June and Doug had been thirty-three years old when they married. By then June had her nursing degree from Rutgers and Doug was working as a software engineer. They were joined at the hip by their mutual desire to have a beautiful home, become members of a country club and retire by age sixty. They were goal-oriented and insisted their only child be the same way.
To arrive home and find a job not completed and the mower sitting in the middle of the front lawn irritated June as much as it did Doug. She was fresh on her husband’s heels when they went through the door shouting their son’s name. When he did not answer, they went through the rooms and found him lying atop his unmade bed, crying. As one they began to shake him.
“Alan, what happened? What’s the matter?”
At first Alan could not answer. Finally he looked up at them. “Kerry was found dead in her pool, and the police think I did it.”
Doug was practically shouting, “Why do they think you did it?”
“Because we had an argument at her party. It was in front of a lot of the other kids. And when the detective was here, he—”
“A detective came here!” June shrieked. “Did you talk to him?”
“Yes. For a little while. He drove me to his office and asked me some questions.”
Doug looked at his wife. “Did the detective have a right to do that?”
“I don’t know. He did turn eighteen last month.” She looked at her son. “Alan, exactly what happened to Kerry?”
His voice halting, Alan told them what he had learned. Kerry had been found in her pool this morning. “They think somebody hit her over the head and pushed her in and she drowned.”
It ran through June’s mind to tell Alan that they knew how much he had cared about Kerry. There would be time for that later. Right now, the tremendous impact of what they had heard and how it might affect Alan made it absolutely necessary to protect her son any way she could.
As she questioned him, she became more and more frantic.
12
After dropping Jamie at the high school, Marge drove down the block toward her home. Grace, her next-door neighbor, was watching for her from the patio on her front lawn. As soon as Marge parked the car, Grace waved her over.
“Can you believe it? That poor girl, Kerry, was murdered. She had one of those teen parties the kids have when their parents are away. The police are talking to all the neighbors. They rang your doorbell. They asked me if I knew who lived in your house. I told them about you and Jamie and said I didn’t know where you were.”
Marge tried to conceal her anxiety.
“Grace, did you say anything about Jamie?”
“I told them that he is a very nice young man with special needs and didn’t go to the high school anymore. I guess they want to talk to everybody in the neighborhood who might have seen something.”
“I suppose so,” Marge agreed. “I’ll see you later.”
When Jamie came home a few hours later, Marge could see that something was disturbing him. She didn’t have to ask him what it was before he said, “The girls on the soccer team were sad because Kerry went to Heaven.”
“Jamie, a policeman is going to come and talk to us about Kerry because she got sick in the pool and went to Heaven. Remember you won’t tell him that you went over to the pool.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before the bell rang. Jamie started up the stairs to his room. When Marge answered the door, it was not a policeman in uniform but a man in a suit.
“I’m Detective Mike Wilson from the Bergen County Prosecutor’s Office,” he said.
“Yes, come in, Detective,” Marge said, as she gestured toward the living room. “We can sit in here and talk.”
After they settled into two chairs facing each other, Mike said, “As I’m sure you are aware, Mrs. Chapman, your neighbor Kerry Dowling was found dead in her family’s swimming pool this morning.”
“I did hear about it,” Marge sighed. “A terrible tragedy. Such a lovely young girl.”
“Mrs. Chapman, my understanding is that you and your son live in this home?”
“Yes, just the two of us.”
“Were the two of you home last night after eleven o’clock?”
“Yes, we both were.”
“Was anyone else with you?”
“No, just us.”
“Let me tell you why I am particularly interested in speaking to you and your son. When I was called to the Dowlings’ home this morning, I stood at their backyard pool and looked around. Above the tree level I could clearly see the upstairs room in the back of your home. That means anyone who was in that room might have seen something that could be helpful to our investigation.”
“Of course,” Marge said.
“I’d like to see that room before I leave. How is that room used?”
“It’s a bedroom.”
“Your bedroom?”
“No, it’s Jamie’s bedroom.”
“May I speak to him?”
“Of course.”
Marge walked over to the stairs and called up to Jamie.
Detective Wilson interrupted her. “If it’s okay with you, Mrs. Chapman, can I talk to Jamie in his room?”
“I guess that would be okay,” Marge said as she began to climb the stairs with the detective one step behind her. She knocked tentatively on Jamie’s door and then opened it. He was sprawled on his bed watching a video.
“Jamie, I want you to meet Detective Wilson.”
“Hi Jamie,” Mike said, extending his hand forward.
Jamie stood up. “I’m pleased to meet you, sir,” he said as he shook hands. He turned to Marge for her approval. Her smile confirmed to him that he had used good manners.
Jamie and Marge sat on the bed. Mike went over to the window. The Dowlings and the Chapmans were backyard neighbors. He looked down at the Dowling swimming pool, then sat in the chair opposite the bed.
“Jamie, I just want to talk to you for a few minutes. You know Kerry
