TRUE LOVE by Dafney Dewitt (Happy Halloween!)

This is not a sex story, but it is a story about true love.
If you go searching for true love, be careful that it is
not on Halloween Night.
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True Love
  By
Dafney C. Dewitt

Copyrighted 1996
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"It wasn't murder," said Tom Dotson

The words rang false in the small windowless interrogation
room.  It was murder most foul.  Detective Jennings knew
it was murder.  The massive head wound and the burial of
the body eliminated any chance of accidental death. With a
groan of disapproval, Detective Jennings turned off the tape
recorder.  He pushed his face so close to Tom's, before
speaking, that he could have kissed him.

"Listen son," the grizzled old detective whispered.  "When
you waived your right to an attorney and agreed to talk, I
expected you to tell the truth."  He said this in one long
outpouring of breath between clenched teeth.

"But it is the truth," protested Tom.

The huge detective pushed himself away from the table
waving his hand in a sweeping arc like a traffic cop to cut
off Tom's objections.  He pointed to the tape recorder with
his index finger.

"In a minute, I'm going to turn the recorder back on, and I
want you to answer my questions truthfully.  Telling lies
will just get you deeper into trouble.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Tom Dotson was just a baby-faced kid.  He was sophomore
at Grant High School.  He looked too young to be involved
in murder.  He looked too innocent.  Detective Jenning's
figured he weighed three times as much as the kid.  His own
face was weather beaten and wrinkled.  His ex-wife claimed
he looked like a walrus with a mustache.  For him, murder
was no longer a mystery.  He was a jaded police detective
who had seen and heard it all.

When Detective Jennings switched the tape recorder back
on, he stood up.  It was a classic ploy of intimidation.  He
towered over the boy.  He would scare the truth out of him.

"OK, for the record it is Saturday November 2nd, at
aah 2:45 p.m., and I am interviewing Tom Dotson who
has come to the Lakeview Police Station to make a
statement concerning the murder of Lori Bennett.   He
has agreed to waive his right to silence and right to an
attorney and understands his Miranda Rights.  Is that
correct Mr. Dotson?"

"Yes, it is."
"OK.  Were you a friend of the deceased, Lori Bennett?"
"Yes, we were both sophomores at Grant High School."
"Did you take Miss Bennett to the Edgefield Cemetery on
the night of her death?"
"Yes."
"Did you plan ahead what you were going to do that night?"

Tom Dotson squirmed in his chair.  He pulled at the back
of his hair with his right hand.  His lower lip quivered as if
he were going to confess, but he swallowed the words.

"Yes, I . . . aah, well . . . aah, we sorta planned it together."
"Together?"
"Yeah," said Tom trying to look innocent.

The detective started walking around Tom's chair.  He made
a complete circuit before asking his next question.  When he
stopped, he was standing behind Tom.

"But you came up with the idea first, didn't you?"
"Yeah."

Standing behind the suspect, Detective Jennings allowed
himself a sad, knowing smirk.  This was going to be easy.
He was an expert at interrogation.  Everything was planned.
With pre-meditation, he could shoot for Murder I.  His next
round of questions would focus on motivation.  The noose
was tightening.

He grabbed the other chair and sat down next to the
suspect.  He lowered his voice.  In a good imitation of a
funeral director, with his eyes downcast, he continued the
questioning in a confidential, sympathetic voice.

"You loved her didn't you?"

Tom shifted uncomfortably on the hard chair.  He
opened his mouth and closed it without saying anything.
He swallowed hard and bit his lower lip.  He looked
down at his tennis shoes and lifted his head until his eyes
locked with the detective's.

"Yes, I loved her."
"Was she your girlfriend?"
"Yes.  No.  She was Maxwell Dobbler's girlfriend."
"Why did you say 'Yes'?"
"Well, she use to be my girlfriend.  She was my true love."

Hiding his expression of disgust, Detective Jennings rubbed
his right hand over his forehead.  He already knew the
ending.  Murder.  Now he knew the beginning.  True Love.
He had to ask the remaining questions just to wrap things
up.  Just for the record.  Pointing an accusatory finger at
Tom, he got right to the crux of the problem.

"You loved her, but Maxwell Dobbler loved her too."
"No.  I loved Lori.  She only thought Maxwell loved her."
"Why would she think that?"
"Maxwell was a practical, no nonsense, kind of guy.  He told
the girls whatever they wanted to hear."
"Like what?"
"He'd tell them they were beautiful.  He'd say he loved them.
He was fast.  He didn't waste time."
"So the girls really fell for this Dobbler guy?"
"Yeah, he was a phony.  I tried to warn Lori, but she just
blew me off as being jealous."

Detective Jennings leaned back in his chair.  There it was.
Jealousy.  He knew it.  Maybe he should try to shorten the
Q & A.  Maybe he should go right for the kill.  In a tired,
but understanding voice like a parent who already knows
his kid broke the rules, he flung out the key question with
feigned indifference.

"You loved Lori so much you killed her.  Didn't you?"
"No."
"Well, she's dead isn't she?"
"Yes, she's dead."
"And you're responsible."
"Yes."

Detective Jennings was getting closer.  Tom admitted being
responsible.  The killing blow to Lori's skull by a shovel had
been deliberate.  If he was responsible, he was the killer.
It was time to turn up the pressure.  With no warning, the
detective slammed his open hand down on the table top with
a thunderous clap.

"Bull Shit!" the detective shouted.

Tom cowered at the sudden outburst.  His eyes darted around
in alarm looking for a way out.  There was no escape.  The kid
could not run away so he tried talking his way out.  He would
say anything to avoid the wrath of the huge detective.

"Cut the crap!" shouted the detective.
"I was going to marry Lori," said Tom Dotson in a hurry.

"It was true love.  No one loved Lori more then I did.  She even
wrote the letters T.L.N.D. on the fingers of her left hand.  They
stood for 'True Love Never Dies'.  We were going to get married
until Maxwell Dobbler came along.  Maxwell conned Lori.  He
said exactly what Lori wanted to hear.  He won her heart with
lies."

The detective interrupted him.

"How did you know they were lies?"
"Because of the prank."
"What prank?"
"You know, the cemetery."
"Tell me about it."

Detective Jennings made a mental note to check the autopsy
report for any mention of inked initials on the victim's fingers.

Tom continued his confession.

"We decided to play a practical joke on Maxwell.  But it
was a joke with a purpose.  It would prove to Lori that his
love for her was false.  Me and a couple of other guys . . ."

"Which guys?"
"Just some school friends."
"What were their names?"
"James Peters and Danny Walters."

"OK.  So you and these guys take Maxwell to the cemetery,"
said the detective to get things back on track.
"Yeah, we take Maxwell out at night to this freshly dug open
grave.  It had mounds of dirt around it.  The shovels were still
in the hole along with a casket."

"Where did the casket come from?"
"We stole it from the Spook House for the Grant High School
Halloween Party.  We were going to return it.  We told Max
that Lori had been killed in a car accident.  It was dark.  We
pointed our flashlights at the casket.  We dared him to open
the lid.  He bragged that he was a pragmatist.  He said dead
bodies did not bother him.  Lori was laying inside the casket
with white powder covering her face and hands.  When Max
lifted the lid, Lori fluttered her eyelids and started reaching
for him."

Tom stopped talking.
"So what happened?"
"I don't know.  We all screamed, pretending to be scared, and
ran out of the cemetery."
"So you left Maxwell and Lori alone together?"
"That's right."
"What did you do next?"
"We waited."
"How long?"
"For about an hour."
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Neither Max nor Lori left the cemetery.  I wanted to find out
why, but the other guys held me back.  They said to leave the
lovebirds alone.  They said Lori was getting it on with Maxwell
in the casket.  The joke had backfired.  So we went home."

The detective urged Tom to continue with a circular wave of
his hand.

"The next day at school, we expected Maxwell to be mad, but
instead he was ice cold.  I was the hot one.  When we started
razzing him about how 'True Love Never Dies', Max surprised
us all.  He got angry.  He said we were a bunch of ghouls.  He
said we were sickos and necrophiliacs.  He had a deadly serious
look on his face.  'Well, we may be necrophiliacs,' I challenged
him, 'but where is Lori?'  'You know where Lori is,' Maxwell
answered, and he walked away."

Detective Jennings looked at Tom Dotson with genuine interest.
Maybe this was not murder.  Maybe it was something else.  A
disturbing series of images started forming in his mind.

"Do you see it happen?"
"I never saw it, but I can't get it out of my mind."

Tom Dobson went on to describe exactly what Detective Jennings
was thinking.  It was as if Dobson were reading his mind.  Lori
was reaching up to grab Maxwell, pulling him toward her for a kiss,
saying true love never dies.  Max must have been in a panic.  He
was trapped in a grave with the living dead.  Flailing his hands to
escape, he must have dropped the flashlight.  In his blind groping,
he found the shovel hand.  He hit her over the head.  Then to stop
her from coming after him, he did the practical thing.  He buried
her.

Despite the story having the ring of truth to it, Detective Jennings
gave Tom Dobson a puzzled look.

"How can you be so sure it wasn't murder?"
"Because Maxwell was deadly serious.  He never got the joke."
"How was he suppose to know it was a joke?"
"Don't you know?"
"Humor me."
"It happened on October 31st."
"So?"
"It was Halloween."
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Look for other stories by Dafney Dewitt.