BooksBarbecue
Back 3 a.m.
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  67. 3:46 a.m.

“I’ll let you know when to stop.”

“Okay,” he says, with a wide smile. “So, like I told you before, the detectives had the timeline all wrong. I don’t know who put the journal back together, but he sure as shit didn’t see any movies in 1984.”

I nod.

“So, I figure there are three theories for who killed her. It was either someone she already blackmailed or it was someone she was currently blackmailing or it was someone she was planning to blackmail. You follow?”

I have a huge bite of burrito in my mouth and nod.

“I have a hard time believing that someone who she already blackmailed would kill her. I mean, she was this young girl, she was charging such small sums, she never went back to the well, and she said — and even that idiot Chase verified — that if they didn’t pay her, she gave them the photos anyway.”

“I don’t know, I can see someone getting extremely pissed off they were being blackmailed.”

“Yeah, maybe, but according to her journal, it sounds like most of them were pretty okay with it. Two hundred bucks and they are scared straight for the rest of their lives. Hell, Jennifer Nubers was probably responsible for repairing more marriages than Viagra.”

I chuckle.

“And I figure if one of these guys killed her, he would just do it. He wouldn’t keep her for two days.”

I see where my dad is going with his logic. I say, “And there were no signs of sexual abuse, so they weren’t keeping her all that time for that.”

“I think they were interrogating her.”

“Looking for whatever pictures she took.”

“Right.”

“Why wouldn’t she just give them up? I mean, why would she care? They were just people having affairs.”

“Yes, but what if this time it wasn’t an affair? What if she stumbled on some people who were into something worse?”

“Did you read the whole journal?” I ask. “Does she mention something like that? Like drugs, or guns, or the mafia or something?”

“No, but lots of the journal pages are unaccounted for. The ending of some entries. The beginnings. Sometimes it’s just the middle pages. They either blew away or someone took them.”

“So, the journal entry we’re looking for might not even be in that pile?”

“Right.”

“That’s disheartening.”

“Well, we have to work with what we have and hope we get lucky.”

“Which is why you’ve recreated the wall from A Beautiful Mind.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Please don’t commit me.”

“No promises.”

He laughs again, then says, “It is fitting you would mention movies, seeing as how that is how I was able to piece the journal together chronologically. The way I figure it, the last few entries are the ones Jennifer hadn’t dealt with yet. The ones she hadn’t closed the books on.”