I should’ve ignored his gruff words and gone ahead and paid more attention to his health and his lifestyle. If I’d been more diligent, made sure he was safe and in good physical shape, he might still be alive.
I heard a siren blast from several blocks away, reminding me that I’d called the police right after talking to Jane. What else could I do? Once I realized that Jesse was dead, I’d immediately wondered about that mess in there. I knew it wasn’t normal for Jesse to tear his house apart like that. I wondered if someone else had broken in and done it. The police would be able to determine that, I hoped.
The thought of someone breaking into Jesse’s house to rob him after he was dead made me shudder with revulsion. But even worse, what if someone had broken in while he was still alive and scared him to death?
Could something like that have taken place right next door to me without my even knowing about it? I’d like to think I’d hear something or get some kind of strong vibe about it, seeing as how I had gone through such a horrible time a few short months ago.
Maybe that was why my mind was suddenly spinning with thoughts of murder. But there was no way Jesse could’ve been murdered, because . . . well, just because.
Because things like that didn’t happen in Lighthouse Cove. Okay, maybe that one bizarre stretch a few months back, but not on a regular basis. It was crazy to even consider.
Burglaries, yes. We had our share of them, every once in a great while. But why would anyone want to burglarize Jesse’s home? He owned nothing of real value. He’d lived nicely on Social Security and his military pension for the last ten years. Everyone in Lighthouse Cove knew it. Not that I would ever accuse one of my own townspeople. No, it must have been a stranger. But really? A stranger just happened to be passing through town and picked Jesse’s home to break into? What were the chances?
“Slim to none,” I murmured.
So maybe the mess really had been caused by Jesse himself. Maybe he had lost something important and gone on a tear. Or maybe some medication he’d been taking got screwed up and he’d gone a little crazy. Anything could’ve happened. It would be up to the police to figure it all out. They might find fingerprints that would lead them to conclude that a burglary had taken place.
I swept those thoughts away and concentrated on Jesse himself. It was hard to believe he was dead. I’d known him all my life and all of a sudden he was gone? It didn’t seem fair. He might’ve been getting old, but he’d had plenty of good years left.
I pictured myself talking to him a few minutes ago, tucking that afghan blanket over him, worried that he might have a fever. Then realizing he was dead.
I groaned out loud.
“What a twit you are.” Jane would laugh her ass off when I got around to telling her. That wouldn’t be anytime soon, of course. I imagined she wouldn’t be ready to laugh for a while yet. And I wasn’t too anxious to reveal what a major bozo I could be, even to my best pal.
But it wasn’t about me, I reminded myself sternly. Jesse was gone and poor Jane would be grieving. Okay, I was, too, but it was time to brush my feelings aside and concentrate on Jane. She would need every ounce of help and support I could give her to get through this.
I sat back in the old wicker chair to wait for everyone to arrive. I thought of Jesse again and how he’d looked so peaceful, lying there on the couch. Was it any wonder why I didn’t figure it out right away? He must’ve died recently, too. Otherwise there would’ve been some sort of . . . well, deterioration, to put it nicely. But other than that slightly gray pall to his skin, he really did look as if he’d been sleeping. I hated to think what might’ve happened if I hadn’t found him for another week.
I grimaced and rubbed my stomach. I really didn’t need to focus on what he might’ve looked like after a few more days.
The police siren wailed again, interrupting my odd thoughts, thank goodness. Within seconds, the police chief’s black-and-white SUV screeched to a stop in front of Jesse’s house just as Jane pulled up in her car and parked across the street. I could tell she was crying as she slammed the car door behind her. In seconds, she was up the front stairs, and I was standing up to grab her in a tight hug.
“It can’t be true,” she said, sobbing. “I can’t believe it.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, rubbing her back. Jane and Jesse had been really close. Each had been the other’s only family. But Jane had me, too, and I’d remind her of that soon. “I’m so sorry.”
“What happened?” she asked, swiping at the river of tears coursing down her cheeks.
“I don’t know. I was concerned that I hadn’t seen him around, so I decided to check on him. He didn’t answer the door, so I used our emergency key and let myself in. I found him in the back den.”
She let out a little sob. “That’s where he always watches TV.”