Chapter 36
Jed Hilliard didn’t have transportation, so instead of having him come to the Major Crime Squad, Reid arranged to meet him at three o’clock at Black Hall’s Paradise Drive-In.
It was a popular ice cream stand, with picnic tables next to a marsh overlooking the mouth of the Connecticut River.
Reid ate a mint chocolate chip cone while waiting.
Jed was a few minutes late. It worked out well; Reid was able to finish his cone. He tossed the napkin into the trash as he watched Jed approach, an orange backpack slung over his right shoulder.
He looked disheveled, but in an appealing way: maybe it was the artist in him.
Despite what Reid knew about Jed’s beleaguered financial circumstances, he would have a hard time seeing him with the Osprey House crowd: long hair, shaggy beard, tall with a loping stride, alert and intelligent eyes.
He had a strong handshake. Reid asked if he wanted something from the snack bar, but Jed said no.
They sat at a picnic table, under a yellow-and-white-striped umbrella. Reid had his back to the sun. Jed had the disadvantage of having it in his eyes, and he squinted at Reid. The sadness in his face was unmistakable.
“I know you want to talk about Beth,” Jed said.
“That’s right,” Reid said, waiting.
Jed seemed comfortable with the silence. He didn’t rush to fill it, and he didn’t fidget.
“She was the best person I ever knew,” he said finally.
“I’ve heard that from a lot of people,” Reid said.
“She loved . . . the world,” Jed said. “She saw the good in people, and she took care of everyone.”
“Including you?” Reid said.
“Oh yes,” Jed said vigorously, as if he wasn’t the least bit ashamed of it. “She believed in me. My art especially. But me as a person too. I was in prison.” He looked Reid straight in the eye when he said it. “That’s where I met her.”
Reid had to respect him for coming right out with that—or maybe Jed had his con down pat, and being forthcoming was part of it.
“I’ve heard that,” Reid said. “But what I’ve been wondering, Jed, is how did you wind up here in Black Hall? I looked up your record, and it says you’re from Warwick, Rhode Island.”
“‘People, places, and things,’” Jed said. “They teach us in AA to avoid slippery places, and the people we used with, and things that remind us of getting high. So I wasn’t going back. Beth helped me decide that. She thought that coming here, working at the Academy, would give me a fresh start.”
“Rhode Island,” Reid said in a musing way, as if he hadn’t heard what Jed had just said. “That’s where Beth’s husband is from. Did you know him there?”
Jed’s lips tightened. “Hell no, I don’t know him at all. And don’t want to.”
“But two guys from Rhode Island? The Ocean State?”
“No,” Jed said and left it there. Reid took note. It was unusual to question someone who didn’t overexplain.
“You’re in AA?”
“Twenty-four months clean and sober.”
“Good for you.”
“Thanks.”
“When did you and Beth begin to have an affair?” Reid asked. He meant it to sound harsh, and it must have, because Jed reacted as if he’d been punched.
“That sounds really sleazy,” Jed said, shaken. “And it wasn’t.”
“You got her to cheat on her husband,” Reid said. “How isn’t that sleazy?”
“No. He had his thing going with Nicola. He had basically abandoned Beth. She was such a good person—even after he hurt her, she cared about him. But there was a breaking point. How could she go on with him after he had a kid with his girlfriend? There was no way. She had already decided to leave when she and I began to see each other.”
“That’s funny,” Reid said. “Because I hear she and Pete decided to reconcile. That they were working it out.”
Jed shook his head hard. “She would never take him back.” He gave Reid a sharp, defiant look. “We were in love.”
“And having a kid together?”
Jed blushed and didn’t speak. Reid watched his discomfort grow. He had boxed himself into a corner.
“Jed. Beth was having a baby. Either you and she were in love and Matthew was yours, or she and Pete were getting back together and he was his. Which is it?” Reid asked. Still no reply. He watched Jed hang his head. Two fat tears plopped down on the picnic table’s weathered boards.
Reid gazed at Jed’s shoulders, which were shaking as he wept.
The sounds were barely audible. There was a napkin dispenser on the table, but Reid made no move to pass him a napkin.
A full two minutes passed before Jed looked up.
His face was still wet, but he had composed himself.
He reached for a napkin and blew his nose.
He stared at Reid. Reid noticed he wore a silver band on the ring finger of his left hand.
“Are you going to answer my question?” Reid asked.
“This might make you think I’m trying to hide something,” Jed said, speaking slowly, in a very measured and calm way. “But I am not going to discuss that part of Beth’s and my life with you.”
“Well, that does sound as if you’re trying to hide something,” Reid said.
Jed tightened his lips, gave a half shake of his head, as if to say he didn’t care.
“Let me ask you this,” Reid said. “When did you last see Beth?”
“Almost a week before she died,” he said.
“That must have felt like a long time to be away from the woman you loved,” Reid said.
“It did.”
“So, what were you doing during that week?”
“I was on Fishers Island. Teaching art to my friend Lainie’s grandchildren.”
“Did you leave the island?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately, no.”
“Unfortunately?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Jed, what’s that ring you’re wearing? Did someone give it to you?” Reid asked.
Jed’s mouth was clamped shut, as if he had finished talking and was ready to go.
“The soup kitchen,” Reid said, deciding to change directions. “Where Beth volunteered and you sometimes had meals. Is there a food pantry there too?”
“Yes,” Jed said.
“Did you ever meet Martin Harris there, at either place?” Reid asked.
Jed looked blank and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Who is he?”
Reid thought Jed seemed to genuinely not recognize the name, or maybe it was just the numbness left over after crying. “Okay, Jed,” he said. “Give me your friend Lainie-from-Fishers-Island’s full name and contact info so I can get in touch with her.”
“She’ll tell you I was there the whole time,” Jed said.
“Teaching art,” Reid said. “Got it.”
Jed pulled a sketch pad and pencil from his orange backpack and began writing out the name and phone number.
“One other thing,” Reid said. “A minute ago, when I asked if you had left the island, you said, ‘Unfortunately, no.’ What did you mean by that?”
“If I had, I might have been able to save Beth,” Jed said, tears filling his eyes again.
Reid stared at Jed and without thinking handed him a napkin. The thing was, he believed him, that he really did feel that way.