He did as I asked.
“Think about it, Steve. My husband was murdered, and, after trying to find out any information, I almost lose my own life. It was you who put these thoughts in my head in the first place-”
“You think I-”
“That I killed my father? Why would I? Yes, I hate him for walking out on you and me, but I wouldn’t do something like that. All my beliefs point against it… Family is an important part of Catholic life.
“And I know I haven’t been good at really staying on the straight and narrow, but I couldn't just ‘get rid’ of the man from whom half my DNA came from.”
I paused, shocked and unable to speak. I’d never heard my son speak that way about anyone, let alone the father who didn’t even try and make an effort with his son.
“I- I don’t think you murdered him. I do know better than to say that.
But I feel that the murderer is someone who knows us too well…maybe even someone who is close to us…”“But that’s preposterous… Right? Maybe someone is a serial killer, and father was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Well he was definitely in the wrong place,” I nodded, “But I know the other victim too. She tried to contact me.”
“You knew her?” Steven cried, “But why didn’t you tell me?”
“It happened after I came to talk to you. Minerva…”
“What? I do know that word, but… I might come to me later on, and if I have to stay, I’ll tell you when it comes. Grr.”
But now I was eager to change the subject. Steven was getting stressed and worried about me, and I didn’t want to talk about my ‘lucky escape’ anymore.
“How is Cassandra, by the way?”
Steve blushed a deep, loving red, and his eyes flicked unconsciously away from me.
“She’s…very good, thanks mum.”
There was another awkward silence. Suddenly, Steven burst out:
“You think she did it!”
“No!” I cried, lifting my hands up to comfort him.
“No, mum! You have something against us both! You think our relationship is pointless and won’t succeed.”
He leapt up again, furious but with his eyes brimming with tears. He almost ran to the door, just like a stubborn child.
“Steve… Oh, Steven…”
I stood speedily, without grace, but in the most caring fashion I could. Knowing his tendency to run during a tantrum, I didn’t take a step closer to my son, but I tried to make myself as soft-looking as possible.
“I don’t think that, Steve. How…? Who have you been talking to?”
“My father!” He yelled and stormed out, smashing closed the door with an Earth-shaking bang.