had to decide what he should tell Beth. Should he tell her that Jezebel was dead? Should he tell her that the body was in the trunk of his Pontiac? How would he explain why he took her body? He could tell her he saw her push Jezebel, that wouldn’t be that far from the truth. That would also make him seem like he was trying to protect her. In fact, that seemed like the perfect solution.
Before he had a chance to say it, Beth said one more thing, “The look she gave me after she landed… I don’t know if it was hate, or fear, or anger, but I felt like if I didn’t get away from her, she was going to kill me for sure.”
Devin tried to piece together how she could have looked her in the eyes from the second floor landing. Jezebel was leaning against the fence separating the rooms from the pool. That would have meant Jezebel had to be looking nearly straight up and there wasn’t much of a way to do a death stare from that angle.
“So you walked up to her after she hit the fence?”
“Hit the fence?” Beth questioned, trying to figure out what the fence had to do with anything. “She didn’t hit the fence.”
Devin started thinking about his assessment of what must have happened. He drew many conclusions with a very limited amount of data. He was more or less right about her heel sticking in the walkway and her falling over the railing. But he also had to be right about her hitting the fence. She was leaning against it when he found her, after all.
Beth could tell Devin was thinking about it, trying to get an idea of how Jezebel had fallen. “She landed flat on her back on the sidewalk.” Beth offered. “Right below the railing. She fell straight down. Then she was staring up at me.”
Now Devin wasn’t sure what to say. If what she was saying was true, then Jezebel got up and walked (crawled?) over to the fence. With her neck snapped like it was when he found her, there was no way she moved. Something wasn’t right here and he got the feeling it was more than either of them misremembering what happened. She basically admitted to killing Jezebel, so why would she be fudging the ending to make the body end a few feet in one direction or the other?
“Beth, this is very important,” he said, speaking very deliberately. “Are you sure she was lying flat on the sidewalk when you left?”
Beth looked at him, puzzled. “Yes, Devin, I’m sure.” She shook her head. “I’ve just told you I tried to kill someone and your only question is if I’m sure about how she landed?”
Devin was remembering a moment from back in college. It was on the first day of his Critical Thinking class. When he walked in, there was a quote from Sherlock Holmes on the blackboard. ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ That would remain the only thing written on the chalkboard for the remainder of the semester. The professor, Billings was his name, was much more hands on with his approach to teaching.
On the professor’s desk were the shattered remains of a porcelain vase and a hammer. After the students found their seats and settled down, he asked them each to write down what they thought happened to the vase. Every student in the class said that it was broken by the hammer. Some said that someone swung the hammer and broke it on purpose. Others said the hammer fell on the vase. Every answer, though, involved the hammer. Every one of them was wrong.
The professor then swept the pieces of the vase off the desk. He took another vase just like it, he had a half a dozen on a on a table near the blackboard, stepped up on the chair behind the desk and dropped the vase. It fell on the desk next to the hammer and broke into pieces.
He swept those pieces away and placed another vase on the desk. This time he took a CO 2 pellet pistol from the top drawer of his desk, walked to the front row of desks, turned and shot the vase. Again, it shattered into a brilliant pile of
Before he had a chance to say it, Beth said one more thing, “The look she gave me after she landed… I don’t know if it was hate, or fear, or anger, but I felt like if I didn’t get away from her, she was going to kill me for sure.”
Devin tried to piece together how she could have looked her in the eyes from the second floor landing. Jezebel was leaning against the fence separating the rooms from the pool. That would have meant Jezebel had to be looking nearly straight up and there wasn’t much of a way to do a death stare from that angle.
“So you walked up to her after she hit the fence?”
“Hit the fence?” Beth questioned, trying to figure out what the fence had to do with anything. “She didn’t hit the fence.”
Devin started thinking about his assessment of what must have happened. He drew many conclusions with a very limited amount of data. He was more or less right about her heel sticking in the walkway and her falling over the railing. But he also had to be right about her hitting the fence. She was leaning against it when he found her, after all.
Beth could tell Devin was thinking about it, trying to get an idea of how Jezebel had fallen. “She landed flat on her back on the sidewalk.” Beth offered. “Right below the railing. She fell straight down. Then she was staring up at me.”
Now Devin wasn’t sure what to say. If what she was saying was true, then Jezebel got up and walked (crawled?) over to the fence. With her neck snapped like it was when he found her, there was no way she moved. Something wasn’t right here and he got the feeling it was more than either of them misremembering what happened. She basically admitted to killing Jezebel, so why would she be fudging the ending to make the body end a few feet in one direction or the other?
“Beth, this is very important,” he said, speaking very deliberately. “Are you sure she was lying flat on the sidewalk when you left?”
Beth looked at him, puzzled. “Yes, Devin, I’m sure.” She shook her head. “I’ve just told you I tried to kill someone and your only question is if I’m sure about how she landed?”
Devin was remembering a moment from back in college. It was on the first day of his Critical Thinking class. When he walked in, there was a quote from Sherlock Holmes on the blackboard. ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ That would remain the only thing written on the chalkboard for the remainder of the semester. The professor, Billings was his name, was much more hands on with his approach to teaching.
On the professor’s desk were the shattered remains of a porcelain vase and a hammer. After the students found their seats and settled down, he asked them each to write down what they thought happened to the vase. Every student in the class said that it was broken by the hammer. Some said that someone swung the hammer and broke it on purpose. Others said the hammer fell on the vase. Every answer, though, involved the hammer. Every one of them was wrong.
The professor then swept the pieces of the vase off the desk. He took another vase just like it, he had a half a dozen on a on a table near the blackboard, stepped up on the chair behind the desk and dropped the vase. It fell on the desk next to the hammer and broke into pieces.
He swept those pieces away and placed another vase on the desk. This time he took a CO 2 pellet pistol from the top drawer of his desk, walked to the front row of desks, turned and shot the vase. Again, it shattered into a brilliant pile of
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