." Even though they were.

After a moment Marybeth said. "Okay, you're on speaker. Shane's here. What have you got?"

Lauren wanted to speak directly to Shane. "Hey, Shane."

"Hey, Lauren. What's up?"

"Remember Jenny said she decided not to hire a private detective?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"She lied. She did hire a private detective. We found out who it was. And here's the thing. He's dead. Down in Mexico, along with the Mexican fishing boat captain he went out with. Carmen and I think it's connected."

"Jesus," Shane murmured.

"I'll call Jack," Marybeth said. "You're right, he needs to hear this. I don't know his schedule, but I'll do what I can. Get your asses in here as soon as you can."

They were going to have to tell Jack two murders had become four.