J is for Judgment Page 113



Here’s what I think about when I wake in the dead of night. I’m not sure anybody really knows what happened to Dean DeWitt Huff. She claims he died of a heart attack in Spain, but did anyone ever check it out? And the husband before that? Whatever happened to him? I’d been viewing this as Wendell Jaffe’s story, but suppose it was hers? The missing millions never showed. Suppose she knew about the money and persuaded him to come back? Suppose she had a boat anchored out there somewhere in the dark? She could have dived off her own dock if she wanted to drown. You really want to kill yourself, why drive thirty miles to do it? Unless you need a reliable witness—like me. Once I made my report to the police, the case was considered closed. But is it?

I’ve never believed the perfect crime was possible. Now I’m not so sure. She told me Wendell taught her a lot, but she never really said what it was. Please understand: I don’t have the answers. I’m simply posing the questions. God knows I have questions about my own life to answer yet.

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