It was 1948 on a hot summer’s night and I had been invited to a party in the rich part of town - strictly business. Hi, my name is Dick Ballantyne and this is my incredible story. It started like any other party. The valet took my burgundy Packard 8 to park and I went in to smooze and drum up some business. All the men were in tuxes and having come from work I was in a smart suit and tie. Booze was flowing freely and as the night wore on people became sloppy and embarrassing. About 12 o’clock I had made all the connections I was going to make and I decided to call it a night. It was just then that a man I had never seen before brushed against me and quickly said “Carl Thompson, being doing your wife for four years. Sweet piece of ass. You are one dumb pal.” I was stunned. I dropped my glass, excused myself and ran out of the house.
As I was getting into my car, this Carl, almost tore the passenger door off its hinges and threw himself into the passenger seat. He stared at me and rambled on about lewd things he had done with my Betty. I don’t know why, but I shouted at him to shut the door and I sped off. One mile, two miles trying to collect myself I jerked the car into a little wood and started to shout at him. “Who are you? What do you want?“ And then he said “Sweet cheeks your daughter. Jenny? I had her too.” That’s when I lost it. My blood started to boil. When he briefly turned away from me I choked him from behind each time harder than the last. Eventually he went limp and I panicked. I pushed him with my foot out of the door and I wept for an eternity.
The next day was a nightmare. The police came and dressed me down, took my fingerprints and examined my car. They had an eye witness who had seen Carl yelling and swearing getting into the Packard. His fingerprints were everywhere. I explained that a friend of mine asked a favour of me to drive this fellow to the bus station. He was no one anyone of us knew and an obvious party crasher who was very drunk. As we drove he insisted on being let out two miles down the road. After a lengthy investigation, I was free and clear. But not guilt free. Carl’s murder was plastered on every front page of every newspaper.
After a few weeks the police felt they had a break in the case. A couple of teenagers had broken in to an abandoned house three doors down from the party and they were now flush with money. The police found a tuxedo bowtie at the bottom of the pool, Carl had taken his off, an exquisite earring was hanging from the BBQ and most puzzling of all a trail of blood leading from the back of the property where the brambles were to the back door and inside the house. It was animal blood. Some poor creature got caught in the brambles. And the earring? The girl stole it from the house and tried to start the BBQ and it caught on a rough spot.
The bowtie convinced the police they had their killers and that the poor kids from the other side of town had found Carl stumbling around and killed him in the wood as they were running away from the house. Unbelievable. They had no motive, no real evidence, but that didn’t matter. It kept us good people in the clear. Ha, yes us good people. Several months went by. I was trying to live a normal life . And then, there was a knock on the door and a strange looking man handed me an envelope. It was a summons for jury duty. Now here I don’t expect you to believe me, it is too incredible. The summons was for Carl Thompson’s murder trial.
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