Page 127 of Think Twice

“So the person who hired you can back this up?”

Jackie looked over at Kelly. Kelly said, “Some of it. Yes, a woman named Leah Nowicki confirmed that she hired Jackie over the Task-Rabbit app. But once Jackie arrived and they met, Nowicki went to work and left Jackie alone in her yard to finish the job.”

“So theoretically,” Myron said, speaking to Jackie now, “you could have left and come back.”

“But I didn’t.”

“We’re still working on it,” Kelly Gallagher added. “Maybe there was nearby CCTV or something that can lock in the alibi.”

“So what next?” Myron kept his attention fixed on Jackie Newton. “You finish the job and go home?”

“Yes.”

“What time was that?”

“I got home around seven o’clock.”

“Anyone else there?”

“Carol DeChant had stopped in for five minutes but she was gone by then.”

“Who’s that?”

“A neighbor. She’s a widow. She comes over sometimes and keeps him company. She watches him for me when I’m gone too many hours. It pisses Dad off though, having someone watch him.” Jackie Newton actually smiled. “So what Mrs. DeChant does is, she pretends she’s interested in him. Sexually. She does that just so he won’t get angry when she stops by to check on him.”

“Some neighbor,” Myron said.

“There are a few good people in this world, Mr. Bolitar.”

“There are,” Myron said. “Okay, and Mrs. DeChant was gone when you arrived?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“I called her fifteen minutes before I got back. She said she was just leaving, that Dad was down for a nap.”

“So you get home. What happened next?”

“I started making dinner for when Dad woke up. I was home maybe half an hour when the doorbell rang. It was two police officers. They said that a Remington rifle had been stolen from someone in the building. They asked if we owned one. I told them yes. They asked if maybe it was mine. I said let me take a look. I think that surprised them.”

“They probably figured you’d jump on the stolen-gun story,” Myron said. “They figured you’d disposed of the rifle after the murder—that’s what most killers would do—and would come up with some weird excuse that would help them get you. So what happened? Did they ask to come in?”

“Yes. I told them I kept the rifle in my closet.”

“And they followed you there?”

Jackie Newton nodded. “I opened the closet and pushed back the big overcoat in the back and yep, there it was, the rifle, leaning against the wall. Then I said, ‘Nope, the stolen one isn’t mine,’ but they were already freaking out. One took out his gun.”

“What did you think was happening?”

“I didn’t have a clue. I said, ‘Whoa, whoa, calm down, the rifle isn’t even loaded.’ Then I saw that they had gloves on. The cop with the gun called for backup. The other told me not to move. I asked him what was going on. He asked me if I knew Ronald Prine. At that stage, I figured this was just more Prine harassment—that he’d sent them to torment me. I got mad and said, ‘Yeah, I know the prick. What, do you guys work for him or something?’ And then the cop asked again, slower this time, ‘Do you know Ronald Prine?’ and now I really didn’t like the tone in his voice. So I stopped talking. I said I wanted a lawyer.”

“They tested the rifle,” Myron said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Had you fired it lately?”