Blackberry Heights was a 10 floor apartment complex that stood at the corner of Applecross Road and 7th Avenue. Although it was an old building born from brick and mortar, one of the selling point about the place was that each unit would look fundamentally different in material. Some rooms have polished wooden floors, concrete walls, or even the whole unit were made out of faux marble to give it a classy look.
Constable Jenny and Constable Jackson exited the elevator at floor 5 and looked around. The halls were wide and spacious, each end of the hall had three doors leading to their respective apartments.
“So!” Jackson looked between both hallways, eyeing their apartment numbers, “Why are we here again?”
“To get an interview from Mr. Tucker,” Jenny sighed while adjusting her jean jacket, “Leo said the husband was too distraught to get anything out of him after the visiting the morgue. The sergeant wants us to get as much information as possible, as well as the husband’s alibi.” Jenny perked her head up, tapping a fist into her palm with an, “Ah right. And to gather DNA samples from the Tucker residence. Hair, tooth brush, anything.”
“Why bother? Didn’t the guy confirm the body was his wife?”
“Leo told me he had doubts. He wanted to be extra sure. Forensics sure.”
Jackson rolled his eyes and plucked his fedora to give it a playful spin, “Got to hand it to the Sarge. Always paranoid, 10/10.” He then tossed his hat back onto his head and make texting gestures with his thumbs, “Comment on Yelp: would ask for conspiracy theories again.”
Jenny frowned with a disappointed stare, “If McLamb said that, I would understand. But you and I know Leo long enough to figure out how he thinks. If the sergeant asked us to get evidence to confirm a doubt, we will do so.”
“Alright. Alright. But I’m telling you all this triple checking is a waste of tax payers mon—SWEET JESUS!”
A door right next to Jackson suddenly swung open, startling him hard enough for his hat to fall off. After picking up his fedora, the Constable would see a figure walking out of the open door. “...Wait you’re him. Frank Tucker.”
“Who are you?” Mr. Tucker paused before he could close his door. He took one cautious step back, before Jenny stepped into his vision, “Oh you’re the officer lady the other day at the forensics building. Uuuh...Jasmine.”
“Constable Jenny, C.I.D.” Jenny cleared her throat, ignoring her partner’s snickers, “This is Constable Jackson, we are the same investigation team as Sergeant Leo and Constable McLamb you met previously. We hope to take your interview today.”
“By the way,” Jackson finished his chuckle and gave Mr. Tucker a look over, “Uuuuh. You look...awfully sharp in that suit. Party?”
Mr. Tucker shook his head. He adjusted his well pressed suit with a hesitant tug and hefted a heavy looking leather briefcase in one hand, “No. I’m heading out to work. I own a furniture factory.”
“...Dude, you just saw your wife’s dead body yesterday.”
“Ja—! ” Jenny slapped Jackson in the arm, shooting a glare at him. She then turned to the husband to bow, “I-I am so sorry for my partner’s rudeness!”
Mr. Tucker fell silent from their words, his eyes glancing between them. He ended up staring at a wall nearby, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing, “Yes, I know. My wife is gone. I still can’t believe it to be true. B..but I still have over 80 employees and we’re hitting a rough time.” Mr. Tucker took a moment to rub his mouth and jaw with a sigh, “Ever since Sarah disappeared, I had been absent from work. Now that you found her, I have to return to my duties. They need my leadership.”
Both officers exchanged subtle glances at each other. Just as Jackson opened his mouth, Jenny intercepted with, “I am sorry, for your loss. We hope you could spare a moment for some questions.”
“Uh. Erm...Alright yes. I can. Come in. Watch your step.” Mr. Tucker would nod and opened the door to his apartment, ushering them in.
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The Tucker resident was a small but cozy unit with a high ceiling. A living room, dining room, kitchen nook, a master bedroom, and a single bathroom with a mixed bathtub and shower. The walls were made of faux marble and embroidered with fake gold, giving it an expensive feeling when the Constables entered. As it was day out, the sunlight bouncing off the polished surfaces made the room bright as fluorescent bulb.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Jenny would take off her shoes, nearly putting them to the side. Jackson would march right in, shoes on. Mr. Tucker led them to the living room space, gesturing them to have a seat on the couches. There were two sets, one was a love seat facing the TV and a single that was placed to the side near the apartment window. As Jenny sat down, she noticed the glass-top coffee table in front of her and her partner.
It has some TV remotes, their rubber buttons worn out to the point where numbers and letters have gone missing. A pair of silver coasters with images of swan couples engraved onto the surface. There was also a pile of newspaper and magazines with the following headlines.
[BODY RECOVERED FROM THE DUKE RIVER, IN SEVEN PIECES!?]
[DISMEMBERED WOMAN DISCOVERED BEHIND THE POST OFFICE! THE SPLITTER STRIKES AGAIN?]
[THREE HEADS FOUND IN TAMPA PARK! SPLITTER’S CHALLENGE TO THE POLICE]
Before Jenny could speak up, Jackson leaned forward with an impressed whistle. “You got yourself a real cozy place. You make a killing at your furniture job? How much is the rent?”
“Jackson! Please!” Jenny would hit her partner in the arm and turned back to the husband, “I apologize, so much, Mr. Tucker. While I take your interview - in private - would you allow Constable Jackson to collect some DNA samples from your wife’s affects?”
“Yes, of course.” The husband would give a weary nod, gesturing a hand, “By all means. If this helps to solve the case, I am willing to cooperate.”
“Thank you so much,” Jenny would nod, then shove Jackson to his feet. With a shrug, the second Constable would wander around, checking the rooms. Jenny adjusted her jean jacket and cleared her throat, a professional air around her. “I understand you wish to know the details of what happened. I will talk to my inspector, and ask for permission to give you as much update as possible.”
Mr. Tucker smiled, a grateful nod, “I really appreciate it officer. You have questions for me? I apologize for before, I am ready to answer.”
Jenny returned the gesture with a light bow. Once Jackson was out of eye and ear shot, she would pluck out a voice recorder from her jacket pocket and hit the record button.
“Mr. Frank Tucker. Please tell me, what happened prior your wife’s disappearance.”
The husband rubbed his jaw, “It, it all started with an argument.”
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“Sarah and I have been married for over 20 years. We are about...sorry, we were about to celebrate our 22nd anniversary in a few weeks. Our marriage was born from rebellious love and a whirlwind emotions. Good times, now that I look back. But, I think you and I both know, when you live with the same person for that long, little problems start to show up...
...We bickered, from time to time. I mean, what married couple wouldn’t have a lover spat. At the end, either one of us would apologize and make it up to them. 20 years marriage, not something you can give up so easily. Compromise, compromise, compromise...However, I screwed up.”
Frank Tucker took a moment to rub his mouth more, his eyebrow furrowed. He couldn’t stop glancing at the magazine on the coffee table, all reporting about the dismembered body. He looked away, covering his quivering lips.
“On the night she disappeared, we argued, badly. It was about money. As I mentioned, I own a furniture company. I saw much success at the beginning, built it from the ground up. But with the rise of Amazon, eBay, even over seas companies with cheaper labour and materials – things just went from bad to worse. Sarah was upset, I spent too much money to keep the company afloat. I..I even put our apartment on mortgage – just when we paid it off.”
Frank Tucker rubbed his eyes with his palms, pressing the tears out from them with a disappointed shake of his head.
“I went to pick her up after her night shift at the hospital, like I always do. On the drive home she told me to just give up and close the business. I told her, ‘honey, I can’t do that. What about all my workers. They got family too’. One thing led to another, I raised my voice at her, I said things I shouldn’t have and she just...She forced me to stop the car and got out.”
The husband flipped his hands up with a shameful shrug.
“I messed up. I should never had left her alone. I was angry, I didn’t want to talk to her then, so I just drove around town to cool my head. When I calmed down I went back to the apartment. Lights were off. Checked the bathrooms and the room, empty. I waited for hours, any sign for Sarah to come back home but...”
The husband covered his mouth with both hands now, pressing his lips shut.
“I reported to the police that she was missing. I called her friends, co-workers, even visited the places she would likely go to. Nothing. I even went to my in-laws to check, and they hate my guts. Then I came across the news, about the Splitter. I never paid attention to it until now. The thought my wife could have been a victim just...”
Frank Tucker gripped his heart, shaking his head in denial.
“I didn’t want to believe it, but the more I kept waiting the more my mind wandered. She would have called me, even if she was living somewhere else. Still nothing. Not even a text, or voice mail... Officer, it’s all my fault this happened. I started this. I caused my wife to die. I realized my mistake when I saw her body at the morgue. I...”
Frank Tucker gave a deep inhale, choking back on some tears welling up in his eyes. He doubled over, elbows on his knees, hands cupping his mouth in a makeshift prayer. Unable to fight back the emotions in his body, his eyes cringed and he bowed his head in shame.
“It’s my fault Sarah is dead. All chopped up and tossed like garbage... Officer. Please, promise me you’ll catch the killer. Make them pay!”
== TO BE CONTINUED ==>