“Had this been a burglary,” Eric said, “that’s the first person I’d have questioned. But nothing was stolen, Cass. Besides, Katy and Tomwerehome. If that was the scheme, why not wait until later in the day after they left for work to pull it off?”
“Four years,” I said. “Jenna worked for Tom for four years. She knew every inch of the house. Even before Katy did. I want to know more about Jenna.”
I sat down and pulled out my phone. Jenna Rodney wasn’t the most common of names. It was easy to find her social media profiles. Unfortunately, they were all set to private.
“What are you thinking?” Eric asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Jenna had an alibi. And if she’d wanted to steal from Tom, she had ample opportunity over the years. If that was the motive, why now? Had anyone newcome into her life? Was she in new financial difficulty of her own?”
Emma sat down beside me and opened her own social media apps. She searched for Jenna’s profiles.
“We have a friend in common,” she said. “One of my law school classmates. Hold on a second.”
Emma excused herself and left the room.
“It’s a stretch,” Jeanie said. “None of this will prove who killed Tom even if you’re right.”
“We don’t have to prove who killed him,” I said. “We just have to show that someone else could have and that Sharon never bothered to follow through.”
She was pretty, Jenna Rodney. Her main profile showed her in full makeup, pouting for the camera. Those public photos she had posted showed her holding a German Shepherd puppy. There was another with her, flashing a peace sign and standing on the Mackinac Bridge.
Emma came back. “Got a hold of my friend. I asked her how she knew Jenna. She can’t remember. My friend has about four thousand contacts. But she gave me her passcodes so I can log in under her profile and take a peek.”
“That’s a very trusting friend,” I said.
Emma handed me her phone. She’d already pulled up Jenna’s private profile. I scrolled through and took notes. Over the last couple of years, Jenna had been in and out of relationships. She’d gotten engaged. Ended it. Started at the community college.
I found two boyfriends over the last two years. The first one was her fiancé briefly. The second, they’d just celebrated their one-year-dating anniversary. A.C. Dover. I was able to link to his profile.
I recognized him. He had been in court the day Jenna testified. He had shielded her from local news media as she made her way to the elevator. To me, he seemed like a walking red flag. His profile had him posing in front of a gym mirror in a tank top with the armholes cut out. Eric looked over my shoulder.
“Oh, that guy’s on the juice,” he said.
I wasn’t an expert, but it was my impression too. A.C. had muscles on top of muscles and liked to show it. His profile was also private, but every public photo was a different cliché. Poses in front of bathroom mirrors in various states of shirtlessness.
“Cass,” Jeanie said. “This is an interesting theory. But you know we can’t use any of it in court. Jenna’s clean.”
“Then it’s me,” Eric said. “Put me on the stand and I’ll get the hidden key box in front of the jury. Then you do your magic in closing, Cass.”
I cast a look Jeanie’s way. We hadn’t discussed it. She’d been doing a fine job taking over the defense.
“You better believe you’re doing it,” she said, reading my mind. “If you want me to question Eric, let me do that. But you’re the anchor leg.”
“Okay,” I said. “I need you to be great tomorrow, Eric.”
He leaned in for a kiss. “You got it boss.”
We had some general strategy discussions after that. We stillhad Lissa Daughtry to get through. Though her testimony could be damning, it still wasn’t proof of murder.
Jeanie went home to get some sleep. Emma went with her. Eric stayed behind with me, but soon dozed off on Jeanie’s couch. I headed upstairs to my own office, my head still buzzing.
Was I onto something? Could Jenna Rodney hold the literal and figurative key? She was well respected by her clients. She got new referrals all the time from Tom’s affluent neighbors. But could she have told the wrong person something she shouldn’t have?
I put her name into the browser search bar. There wasn’t much there. Her address. Her socials. She had a web page for her cleaning business that she clearly had done professionally.
I searched for her former fiancé. Nothing out of order there. According to his socials, he was recently engaged again. Jenna was still friends with him on Facebook.
But the current boyfriend, A.C. Dover. He looked like a first-class douche. Maybe he was the nicest guy on the planet. Jenna herself certainly seemed sweet. She had been hysterical when the police got to her. Sympathetic on the witness stand. I’d been careful with her. Everything she’d said had been a verifiable fact.
