Imitation of Life

Chapter Three

Joshua stretched out, releasing a long, tiring yawn that depicted his exhaustion. He stepped out of the bathroom and made his way to his wardrobe, walking past the large mirror he'd hung on his wall, close to the entrance leading to the bedroom. Pausing suddenly, he backtracked and stood right in front of the reflective glass.

He was almost taller than the mirror stood, with the top of his blonde head most definitely cropped out. He had a muscular kind of build that was difficult to hide in most outfits, even the large ones. He gazed at the bulging veins that roped around his forearms and into his biceps, flexing them a bit for the fun of it. His head bore solid jawlines, sparse facial hair on the chin and upper lip, a straight nose, and blue tired eyes.

To any beholder, they'd say he was a perfect model.

To him, he reckoned he didn't look too bad, but he wasn't a hottie either. Especially now that he knew he was stressed as hell.

After putting on a sleeveless shirt and some PJ pants, he laid on his bed staring at the ceiling.

Thinking. Wondering. Speculating.

Mrs. Margaret was a lovely host, he recalled. Despite bearing one of the most painful experiences a mother could take, she tended to their questions with calm and honesty. Joshua remembered being impressed that she lived on her own, with no assistance from anyone else concerning the day to day activities around her beautiful home.

"She's just blind, Joshua. Not handicapped." Tracy had reminded him.

Still, anyone would be marvelled at how she went about her business with ease.

Bringing his hands up and behind his head, Joshua tried to recall the information she'd related to them.

Five children. All educated. All living their lives to the fullest and earning maximum income while at it. All positioned at different locations across the globe.

All except Jonathan.

For some reason she couldn't understand, her first son chose to come back to the sleepy little town she wanted him to leave. And, unlike his siblings, he wasn't involved in an illustrious job that had fame and fortune imprinted on the memo.

He was an English teacher, who also took charge of the French and Spanish classes at the Chesterfield Springs High School; the highest institution of education the town had. Children who graduated from there went ahead to attend colleges in other regions, namely the big cities.

But that was only if the parents could afford it.

The ones who couldn't afford college ended up being the adults with the meagre jobs in the town. Or, worse, ended up being involved in shady dealings just to get by.

But Jonathan was nothing like that, Mrs. Walters had assured the detectives. She'd always been proud of him and his decisions. She said he often spoke about how paramount it was giving the growing children the information that they required to survive anywhere they found themselves.

How important it was pointing the children to the right direction at their age.

He predicted that the reason why many kids who left Chesterfield never returned was because they saw it as a place that it was: the little sleepy town that had no excitement or opportunities whatsoever. But if he could change that, if he could alter that poisonous mindset, Chesterfield Springs would have more people giving back to the town that made them who they were. In time, it wouldn't just be regarded as a mere "sleepy town". It would morph into a center of possibilities and opportunities. An eventual metropolis.

Joshua sighed. Johnathan seemed like a good guy who simply wanted to give back to the community. He could have been the catalyst Chesterfield needed.

So, the million dollar question was: who'd want him dead and gone?

Squinting at the ceiling, Joshua made a mental check of Jonathan's family and associates.

All his siblings were out of the country, he and Tracy would only be able to reach them on the day of the funeral, which was a week from now. Joshua also needed to pay Chesterfield Springs High School a visit, and meet with Jonathan's colleagues, his boss. Probably his students. Mrs. Walters had also revealed that her son was an honorary member of the Chesterfield Library Committee, which were dedicated to making sure that education didn't end for those who couldn't afford college. Another way Johnathan had attempted to help his hometown.

Joshua yawned and peeked at his phone charging on the lamp stand.

"10:33pm" displayed boldly on his lock screen.

The thought of getting some sleep was completely pushed aside when a sudden realization hit him.

What about the laptop?

It was incredible how Joshua never thought about it for once, more incredible was the fact that it sat in the box Tracy left him with, in his apartment.

Instead of waiting til he had a chance with Jonathan's siblings, he could see what he'd find in the computer. Who knows, he might find a hidden account stashed with money or some love letters mailed to an old lover.

Joshua chuckled at the possibilities as he kicked off the covers and made his way to the living room.

After setting a glass of orange juice beside a plate of sandwich, Joshua opened the laptop and turned it on. He found the files with ease, following the same steps Tracy had used.

He found the file that showed a time stamp of July 15th, and clicked on it.

Five minutes of scrolling through made Joshua realize it was a novel Johnathan had been working on.

And it was incomplete. Joshua stared at the abrupt halt the story had taken, just a couple of paragraphs after Chapter Six had begun.

A sudden desire began to rise in his chest as he stared at the screen intensely. Writing was something Joshua was good at, at least a couple of eons ago. Back in college, he used to write articles and short stories that were submitted and published in the bulletin board every month.

It was a hobby that he dropped during the course of time.

But, all of a sudden, the desire to pick up the creative pen burned skyhigh. Joshua held his hands together and blew into them. Surely, Johnathan wouldn't have wanted his legacy to go unfinished.

Joshua looked into the laptop for a moment longer, then he scrolled back up. To Chapter One.

In order to complete the story, he needed to know how it began. So he took a big bite off his sandwich and began to read:

"Richard had arrived pretty late to his class on a windy Monday morning. All thanks to the unbeatable traffic downtown . . . ”

★

Jonathan Walters was buried a week later, in Chesterfield Springs' Memorial Park located at the edge of the town, far from residual buildings. It was a quiet affair that had the majority of the population gathered together. After all, they'd lost a man who was dedicated to changing things for the better, a man that many looked up to.

A short sermon was read, followed by the last farewell wishes from the guests. After which his body was finally laid to rest in the ground.

The reception was held in Mrs. Walters' home, with all the guests in attendance, including all her children.

Including the detectives.

"You think it's a good idea firing questions at his siblings in the reception of a funeral? I mean, I'm sure they're still grieving."

Joshua looked at Tracy, who already looked nervous considering the task at hand. Her attire was simple; a suit over a blouse and silk skirt, completed with heeled moccasins. All in black, of course.

And, of course, she looked stunning.

Joshua had decided not to overdo things and went with the traditional all-black suit and tie outfit. And both wore dark shades.

Standing together, they looked like a remixed version of the Men In Black.

"We're not doing anything wrong, Tracy." Joshua replied. "They might all be gone after today, and we can't follow them around the world. This may be our only chance."

"You speak like you haven't heard of phone calls and texts." Tracy retorted.

Joshua scoffed. "I don't know about you, but I prefer interrogating in person. Enables me to have a direct assessment of their body language and tone."

Just then, a man burst out in laughter in a small circle in the living room that had gathered around Mrs. Margaret and another lady who sat and held her closely. Probably one of her daughters.

"Great. Now's our chance." Joshua stepped in front of Tracy and looked down at her. She stared right back.

"We simply get in there, get social, ask a couple of questions, and bounce. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy."

He brushed imaginary dust off her shoulders amid her confused expression. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin.

"No pressure," he declared as he led the way towards Walters.

The detectives wove round the guests on their way from the front porch to the living room. When they got closer, the laughter had gotten louder and more voices had joined in. Five people stood in a loose semi circle, around the white leather sofa Mrs. Margaret and the young lady sat on. A robust man in the middle of the semi-circle seemed to be leading the merriment, with his head thrown back each time he laughed. Mrs. Margaret simply smiled at each joke, with her hand in the young lady's.

"Good day, everyone." Joshua's voice boomed over the laughter.

They all turned to the detectives, laughter ceasing. Only Mrs. Margaret kept smiling.

"I was wondering when you'd come in, detective." She said, adjusting her black skirt.

"We were waiting for the right time, Mrs. Walters." Tracy responded, no doubt as shocked as Joshua was.

"My mother always had the gift of knowing whoever was in the room, no matter how crowded it was." The robust man said with a smile. He extended his hand towards Joshua.

"Michael Walters. John's brother."

Joshua shook his hand, so did Tracy. "We're sorry for your loss." Joshua said routinely.

"Please accept our condolences." Tracy added.

Michael scratched his round cheek and shrugged. "It's just one of those things, you know. Death's a part of life. I'm sure he's in a better place."

"Death is part of the natural order of things," agreed Joshua. "Murder, however, is not."

"Are you saying this was a homicide?" The question came from a lady in the group. Wearing a pencilled black gown with transparent long sleeves and expensive jewellery on her neck, she was probably the only one who looked like she was attending a ball. Joshua also noticed the resemblance, another Walters.

"We believe so," Tracy answered. "That's why we need all the support we can get to solve this case and bring the culprit to book."

"Wait. You want to question us? Here?" The young lady seated next to Margaret asked in disbelief.

"We don't really have much of a choice," Joshua said, standing his ground. "We might not be gathered like this after today. So we thought it best to take advantage of the opportunity."

"This is completely unprofessional," she started, her voice rising in anger. "You people wouldn't even let us mourn our brother, now you're already here pointing fingers—"

"That's enough, Martha." Michael said sternly.

The lady stopped obediently, then burst into tears abruptly. While the others tried to pacify her, Michael turned to the detectives.

"Please pardon my sister." He said in an embarrassed tone. "She's the emotional one amongst us."

"No need to apologise," Joshua assured. "I'm sure this is very hard to handle."

"Indeed." Michael took a look at his sobbing sister and sighed.

"Tell you what," he turned back to them. "My siblings are going to be hanging around for a couple of days. Just so our mother isn't left alone. I, on the other hand, would have to leave really soon. So, you could start shooting your questions at me." He gave Tracy a wink.

"That would be helpful, Mr. Walters." Joshua said with a forced smile.

"Please, please. Call me Michael. Or just Mike would be fine." He grinned as he made his way to the front door. "We should get going," he said, beckoning them to follow.

Mike pushed a button and the car hummed to life. Just as he was about to switch gears, a taxi stopped in front of his vehicle. A woman climbed out of the back seat and shut the door. She stood tall, with her black dress just going past her knees. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she began to make her way into the house.

"Someone's late as usual." Mike's voice seemed laced with sentiment.

"Do you know her?" Tracy asked.

"Unfortunately," was Mike's response.

"That's Eleanor Rigby. John's ex wife."