Suspicious unveiled

Henry and Chantel arrived at the mortuary, their hearts heavy with grief and a mix of dread. Jeff's death had shaken them to their core, and seeing his lifeless body felt like a cruel confirmation of their worst fears. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptics, the chilling atmosphere a stark reminder of the fragility of life.

Chantel gripped Henry's arm tightly as they stepped into the cold, sterile room where Jeff's body lay. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell on him. The vibrant man she had once known was now reduced to a pale, lifeless figure. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, "Jeff, I'm so sorry." Henry stood silently beside her, his expression stoic, but his clenched fists betrayed the storm of emotions within him.

After a few moments of silence, they stepped out of the mortuary, the reality of Jeff's death weighing heavily on them. As they walked toward their car, they were approached by two police officers. 

"Good day, sir. Good day, ma'am," one of the officers greeted, tipping his hat respectfully.

"Good day, officer," Chantel replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil in her heart. "I assume you're here to inspect the body?"

The officer nodded. "Yes, ma'am. But we'd also like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

"Go ahead," Chantel said, glancing at Henry, who gave a reluctant nod.

"When was the last time you spoke to Mr. Jeff?" the officer asked, his pen poised over a notepad.

"That was earlier today," Henry replied. "He was on his way to our house."

"Did you suspect anyone who might have wanted to harm him?" the officer continued, his sharp eyes scanning their faces for any hint of hesitation.

Chantel hesitated. She had her suspicions, but she knew voicing them without evidence could complicate things. Despite this, she couldn't hold back. "Yes," she admitted.

Henry turned to her, his expression a mixture of surprise and disapproval. "Chantel! I think you should choose your words carefully," he cautioned.

"Mr. Henry," the officer interjected firmly, "I think you should let her speak."

Chantel met Henry's gaze, silently apologizing before turning back to the officer. "I suspect two people: Claire Browson and Andrew Smith."

The officer raised an eyebrow, noting the names. "May I ask why you suspect these individuals?"

Chantel took a deep breath. "These are the two people we're suing in court. I believe they'd do anything to stop us."

The officer continued jotting down notes. "And why are you suing them?"

"It's about my children," Chantel replied, her voice trembling with anger. "They want my kids for themselves, and I can't let that happen."

"Why do they want your children?" the officer asked, leaning forward slightly.

Chantel hesitated, but before she could respond, Henry cut in. "We can't discuss this here. Let's just say Andrew and Claire wronged her in ways you can't imagine."

The officer frowned but didn't press further. "Very well. We'll invite both Claire and Andrew for questioning. We may also need to speak with you again."

"Of course," Chantel said, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling within her.

As the officers walked away, Henry turned to Chantel, his frustration evident. "Why did you have to do that?"

"Do what?" Chantel asked, feigning ignorance.

"Why did you tell them you suspected Claire and Andrew?" Henry demanded.

"Because I believe they're the only ones capable of this," Chantel replied firmly.

Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What if you're wrong? What if someone else is responsible?"

"Henry, Jeff was on his way to our house. Someone must have tipped them off," Chantel argued.

Henry frowned, considering her words. "Who could have given them that information?"

"I don't know," Chantel admitted, "but we need to find out."

Henry shook his head, frustrated but unable to dismiss her suspicions entirely. "Let's go home," he said, opening the car door. Chantel followed silently, her mind racing with possibilities.

---

Meanwhile, at Andrew's office, the atmosphere was tense. Andrew had just stepped out of the building with Sharon when he spotted Ken loitering near his car. His face darkened, and he quickened his pace, grabbing Ken by the arm and pulling him aside.

"What are you doing here?" Andrew hissed, his tone low but menacing.

"I came for my balance," Ken replied, unfazed by Andrew's anger.

"I told you to meet me at home. Why did you come here?" Andrew demanded.

"I don't have the patience for that," Ken said with a shrug.

Andrew sighed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Ken. "Here. You did a perfect job. I'll let you know if I need you again."

Ken took the envelope, smirking as he walked away. Andrew turned back to Sharon, who was watching the exchange from the car with a suspicious expression.

"Who was that?" she asked as he approached.

"No one," Andrew replied curtly, brushing off her question.

"Are you hiding something?" Sharon pressed, narrowing her eyes.

"Of course not, babe. It's nothing important," Andrew insisted, climbing into the car.

Before Sharon could question him further, two police officers approached. Andrew stiffened as one of them spoke.

"Good evening, Mr. Smith," the officer said.

"Good evening, officer," Andrew replied, his voice tight with unease. "How can I help you?"

"You've been invited to the police station for questioning," the officer said bluntly.

Andrew's heart skipped a beat. "Questioning? About what?"

"Your name has been mentioned as a suspect in the murder of Mr. Jeff Kenneth," the officer replied.

Andrew's eyes widened in shock. "I beg your pardon! This must be a mistake. I have nothing to do with Jeff's death."

"Miss Chantel Browson mentioned your name," the officer explained. "If you're innocent, you'll have a chance to clear your name at the station."

Andrew clenched his fists, anger boiling within him. "Chantel," he muttered under his breath. "She's really testing my patience."

Sharon looked equally stunned. "Why would Chantel accuse you?"

"That's what we intend to find out," the officer said. "Now, if you don't mind, please come with us."

Andrew took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. "Am I allowed to call my lawyer?"

"Of course," the officer replied. "You can do that at the station."

"Sharon, call David," Andrew said, referring to his lawyer. "I'll meet you there."

As Andrew climbed into his car, he silently vowed to make Chantel pay for dragging his name into this mess. "She doesn't know who she's messing with," he thought darkly as he started the engine and followed the police to the station.