The Alleged Accidental Shooting
A week and a half later, Nick was getting ready for his job at the summer camp when the doorbell rang. He opened the door, finding two cops waiting for him.
“Hi, my name is Officer Brian Beatty of the Orange Bay Police department and with me is Officer John Canfield. We’re investigating a shooting and need to speak with Catherine O’Brien.”
“A shooting? What are you talking about?” Nick studied the two officers, who were young and fully uniformed with holsters and guns. They appeared a bit stiff and far too serious.
“Well, we can’t go into details as we’re currently investigating this occurrence. Is Catherine O’Brien available?” Officer Beatty adjusted his stance as he spoke. He was slightly taller and a bit heftier than his counterpart, who seemed to be the proverbial silent partner, and it appeared that his striped beige trousers were two sizes too small. Then he noticed that his partner’s pants appeared two sizes too big. “Hmmm. Pants swap?”
The officers appeared anxious, so he broke himself away from his thoughts. “She’s sleeping right now. She’s recovering from two broken ribs in an auto accident last week, and beyond that she’s battling cancer. Do you really need me to wake her up?”
“It would be greatly appreciated in our investigation, sir,” Beatty said.
“Okay, hold on just a minute.” Nick closed the door and went into his mom’s bedroom.
“Mom,” he said, “can you talk to two cops? They said there’s been a shooting and they’d like to talk to you about it. Not sure of much more.”
In the same moment, Nick thought of the press photographer and the newspaper article he’d read about his death a few days before.
“Sure, Nick, I’ll come to the door. Give me a few minutes to get out of bed and get dressed. My ribs are killing me.”
Nick left her room and returned to the front door.
“She’s getting dressed. It’s hot out here. Do you guys want to come in?”
“That’s okay, sir. We’ll wait here.”
“Okay, well, she should be here in a minute,” Nick said as he closed the door. He sat down on a chair in the living room by the front door and waited for his mom. Within a few minutes, she walked up slowly and opened it.
“Please come in. I can’t stand outside in the heat right now in my condition.”
Within a minute, Nick found himself seated next to the two cops and his mom in the living room.
He looked again at Beatty’s pants when he caught Beatty’s beady brown eyes watching him. “Sir, can you please leave the room? We need to talk privately with your mom.”
“Sure.” Nick went to the next room where he was within an earshot, unbeknownst to the cops.
“Mrs. O’Brien, do you mind if I record our conversation?”
“No.”
Nick listened to Beatty as he read his mom her rights and then proceeded to recount the story of the press photographer, his pregnant wife, his young daughters, and the alleged accidental shooting.
“Alleged?” Nick thought.
He heard Beatty say, “We’ve identified a number of text messages between you and Mr. Ramsey. They indicate that you had a relationship with him, which may or may not have ended prior to the shooting, which occurred on Thursday, June 26th.
Nick shuddered.
“Yes, there was a very brief relationship. We dated twice on the same day, which was the day after a fundraiser I held in my home on May 16th. Braedon was taking photographs at the fundraiser. That’s how I met him. The first date was about the fundraiser and my approval of the pictures. The second was a dinner that night.”
“But you didn’t date him again after that?”
“No. I didn’t. I saw him once after that while on my morning jog. He seemed pushy and desperate and it felt a little like he was stalking me. Not my type at all. I also didn’t know that he was married. He told me his wife had passed away a couple of years earlier of cancer. Of course I didn’t realize he had a pregnant wife at home or small children.”
Nick stepped into the room. “Sorry, but I overheard you talking. You guys need to know something. That guy is a snake. He told me that his wife had died of cancer so he could go after my mom. That was at the fundraiser. The shooting was karma. Probably his wife’s anger over her husband’s cheating.”
“Really? That’s good to know. And your name is?”
“Nick O’Brien.”
“Okay, thank you to both of you. Your help is appreciated. When you’re better, would you two mind coming down to the police station to take a deposition?”
“No, I don’t mind. I’ll come down,” Nick answered.
“I will too. Oh, and let me ask you this. Am I going to find my name splattered in all of the papers? Please say no.”
“No, not while this is under investigation. We have no intention of leaking this to the press or it would distort the investigation and make it difficult to identify an unbiased jury.”
“Thank you.”
Nick looked at his mom, who was sitting silently in a chair.
“Mom, I hope you don’t mind, but I had to say something. You know, I saw a wedding band on that guy’s finger at the Women’s Luncheon too. He took it off before he started flirting with you. I should have told you that before. I should have told the police that too. I’ll let them know when we go down there.”
“That would have been helpful, Nick, but that’s okay. You didn’t know that I went on a date with him, so you had no reason to tell me. If I would have pursued the relationship, I would have said something to you, but I’d chosen not to pursue it.”
“When you have wealth, you always have to be wary of suitors without wealth. You’re always questioning their interest in you and looking for flaws. It’s difficult because sometimes you don’t know if you’ve made the right judgment call when you either remain with them or break up. In this case, I made the right decision.”
“His wife could have read the text messages that he sent to me, which would have indicated that he hadn’t been faithful to her. Whether an accident or on purpose, it’s probably some sort of karma. He shouldn’t have been cheating on his pregnant wife. Plus he had two small daughters. What a shame. Men. Sorry Nick, but some men use the minds under their belts when making decisions.”
“True, Mom, but not all of us.”
“Well, I know you’re perfect, Nick. You’re my son. Let’s talk about something different. I’m going to rest a bit more and then at 3:15, let’s drive over to the foster home for our appointment.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be back from the summer camp around 2:45. That will give me time to shower, shave, and put on my dark blue suit.”
“Good, I plan to wear a blue suit as well. We’ll blend nicely together.”