CHAPTER THREE ~ WITNESS
“Yes,” Chief Inspector Sawyer answered. The trio then walked outside.
“A woman named Juliet Hopkins. She lives across the street.” The chief pointed at a two-story, brown, Victorian-style house with a black roof. Although it looked recently renovated, Sophie knew the house was around for generations and generations.
Eyeing the house, Sophie asked, “Did the woman say or hear anything?”
The chief sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets. “The woman said when she finished work around four, she saw the garage door closing just as she pulled up in her car.”
Chief Inspector Sawyer furrowed his brow as he recalled the woman’s statement. “Not only that, but she claims she saw a pool of blood seeping from under the garage door,” he said, disbelief evident in his voice. “Juliet went to the police station, but by the time she returned with an officer, the blood had vanished, and Thomas wasn’t there.”
Sophie nodded, processing the information. ‘Thomas Nelson claimed he was at Wellington Heights School until six. But if Juliet Hopkins’s account is accurate, it completely undermines his alibi. The only caveat is she didn’t see his face.’
Sophie’s eyes widened, and Gary looked at her quizzically.
“What’s got you all thoughtful?”
‘But she might have seen his shoes…’
“Who saw whose shoes?” Gary squinted at Sophie. “Are you saying Juliet might have spotted Thomas’s shoes as the garage door closed?”
Sophie nodded. “Based on what C.I.S said,” she began, “Juliet probably caught a glimpse as the garage door was coming down.”
“Caught a glimpse? Why do you have to be so precise?”
Ignoring Gary’s complaint, Sophie turned to Chief Inspector Sawyer. “If we can speak to Juliet, maybe she can describe what she saw? Is she’s still with the police?”
Gary and Chief exchanged glances before sighing. “You see, Sophie,” the older man started cautiously, “Juliet Hopkins isn’t exactly… reliable. She’s, uh…”
“Chief means she’s a bit loopy,” Gary interjected, scratching his head. “She’s been having hallucinations since she lost a loved one recently. Thinks she sees things that ain’t there, you know, like you did when…” He trailed off.
‘When I lost Daniel, Dirk, and Nadia,’ Sophie finished silently.
Gary cleared his throat. “What we’re saying is she’s an unreliable witness.”
Sophie nodded, letting the silence settle before asking, “So where is she?”
Gary looked confused. “You mean Juliet? I just told you she’s not credible. She’s been seeing imaginary burglars invading her house.”
‘Hmm,’ Sophie thought. ‘Grief hallucinations… dead husband… seeing break-ins and burglars… Juliet’s husband was killed from a house invasion.’
“Gary, what Juliet is experiencing are grief hallucinations. She couldn’t have imagined the garage door closing or fake blood unless it involved her deceased loved one.”
“That’s true, but she’s stressed and exhausted. She’s on edge, keeps yawning. Said she’s barely sleeping. Her eye bags could carry your suitcase.”
“So you’re suggesting Juliet’s sighting of the blood and the garage door might be hallucinations due to stress and fatigue?”
Gary nodded, and Sophie sighed.
“Nevertheless, I’ll talk to her.”
Sophie walked over to Juliet’s house and knocked on the door. It creaked open, revealing a timid, disheveled woman with frumpy brown hair and tired eyes behind thick glasses. Her nose and eyes were red from crying, Sophie noticed.
“Oh, h-hello,” the woman greeted, her voice soft and hoarse.
“Good evening, Ms. Hopkins. I’m Mrs. Saint-Clair, a private consultant with the London Police. I heard you witnessed something. May I come in?”
Juliet scrutinized Sophie for a moment before nodding slowly. She opened the door wider, allowing Sophie to enter.
Sophie took in the cluttered, unkempt surroundings and fought the urge to tidy up. Despite being in the narrow hallway, she could see the mess everywhere—piled-up dishes near the entrance, a sour smell lingering in the air. To her right, the living room was strewn with laundry and takeout containers, a TV blaring some drama.
‘She’s grieving, Sophie,’ she reminded herself. ‘It’s understandable. You’ve been there too.’
‘But still, if your place is a mess, don’t invite people in. What if I catch something?’
“I-I’m sorry about the mess,” Juliet apologized, rubbing her forehead. “I haven’t had the energy to clean up. I’m still trying to… cope.”
Sophie cleared her throat, trying to ignore the mess around her. “Yes, I heard about your loss. I’m sorry about your husband.”
“Huh?” Juliet looked surprised. “I didn’t mention…”
Sophie nodded. “You didn’t have to. You were fiddling with your wedding ring. Even though the place is a bit chaotic, you haven’t touched his things and trophies. Every picture that remains on the walls, includes him.” Juliet glanced at the trophies on the shelves and then at the walls to see it was, in fact, true. “You can’t bring yourself to do it, because it would mean you have to accept that he’s truly gone. That he’s never coming back. That the only way you can see him again is through these photographs.”
Juliet teared up again, and Sophie cringed—not because of Juliet’s tears, but because now she had to comfort her.
“It’s okay,” Sophie said awkwardly. “It’s okay to cry. You’re just letting out your emotions. The wound is still fresh, and crying helps heal it.”
Sophie guided Juliet to the couch. The room fell silent except for Juliet’s occasional sniffles.
“Are you planning to move?” Sophie asked gently.
“Huh?”
“Are you planning to move?”
Juliet rubbed her nose. “Why? What’s it to you?”
“Well, I noticed boxes in the hallway toward the stairs and bathroom. And the house looks… quite bare.” Sophie glanced behind her. “Was that wall blue before? I can still see traces. A few more coats of white paint, and it’ll be good as new.”
Juliet nodded slowly. “Yes, I’m moving. This house… it was built in 1838, during the reign of Queen Victoria. In fact, this house was one of the first house built in this community. It has been passed down from generations in the Hopkins family. The house was renovated a few years ago. I painted it back white because the Hopkins family would kill me if they see their beloved walls painted a different color.”
‘So the Hopkins family doesn’t like Juliet that much.’
“Is it a tradition to pass this house down when a Hopkins gets married?” Sophie asked a question she already knew the answer to. Although it wasn’t a tradition, Daniel’s parents gifted the two with a beautiful house. With Daniel and their children, the house felt dull and gloomy to Sophie. It wasn’t a home any more, but a place rotten of grief and distraught.
Juliet nodded again. “Yes. Arthur Hopkins gave it to Michael as a wedding gift about a year ago. Although his mother was clearly upset, Emily was livid. She was seething.” Juliet shook her head slowly, as if recalling a painful memory.
“I’ll never forget what she said to Michael.”
“What did she say?” Sophie prompted.
Juliet swallowed nervously. “She said, ‘It’s yours only until it’s my turn to take it back.’ Michael just glared at her.”
‘Hmm. Emily doesn’t like Michael. If she’s getting married soon, then I believe this bulgary wasn’t no accident, but a diversion to kill her brother.’
“Juliet?”
Juliet looked up, her eyes wary. “Yes?”
Sophie clasped her hands together, feeling a surge of nervousness. “What if I told you that your husband’s murder wasn’t just planned, but orchestrated by your sister?”
No ratings yet.
You must be logged in to rate this post.