Page 49 of What Happened Last Night

One of them had a broken window upstairs, a panel of wood in place of the glass. The wood looked half-rotten, like it had been there for a very long time. The garden next door to Morrie’s had the rusted frame of a swing set in the center, the chains of the swing long snapped, leaving behind a rusting skeleton.

Morrie’s garden was slightly overgrown, and his windows looked like they needed a damned good clean, but his house was far from being the most rundown house on the block. In fact, it was one of the better-looking homes. Merely tired-looking rather than dilapidated.

Several of the team had been here on multiple occasions, some of the times to try to placate Morrie and make him feel heard, and some of the times to search the property—in particular, Candy’s room—for anything that might help us with her state of mind on the night of the killing. The reports had stated that Morrie was a bit of a hoarder and that Candy had similar tendencies, although by all accounts, her room was neater and less cramped with junk than the rest of the house.

This was my first time coming to the property, and to be honest, I would rather be anywhere else but here right now. This felt like a waste of my time. Morrie had nothing useful to impart. He just wanted to further berate me for not solving the murder quickly enough, and while I sympathized with him, my being here rather than investigating wasn’t helping anyone. In fact, it was taking me off the investigation and therefore making it even slower.

But it had been made clear to me that Morrie was becoming a huge problem, and he was now refusing to talk to anyone besides me. I had been left another couple of voicemails from him, each one more desperate sounding than the one before, and I was starting to genuinely fear that Morrie would take matters into his own hands if this went on for much longer. That’s why I was there. I was hoping that if he saw that I was still willing to come and talk to him, it would keep him calm for a little bit longer.

I was confident in my own mind that William had killed Candy. Other than the obvious lie at the end of Carlotta’s story, it made a lot more sense than William’s story had. My plan now was to keep the pressure on her and hope that she did the right thing and told us the full story. In the meantime, anything William told us was also useful. It would show that he was happy to do anything to cover his own ass and save face, an important thing to show in this case as his only real motive for killing Candy was to ensure the pregnancy couldn’t become a public issue. It would also help to have William still trying to pin the blame on Carlotta. The more he tried that, the more I was sure it would push Carlotta over the edge and make her tell us the true version of the end of her story. I was hopeful this would all happen quickly enough to keep Morrie satisfied if I could just keep him calm a little bit longer.

I got out of the car and made my way up Morrie’s weedy garden path. I knocked loudly on the door, and I heard Morrie calling out, telling me it was open and to come in. I opened the door and stepped inside.

Inside the house was a pleasant surprise. Morrie definitely seemed to be a bit of a hoarder and there was clutter everywhere, but the place looked clean and there was no musty smell or anything. It wasn’t how I would ever choose to live, but it was nowhere near as bad as I had been expecting it to be.

Morrie stood up when I entered the room. I held my hand out to shake his, but he had already turned away from me, not seeing my hand, and I lowered it back to my side.

“Sit down,” he barked as he began to pace the room.

I sat down, although I didn’t particularly care for his brusque tone of voice, and waited to hear his latest complaint, although I already had a good idea of what it was.

“Has William Alden been arrested yet?” he demanded, proving my idea to be right.

“We’ve been over this,” I said. “We can’t arrest William until we have solid proof that he’s the killer. Morrie, why are you so certain that William killed Candy? His wife had equally as much opportunity, and she had as good a motive as he did.”

Morrie sighed loudly and some of the nervous energy went out of him. He stopped pacing the floor and looked out the window for a moment. I was starting to think he wasn’t going to answer me, but I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and set him off ranting again, so I bit my tongue and waited. After a minute, Morrie turned from the window and came to sit down on the couch opposite the armchair I was sitting in.

His face was pasty white, and the only color in it was the purple of the bags beneath his eyes. His mouth was drawn in, giving him a sunken look. He looked a decade older than he had the last time I saw him, and although he was fast becoming a huge pain in my ass, I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. In his position, I was sure I would have reacted the same way as he was, demanding answers faster than they were coming.

“You know, in hindsight, I should have seen that something was wrong with Candy. Toward the end, she sort of closed down, went quiet, you know? The spark went out of her eyes, but I didn’t see it. It was only after she died, and the truth came out that I saw it. I realized too late that Candy was suffering from some sort of mental breakdown. She was taking meth too. Fucking meth. My daughter was taking meth and I didn’t notice, Detective. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

He paused, and I realized he wanted an answer. I didn’t know what to say so I just shook my head. I couldn’t really imagine how bad Morrie must feel about all of this, and I was starting to see that his constant pressure on us and his hatred of William were an outlet for his anger and frustration because deep down, he blamed himself for all of this.

“No, of course you don’t. And I sincerely hope you never do,” he said with a sad smile on his face. “That man killed my daughter, Detective, long before she went out his window. So you see, it doesn’t matter who actually pushed her. She was already dead inside by then. I read her diary and—”

“Wait, you read her diary?” I interrupted him.

“Yes. I would never have done that while she was alive, you understand, but after she was gone, I thought it would make me feel closer to her. That’s when I realized what that bastard had done to her. How he had broken her.”

“Morrie, I need to see that diary. You should have given it to the officers who came to see you,” I said.

“I know, and I’m sorry I didn’t, but it’s the last little thing of her I have left,” he said.

“I appreciate that, and I will personally make sure it’s returned to you after the investigation is closed, but there could be some clues in there, something we can use,” I said.

Morrie nodded and stood up.

“I’ll go get it,” he said.

He left the room, leaving me reeling. The diary could open up a whole new thread for us. It would certainly give us an insight into Candy’s mind.

Morrie wasn’t gone long. When he returned, he held the diary out to me somewhat reluctantly. I took it gently, and he looked at it for a moment and then he retook his seat.

“Promise me you’ll take good care of it, Detective,” he said.

“I promise,” I said instantly.

I could see why it was so important to him, and there was no way I was going to let anything bad happen to it. Morrie swallowed hard, and his softer side was gone again, leaving in its place the brooding guy I knew.

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