The Mystery of Jessica Benson Read Online Free PDF Page A

was clean enough and
ever-so-deco, but the hallway was dark and airless. The queasy
neighbor’s doorway was a sight. The tenants, clearly not fans of
understatement, had decorated the door with sprays of rainbows
and scripted in calligraphy was the sentiment Every Day is
Rainbows in 3-B . The detectives conspicuously ignored one
another.
    Will banged on the door and called out “Police!” The
door cracked slowly open, the safety chain still latched, and the
still-pale and slightly green neighbor looked out.
“May I see some identification?”
    Will rolled his eyes and pulled out his badge. “You
gonna wanna see my partner’s ID too, or what?”
With a self-conscious giggle and a quick stripping of the
chain, the door opened wide. “Sorry. I’m pretty rattled about,
you know, what happened. I didn’t mean to give you a hard time.
I am just feeling so oh-my-god about this, this, oh my god !” He
gave a quick shake of his head, reminiscent of a dog after a bath,
and invited the detectives in. Offering a nervous half-smile, he
held his hand out toward Karen. “I’m Rafe Strickland.”
She shook his hand. “Detective Brandt.”
Will, hands homophobically tucked deep in his pockets,
nodded at the witness. “Detective Kaufman.” A little smirk, and
then, “You’re looking a little rough around the edges, guy.”
Strickland was handsome. Karen figured he was
probably a model, like the dead girl. His hair was light brown
with just the right touch of blonde highlights. The style was hip,
short and spiky. Sea-blue eyes. His tight, sculpted body was a
tribute to many hours in one of South Beach’s famous gyms.
Every muscle was cut, and his short tank top left little to the
imagination. His shorts revealed perfect legs.
The apartment was larger than Jessica Benson’s, not a
studio. An ornate gray sofa was shadowed by an arc lamp of
chrome. A slab of white marble served as a coffee table and two
majestic gray and white brocade chairs completed the
conversation square. Karen made herself comfortable in one of
the chairs, but Will remained standing.
“So what do you think Mr. Strickland? Can you keep
your food down long enough to answer a few questions?” Will
asked.
“Hey detective, I’m so sorry about that. God, I, uh, can’t
believe this is happening.” He gulped a quick breath and gushed
on. “I was going out for my run. Sometimes Jessie’s just getting
home when I leave and occasionally, when she’s sober, she runs
with me in the mornings. So when I saw her door cracked open I
went in for a look-see, and well, whoops ! I just lost it. The smell .
And the way she looked. Oh, her magnificent face…mush.” He
grabbed for another breath and continued. “Well, I had just
finished eating—I, um, I eat before I run—most people wait till
after, but I need my carbs, and—”
“I’m sure you’re not used to starting your day with a
visit to a murder scene,” Karen prompted. Anything to get him on
task , she thought.
“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He flashed the half-smile again.
“I usually don’t spend any part of my day around dead bodies. I
mean, that is so for sure!”
“I understand, Mr. Strickland. It’s necessary that we ask
you a few questions, but we’ll try to be gentle.”
He gave her a brief, grateful nod and said, “Please, call
me Rafe.”
“Okay, Rafe. You mentioned that Jessica often came
home in the early morning hours. So, were you pretty close
friends with her?”
“I guess. She blew hot and cold, you know? We did an
occasional shoot together. We’re both models. Actually, this
building is like a dormitory for industry people. Both in front of
the camera and behind the scenes.” He hesitated.
“Go ahead,” Karen prompted. “Tell us whatever you
know, please. Sometimes even though you think it’s nothing, it
could be a key piece of evidence.”
“All right then, although I hate to speak ill of the dead.”
He gave her a conspiratorial nod, and went on. “She