A Cold Christmas Page 5
“Uh—yeah?” Gunner’s voice came from the top of the stairs.
“Camcorder.”
Gunny clattered down the stairs and did a camcording of the basement. Osey gently eased the wallet from the victim’s back pocket, got fingerprints, and then opened it.
“The driver’s license says his name is Tim Holiday,” Osey said. “Fourteen dollars in bills, twenty-eight cents in change, and one credit card with the same name.”
Susan left them to it and went upstairs. In the bedroom, she found Caley leaning back against a stack of pillows, unmoving and, as Osey had said, extremely pale. Bonnie was crying. Adam was watching his mother, warily. Zach was sitting on the edge of the bed methodically kicking the heel of a black and silver western-style boot against the floor.
A jumble of stuffed animals was pushed to the foot of the bed. A cardboard box held a pile of toys with tanks and action figures prominent. Clothes covered the floor. Bookshelves spilled over with books. Pictures of soldiers and spacemen were tacked to the walls.
“I need to talk with you,” Susan said to Caley. “In the kitchen.”
“I can’t leave them.”
“They’ll be fine. We’ll just be in the kitchen.”
“No, Mommy.” Bonnie threw herself on Caley’s lap and wailed. “Don’t go.”
Caley looked at Susan as though to say, You see.
“They’ll be fine,” Susan repeated. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Zach, the twelve-year-old, gave her an accusing look. “You’re the police chief,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you supposed to see that this kind of stuff doesn’t happen?”
While it wasn’t exactly logical, she got his point. If a stranger could be killed and mutilated in their basement, how could he trust her to take care of his siblings? Susan didn’t know enough about kids to come up with an answer. She went to the kitchen and told the paramedics they were free to move the body as soon as Dr. Fisher gave the word, then called the department.
“Hazel, I need somebody, anybody, over here. Could you find a female officer to stay with three kids while I question the mother?”
In ten minutes Luke Demarco marched—and marched was exactly the word—into the kitchen. Oh Lord, Hazel, wasn’t there anyone else? Anyone? Demarco was ex-military, tall, dark hair cut short, thin face with a square jaw, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. Lean, mean, and hard. What would he do to three already traumatized kids?
“Follow me,” she said, and led him to the bedroom. She told him to watch the children and told Caley to come with her. If Demarco was surprised or annoyed, it didn’t appear in his wooden expression.
In the kitchen, Caley blinked like she was just coming out of a spell and looked around. She reached for the empty glass coffee carafe. “Would you like some coffee?”
“I’d like that very much,” Susan said as she sat at the table, not because she wanted more caffeine jangling through her bloodstream but to give Caley a familiar task to do. While her hands went through a routine that didn’t need thinking about, her nerves could slow and she might loosen her tight control, maybe get her color back to normal.
After the coffee dripped through, Caley pushed a mug of very black liquid across the table and sat down with her hands wrapped around a second mug.
“Tell me about the man in your basement,” Susan said.
“Who is he?”
“You don’t know?”
“How can I know? I couldn’t see his— Is it Tim?”
“Tim?” Susan repeated.
“That’s the only name I know. The furnace repairman. It was on his—” Caley vaguely waved her fingers across her chest.
“Tell me about him.”
“I don’t know anything, except he is—was incompetent. Terrible. He had to come back a second time to get it right. He—” She seemed to remember the man was dead and she should be respectful. “When did he die?”
“We’re waiting for Dr. Fisher to do an autopsy. He can tell us more after that. Probably sometime yesterday afternoon.”
Caley turned pale again. “You mean he was here, down there, all night?”
“Where were you yesterday?”
“Church.” Caley gave her a weak smile. “How’s that for an alibi?”
“All day?”
“In the morning. I played for the services.”
“Both eight and eleven?”
Caley nodded.
“What did you do between services?”
“Came home to check on the kids. They were fine, waiting for their father to pick them up.”
“What time did he pick them up?”
Caley scratched at a hole in the vinyl tablecloth. “How did he die?”
Usually that was the first question asked. “We don’t know yet.”
“Wasn’t it an accident?”
“Dr. Fisher will be able to help.”
Caley scratched her hand down her face as though wiping away the vision of a man with his head stuffed in her furnace.
“It’s just— He was kind of creepy. Looked like he would drool over books about Ted Bundy.”
“What do you mean?”
Oh—he just—” With one finger, Caley smoothed the edges of the hole. “He looked like those pictures you see of psychopaths who killed dozens of people and you wonder why anybody would let them get close enough to— You know.”
“You let Tim in.”
“Well, I was expecting him. I called to get the furnace fixed and he came. We were freezing.” She started to get up. “I have to check on my children.”
“They’re fine,” Susan said. “Officer Demarco is with them.”
Caley almost smiled. “I hope he’s brave and strong.”
“The bravest and the strongest.” Susan didn’t know about giving three innocent children over to Demarco. Would he terrorize them so much they’d have to tell it to some shrink thirty years from now?
“This man was creepy…” Susan prompted.
“Yeah. I thought it was just the way he looked, you know. Like being nearsighted or having brown hair. He just looked—weird. Then there was the snake.”
“Snake?” What the hell kind of case was this?
Caley explained, and added, “Black snake, he said. Harmless.”
“You had never seen, the children had never seen, this snake in the basement?”
“Never. Believe me, I would have had it removed.”
“Would the children have told you about it if they had seen it?”
“Well—”
“What?” Susan said.
“Zach would have told me. The Littles— Adam might have found it interesting to just have it there, so he could study it, and Bonnie … she loves everything. Not only furry things, but birds and insects and— She’ll barely let me kill a mosquito. If she thought it might be hurt she wouldn’t have said a word. She’s apt to weave everything into some story in her mind. Fairy tales with spells and wizards and princes and—she might have decided the snake was someone a wizard had cast a spell on. Who knows what she might have thought.”
“What time did you get back from the second service?”
“About twelve-thirty.”
“Where were the children?”
Caley bristled. “They were with their father.”
“His name?”
“You don’t believe me? I don’t blame you. It’s a rare occurrence. Henry James.”
“Excuse me?”
“My ex-husband. His name is Henry Matheison James. Affectionately known as Mat.” Caley pressed the heels of her hands hard against her temples. “My head is going to explode. Is it all right if I take some Advil?”
Susan nodded. She asked for the name of the company Tim Holiday had worked for and why Caley had called that particular place. “I’ll need to talk with the children.”
“Not unless I’m there.” Caley stared at her, fangs showing, claws extended.
“I’ll be very ca
reful,” Susan said. “I won’t hurt them.”
“Not without me.” Caley said.
“Of course,” Susan said, but only because she had no choice. Children were usually more forthcoming without their parents. With a parent present they said only what they thought the parent would approve of.
All three children were crawling around on the floor in Adam’s bedroom, picking up bits of paper or dirt or debris. Caley’s eyes widened in amazement. The room that had been in shambles was now perfectly neat, toys all put in boxes and stacked on shelves, clothes neatly arranged in closets, books lined up according to size.
“Hi, Mommy,” the little girl said. “We’re playing Marine.”
“He wants to see nothing but elbows and assholes,” Adam said in a voice as deep as he could make it.
Susan looked at Demarco and choked on a laugh. Caley looked at him with awe. He stood at attention, face expressionless. “It gave them something to do while we waited,” he said.
Susan asked them if they’d ever seen the repairman anywhere before. At school or ice-skating or the library.
“You mean the evil prince?” Bonnie asked. “He was trying to steal the princess.”
“School’s out till January,” Adam informed her.
Zach seem worried, but Susan thought it was concern about his mother. She’d try to speak with him when he was alone, but on the whole she thought there was nothing any of them could tell her.
Adam had nothing to say, except he thought it was cool to have a dead guy in his basement. Susan felt it was something he was eager to relate to his friends. Bonnie told a convoluted tale about a beautiful princess who lived in a castle and rode a golden horse. One day the evil prince made the horse stumble and he kidnapped the princess. A handsome man with a little girl of his own saved the beautiful princess.
Susan gravely thanked the children, apologized to Caley for any inconvenience, and said she might be back with more questions. She nodded at Demarco to come with her.
* * *
From the living room window, Caley watched Chief Wren and the other cop get into separate cars. When they were gone she found Bonnie in her own bedroom.
“Bonnie, did your daddy stay with you all day yesterday?
“Sure.”
“The whole time? Even when you were having lunch?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And when you were ice-skating?”
“Yeah. Except when he came back here.”
Caley took a breath. “Why did he come back here?”
“I forgot my gloves.”
“Was that in the afternoon?”
“Sure.”
Just about the time the man in the basement was getting himself shot?
7
Pauline Frankens pulled back one edge of the lace curtain that crisscrossed her front window and made sure that so-called police officer took himself off. Police officer! Look at him, Ollie.
The big longhaired cat, curled up on the sofa, opened one benevolent green eye and gazed at her.
“Does he look like a police officer to you? Looks like a leatherneck to me.” Pauline giggled at the awkward feel of the unfamiliar word in her mouth. “Oh dear, do you suppose we’re watching too much television, Ollie?”
The cat stretched himself out to his full length, made a quick twist to his other side, and curled up again. He covered his nose with his plumy tail as though he would have no more to do with the subject.
“Well, he’s not at all like that sweet Osey Pickett. We would have talked with him, wouldn’t we, Ollie? Lord’s sake, I went to school with his grandfather. Or was it his great-grandfather? Must have been great-grandfather. Makes no difference, at least we know who Osey is. And a good boy even if he did go and become a cop.” Pauline giggled again at using a word she wouldn’t say to anyone but Ollie. “I always thought it was because he wanted to wear a uniform and impress the girls. Because, let’s face it, Ollie, he isn’t the most handsome of boys. Looks kind of like a scarecrow, when you get right down to it. And there he is wearing ordinary clothes again anyway.
“Maybe I should have told that man, Ollie. Do you think I did the wrong thing by not telling him what I saw? It’s just that I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. I’ll discuss it with Ida Ruth. She’ll know what to do.”
Letting the curtain fall back, Pauline picked up the cat, hugged him under her chin, and listened to him purr. When she placed him back on the afghan put there to protect the sofa from his hairs, he immediately curled up again. She limped to the wooden rocking chair, adjusted the cushions, and sat down. Taking the baby blanket she was knitting from the needlepoint bag at her feet, she peered at it critically.
All the activity at the old Ellendorfer house told her something had happened there again. Maybe she should have let that fierce-looking man in so she could find out what was going on. Except he wouldn’t have told her anything.
Silly old fool, jabbering on to yourself. Would it have hurt your pride to let the man in? That’s why you didn’t. All this talk about leathernecks, just nonsense. Though he did look mean. It was all because her beautiful ceramic figures on the tables and shelves and the pictures across the piano had a little dust. And her lovely crewelwork pieces that gave her so much joy.
God bless this house
All those that dwell therein,
And every guest who comes
Its humble walls within.
She’d been lazy this morning, reading Dickens in bed instead of getting her breakfast and her work done. It had been so long since she’d read him, and her arthritis had been kicking up so bad lately she just hadn’t wanted to get up. Now she had to wait to find out anything. “I’m getting slothful. It’s a sin, Ollie. Don’t let me do that anymore.”
Her fingers knitted away as she watched the house across the street. It had a curse on it. “Not that we believe that kind of nonsense, Ollie.” Tragedy fell on anyone foolish enough to live in it. Ellendorfer, who built it, hanged himself in the barn. Garage now. Then the Lewises bought it. He disappeared the day after he and his bride moved in and was never seen again. She lived in that big house and grew old all by herself. Until one day they hauled her away completely gaga. After that the Jolmans with all those children. They weren’t there very long. The children kept getting hurt or sick and Mr. Jolman broke his leg and Mrs. Jolman ate some bad green beans and then the youngest child got diphtheria and liked to die. After that they moved. They said it just wasn’t worth it. Then the Malleys. Just the two of them, there was. Lived in the place perfectly happily for years and folks thought the curse was finally broken until one day he up and shot her dead, then shot himself.
Pauline had tried to tell handsome young Mat James that it wasn’t a suitable house for a family. He said he needed a large place and he could afford this one. Pauline had explained it was so cheap because nobody would live there. Caley and the three young ones moved in, but Pauline never saw Mat much. She knew the first time she met him he was one of those kind. Handsome doesn’t make up for dependable. If she was any judge, and she was one who could tell just by looking, he was worth no more than yesterday’s sunshine. She didn’t think he even gave that poor girl money to feed and clothe the four of them.
Caley said she could take care of them, she didn’t need him, but it must be hard. And such a sweet thing. She was always checking up to make sure Pauline was all right and getting things for her from the supermarket and sending the oldest boy over to help her.
All along, Pauline knew in her bones, something bad would happen and now here it had. She wished she knew what it was.
“Well, we can’t sit here all day while work’s to be done.” She stuck the knitting in the bag and struggled to her feet. “First, we’ll have to get rid of this dust and then we’ll have to vacuum the carpet.”
Ollie slid off the sofa and slunk from the room. He didn’t like the vacuum cleaner and sheltered under the bed until it was safely back in the closet.
* * *
“Anything going on?” she asked Hazel, who was eating vegetable soup at the computer.
“Nothing, thank the Lord. Can you watch this for a minute?”
“Sure.”
Hazel returned with another bowl of hot soup, which she gave to Susan. “Something besides junk food. The vegetables are from my garden. It’ll help keep the flu away.”
Susan thanked her and took a sip. Mmm. Good. “Why on earth did you send Demarco to watch three kids?”
“He’d just come in. Looking a little wobbly, but he was here. Why? Did anything happen?”
“He whipped them into shape in no time. I think Caley James wants to hire him as a nanny. Anything from Parkhurst?”
“Not a peep.”
“Damn.”
“Demarco called to say he covered the entire south side of the street and got nothing. He’ll turn in his reports at the end of his shift. There’s an old woman directly across the street that he thinks you should see. She wouldn’t talk to him.”
Susan took the soup to her office and ate while she went through the stacks of folders on her desk.
The phone rang and she picked it up.
“I just thought you’d like to know the mayor’s on the way,” Hazel said.
Great. “Do you know what he wants?”
“He didn’t say.”
“I’m out talking to a witness.” Susan hung up, slurped the last of the soup, and took off.
* * *
Pauline was just rewinding the cord on the vacuum when the doorbell rang.
“Police Ch—” Susan said.
“Of course you are,” Pauline said. “Come right in out of the wind.”
She was a small plump woman in her eighties with a cloud of white hair, a kind wrinkled face, and pale blue eyes. She wore a lavender sweat suit and striped black and lime green socks. She smiled a welcome.
Demarco probably hadn’t used his charm, Susan thought sarcastically.
The room was exceedingly hot. A white afghan with brightly colored granny squares was spread across the sofa and an orange cat was spread across the afghan. It blinked at her. The room was made small by too much furniture. Tables and shelves were crowded with ceramic figures of Victorian girls, flowers, cats, and bunnies. Hanging by the front door was stitchwork that read: