
One Nice Fall Day
by Bruce A. Borders
Š2017 Bruce A. Borders & Borders Publishing
Not having a good Monday at work, I decided to cut my day short and head home. Home, my sanctuary. As a single guy, I often retreat to my sanctuary when things become intolerable, such as today.
Pulling into the drive, I noticed the yard and house really needed attention. I kept the lawn mowed, but the knee-high weeds were another matter. The house too had long been neglected. The loose siding and trim boards couldnât be ignored much longer.

Bruce A. Borders
âMaybe next weekend,â I mused.
But then, Iâd said that last week too. Iâd only gotten as far as hauling out a garden rake and a tree trimmer before reconsidering and putting them back. Or, maybe I hadnât put them away, I thought, seeing my rake in the yard.
Taking a minute to replace the rake in the tool shed, I wandered inside, intent on taking it easy for the rest of the afternoon. And I did. The next couple of hours were spent napping. Then, feeling slightly more energetic, I thought Iâd give the yard work another try. And thatâs when I found the body.
A male, early twenties, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, lay face down in the weeds, not ten feet from where Iâd walked earlier. Good citizen that I am, I immediately called 911. Within minutes, my yard was swarming with cops and other emergency personnel.
After examining the body, one of the detectives walked over. âYou discovered the body?â
I nodded, as another officer joined us.
âTell me what led to your discovery.â
I related the gist of my activities of the day, such as they were.
Then began a series of inane questions. âYou live alone here? Whyâd you leave work early? What took you so long to call 911?â
âYouâre acting like this guy was murdered or something.â
âWeâre just trying to figure out the timeline and what happened,â one said.
âAnd to what extent you were involved,â his partner added.
I guess Iâve seen too many TV dramas because the first thing I said was, âSo, do I need a lawyer?â
The cop shrugged. âDepends. Is there a reason you may need a lawyer?â
âI donât know,â I stammered. âDonât think so. Just donât want to be blamed for this murder.â
âNo oneâs blaming youâyet.â The officer paused, whether for dramatic effect or to weigh his words, I wasnât sure. âShould we be looking at you as a suspect?â
âOf course not.â
The detectives eyed me a moment. âWeâll be in touch,â one said as they turned away.
Theyâll be in touch? Whatâs that supposed to mean? Theyâd said I wasnât a suspect; was that just to keep me off-guard until theyâd had time to gather enough evidence to build a case?
I shook my head. I must be crazy. There was no evidence. There was no case. I hadnât done anything except find the body. I certainly hadnât killed him.
But, they didnât know that. And here I was acting all weird. Even I had to admit my strange behavior and ramblings appeared suspicious. The police likely thought so too.
And thatâs how I ended up seeing a criminal defense attorney for a crime I hadnât committed.
âSounds like youâre a bit paranoid,â said the attorney after Iâd filled him in.
âParanoid, huh?â I said, somewhat sheepishly.
He smiled. âA little.â
I couldnât think of an intelligent response, so I just sat there.
âTell you what,â he said, breaking my uncomfortable abeyance. âIâll keep my notes and if youâre arrested, call me.â
âThanks. Hope I donât need to.â
âIf you didnât commit the murder, they canât exactly find any evidence. Although…â
I frowned. âAlthough what?â
They could always charge you with manslaughter if anything youâve done, intentionally or unintentionally, contributed to the manâs death.â
âRight. I didnât even know he was there until I found the body.â
âItâs most likely nothing to worry about. But you never know.â
As I stood to leave, he added, âIf you are arrested, donât say anything until Iâm present. Youâve already given your statement. Thatâs all youâre obligated to do.â
Nodding, I left.
Just talking to the lawyer had helped. The anxiety Iâd felt earlier was gone. Feeling better about my prospects, I drove home and was utterly shocked to find two police cars in my driveway, the officers knocking at my door.
As I parked, they came toward me. âMr. Powell?â
âThatâs me.â
âCan we come in and talk?â
I hesitated. The attorney had said to say nothing if I were arrested. He hadnât mentioned anything about not being arrested. âDepends,â I finally managed. âAm I under arrest?â
âNo,â the officer said. âWe just want to clarify a few things with you.â
I repeated what the lawyer had told me. âIâve already given my statement. Thatâs all Iâm obligated to do.â
âYouâre not interested in helping solve this murder?â
I certainly was interested in solving the murder, but something told me that âhelpingâ might have an entirely different meaning to them. âIâve already given my statement,â I said again.
The officers looked perturbed. âWell,â one said, reaching for his handcuffs. âYou leave us no choice then. Mr. Powell, you are under arrest in connection with the murder of Vincent Dalhart.â
As the cop handcuffed me, I focused on what heâd said. I wasnât being arrested for the murder but in connection with the murder. I wasnât sure what that meant if anything. I hoped it meant they didnât actually think Iâd killed the man.
The next two days were a blur of numerous meetings with the detectives and my attorney. Through these conversations, I finally learned what had happened.
Vincent Dalhart had been stabbed to death. There were four puncture wounds, evenly spaced. Two had pierced a vital organ. The time of death was uncertain although, the medical examiner estimated it to be five hours before I, the only suspect, had stumbled onto the body.
Meanwhile, the police had executed a search warrant for my property, finding my rake, which they believed to be the murder weapon. Lab testing confirmed that blood present on the tines was that of the victim. Murder in the first degree was the charge.
To his credit, my lawyer seemed undaunted by the discovery. I told him about seeing the rake and putting it away. He seemed satisfied. âBut the police will want to know how you didnât notice any blood on the rake.â
âYeah,â I sighed. âNot sure how I missed that.â
He shrugged. âEasy enough explanation. The blood was only on the tinesâprobably not a large amount. By the time you picked it up, the blood had likely dried. It wouldâve been very difficult to see unless you were specifically looking for it.â
Unfortunately, the police were specifically looking for it, having determined a garden rake to be the likely murder weapon. And as my lawyer had predicted they werenât exactly sold on my account of the events. Instead, they believed Iâd used the rake to murder the man breaking into my house.
With no other options, we prepared to go to trial. My attorney seemed to like my chances. I wasnât so confident. Here I was, a guy whoâd never even been in a fight, charged with murder. It all felt so overwhelming.
Then, the next day, things took a surprising turn.
The guard came to escort me to the briefing room where my attorney waited.
âGood news,â he greeted me. âAll charges have been dropped. Youâll be released within the hour.â
I was stunned. âThatâs great, but… why? How?â With the direction things had been going, I found it hard to imagine the police had suddenly decided I was innocent.
âTurns out your neighbor saw the whole thing from across the street. Mr. Dalhart arrived at your house on foot, poked around; checking doors and windows, then went to the shed and retrieved the rake. Standing on your porch railing, he attempted to use the rake to pull himself up to an open second-story window. The window ledge gave way, and Mr. Dalhart fell to the ground, impaling himself on the rake.â
âBut the rake was a good ten feet from the body.â
The attorney nodded. âApparently, the would-be thief lived long enough to remove the rake and fling it away.â
I was frowning. âMy neighbor watched all this and didnât even try to help? Or, report it? Not that I care, really. The thief got what he deserved. But how does someone just watch all that and not do anything?â
The lawyer shrugged. âPeople are strange. Maybe he didnât want to be involved. Who knows? Heâs been arrested and faces legal troubles over his lack of humanity.â
âI would hope so.â
âJust be glad he eventually came forward.â
âI am.â I fell silent then.
The attorney noticed my gaze. âWhat is it?â
I smiled wryly. âWas just thinking… That window ledge has been loose for quite a while, banging in the wind. Been meaning to fix it for months, just hadnât gotten around to it.â
Eyeing me a moment, the lawyer said, âYou might want to keep that information to yourself.â
***
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