Chapter 5
As soon as Morning made herself a salad, she decided she would take it out on the deck to eat. Her mind was consumed with her two recent paintings. Taking a cup of tea with her, she sat in the sunshine and smiled. A lot was right with her world. Also a lot wasn’t so right, but, hey, this was good. Scrambling for a living or working a nine-to-five job wasn’t up her alley. But this, the bed-and-breakfast, helped a lot. Her rates were high enough to keep her solvent but still giving her a lot of return customers. It just wasn’t full-time. Maybe that was a good thing.
As she sat here, she could feel an eerie sensation, as if somebody watched her. She looked around the backyard. Sometimes neighbor kids would stare through the holes in the fence at her, but it was a school day and during school hours, and there was no sign of them. She looked behind her, but no one was there.
Slightly unnerved but throwing it off, she finished her salad and sat for a few minutes, thinking about the gallery showing. How many was a reasonable number of sample paintings to take in? How many did she have time to do? She had one and a half to date. But today was Wednesday, so she barely had a couple more days. Four? “I want four to take in,” she determined.
She found that, if she set goals and labeled them as such out loud, she’d do her best to reach them. And, if she fell short, three would still do. It would give her something to work toward. She didn’t have a clue how many she needed to have for the actual showing. And she didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on herself right now. She had enough to worry about.
Still unnerved at that strange sense of being watched, she stood, took her plate and cup back inside, rinsed them and loaded the dishwasher. She decided it was full enough, and she turned it on. The couple this morning had chosen to go out for breakfast, so she hadn’t had to worry about them.
She headed back up to her studio. She should be doing paperwork in the office, but she needed the studio work time. As she walked in, she realized how strong the paint smell was. She opened the windows wider, trying to get fresh air recirculating through the room. By rights she needed a workshop that was properly vented. But, since that wouldn’t happen anytime soon, she’d take what she could. She turned back around to the canvas and heard footsteps in the hall. She glanced up to see her new guest. “This room is out of bounds,” she said firmly. “You have your bedroom, the living room downstairs and the kitchen.”
He smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just wondered if there was any chance of getting that offer of coffee.”
“Of course.” She beamed and motioned him to the stairway. “I’m surprised you knew where I was.”
“I saw you come up here earlier,” he said with a laugh. “And now I see it’s an art studio.”
“Yes, I do like to paint.”
For some reason she didn’t want to say anything about the showing. What if they didn’t like her work?
In the kitchen she put on a small pot of coffee. “I was thinking you’d be gone all day,” she said, turning to smile at him.
He nodded. “I’ve been waiting for phone calls. I had a business conference online,” he confessed. “That ran long, so, when I do go out, I won’t be back until later this evening.”
“No problem as long as you remember eleven is curfew.”
He chuckled. “Got it.”
As soon as the coffee was done, she poured him a cup, then poured herself a cup. “There’s still a cup left if you decide you want a second one. I’ll see you later then.” She turned and walked back out.
She smiled to herself. She was lucky to meet so many interesting people. She’d never been nervous in her own house. Mason had made a point of telling her that she should beef up security, and she had to a certain extent. But she’d never been afraid here. It was home, and she liked that. Still, having the guest come into her private space, at least to the door, had unnerved her.
Returning to her studio she put her coffee down to study her painting. Then walked back to the door, closed and locked it. Having Geir inside yesterday hadn’t bothered her. Maybe because he’d so obviously enjoyed seeing her paintings. At least the new one. Yet Ken’s presence had been an intrusion. One she hadn’t liked.
She walked onto the balcony of her room and took several deep cleansing breaths. The house had all these small little Juliet balconies off every second- and third-floor room. They were barely big enough to hold a chair, but they provided a lot of fresh air. She sat with her coffee for a moment. And then determined not to waste any more time. She went back inside, picked up her paintbrush and got back to it. Because of the cityscape in the front, the lighting had to be perfect. And this one would take longer than the first one in the series.
Finally her grandfather’s clock chimed four p.m., and she thought she’d done as much as she could for the day. Plus, the natural light had decreased, and she needed that for this particular style of painting. She stepped back, wiping her hands on her smock. It was good, but it wasn’t perfect yet. She still needed to work on some of that light and fog.
She hesitated, wanting to stay a little longer, but, between the loss of light and the fact dinner would be late, she knew she had to go.
She thought she heard a sound downstairs. She opened the door and walked out to the front near her bedroom where she could see if the men had arrived. But there was no sign of Geir’s truck. But then she had other company as well. Making a fast decision, she went back to her studio, feeling like a child playing hooky, and set about working on the corner of the canvas that bothered her in particular. It just needed a little more black here, a little more gray there. And before long she was lost again. When she straightened up, she realized she’d been leaning forward intently.
An odd light filled her studio as the sun had set. Now she knew it was late. She closed the windows by half, reminding herself to shut them before night settled in, and then walked out of the room. Realizing she’d left her smock on, she stopped. With a laugh, she pulled it over her head, put it back in the room, and then closed and locked the studio from the outside. She couldn’t remember the last time anybody had gone in. But now she’d had two men who had tracked her up here.
She ran lightly down the stairs to see the couple had come in. They all smiled and exchanged greetings. They were just here to get changed before heading out for the evening.
She walked into the kitchen and pulled out the steaks, seasoned them a little more, drained the juice off the platter and brought out the shrimp. They’d been marinating all day too. With that done, she thought about dessert and realized she had time for a quick cheesecake. She pulled out the cream cheese and whipping cream. Few people realized just how fast cheesecake was to make. If they knew, they’d make it all the time.
But did she have any fruit? And then she remembered the blueberries in the fridge. Before long she had the ingredients ready to go into the pan. She decided instead to put them into small terrines, so they were individual servings. With that done, she put them on a cookie sheet and back into the fridge.
She turned and realized it was going on six. How many people were still in the house? Anybody? She had no way to know. But until Geir and Jager returned, she didn’t want to go forward with grilling the steaks. She could do something about the potatoes though. She scrubbed them, sliced them very thinly, mixed them with cream, cheese and a quick butter sauce and put them in the oven.
They would take an hour, but hopefully the men would get back in perfect timing. All that was left were the almond-topped green beans. Wandering the house, she wondered why she decided these men needed dinner. It was an invitation she rarely gave to other guests. But then something about Geir and Jager had her wanting to spend more time with them. Especially Geir.
She walked into her office and got down to work. At least this way she’d keep an eye on the front door.
As she sat, she realized she’d left her phone here. She picked it up to see several text messages from Geir. She smiled as she hit Dial. When he answered, she said, “I’m sorry. I was upstairs painting.”
“That’s fine. You’re not at our beck and call by any means. I called earlier to tell you that we’re running a bit late.”
“Well, you’re not here, so that makes sense.” She laughed.
“We’re only a couple blocks away, so we’ll be there soon.”
She hung up and returned to the kitchen to turn up the oven temperature, hoping to expedite the potatoes. That’s when she saw a stranger walking through her backyard. She stepped out on the deck and called out, “Hey!”
Large evergreens were in the back corner. He disappeared behind them. She frowned. “You’re on private property. Leave please.”
She did have trouble with some people in the neighborhood, but generally it was a very safe family-oriented location. She slipped down the deck steps and headed to the back corner. Mason would tell her to stop immediately, but she’d never been one to avoid confrontation if necessary. But, when she got there, she found no sign of anyone. She walked through the small treed area and frowned. “Hello?”
No answer.
Shrugging, she headed back to the house. As she started up the deck steps, she peered into the shadows of the back corner and swore she could see somebody, despite just being there and finding no one. She walked back into the kitchen, laughing at herself. “I must be imagining things. But why now?” she asked herself. “Why today?”
“Why what?” Geir asked.
With a start she spun.
He gave her a lazy smile that set her heart pounding.
“Don’t turn that lethal smile on me,” she warned.
His eyebrows shot up. “Lethal?” he asked with interest.
She snorted. “Like you don’t know.”
“I really don’t. Tell me more,” he said, walking closer.
She chuckled. “Where’s Jager?”
“Oh, so it’s Jager now, is it? Not me? My heart is broken, you know that?” he said with a laugh.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Not likely. And you guys did get here quickly.”
“Told you that we were just a couple blocks away.”
“Any luck hunting?”
“No. The person we were looking for wasn’t at home.”
“Sorry. Come on.” She turned back to him. “Are you ready for dinner? Or are you going out?”
He pointed at the steak and prawns in front of her. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s what we’re having for dinner.”
She chuckled. “It is indeed.”
He glanced at his clothes. “In that case, I’ll grab a quick shower, if Jager is done.”
“You don’t need to wait. I’ve got an extralarge hot water tank.”
He raised his eyebrows again. “Perfect. I’ll be back in five.” And he slipped out just as silently as he’d slipped in.
She crossed her arms and thought about that. It was one thing to have guests around the house, but it was another to find so many men who could move as silently as they did. She turned to the copse of trees in the backyard because that was exactly how whoever she’d seen moved. Could it have been Jager or Geir? No, she would have recognized them. But, then again, she hadn’t exactly gotten a good look at her intruder. She didn’t want to consider that Ken might have been the man skulking in the backyard as that meant she was questioning everyone around her. Not the way she wanted to live.
Pushing the issue to the back of her mind, she checked on the potatoes and found they’d started to bubble. She turned the oven down slightly and returned to her paperwork. Until the men came down, no point in putting the steaks on the grill. And the prawns? Well, they took even less time to cook.
She settled down happily, a smile on her face thinking about Geir’s smile. There was something about it. Just the corners kicked up, but it tugged a response from her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She’d had several boyfriends, but they always seemed to be more interested in her house and the property than her. One had wanted to move into one of the bedrooms on a permanent basis. When she explained she needed all the bedrooms for income, he’d been quite disturbed, to the point she had to call a friend to help escort him out. She hadn’t seen him since. That had been only a few months ago. At the time she’d been affronted at his forwardness, but Nancy had put it in perspective. She’d said, “You have to understand that anybody who doesn’t have what you have looks at this and sees revenue and a home, and, because you cook, it’s perfect. This is a family home. This is all one needs wrapped up into one.”
“But only for me,” Morning had said. “As far as I’m concerned, he was just a user.”
“Oh, I agree. But, if you look at it from his perspective, being Johnny-on-the-spot and getting free rent, it would have been a pretty damn good deal.”
“He only got one night out of it. Once I realized he didn’t plan on leaving, I kicked him out of here.”
“And that’s because of your generous heart,” Nancy said. “You’d give anybody a bed for the night. The trouble is, you never do any background checks to see if they’re upstanding citizens.”
“Like a background check will tell me that,” Morning scoffed.
Nancy nodded, chuckled and said, “True enough. All of my boyfriends would have passed a background check, yet I definitely know how to pick the losers.”
“And I’m not picking them at all,” Morning said. “Can’t say any of the relationships I’ve had have been any better.”
“No. And for a different reason,” Nancy said. “People look at my house and think it’s mine without realizing it’s my parents’ and, when they realize it’s my parents’, they don’t want anything to do with me. In your case, it is your house—at least half of it is. So that becomes a huge checkmark on the side of right.”
“Until they realize I run a bed-and-breakfast, and people will always be around.”
“Exactly.”
Morning left her past thoughts, finished the accounts and walked back into the kitchen. There she found Ken. “Ready to head out, are you?”
Ken turned, his movement smooth and silent, just like Geir and Jager. Was he ex-military too?
“Absolutely.” He smiled at her.
His smile was cheerful and bright, which was nice.
“I just wanted to say goodbye. I’ll be back later tonight.”
She walked with him to the front door.
He patted her shoulder gently and said, “Take care.” And he walked down the steps with a light tread and a whistle.
She smiled and called out, “Have a good evening.”
He raised a hand in goodbye.
She watched as he went to the corner, looking for whatever vehicle he drove. She had parking for six here, but often the neighbors took them up, making it a struggle at times. Then she smiled when he got into a Porsche, a black one, and disappeared around the corner.
She closed the door and turned around, returning to the kitchen. There Jager sat at the table, his laptop open. He lifted his head and said, “I’m home. Something smells good.”
“It’s dinner. As soon as I know Geir is ready, I’ll light the barbecue and put on the steaks.”
Jager lifted his gaze, grinned at her and said, “Or you could just do it now, and Geir might lose out.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “That’s not likely to happen in my house.” But she went out and lit the barbecue. Because, if she understood men, that smell would get Geir down here faster than anything.
Geir made his way to the kitchen. He could hear sounds of somebody else in one of the other rooms. He had to wonder just how busy she was here. He’d never thought to ask how many rooms she could fill at one time. But, if she charged a couple hundred a night per room, she had to be making a decent income. He was happy for her, particularly if her true love was her painting. It was hard enough as an artist to make a go of it, and everyone needed to have some kind of a backup plan. In her case, the bed-and-breakfast appeared to suit her admirably.
He walked into the kitchen, sniffing the air. “I smell barbecue,” he said.
Jager chuckled. “She said, if she lit it, it would bring you down faster than anything.”
Geir smiled. “She’s very easy to get along with.”
“She is,” Jager said with a grin.
Just then Morning stepped into the kitchen. “There you are. I figured you’d be ready for food soon.”
“How are you cooking the steaks?”
“Medium-rare for me. I was about to ask how you guys like yours.”
“Medium-rare for both of us.”
She disappeared back outside again, and, before long, they were all sitting down to a fantastic dinner. She’d set the outside table. “It’s just the three of us for dinner.”
“Do you normally do dinners?” Jager asked.
“No. Only on special request.”
When dinner was over, she cleaned off the patio table, put on a pot of coffee and brought out the cheesecakes.
Geir and Jager had deliberately not told her about their plans. After all, they could hardly say they were planning to go back out to break into a house. They had tried to access it the first time around. But the neighbors had been outside the entire time. Geir and Jager had made sure they hadn’t been seen, but neither could they take the chance somebody would come over. They’d decided to defer their inside visit until later in the evening.
When they were finished with their coffee and cheesecake, the two men stood and smiled at her, and Geir said, “We have plans, so we can’t sit around.”
She shook her head. “You came for a reason. Head out and do it. You’re not here to entertain me.” She grinned, stood to follow the men inside.
Geir smiled, took their coffee cups inside and said, “Maybe not but it’s very pleasant here.”
“It is,” she agreed.
“Have you lived here all your life?”
She shrugged. “Mostly. My father owns half the place. I’m not sure what my future will bring, so this is good for now.”
He nodded. “Backup plans are always helpful.”
She chuckled. “You didn’t say where you’re going. I’m not trying to pry …”
He shrugged. “We have a few more people to check up on.”
She nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”
Geir turned to look at Jager and said, “You ready?”
He nodded. They escaped the house quickly.
Jager was laughing. “I get that you want to stay in and want to know her a little more.”
Geir shrugged. “It’s not what I came for.”
“Sometimes plans have to change,” Jager said. “I can do this alone.”
Geir shot him a look and shook his head. “No, I’m part of this. If I get to spend a little time with Morning, then I do. If I don’t, then I don’t,” he said dismissively. And yet inside he knew that would be a shame. He could always come back if he wanted to. But he knew he wouldn’t. A lot of memories were here, and, like Jager, Geir had his own mix of good and bad. This had been their home for many years, back when they were whole, … healthy. A lifetime ago. And yet only a few years ago.
They hopped into his truck, and Geir headed back toward the second man’s house. “What’s this guy’s name again?”
“Reginald Henderson supposedly, but there’s no reason he didn’t change his name for whatever reason. Easy enough for guys to do. The real question is, is this San Diego guy also the Poppy who Minx knew in Texas? Is this the same person as the Poppy in Texas who Agnes knew as JoJo Henderson???”
At the house, the two men parked around the block and got out. Dusk had just settled. It was a little earlier than they would have liked for their B&E. They walked around the block several times and then headed to another block, comparing neighborhoods.
“It goes downhill within a couple blocks from here,” Geir commented.
“Right, which means, an awful lot of potential victims are close by.”
“But he wouldn’t need to have another stomping ground. He’s a schoolteacher, for God’s sake. That should give him plenty of choices.”
“Sure, but you don’t know how long he’s owned this house.”
“Actually I do. Thirty-seven years,” Geir said.
“Wow, that’s a long time. So he’s got to be closer to sixty than in his late forties. Plus, maybe this is where he started his hunting grounds.”
“Possibly. He inherited it from his parents.”
“Thirty-seven years ago?”
Geir nodded. “His parents were attacked by an intruder and shot. Their murders remain cold cases.”
Jager stopped, turning to look at his buddy. “What?”
“Well, look at the area,” Geir said. “Just think about how much crime there has to be. And this was a long time ago. I doubt the neighborhood was a whole lot different back then, but it wouldn’t have had the population it has now.”
“We should take a look at that murder file,” Jager said thoughtfully. “What’s the chance this guy killed his parents in order to get the house, so he could carry on with his questionable relationships?”
“It’s possible. But is it really probable?”
Jager chuckled. “This guy has stayed in the shadows for a long time. Who knows what he’s managed to get away with? Where did that life of crime start? And does he have any other family?”
“There was a younger brother,” Geir said. “He committed suicide a couple to three years before the parents were murdered.”
“Any idea how much younger?”
“Almost ten years,” Geir stated. “Reginald was twenty-five, graduating with a teaching degree, somewhere around the same time his parents were killed. And his brother committed suicide before that. It could have been the reason Reginald ended up going into education.”
“It’s possible the younger brother committed suicide because his older brother was already working on him as his first victim.”
They walked in silence, contemplating a broken family to the extent that maybe this pedophile had abused his younger brother and then murdered his parents to gain the house.
“The trouble is,” Jager said, “I hate to even contemplate what the younger brother’s life was like, but it does make sense.”
“I wonder if somebody could let us know more about both cases. But how would we even find information on the brother’s suicide?”
“I searched online but found nothing. Unless the police are willing to share, that information might be available in the newspapers back then. But the suicide would have been about forty years ago.”
They turned and headed back toward Reginald’s house, finding it still empty, still in darkness. “It almost looks deserted,” Geir said.
“I was thinking that myself. What’s the chance he has a second home?”
“I would imagine the odds are pretty good, but then why keep this?”
“Maybe for the memories. Maybe for the history here. Maybe to lure his victims here. Who knows?”
Having already cased the place earlier, they knew exactly where their entry point was. They slipped over the back fence from the neighbor’s yard, walked through the hedge, sticking to the shadows, something they were both particularly good at, and slinked up to the side of the house. A large window on the bottom floor wasn’t locked. Slipping on gloves first, Geir slid it open and was inside in seconds. Jager, after a quick glance around, joined him.
They left the window open to make sure they had an exit. But, if the house was deserted, then any lights they used would be noticed by the neighbors. They couldn’t take that chance. They both stood in silence, listening to the sounds, the creaks, the atmosphere of a house that hadn’t been lived in, seemingly for a while. There was an odor, one that was hard to distinguish.
“Rats?” Jager whispered.
Geir shrugged. “In this place that would be possible. But is it something else? Who knows?” He turned on his cell phone flashlight and gave the room a quick cursory glance.
Mildew and some dampness. The room they were in was empty. They quickly went through several other rooms on the first floor, but they too were empty. The final door was closed, but, so far, they hadn’t heard any sounds of footsteps coming from the house. So Geir had to assume this part behind the closed door was empty too.
Of course that assumption could change at any second. He gently turned the knob and opened the door. They stepped into a small hallway between the kitchen and the living room. They did a walk-through of the living room first, finding standard living room furniture but older and in a rough state. The couch sagged in the middle; an armchair had the corner shredded, possibly by a cat, or possibly just a piece of furniture that he found in the garbage that served the purpose and came home with him.
What it didn’t look like was the home of a respectable teacher. No blankets or sheets were thrown over the furniture to say the owners were planning on being gone for a long time. But then, outside of a high-end home, Geir had never seen that before either.
They did a sweep of this part of the main floor and came back to the kitchen. They paused as there was no food, no dishes. Jager put a hand on the refrigerator and whispered, “It’s on.” He slipped to the side and pulled it open. Horrible smells wafted toward them. He slammed it shut and said, “Food spoiling.”
Uneasy and not sure what was going on, the men made their way to the stairs going to the top floor. The odor was even worse here. With hard looks at each other, they slid upstairs soundlessly. But they already knew what they would find. They just didn’t know who. Two bedrooms should be upstairs and a bathroom.
They checked the bathroom first, finding it empty. It wasn’t clean, but it wasn’t disgusting. They’d certainly seen worse. The smaller bedroom was just an empty room, nobody there. But, oddly enough, a child’s toy was in the far corner—a stuffed mouse from the looks of it. Instead of heading straight to the master bedroom, Geir stepped inside and took a quick look but from a child’s point of view. And saw crayons and scribble marks on the walls.
Other families had lived here maybe? Did the teacher himself have a family? They hadn’t found any record of a marriage or of him having children. But that didn’t mean much. He could have had a relationship with somebody who already had a child. The stuffed toy stood incongruently amid the rest of the room. Maybe it was the bright gray new look to it against the old dilapidated color of these surroundings. Maybe it was the cheerful, hopeful smile on the mouse’s face. As if it didn’t realize it was living in a world that had it seriously in for him.
With a shake of his head, Geir stepped back into the hall.
Jager glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “What about that bothers you?”
“That it’s even here. Why? Surely if he abused children here, the neighbors would have heard the screams?”
“It’s hard to say. The house next to it is empty. The house on the other side is brand new. So just construction workers would have been around for a long time.”
“And then, of course, if he had drugged them, nobody would be screaming.”
Jager nodded, his jaw tight, his lips pinched.
Side by side the two approached the master bedroom. Of course the door was closed. And Geir already knew he wouldn’t like what was on the other side. The odor was much stronger the closer they got. With a gloved hand, he turned the knob, pushing open the door, and the horrible decay smell doubled. They coughed and choked for a moment and then stepped inside. No longer worried about anybody coming in and finding them, Geir turned on the flashlight and shone it toward the bed. A corpse—probably weeks, possibly months old—lay on the bed. No real way to know how long at this point. It had almost mummified.
“That’s not good,” Jager said.
They walked cautiously forward, trying to identify the victim. But, with the condition of the skin, it was hard. What they could determine was that it was male.
“Old, young?”
Both shook their heads.
“Could be anybody. I’m tempted toward saying young, but I don’t have any reason for that,” Jager said. He stood and studied the scene for a long moment. “There are no clothes. The bedding is pulled back, as if he was just lying there, and I’m not seeing any major trauma to show he was murdered.”
“Well, it can’t be our teacher because he still works at the school.”
“And he was there several days ago,” Jager added.
Geir shook his head. “No, this body’s been here too long.” Just as he was about to turn away, he stopped and shone the flashlight over the chest of the victim. “Look at this.”
Jager walked closer, and his breath caught in the back of his throat. “So, let me amend that. Definitely murder.”
In the chest cavity was a glint of steel—a knife, the hilt broken off and just the edge showing above the ribs.
“So we have a murder victim who’s been here for weeks or months in a house that’s desolate and run-down, yet the power is on, and the fridge is still running.”
“A renter? Maybe the teacher has no idea he’s dead?”
“It’s hard to say. Obviously the teacher has another place to live himself.”
Just then they heard footsteps downstairs.
Grim-faced they slipped against the master door, closing it almost to the point of latching it, and waited.