Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
She glanced at her phone, checking the time. She hadn’t seen Ethan appear yet, and the evening was wearing thin. On top of it all, she’d not gotten a table. The bartender politely let her know it was a packed evening, and the chances of her getting one were slim. So much for that. Just as she was about to call it a night for good and chalk this up as a bust, she spotted a guy of about five foot eleven with a mop of curly brown hair making the rounds while brandishing a big, beautiful smile, showcasing a bottle of red wine.
She picked up her phone and checked the photo of the man she’d managed to find on social media. Yup. It was a match. That’s Ethan alright. Slipping away from the bar, she made her way across the restaurant when he re-entered the kitchen. She waited for him to pop back out, this time holding what looked to be a basket of sourdough bread.
“Excuse me, are you Ethan Jacobson?”
He paused and scanned her from her heels to her face, then down again. His brows knitted, and she noticed a slight deepening in his complexion. His lips pursed and he began to blink quickly.
“Yes. May I ask who you are?”
“I’m Private Investigator Porsche Lee, former Lead Detective with the Boston Police Department. May I speak to you for just a few minutes? I promise to not take up too much of your time.” She kept her expression somber.
“Why? I’m really busy right now. Can this wait until tomorrow? Give me a break.” He huffed as if it took all of him to exert the energy to breathe. “I just got off a plane like three hours ago. I’m jet-lagged and—”
“I am sympathetic to the fact that you are exhausted, Mr. Jacobson, but I assure you, the few minutes during which we speak about a couple of important matters will not cause you more fatigue, but putting this off might cause you some sleep problems.”
He let out a loud exhale.
“Just a minute, please,” he murmured before tossing on a grin for the crowd as he approached an older couple sitting at a table. He placed their bread down, answered a few questions they had regarding the specials that evening, then walked back toward her.
“We can speak out back.” His voice was barely audible.
She walked directly behind him, following him out a side door and around the corner to the back of the restaurant, where they were greeted by the exquisite sight of the marina. He slipped an e-cigarette out of his pocket, got it started, then leaned against the wall. “I had nothin’ to do with it,” he began without a single prompt.
“Do with what?”
“The reason you’re here.” He looked straight ahead, not at her. “The same reason the police keep botherin’ me. The same reason that Clark’s and Evan’s friend, Josie, won’t talk to me now! She said some damn loony tune psychic told her that a guy with brown hair did this shit. Like half of Portland doesn’t match that vague description. Y’all are going to ruin my life if you don’t lay off.” He turned to face her, his dark brown eyes brimming with hatred. “Yeah, I hang out down at the Orchard Beach on occasion. Who doesn’t? I smoke a little with my friends, drink a bit, relax after a long week, but that’s it. I don’t know anything about those dead guys.” His muscles tensed and she noticed goosebumps appearing on his arms. There was a slight chill in the air, but nothing unusual or uncomfortable.
“Ethan, so you knew Clark and Evan, two of the victims?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, then looked away again. “We all went to the University of Maine together. Clark dropped out after the first year. He started messin’ around with the hard stuff.”
“If you didn’t do this, who do you think did?”
“I have no idea. Last I heard, Evan and Clark didn’t hang together, either. It’s been a long time since our college days. That’s old news.”
“Did you graduate?”
“Yeah. Engineering degree. I’m trying to get into acting though. I work two jobs. When would I even have time to kill someone?” He threw up his hands and scoffed. “This idea that I would ever do some shit like that, all because I hang out there, is ridiculous. People say they saw me. So what! A lotta people were there. Not just me.”
“Well, Ethan, I understand that you and Evan had some problems?”
His nostrils flared as he looked away from her again. “I didn’t like him. It was no secret.”
“Why?”
“Because he messed around with my girlfriend, and he was just a jerk. No more, no less. Doesn’t mean I wished him dead… Jesus. Look, is this almost over?” He held the e-cigarette in a shaky grip. “I really need to get back to my shift. I need the tips and if I’m not there, it looks bad, and—”