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last update2025-04-21 16:04:59

I knocked on the door and waited a while, then I knocked again.

“I'm coming, hold on.”

She opens the door, her face screwed up.

I've been here about three or four times I can't remember. Before Cassidy and I started staying at hotels, she and I used to come here. She always loved Jeanine’s apartment, which was so luxurious, she always said.

"Oh!” she exclaimed.

She's dressed in a short denim dress, and a charming brown coat, and her long brown hair is free. She’s not wearing any shoes. I can't tell if she's on her way out or she just came back.

"Manuel, come in," she cheered.

Taking a step back to make room for me to enter

"Oh, darling, I heard what happened. I'm so sorry.”

She hugs me, but I don't hug her back, my hands still in my pocket. I wonder if the apology is for the death of Cassidy or the fact I'm being charged with her murder.

"Thanks, Jeannie, but I have a few questions to ask.”

She looks at me with a glazed look before she rolls her eyes.

"Fine, you have 10 minutes. I have somewhere to be,” she said.

She disappears into the kitchen and comes out with a glass of wine. It's never too early for a glass of wine. That's the way Jeanine lives her life.

“Who was Cassidy meeting on Saturdays, Jeanine?” I question

Her face goes white, and her hand freezes the glass of wine still in her mouth.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” she answers with a tight-lipped smile.

“You're lying,” I counter.

“Daniel told me Cassidy went out on Wednesdays and Saturdays and she wouldn't come back home; she was always with me on Wednesdays, so who was she meeting on Saturdays?”

"Daniel, poor Daniel, how is he doing?” she cooed

“I should make time and go see him; I'm sure he'd love that,” she blushes, adjusting her dress.

She knows something, and I'm not leaving here without any answers.

“Who was she meeting on Saturdays and why?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

I slam my hand on the table next to me, and she jerks.

“I'm going to ask you one more time, Jeanine, who was Cassidy seeing on Saturdays,” I ask, my voice deadly serious.

“I don't know who he is; she never told me his name,” she replies in a taut voice.

That wasn't the answer I was expecting, but I needed to find something.

“How did she meet him, and where did they usually meet?”

"She, I, They,” she hesitates.

She takes the glass of wine, gargles it down, and takes a deep breath before she replies.

“I don't know where they met, but it wasn't long ago she started seeing him—maybe six months ago or eight, I can't say.”

“They'd always meet at the Century Hotel, she always looked forward to it. She didn't tell me much.”

“She'd always tiptoe around the subject, shut down the conversation if I tried to bring him up.”

She stands up and drops the glass into the sink, comes out, and points to the door.

“If you don't mind, I'd like for you to leave. Your ten minutes are up, and I have somewhere to be,” she reminded.

She leads me to the door, but before she slams the door in my face, she says.

“That bitch deserved it,“ she says in a tone so low it sounds like a whisper before she slams the door shut.

What does she mean by that? Was Cassidy involved in something that led to her death, and does Jeanine know about it?

Who's the mystery guy she was meeting on Saturday? Is he connected to her death?

All these thoughts are swimming in my head as I take the train home. I have a lot of questions but not a lot of answers, and I don't have enough time.

I get back home and Michael isn't there. I open my laptop and go through articles to see if there's anything new about the case, but there's nothing.

The story isn't getting the coverage it was in the beginning, and I guess that's good, but I can't stop thinking of the words Jeanine said today: “That bitch deserved it.”.

I take a random book from my table and a pen and write down my suspects. I can't depend on the police to solve this case, so I'm going to do a little detective work of my own.

Suspect list

1) Daniel

2) Jeanine

3) Mystery guy????

I write down Daniel's name first. He might be the grieving husband, but in most cases, it's always the husband who has a motive, the divorce.

If Cassidy left him, she'd take half his company and walk away; hell, if it was me, I'd kill her too. I don't know about his alibi; I didn't get a chance to ask the last time.

I write Jeanine's name next. She's the best friend but she didn't look like she lost a friend today. She looked normal. Maybe she was jealous of Cassidy?

Cassidy had it all: a loving husband, a beautiful job, and a wonderful home. I'd understand if Jeanine wanted that. She was divorced, living off the money she got from her divorce.

I remember she'd look at Cassidy in a certain kind of way; it makes sense now that she was envious, but would she go as far as killing her so-called best friend?

I'd have to go back and ask her where she was the night Cassidy was murdered.

And lastly, the mystery guy Cassidy would always see on Saturdays. I don't even know how I'm going to find out who he is, but what if he is the killer? Why would he kill her?

What happened between them, and why were their meetings a mystery? Why didn't she?

Tell Jeanine about this guy. Why was she hiding him?

She didn't keep me a secret, so why was she keeping him a secret?

I think this might be a real lead, and I'm about to start searching until I find what I'm looking for.

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  • Blood and Motive   Prologue

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  • Blood and Motive   3

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  • Blood and Motive   4

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  • Blood and Motive   5

    I get home just as Michael starts making dinner. I ask him about his day.Michael is a bartender at one of those overpriced rich people clubs in Manhattan. We have been friends ever since I met him at a bus stop and asked for directions.He asks me about the meeting with Jill while we eat, and I tell him everything she told me. “Damn man, that's a lot. But if you do go to prison, I'll visit you,” he laughs dryly. I turn my face away. “Too soon? Sorry man, I was just joking.”“You want to play a match; take your mind off things; it'll be fun,” he encouraged. And we played games on the PlayStation until my fingers hurt.Jill calls me the next morning to meet her at her office, and when I leave the house, I find out the media is camped outside my apartment building, so I walk very fast, and luckily they don't see me. I wonder how they found out where I live.“Good morning,” she greeted I take a seat in the same spot I sat the last time I came and stare at my feet.“So the prosecutio

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  • 9

    The Century Hotel I type into the search bar; it's not too far from my apartment, so I take Michael's car while he's out running some errands.It takes me about twenty minutes to get there with the traffic and all. It's not a big hotel, but it has this homely vibe.I understand why Cassidy would come here; it's so nice and sophisticated, just like she was.I enter the hotel lobby and head straight to the reception desk. A lady with ginger-coloured hair and glasses is seated at the reception desk. She is attending to guests, so I wait my turn. She's wearing a white shirt with Gwen embroidered into it, so I'm guessing that's her name.“Good morning Gwen, I was wondering if I could take a look at your guest book." I begin, going straight to the point.She looks at me, raising a brow. “Are you a guest here?”“No, I'm not,” I reply.“Are you with the police or something?” she questioned "No, I'm not, but...” She doesn't let me finish, she cuts me off mid-sentence.“I'm sorry, then I c

  • 8

    I knocked on the door and waited a while, then I knocked again.“I'm coming, hold on.” She opens the door, her face screwed up. I've been here about three or four times I can't remember. Before Cassidy and I started staying at hotels, she and I used to come here. She always loved Jeanine’s apartment, which was so luxurious, she always said."Oh!” she exclaimed.She's dressed in a short denim dress, and a charming brown coat, and her long brown hair is free. She’s not wearing any shoes. I can't tell if she's on her way out or she just came back."Manuel, come in," she cheered.Taking a step back to make room for me to enter"Oh, darling, I heard what happened. I'm so sorry.”She hugs me, but I don't hug her back, my hands still in my pocket. I wonder if the apology is for the death of Cassidy or the fact I'm being charged with her murder."Thanks, Jeannie, but I have a few questions to ask.”She looks at me with a glazed look before she rolls her eyes."Fine, you have 10 minutes. I h

  • 7

    Jeanine was Cassidy's close friend; they went everywhere together. She'd even followed us out to dinner. Sometimes I wondered who was the third wheel.“Jeanine was Cassidy's friend. I'm sure you know her,” he sniffled."Yes, I know her,” I shifted in my seat.“I think she met her 2 or 3 years ago; I don't remember. It was good she had a new friend. Friend. They were always out and about.”“Always out,” he said bitterly.I just sat there listening. You could see the grief in his eyes and hear the pain in his voice.“Cassidy started spending so much money, but it wasn't a problem. I had enough money for both of us, and I didn't want to ask her questions.”“Always buying clothes, flying out to Paris, Spain, or BoraBora, Mexico; it was one place or the other, but she always came back home to me, her husband, her best friend,” he paused.“Until she met you,” the color drained out of my face as he said that.“I don't know how she met you or why, but she started going out Wednesday and Satur

  • 6

    The media camped outside my building keeps getting worse every day but I can't just sit inside and do nothing.So our motion to dismiss was denied, so now it's becoming quite clear I can go to prison for this crime even though I didn't do it.I'm going to go see Cassidy's husband to see if he can tell me anything about Cassidy.I check my phone for any new messages before I put on my shades and make my way to the train station.I remember Cassidy showing me pictures of her house, but she told me I could never show up at her house, but I'm here and I need answers.It's a pretty big house that gives off a modern, chic vibe. It's probably Cassidy who decorated it. I press the doorbell, and after what seems like a minute.A middle-aged woman dressed in a maid's uniform comes to open the door. I take off my glasses, giving her a small smile, and she returns it.“I'm looking for Daniel. Is he in?” I asked her “Mr.Jones isn't receiving visitors at the moment, but I'll let him know that you

  • 5

    I get home just as Michael starts making dinner. I ask him about his day.Michael is a bartender at one of those overpriced rich people clubs in Manhattan. We have been friends ever since I met him at a bus stop and asked for directions.He asks me about the meeting with Jill while we eat, and I tell him everything she told me. “Damn man, that's a lot. But if you do go to prison, I'll visit you,” he laughs dryly. I turn my face away. “Too soon? Sorry man, I was just joking.”“You want to play a match; take your mind off things; it'll be fun,” he encouraged. And we played games on the PlayStation until my fingers hurt.Jill calls me the next morning to meet her at her office, and when I leave the house, I find out the media is camped outside my apartment building, so I walk very fast, and luckily they don't see me. I wonder how they found out where I live.“Good morning,” she greeted I take a seat in the same spot I sat the last time I came and stare at my feet.“So the prosecutio

  • 4

    It's 10 o'clock when I reach Jill's law firm; her assistant takes me to her office. It's a corner office with white chairs and a glass table, with various awards and certificates on the wall.“Mr Salazar, good morning,” she greets I turn and face her. She's wearing a tailored black suit, her hair packed into a tight, low bun, not a strand out of place.She radiated confidence and power. She took a seat on her couch and gestured for me to sit on the other side. She cleared her throat.“Okay, I want you to know that if I'm going to be your lawyer, you're going to have to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; don't leave anything out,” “That's the only way I can help you,” she added. “And as your lawyer, anything you tell me is confidential; you can trust me,” she reassures. “So you'll be my lawyer then?”"Yes, I will. I'm in. You came to the right person.” she vouched “This is what I do; this is why I have a $100,000 retainer.”“I take the cases no one wil

  • 3

    I wake up the next morning and I can't get out of bed. I just stare at the ceiling, my hands behind my head, thinking of my next move, and that's when I decide I'm going to look for Jill Baker and convince her to be my lawyer.I get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I see my reflection in the mirror. I look like I've aged 5 years in the past few days.I take a nice long hot shower to calm my nerves, brush my teeth, and comb my hair. I get ready, putting on jeans, a black sweatshirt, a black cap, and dark sunglasses so no one recognizes me. My picture is all over the news. I don't want to draw attention to myself.I type Jill Baker into the search bar on my phone, and I see she works at a firm called Ross & Baker. I copy the address, and I'm on my way.I take the train, and on the train ride to upper Manhattan, I go through articles about Cassidy's death saying all sorts of things about me.~Manwhore kills client after she refuses to pay.~~Sex went wrong as woman dies in ha

  • 2

    I've been here for two days now. I haven't been allowed a phone call, appointed a lawyer, or allowed any visitors.Just me in a jail cell. It's quiet—too quiet. All I can hear is the air conditioner cooling.After the detectives questioned me, an officer brought me to a cell and locked me in there ever since.The first night here was hard. I had to sleep on the iron bench, and my back hurts.I couldn't sleep. I could only replay my interview with the detectives and think of Cassidy.The letters from the photo are burned into my mind. They are all I can think about.I've been questioned again, but this time, it was just Detective Dan. He was much calmer this time and asked if he could get me anything.Dan is a lot younger than Nathan; you could tell by the way he dressed and styled his hair.He was a white man with blue eyes and a mustache, not as tall as Nathan, but he was just as muscular.He asked me for the truth, and I told him, but he said he couldn't help me if I didn't tell him

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