The Murder Of 1998

Chapter Seven

Tanya Nelson opened the door, seeing the two detectives. She sighed. "Detectives," she said, "how can I help you?"

"Yes, is Raymond here?" Walter asked. Tanya nodded, opening the door a little wider as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the stairs.

"In the guest bedroom, last door to your right. I must warn you though, he's drunk at the moment. He's not really up for talking to anyone at the moment."

Seth nodded and thanked Tanya. He looked over at his partner who was already making his way up the stairs. He sighed and followed after him. The house seemed dull. Even though it wasn't the same house that Emily was murdered in, it still felt upsetting and lifeless. Walter gently knocked on the door. He could hear a low groan before Raymond's voice followed right after, telling whoever it was to just go away.

"Mister Hunter, we'd like to speak with you if thats ok."

Raymond groaned again.

"Lets just go it," Walter whispered as he twisted the door handle and pushing the door open. The two men looked inside to see Raymond curled up in a ball on the bed. Next to the bed was the nightstand that had three empty beer bottles on top of them.

"Go away," The lonely man muttered.

"We need to ask you a couple of questions." Seth pulled slid his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. Raymond sighed and shrugged one should as a sign for them to go ahead. "We interviewed Mike Fisher."

"Ok. You act like I know who that is."

Seth raised a brow. "He was harassing your wife. Ring a bell?"

Raymond immediately sat up, wiping away the drool on his lip and he stared at Seth, confused. "Harassing? Some bastard was harassing my wife and she never told me?"

"Yes. But he told us some things that we would like to follow up with," Seth cleared his throat. "Is it true that you hit your wife?"

Raymond stared up at the two as he suddenly became furious for the outlandish accusation. "What kind of bullshit is this? I would never dare to hit the woman I love!"

"We ask because she'd sometimes show up to work with bruises and such," Seth said, "like on her neck and wrists. Care to explain that?"

The room became silent and Raymond blushed a little. He looked down at his lap, sighing. "Rough sex. And no, I never raped her if thats what your next question is!" He rubbed the back of his head, frowning.

"Why should we believe you?" Walter asked suddenly. Raymond rolled his eyes as he then pulled up his t-shirt to reveal deep scratch marks on his chest. Walter felt like smirking.

"Make me believe that those weren't from an aggressive argument and that it was in fact from rough sex."

Raymond pulled down his t-shirt as he awkwardly stared at the man. "I don't know how to convince you. From the looks of it, it seems like you want me to be the killer of my wife." He sat on the edge of the bed, eyeing the shorter man. "Do whatever you need to do. Question me, take my DNA, have me take a lie detector test. But you'll look foolish when you find out that I had nothing to do with my wife's murder. And I never laid a hand on my wife with the intention of harming her. Now then," Raymond stood up and walked to the door, opening it further, "if that is all you had to ask, get the fuck out and don't come back until you have something useful towards helping solve her murder."

Seth looked at his partner and gave him an angry look as if to say that it was his fault. Walter shrugged and the two walked out of the room, followed by Raymond slamming the door shut.