We tracked down Jennifer C., the victim’s girlfriend, as she was returning to her apartment. She was dressed in workout clothes and was carrying a duffel bag. By the looks of things she was returning from a workout at the gym. I identified ourselves, then told her that Stephen was found dead in his apartment. She looked shocked, then sad. Then she asked, “What happened?”
“We don’t really know.”
I waited her for say something. The silence made her uneasy. “Well, if you’re here to ask me about it, I have no clue.”
“We were told you and Stephen are dating.”
Her expression became hard and I saw a flash of anger in her eyes.
“Were. We were dating. I suppose Malcolm told you.”
“Did you and Stephen break up?”
“He and I were never serious. He got wasted too much and sat around on his ass feeling sorry for himself. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that he wasn’t boyfriend material. On top of it, Malcolm didn’t like me dating his meal ticket.”
Jennifer began softly crying. Bob was ready - he handed her a pack of tissues. More silence. Then Bob asked, “What do you mean by meal ticket?”
Jennifer wiped her eyes. “Malcolm was obsessed with the book Stephen was writing. He’d show up at Stephen’s apartment at all hours and force Stephen to hand over anything new he’d written. He had Stephen under constant pressure to keep writing. He had an idea that it was going to be a bestseller, and he was going to sell it for big money. He even had a contract written up for Stephen to sign.”
“That didn’t sit well with me. So, I sent a chapter of Stephen’s book to a friend of mine whose aunt is a literary agent. She loved it and immediately took Stephen on as a client. She even gave him an advance. When Malcolm found out he got cut out of the deal, he went ballistic. He called Stephen constantly, trying to get him to drop the agent. Then he started demanding rent money from Stephen. This all seemed to send him into a spiral.”
I looked at Bob - we were both surpised by her outburst. We were still standing in front of the door of her apartment. Jennifer looked up at the sound of a neighbor’s window opening. I pointed to her apartment. “Would you like to go inside? We can talk more privately there.”
She looked at me, then said, “I really can’t talk now. I need to get ready for work.”
“When did you last see Stephen?”
“Two nights ago. I went to his place to tell him I couldn’t take any more of his drama and needed a break. He begged me to stay with him. I told him to man up. When I got up to leave he grabbed my arm, so I knocked him on his ass. That was the first and last time he got physical with me. I’ve had a history of abusive partners. I’ll never let a man hurt me again. He was fine when I left - at least physically.”
Bob started to ask another question, but Jennifer held up her hand. “Look, I really need to go. I’m willing to talk to you, but not now. And I think I want to get a lawyer.”
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