Fatal Computer Crash

Written by Nick Andreychuk

Detectives Grant Summers and Stan Seymour eyed the crime scene. Jack Denninger, a handsome thirty-five-year-old, had been found slumped over the desk in his home office, his notebook computer smashed on the ground beside his chair. It was a typical home office in a typical suburban house. Nothing seemed out of place, here or elsewhere in the house.

“Not much chance it was a robbery gone bad,” Stan said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Grant said. “Nowadays, a flash drive is all you need to steal something of value. Denninger was a writer—there could be lots of valuable stuff on his computer.”

The medical examiner looked up as the detectives approached the body. “Time of death was approximately one hour ago, one-fifteen.” He held up the broken computer for their inspection. “This appears to be the murder weapon,” he said. “I’d say someone hit the victim on the head with it a good three times.”

“Bet he was looking at internet porn,” Stan said. “Whatever he was doing— someone didn’t like it. I can’t imagine ‘death by computer’ was premeditated.”

“On that note,” Grant said, “let’s go talk with the deceased’s wife.”

They thanked the M.E., then crossed over from the home office to the living room, where Claire Denninger waited on the couch. Next to her sat an attractive woman a few years her senior, whose left arm was in a cast.

“I didn’t kill him!” Claire said.

“Of course you didn’t,” the other woman said, rubbing her arm. “No one thinks you did, right, Detectives?”

“It’s too soon to say,” Grant said.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course, everyone’s a suspect—I watch cop shows. But can’t you be more considerate of the fragile emotions of grieving spouses?”

“No, ma’am, I can’t. Believe me, if Mrs. Denninger is innocent, she’d rather I eliminate her as a suspect quickly so that I can move on to the real killer. Speaking of which, who are you and what is your connection to the deceased?”

“I’m Claire’s sister, Cheryl Compton.”

“Right, and you discovered the body together?”

“Yes, around two,” Claire said. “We were out shopping, and—”

“And we already told the first officers on the scene everything that happened,” Cheryl said. “Why don’t you just read our statements and leave Claire alone...”

“It’s okay, Cheryl,” her sister said. “They need to know about Natalie.”

“Natalie?” Stan asked.

“Natalie Sampson—Jack’s mistress. First she tried to steal my husband, and then she killed him because he wouldn’t divorce me.”

“Can you prove that?”

“Well, no, but she threatened to kill me if I didn’t back off.”

Stan shook his head. “So then why kill him?”

“She probably caught him cheating,” Cheryl said.

Grant raised an eyebrow. “You think he was cheating on your sister and Natalie?”

Cheryl smirked. “The louse was my boyfriend first. He ran off with my sister, then he went after her best friend. So, yeah, I think he could have moved on again.”

Claire glared at her sister. “That’s not fair. Jack and you were never serious, and Natalie always looked at seducing men as challenges to win at any cost.”

“Let’s rewind a bit,” Grant said. “So you two were shopping all day? Were you together the entire time?”

“Well, no,” Claire said. “After lunch we split up for an hour—from twelve-thirty to one-thirty—because Cheryl didn’t want to come to the computer store with me.”

“She was going to buy him a new computer,” Cheryl said. “Isn’t that ironic? Not that he deserved it—jerk paid more attention to his computer than to his wife...”

“Did you spend the whole hour in the computer store?” Grant asked Claire.

“Yes, I did—the store clerk was very helpful; we talked about computers the whole time I was there,” Claire said. “I don’t know much about computers. Jack does—did—but I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Did you drive separately?” Stan asked.

“No, we walked from here—the mall’s not far.”

“So, did you come visit your old boyfriend while your sister kept shopping?” Grant asked Cheryl.

Cheryl looked ready to slap Grant for making such an accusation. “How dare you! I—”

“Just answer the question, ma’am,” Grant said.

Cheryl composed herself, then said, “No, I just browsed around.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Well, of course, there were lots of people at the mall,” Cheryl said.

“What I meant,” Grant said, “was, will anyone remember you were there? Did you talk to anyone or buy anything?”

“Well, no.” Cheryl clucked her teeth in irritation. “You’re wasting your time harassing me. You should be talking to—”

“Alex,” Claire said.

“That’s not who I meant,” Cheryl said.

“No, look,” Claire said to her sister, inclining her head toward the kitchen.

An overweight man in glasses stood in the kitchen doorway. “Uh, hi Claire, hi Cheryl,” he said.

“Who are you?” Grant demanded.

“Alex Redoff,” he said. “I’m Jack’s writing partner.” Off of the detective’s questioning look, he added, “We’re collaborating on a science fiction novel.”

“Oh my god,” Claire said, “You killed him, didn’t you?”

“What?” Alex looked stricken. “No! I didn’t... Wait—what? Jack’s dead?”

“Didn’t you notice all the police cars?” Stan asked. “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

“Of course I noticed the police cars. That’s why I went through the back door.”

“You always just walk into the Denningers’ house without knocking?” Stan asked.

“No, but Jack said Claire would be out and that he might be listening to music, so just come right in. I was supposed to be here over an hour ago, but one of my tooth fillings fell out and I had to make an emergency visit to my dentist.”

“And—,” Stan began, but Grant cut him off.

“Hey, wait,” Grant said, turning to Claire. “Why did you accuse Alex of murdering your husband?”

“They’ve been arguing a lot lately. Maybe Alex wanted to steal the work Jack’s done on the book and sell it as his own.”

Alex rolled his eyes at Claire. “We’d been arguing over whether our book should be more like Star Trek or Star Wars. But that’s only relevant to describing our spaceship’s engine and stuff like that—we completely agreed on our book’s plot and we loved working together.”

“Do you have a flash drive on you, by any chance?” Stan asked Alex.

Alex looked confused by the request. “No, what for? Jack and I just email the work-in-progress back and forth.”

A uniformed officer came over and spoke in Grant’s ear. “A woman who says she’s the dead guy’s fiancée wants to come in.”

Grant stepped out into the hallway and saw a pushy blonde being restrained at the doorway. “Let her in,” he said. “And get someone to cover the back door.”

Just then, Jack was rolled out on a gurney. “Oh my God!” Natalie exclaimed. “Who did this?” Tears streamed down her face as she stormed toward Claire, Cheryl, and Alex. “Which one of you murdered my fiancé? I’ll kill you!”

Fearing that she’d follow through on her threat, Grant put a hand up to stop her. “Miss Sampson,” he said, “calm down.”

“How can I calm down? One of them bludgeoned Jack with his laptop! Now I’ll never be able to turn on my computer and receive an ‘I love you’ emoticon from him again.” She sank into an easy chair and sobbed.

“He didn’t love you!” Claire said. “He begged me for forgiveness and promised to break it off with you.”

“He loved me!” Natalie shouted. She lunged at Claire, but Grant caught her and forced her back into her chair.

“That’s enough!” he said.

“We’d better split these four up before we have more bodies on our hands,” Stan said to his partner.

“You’re right,” Grant said. “But we only need to take one of them with us...”

Stan stood up straighter. “You’ve solved the case?”

Grant nodded. “Yes, I have.”