A Justified Murder Read online

  “But—” Kate began then stopped. “Right. It’s their case. Has nothing to do with us.”

  “Exactly,” Jack said.

  Sara was at the truck waiting for them. Her sixteen-ounce red boxing gloves and gel hand protectors were in a Ringside sling bag. She had on long black pants and a green T-shirt.

  Jack drove to the LA Fitness on University and they went into the basketball court to box. Kate was new at the sport but she’d picked it up quickly. “It’s DNA and anger,” Sara had said.

  “I got the DNA from you and Dad, but no anger,” Kate said.

  “Your mom’s depression bouts didn’t make you angry?” Sara asked.

  “And your uncles saying your naked knees were inspiring lust in men didn’t do it?” Jack asked.

  “How about your isolated childhood?” Sara asked. “And—”

  Kate slammed into Jack’s pads so hard he had to remove them and shake his hands to relieve the pain. “Okay, so maybe I do have a teeny bit of strong feelings.”

  Even with past experience, Jack wasn’t prepared for the strength that came from the two women. Brutally hard slams, left then right. Uppercuts so violent the pads almost hit him in the chin. He could feel the muscles in his chest crying out to stop.

  But the women went on and on, taking turns in three-minute rounds of hard hitting, then switching to the bags. None of them rested.

  Only Jack added kickboxing. After thirty minutes of holding the pads for the women, he tossed them down. He released some of his own anger by kicking the big hanging bag so hard it bent in the middle. When the bag touched the wall, Sara and Kate got behind it and held it with their shoulders. Jack’s strong kicks pounded into their bodies.

  Leather hitting leather echoed through the gym. They didn’t realize it but they had an audience. Outside the glass doors were half a dozen trainers and gym rats, all watching in awe. It didn’t take much to know that they were witnessing a physical manifestation of fury.

  Sweat ran down the faces of the three of them, the drops so big they could be heard hitting the wooden floor. Their eyes burned from the salt, but with the big boxing gloves on they couldn’t wipe it away.

  When Jack’s legs were screaming in pain, he put the pads back on and the women starting hitting again.

  It was two hours before they stepped away. Jack tossed the pads down and the women clasped the gloves between their legs and pulled them off. They looked at one another, dripping wet and shaking with fatigue. Jack opened his long arms. They went to him, arms around his hot, sweaty torso, and began to cry. Jack’s tears joined them. They were a huddled threesome of unhappy, weeping people.

  Outside the door, the watchers left. What they were seeing was too intimate to behold.

  It was a while before they recovered enough that they could separate. Silently, they picked up gloves and pads and put them in their gym bags.

  They didn’t shower there. Sometimes they went to one of the big grocery stores nearby, but not today. Today they just wanted to go home and try to get back to lives that didn’t involve dealing with a murder.

  Jack had parked the truck in the covered parking garage near the exit.

  “That was quite a show you put on in there. It was almost like you gave a crap.”

  They turned to see a man, midthirties, quite handsome, but his face was distorted by a sneer. “But you gave it up, didn’t you? Walked away. Did you have too many suspects to choose from?”

  Jack had stepped in front of the women, using his body as a shield. He was Megan’s brother, Kyle, and he looked ready for a fight. “I don’t know what your problem is, but we don’t want it.” Jack protectively started to usher the women to the truck.

  Kyle didn’t move. “I’m one of the people who hated Janet Beeson.”

  The three of them turned to look at him.

  “Nobody hated her,” Sara said.

  The man’s handsome face looked incredulous. “Nobody...?” he whispered. “Of all the stupid—” He took a breath.

  “Your sister talked to us,” Kate said. “You had problems in your marriage.”

  “Your kids painted WITCH on Janet’s garage door,” Sara said.

  Kyle was shaking his head in disbelief. “Do you really not know? Everyone said you were good at uncovering the truth, but it looks like you know nothing.” When a car pulled into the lot, Kyle jumped out of sight, waited until the car passed, then stepped back into the light. “Did you see that?” His voice was rising. “I have to hide. I can’t be seen. Do you know why?”

  “No,” Sara said. “We don’t.”

  “Because my ex-wife has a restraining order against me. I can only see my sons under supervision. And this is all Janet Beeson’s fault.” He paused to look at them. “I can see that you don’t believe me. No doubt you’ve been told that I have a temper. That I’m jealous. You think you know all about me, and that Janet Beeson was a good person. Long-suffering and caring.”

  Another car drove in and Kyle stepped to the side. “My wife lost her phone for a day. I found it and there were texts from a man on it. She said she didn’t know him, but I thought... I went crazy. I know it was that Beeson woman! She—” His lips tightened. “I can see that you don’t believe me, but there are lots more like me. Talk to those teenage girls. The snotty ones. She nearly killed one of them.”

  “Janet did?” Sara asked. “But they said she saved them.”

  “Girls like that think evil is posting bare-breasted photos of their ex-friends online. They haven’t lived long enough to understand people like Beeson. They don’t even know the truth. But if you’re as smart as people say, you can figure it out.” He was walking backward. “Or are you going to let Tayla swing for a crime she didn’t commit? I should have killed the bitch myself. I’d probably have more visitation rights if I were in prison.” Turning, he hurried toward the exit.

  “All this because your kids painted on her garage?” Jack was derogatory, disbelieving.

  Kyle didn’t look back. “Yes!” He ran across the street and disappeared around a building.

  * * *

  It was another silent drive. They were stunned by what Kyle Nesbitt had said. His sister had given the impression that her brother was unreasonable, a person of unpredictable temper. But then, Jack had said Megan was “a fluffy-brained giggler,” so perhaps her perceptions weren’t correct. On the other hand, maybe Kyle was one of those people who blamed others for their misdeeds. Like alcoholics who said, “I wouldn’t drink if you didn’t do ___.” Fill in the blank.

  Or maybe Kyle was telling the truth.

  At home they saw that Jack’s room had been cleared of Chet’s belongings. Everything from shoes to shaving gear was gone.

  “You’ll like having your own bed again,” Kate said.

  “I guess,” he answered. He’d liked seeing Kate first thing every morning. Had even liked sharing a bathroom with her. All her ointments and salves smelled good.

  When they were clean, they met in the kitchen. Jack grilled burgers and vegetables while Kate and Sara put together the rest of the meal. Until they sat down at the table, there was only necessary talk.

  “Do we believe him?” Sara asked as she reached for the mayonnaise. Her keto diet didn’t allow carb-rich buns but she needed lots of fat.

  “Not much,” Jack said. “He seemed crazy angry to me. His wife was probably right to leave him.”

  “And a judge decreed that he shouldn’t be alone with his kids,” Kate said.

  “But then, we worry that a judge will give joint custody to dumb Zelly,” Sara said. “Judges aren’t infallible.”

  “Whatever, we can’t get involved,” Kate said. “Chet...”

  “Right. Chet. We can’t risk something like that happening again,” Sara said. “I called Daryl.”

  “And what did our illustrious sheriff have to say?” Jac