My first mistake was being born.
I had no choice in the matter, but if half of me had only swum a little slower, then perhaps a smarter man would be sitting here in your police station, Lieutenant.
My second mistake was marrying the wrong person. She had a terrible temper, but I trusted her, up until she left me for David Davenport. What was *not* a mistake was our daughter.
Anna never lied to me, unlike her mother.
My third mistake was expecting the justice system to function properly after Davenport grew tired of my wife’s temper and murdered her, along with the only witness.
My sweet, trustworthy Anna. But foolish me, mistakenly believing wealthy men were subject to the same laws as everyone else.
I’ve come here to avoid making a fourth mistake, Lieutenant.
A very reliable source—one who never lied—has warned me that you will receive a call tonight, at precisely 9:05pm.
A shaken pedestrian will describe seeing David Davenport fall to the street below his penthouse.
After further investigation, the police report will note that Davenport’s penthouse, quote: “looks like a poltergeist ripped through it.
” The autopsy will later reveal splinters beneath his fingernails matching the long scratches on his hardwood floors,
as if he’d been undergoing great emotional turmoil about his decision to jump from his balcony.
In other words, I’m here to prevent this. Since I have an understandable motive, my reliable source did not wish me to be suspected of murdering Mr. Davenport. Hopefully you can stop him from—
Oh my. It’s already 9:04?
Goodness, I forgot to wind my watch.