Murder Deja Vu

Massachusetts coast, boasted beautiful beaches, tourist shops, and even a couple of old lighthouses. He arrived at Kraus’s home, fully expecting him to be out.
    The house was a typical shingled New England cape, but the view set it apart—a panorama of ocean over the rocky coastline, shared by all the houses on that side of the street. Clarence never wanted the responsibility of a house, but he could be swayed if he woke every day to the visual magnificence before him. He had opened his windows and heard the seagulls squawking overhead, smelled the fresh saltwater air, and tried not to forget the reason he’d come.
    He pulled into the driveway in front of a two-car garage. A dog barked inside, and he saw a woman peek out a large picture window. The door opened and she stood waiting, a black lab at her side. The dog didn’t seem threatening, but its presence stopped Clarence in his tracks.
    “May I help you?” she said.
    “My name is Clarence Wright. I’m an investigator for Reece Daughtry’s attorney. I spoke to your husband a couple of months ago.”
    “Yes, of course. He told me. Come in. Jordan’s outside on the deck, working on the computer.”
    She must have noticed his reticence. “Dally won’t attack. She doesn’t know the word, nor does she have the nature.”
    Clarence moved cautiously toward the door.
    “Why don’t you wait in the living room? I’ll tell Jordan you’re here.” She gestured toward the sofa, and he settled into the end seat.
    The house had a lived-in quality, with a chintz-covered sofa and overstuffed club chairs. Nothing fancy, but comfortable and inviting. A grand piano sat off to one side, framed pictures cluttered the mantel. He got up and scanned them. A man, woman, and two children at different ages. Was this a killer’s life? Then he zeroed in on one particular picture and knew it wasn’t. His instincts had failed him.
    “Mr. Wright, Jordan asked if you’d join him outside.”
    Clarence followed her to a large deck. The view took his breath away—ocean and more ocean, as far as the eye could see. A good-looking, tanned man sat at a table in front of a laptop. Definitely not the description of the man who left Rudy’s bar. But he already knew that.
    “Mr. Wright, pleased to meet you.”
    He offered his hand to Clarence’s left, his sightline also missing its mark. Jordan Kraus couldn’t see an inch in front of him. He was blind. “I’m sorry to come unannounced. I thought if I called, you might not see me.” He realized what he said and started to stutter an apology, but Kraus intervened.
    “Please, don’t get politically correct. I’m not touchy or sensitive. I just can’t see.” He felt for the cover of his laptop and closed it. “Have a seat.”
    Clarence settled into a comfortable chair around a glass-top table.
    “I remember your call. I guess your investigation has gained steam now that Reece Daughtry is wanted for double murder. Am I the last on your list? The one you were sure would end your search for the killer?”
    Clarence smiled. Of course, Kraus would have considered that. “I suppose you’ve been getting calls.”
    “Both Steve and Mark. I haven’t talked to either of them in years. This time, my wife wouldn’t let me put them off. I’m glad because I told them I’d lost my sight. I never could before. I didn’t deal with it well in the beginning. Then time passed, and we lost touch. It’s not like I didn’t know I was going blind. It had been coming on for years—retinitis pigmentosa—but I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me.”
    “I understand.”
    “Beautiful view, isn’t it? I know what it looks like. I could still see when we bought the house. I like to hear the sounds of the ocean, feel the air. It relaxes me.
    “Very beautiful. I’d be out here all the time.”
    “Hmm, not in winter. It’s damn cold. You live in Boston, I remember.”
    “Yes, but I could handle the cold better with this view.”
    Kraus looked out over the ocean as if he could see, and Clarence felt a wave of sympathy for the man’s loss. Such a sad irony to have this vista before him and be unable to see it.
    “Obviously, I couldn’t have committed the murder in North Carolina, and I didn’t kill Karen Sitton either. I slept with her only once. She wasn’t anyone I wished to spend time with, especially after I found out she wasn’t particularly discerning about who she slept with. I wished I had known Reece better before her