Chapter 32: Detective Lorna Crockett

SFPD Detective Lorna Crockett and Travis Weatherford, an employee at Pierce & Langford Brokerage Firm, having an affair with Zeno Eliot, ex-lover of deceased Clarence Belin.

Travis Weatherford sat alone in the stark interrogation room of the Hall of Justice, the clock ticking quietly as he awaited interrogation. He was torn, having witnessed something crucial that night. But should he reveal it? The yellow Porsche he spotted on Villa Terrace belonged to Jerry.

Implicating Jerry could entangle him in a mess far beyond Ahab's murder. He shuddered at the thought of Jerry's retaliation or the relentless questioning that might follow.

His mind raced, doubting the late-night sighting. Had his eyes deceived him? Was there an innocent reason for Jerry's car being there? The stakes were high, with Zeno already under suspicion.

Travis braced himself, torn between revealing the truth and preserving his safety. He recalled Jerry's confession about his relationship with Harlan, Abel's lover when they both were younger, and his animosity towards Abel after Abel took Harlan away from him. But Abel was not Ahab, despite their resemblance. He could see no possible motive, nothing to really tell the police about a co-worker and a friend.

His mind was a tangled web of doubt and fear. Justice urged him to speak, but self-preservation whispered caution. He feared the fallout of crossing Jerry and the potential breakdown of friendships.

Detective Crockett walked into the room with a calm, yet commanding presence. She was a petite, firm, and in-shape woman, with blonde hair neatly tied back, and a sharp gaze that missed nothing. She wore a grey pantsuit with an open-cut white blouse, exuding professionalism and authority. Her demeanor was composed, exuding an air of confidence and determination, suggesting she had conducted countless interrogations and knew precisely how to extract the truth. As she took a seat across from him, her expression was one of measured patience, ready to listen but also prepared to probe deeper if necessary. "Mr. Weatherford, I’m Detective Lorna Crockett," she began, her voice steady and reassuring. "I understand this must be a difficult time, but it's crucial that we get to the bottom of what happened last night. Anything you can tell me will help."

Travis nodded, his mind whirling. “I wasn’t there when Ahab got shot,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“But you were outside the house when the gunshots were fired, correct?”

“Yes, but I didn’t hear the shots.” He paused, recalling the woman with red hair who resembled Precious May running down the street.

“Who let you in the house?”

“The front door was open.”

“And you saw no one come out?”

“No one. I went in alone and saw Zeno... standing over Ahab’s body.”

“Was he holding the gun?”

“No, it was on the floor by the body.”

Detective Crockett listened intently, piecing together the fragments of Travis’s account. The open door and unseen departure puzzled her. Zeno standing over the body without the weapon raised more questions.  “His fingerprints are all over that Luger, the gun that killed Mr. Ahab Erikson,” she reminded Travis. “You know this?”

Travis replayed the eerie scene—the creaking floorboards, the thick tension, the faint scent of gunpowder. He remembered a shadowy figure slipping through the back door. The image of Zeno and Ahab, one breathing hard, the other dying, haunted him.

“Yes, I know. But Zeno wasn’t holding a gun when I arrived. He was trying to help Ahab. I tended to the others before calling the police.”

Detective Crockett's eyebrows rose slightly, but she quickly resumed a professional demeanor. "That's significant, Mr. Weatherford. Thank you for your honesty. We'll investigate further."

"Then you're done with me?"

"For the moment. But I have one more question: What is your relationship with Zeno Eliot?"

Travis swallowed again, uncertain whether to tell her the truth and decided he wouldn't—for now. "We're friends."

"But isn't Zeno Eliot involved with Abel Erikson, the one who got hit over the head?"

"Yes, but I was there as a friend. A friend. Nothing more."

"I understand," Crockett said as she stood to leave. "You can leave anytime. Thank you, Mr. Weatherford for your cooperation."

"You're welcome," Travis said, standing and feeling a mix of relief and dread. He ran his fingers through his hair. The truth was still hidden, and he feared what might come next.