Chapter Four - Iced Tea with Fresh Mint I was fearful, confused, and near panic.  With tears in my eyes I asked  the detective if he knew where C.C. was.  He looked at me rather exasperated and explained that he had more questions than answers.  My question had opened the door to over two hours of interrogation regarding C.C. and his relationship to me. I feebly explained that he was like a nephew to me , but in fact there was no familial relationship.  Little of our interview focused on Lindsey.  The notion that C.C. was the center of our interview concerned me, for although Detective Pearson disclosed little, I felt certain that the police suspected  he was involved, probably responsible for Lindsey’s murder. Upon being convinced that I knew less about what had occurred then he did, Pearson took what little information I did have regarding C.C. and Lindsey .  Little was revealed to me, but I surmised that Lindsey had been beaten with a paperweight from my desk because this treasure, ironically a going away gift from Wanda, was bloody and had been carefully bagged into evidence. I really don’t know how long investigators prowled through my home or exactly how long Detective Pearson spent quizzing me, but finally the buzz of activity and seemingly endless questions subsided. As a parting thought Pearson offered to make arrangements for me to sleep somewhere else.  He assured me that he felt the horrible event had nothing to do with me personally and that he was certain my safety was not a concern.  My decision to stay or go was totally dependant  on my own comfort. There was no one  in my life whom I considered dangerous.  I’ve lived my whole adult life on my own, and I wasn’t going to surrender to feelings of insecurity now. I’d certainly stay in my own home. All of the police equipment was gathered up and Pearson and his troops left.  Only then did I remember Lindsey’s letter to C.C.  Knowing it was likely relevant to the investigation of her murder, I ran to catch  the detective. and reached him at the elevator door.  Advising him of the letter,  I returned to collect it for him.  I knew exactly where I had placed it, but it was gone.  I looked again and again, each time more carefully, but to no avail. He said he’d check for it in Lindsey’s things that they had collected.  Perhaps she had reclaimed it knowing that C.C wasn’t  here to read it. He encouraged me not to worry and invited me to call him if anything else came to mind.  He left for the second time that evening.  This time as I turned to settle in to my reclaimed space I felt  very much alone.  Home didn’t really feel much like home. My head was throbbing .  All I wanted was a refreshing glass of iced tea, some fresh mint from my window cell herb garden,  and a comfortable chair.  I wanted to look out my window at the park below and let every thought pounding in my head fly away.