Morning came and Jones was ready to begin his investigation. He knew that he delayed beginning his work enough, but the only thing he needed more was a cup of coffee. In order to not feel guilty about the acquisition of his favorite beverage, he set the room alarm for thirty minutes before he told himself to be due to begin investigating. Jones would then use that time to make motel room coffee. Jones was well acquainted with all of the brands motel rooms would carry. The powder one could barely call coffee that sat on the motel room desk was the worst of them all.
This was the last time Jones thought himself willing to sleep until the case was solved. The only reprieve Jones had while finishing his coffee was that every cup thereafter would be an improvement. This small mental game of finding better tasting coffee each and every time was often what was needed to stay awake after the time awake hits 48 hours.
First thing came first. Jones knew the beginning was to search Ms. Claudia Well''s apartment for any peculiarities. Peculiarities were the basis of all progress in Jones'' investigative experience. Her apartment might yet be able to inform the private eye whether she was having a relationship with the manager Gary had mentioned. The home should provide enough evidence to determine whether she was using drugs.
A more inexperienced detective would not be so interested in the apartment. A place that had already been searched by the police is all too often viewed as a closed avenue by a sleuth eager to get an investigation going. Although, it was certainly true that the most obvious of paraphernalia in the apartment would have been spotted by the police sometimes addicts leave a few clues beyond the more direct evidence of drug use. Drugs right next to the body were one thing, but a silver spoon amongst the cutlery would be enough to confirm she was a regular user in Jones'' mind. This was the kind of evidence Jones needed to rid himself of this suspicion that Claudia was murdered.
After much strategery with a cup of piping hot joe for company, Jones drove to the cursed place the victim met her demise at. The apartment was in the same small town as the motel. The modest unit was located near the edge of town. Crossing through the town was very revealing to its overall status. Jones had arrived too late last night to get a good impression, but even in his quick jaunt down the main street it was apparent that this area did not have the wealth of all the other surrounding villages. Despite never having been to Yeoville before, it was quite different from the other places in the lake region Jones had visited before. All of the notable locations that he knew nearby were little shopping centers or resorts. The label of village was semi-deceptive. They were merely just places to shop near some other touristy activity.
The town Claudia lived in had developed a long time ago. He knew most of the workers in the resorts and in those small shopping villages lived in Yeoville. The buildings here came from a time when the wealth of the country was not so pronounced. There were still some dense housing around. A few apartment buildings were littered around the mainstreet. Perhaps when they were built the vision of the town was much different and not so reliant on service. It did not seem as if a new construction had been here in thirty years. According to an article in the newspaper that Jones had once read, there was sort of a gentleman''s agreement with the rich towns folk to not develop this area. The article alleged that the wealthy in the lake region were in need of labor to staff their homes or resorts and thus were motivated to provide a place to live at a reasonable price.
Jones stepped out of the car finally and headed up the stairs to the third floor apartment. It did not seem like a dangerous place and all of the apartments appeared occupied. Both of the second floor tenants had quite quaint inviting door mats. The welcoming attitude that Jones had felt on the second floor quickly dashed by the reality of a locked door on the third. Despite the police tapes'' efforts to cover up such an exquisite piece of art, the door was of an exquisite paneled design. Little unique carvings lived within each panel. All of that being said, Jones had never seen such a horrid mismatch between the building and door.. The original owner of this place must have put some care into the interior of their home and had not paid much heed to the outside.
It took Jones only a few moments to pick the lock. He was quite adept at dismantling things and putting them back together without much fuss. Picking locks was his foremost specialty. A client once offered him employment as a locksmith, but that would eliminate all of the fun. It was quite a shame that this skill often led to illegal activities otherwise. That line between legality and the desire for results was Jones had to skirt often in order to get results.
Claudia''s apartment was nothing special. Perhaps, the valuables that made a home a home had already been moved far away where the stench of death could not infect. Jones found it more likely that she was not of the inclination to invest much into decor. The gray walls matched the gray skies that had just arrived over the town. Little natural light was coming in through the windows. Turning on the lights made it much more comfortable to Jones'' eyes. The only thing that stood out as being valuable was the picture frame nestled on the countertop. Jones thought that It must have been a gift from the father given how out of place it was in terms of value. It appeared as if the edges were gilded with gold, and the ornate design was stolen right off of a coat of arms. For the frame to have been bought by Claudia, the value must have been a result of meretricious design
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The picture in the frame was a beautiful image of the deceased. The photographer had captured the transcendence of youth. One could imagine that young woman to be the star of a soapy teenage film. Except this teenage film was soapy in all the right ways. An adult would see this film and be reminded of how he or she behaved back then. More importantly, in regards to the case, the face matched with the picture Gary had given to Jones the night before. Jones had once, or twice, broken into the wrong apartment so the match was of much relief.
The relief of being in the right place was short lived. The idea of her being once so happy and now her dead was an unavoidable thought to run across. In the picture she stood next to a surfboard well worn. Jones knew the general spot from the boardwalk in background. She certainly had one of the widest grins Jones had ever seen. It was the kind of smile one provided when one had not a care in the world. It was the kind of smile earned through a rigorous attention of enjoying life. Unable to bear looking at the picture more, Jones moved to the kitchen cabinets.
Dust was beginning to conquer the space. At least a week had passed since anyone had opened these cabinet doors. Only a few nonperishable items remained. No one was interested in this space anymore besides her father, and, now, by proxy Jones. If she was involved in any larger plot, it must have taken place elsewhere and not here.
Jones moved to the bedroom and took a peak outside. The one bed and one bath on the third story of a well worn building suggested a practical investment. There was no stunning view from the bedroom window and too there was little in the way of markets nearby. She must have drove across town to find the company of other people. This section of town was way too quiet. In the entire time that Jones had been in the apartment thus far no cars had passed by, at least none that made themselves audibly known.
After performing a scan of the entirety of the premises, it was clear to Jones that, unlike the original owners and their ornate door, no such frivolous investment was taken on by Claudia Wells. The curtain matched the drapes. The apparent cheapness of the locale The knife set near the sink was an unmistakably cheap brand. Its reputation was so damaged that it lacked even a worthwhile premium version that made it semi acceptable to purchase these knifes.
The living room had a secondhand sofa opposite a very old TV. This small television set had vacuum tubes instead of the now common solid state electronics. This was perhaps thought of as another practical investment by the recently deceased. However, Jones doubted that if one of those vacuum tubes were to blow that they would be able to be fixed. The TV was a heavy contraption if there ever was one. She certainly had hired someone to take that TV off the street and into her apartment. It was too possible that she had the aide of a male friend, the type one did not have to hire. All of this was speculation, but for now it was all that Jones had. The TV was the first lead to get to know her life a little better. Jones quickly searched the rest of the apartment, but found little of note. Despite a sense of cheapness in the decor, everything was ordered properly. Bills were organized and there were no clothes thrown strew. This was not the home of a druggie, and, an apparent heavy drug user at that. Thanks to Claudia''s organization it was easy for Jones to find a few recurring receipts from a local restaurant. The bills contained two main dishes on each and every visit. From what the private eye could surmise, she was meeting someone there. The receipts were over the course of two months and stopped only a week before her death.
Jones wondered why the friend, whether male or female, had not come forth when the newspaper article announcing her death was published. Gary had mentioned that only a day after the discovery of her body did the press release a brief statement on her untimely passing. It certainly was a bit weird that such a friend had not announced him- or herself. This was the second lead that Jones had and the first that he was determined to pursue. He still needed a strategy to investigate the lake house and its manager.
Nothing else here was of note. This was a place barely lived. One seat on the sofa was turned upside down. Although, an out of place cushion could easily be accounted for by a general lack of care, but what could not be accounted for was why the police did not flip it over. Underneath Jones found a single white piece of paper. A single sentence was scrawled across the middle, "a jack of all trades is a master of none, but is oftentimes better than a master of one."
The lights only marginally helped with Jones'' vision. The artificial brightness failed to introduce life into rooms devoid of soul. No amount of art on the walls could change that droll feeling one has in a home so cold. The coldness pierced deeper than any of those cheap knifes could ever dream of. Jones did not know whether it had always been so dreary or if this had been caused by the murder that took place here. Moment by moment he was becoming more sure that this was no accidental overdose. An evilness was crawling in the walls and it was begging to be revealed.
At 10:30 the restaurant where Claudia and her friend met was opening for the day, as was indicated on the receipts. To Jones, it seemed like a waste of ink to put the hours of the establishment on the receipt, but he assumed the owner of Drake''s American Fare knew better on how to run his business. Jones drove to the restaurant immediately after concluding his search of Claudia''s apartment. The roads in town were starting to get a little busier. By no stretch of the imagination was main street crowded, but, at the very least, there was life visible.