Chapter 6
Morning wandered through the kitchen, feeling suddenly odd. The men were heading to God-only-knew-where. They were almost secretive about their actions. Not as in criminal or anything. But just something was off. She didn’t know a better way to describe it.
Unsettled, she realized the house was probably empty, but she couldn’t be sure because, if guests came in and went up to their rooms when she’d been painting, she wasn’t sure she would have heard them. She walked upstairs to the second floor and down the hall to the far window. From there she walked up to the third floor. The rooms up here were only used for overflow, as they connected to her room on the other side with the new addition.
But she often walked this way just to make sure everything was okay. She hadn’t assigned any of these rooms to anybody this week, so she took a moment to stop and open doors, checking out the inside of both rooms. At the far end, she opened her bedroom door and walked inside.
She closed it behind her and went to the small couch she kept as a sitting area and collapsed on it. She was out of sorts, but she was at odds with herself too. She wanted to paint, and yet something about that made her nervous too. Fear of failure? Fear of success? She didn’t know but figured the self-help gurus would have a heyday with her. But lying here and staring moodily at the windows as the darkness settled in wouldn’t help either.
And that was, of course, one of the reasons why she struggled with her painting. She did much better in natural light, which was rapidly disappearing.
She heard footsteps down below. Somebody was either coming or going. Normally that didn’t bother her in the least, and it certainly shouldn’t tonight. If anything, she felt safe with these three single men in the place.
They were all here for their different reasons, either business or otherwise, and that had nothing to do with her as long as no criminal activities went down under her roof.
Still moody, she got up, tried to find a book she wanted to read and gave up. She stood in the middle of her small sitting room, thought about turning on the TV and shook her head. “What I want is to paint.”
She headed to her studio, entered and shut the door behind her, flicking on the lights. She assessed the lighting and realized it sucked. But, even if she brought in more lamps, it wouldn’t give her the same quality of illumination as the sun did, which she particularly needed for this painting. The trouble was, the unsettled feeling inside her wanted an outlet. Carefully she took her half-finished painting off the easel and put it on the floor, leaning it up against the wall beside the other one. She grabbed an old canvas and stuck it on the easel. She’d done this often a few years ago. Thankfully she hadn’t had that sensation since, but now there was this weird feeling she couldn’t put words to.
With a sigh she grabbed red paint and a paintbrush and turned back to the canvas. “Okay, this is your chance to work it out. Do whatever you need to do.”
She started with big broad slashes across the canvas. Surprised, but already having condemned the canvas to being a garbage piece of straight emotion, she took her temper, disgruntlement and maybe some fear locked inside her out on the canvas. Stroke after stroke, anger flowed from her fingertips.
Finally she changed colors and then again and again, and ended up with a soft cream color, which then turned to white, then sunshine yellow and followed by an amber. Finally, her chest heaving, her arm shaking, she stepped back to look at the garbage she’d thrown onto the canvas and froze. “What did I just create?”
She’d done this many times in her life, just thrown paint on a canvas with no expectation of a final product to share or to sell. It was just an outlet. The same as a lot of people who played golf or worked out in a gym. But she couldn’t make heads or tails of what was in front of her.
Maybe that was because, all of a sudden, she was not making heads or tails of her own life.
And it had to do with this gallery show. Not only did it bother her, it really bothered her. But she couldn’t begin to understand why. She neared the two canvases along the wall, one finished and one almost finished. Crouching down in front of them, she studied them. “They are both still nice,” she said. “I just don’t know if they are nice enough.”
She straightened, realizing how tired she was. She glanced down at herself and winced. She’d forgotten to put on her painting smock. With a groan she walked out of her studio, closed and locked the door behind her and headed to her room. There was only a short hall in this section, and the whole area was her own personal space. Which was why she’d felt so odd when two of her guests had come up here. She should look at putting a door down below to seal off the third-floor stairway access. That would at least stop anybody from assuming the staircase was public.
Her guests had the run of the main floor, which was the living room/dining room/kitchen. The kitchen was still hers obviously. She didn’t know how other bed-and-breakfast people ran their business, but it was something that Morning had taken a look at a few years back when she was interested in opening her own space. Because what she still needed was privacy. If she was upset or uneasy, she couldn’t focus on painting something that was full of light and pleasure and sunshine. Her paintings would come out dark and aggressive and pure ugly.
She wandered back down the staircase, considering a door right at the entranceway. She had a little bit of money squirreled away for repairs because she had to keep her asset in good condition; otherwise, nobody would want to stay there. This stairway went right beside the kitchen, and she knew it was odd for a house to have more than one staircase, but it did happen, and it made sense with this new annex that her father and she had put on years ago.
When he came to visit, he stayed in one of the downstairs rooms below her sitting room. She never rented it out because it was his space. But he hadn’t been here in a couple years. Neither had she been so overbooked that she had needed his space. She imagined she could certainly open it up and use it, if need be. It was hard to justify not doing so.
She walked into her father’s rooms, turning on the light. Her glance swept through the space until she got to the large king bed in the center. And she frowned at a teddy bear on the bed.
“What the heck?” She walked closer. “No, not a teddy bear,” she exclaimed. She picked up the gray mouse sitting on the bed. She didn’t have a clue what it was or how it got here, and surely it hadn’t been here when she was here last. When was that? She turned to look around the room. “I’ve got to be imagining this.”
Just then her cell phone rang. It was Nancy. “Do you want to go for coffee somewhere? I’m bored.”
And that was one of the big differences between Nancy and Morning. Morning was a morning person. At this time of day, she was almost ready to go to bed. She would have already had a bath and be tucked in with a good book, except she’d been so restless. And now she stood in her father’s room, looking at something she didn’t understand.
“Hey, you there?” Nancy asked.
“Yeah, I’m here. No, I can’t go for coffee. It’s been a long day,” she said, and she certainly wasn’t lying. “I wanted to paint more, but I’ve lost the light. And now I’m standing in my father’s room, wondering how a stuffed mouse got onto his bed.”
“That’s easy, silly. Somebody put it there.” Nancy laughed.
“Sure, but there haven’t been any children here for a while.”
“You said you had a family there a couple weeks ago.”
“Yes, but they didn’t come in here.” She put the mouse back on the bed for the moment.
“I’ve told you how that’s the problem with having people in your house. You have no idea where they go and when they go there,” Nancy chided. “For all you know, they were playing in there the whole time.”
“It’s something to think about,” Morning said. “I’d feel a whole lot better if it was just kids playing, but I certainly don’t want to think of anything else having been on my father’s bed.”
Nancy’s laughter pealed through the phone.
Morning stared down at the phone in her hand, more unnerved than she thought. Any other day she would have assumed exactly as Nancy had, that somebody had left it behind after playing in here, but right now she just wasn’t so sure. It sat on the bed so perfectly. It could have been a parent thinking their child had gotten into the room accidentally and played with it and then tried to set things back to rights again. The trouble was, there were all kinds of possibilities, and none of them were good ones.
“Come on. Whatever is bothering you, let’s go have a cup of coffee,” Nancy said in a wheedling tone.
“It’s pretty late for coffee,” Morning said.
“Okay, so let’s get you a hot milk then,” Nancy cried in exasperation. “The walls are closing in on me. I just want to get out.”
Making a sudden decision, Morning agreed. “Okay, but just for an hour. Curfew is for me too.”
At that, Nancy laughed again. “It’s your house. You can come in whenever.”
Agreeing to meet in ten minutes, Morning snatched up the stuffed animal again and walked out. As she left, she took one last look at the room, realizing that nothing else appeared to be disturbed. She shrugged and closed the door, this time making sure she’d locked it. She had a lot of keys on her house ring. But the ones that never went anywhere were the ones for her own space and for her father’s suite.
That room also had a sitting area and a full bathroom, plus it had a patio extending into the backyard. It was directly below her room, so she didn’t think anybody could have been in there without her knowing. But then she wasn’t always in her own rooms. She was often in the office working late, visiting with clients who had come in from out of town, old friends.
After placing the stuffed mouse in the hall closet, she walked to the front door, put on her sneakers and grabbed a hoodie. It wasn’t cold out, but there was a chill inside her now. She walked out the door and closed it behind her, seeing Nancy across the road waiting for her. Morning waved. Now if only she knew how the hell that stuffed animal had gotten in her house and why.
Geir and Jager sat in the vehicle outside the house. “Suggestions?” Geir asked.
“Anonymous tip?”
“And the footsteps?”
“Our imagination?”
They’d been through this since they’d gone downstairs and walked the entire house, finding no one. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” Geir said quietly.
“Neither do I,” Jager said. “At least not the kind that can leave footprints.”
“So, we missed him?”
“That would make sense, but the reason he was there doesn’t mean it had anything to do with us.”
Geir agreed. “Do you want to go back in?”
“I don’t think so. Although we didn’t check for ID on the body.”
“He wasn’t wearing anything.”
“No, but, along with the bedding, his clothing was somewhere. Maybe stashed in the night table.”
Geir looked at him. “So go in again?”
Jager frowned. “The more times we go in, the more danger there is we’ll get caught and face a murder rap.”
“I know. But the footsteps stopped us from doing a proper job.”
“Okay, but five minutes only. Straight up to the bedroom, figure this out, if we can, and then leave.”
Agreeing, they got out of the vehicle, walked around the block and retraced the route they had taken the first time. They also hadn’t shut the window. As they hopped in through the window, Geir said, “That could be how our intruder got in.”
Jager nodded. “We did give him an opening.”
Back inside, they did a quick sweep on the main floor, then walked up to the master bedroom. Inside that room, they stepped forward with their flashlights on and searched the night tables and bedding. All they wanted to know was who this man was instead of waiting until the police or the media got a hold of the information.
“Well, this is interesting,” Jager said from the far side of the bed.
Geir looked up. Just enough light shone through the window that he could see Jager’s hands. “Is that a wallet?”
“The night table on this side is empty.” Geir walked around to Jager’s side, holding the flashlight so they could both see. They quickly took a look at the wallet.
“Wonder if this belongs to our dead guy here?”
“Maybe. Let’s take photographs of what we find and get the hell out of here.”
As Geir went to put the wallet back, Jager pulled out another one from the far back corner of the drawer to the nightstand. He opened it up. “Look at this.”
They both froze. It was Mouse’s ID under his birth name of O’Connor. “What year was the driver’s license issued?”
“Five years ago.”
They studied the picture.
Geir asked, “Why would his wallet be here?”
“Either he didn’t need it anymore, or it was taken from him,” Jager said in a hard tone.
They laid everything out on the bed, but the wallet held only money and a couple credit cards. They took photographs of it all and put it back in the wallet before returning it to the drawer.
As Geir went to close the drawer, he said, “It feels wrong to leave Mouse’s wallet.”
“Gotta leave it. Maybe it will trigger an investigation into this mess.”
Hating to leave a piece of his friend here, Geir nonetheless agreed. “We need to be as official as we can but not be caught.”
With one last look at the dead man, they headed to the stairs. Once again, they heard footsteps. With a finger to his lips, Jager slid down the banister so as to avoid making any noises on the stairs. He landed so softly on the main floor that there wasn’t a sound. Geir went down behind him. Jager went left; Geir went right. They searched the floor, but nobody was here. Geir raced to the nearest window. “Shit.” He pointed at somebody scrambling over the back fence.
“He’s fast,” Jager commented.
“Was he alone?” Moving silently, they swept through both floors of the house again and didn’t find anything new. One after the other, they climbed out the window and closed it behind them. Instead of heading back to the truck, they followed the intruder’s path around the house and out to the main road.
Up ahead, somebody talked on a cell phone, pacing nervously back and forth.
“Somebody was in the house, I tell you,” Geir said, his voice hard.
Geir and Jager melted into the trees, grateful for a little cover. They stayed as close as they could, listening in. Geir remembered belatedly to pull out his phone and start the audio recording.
“Look. I told you. I saw somebody go in. Two somebodies. … No, I don’t know who they were,” the man yelled. “It’s your house. You come check it out. Hell, no, I’m not going back in there. There’s a dead guy, remember?” He paced again, listening. “You owe me for this,” he snapped. The conversation continued with interspersed silences where the young man paced back and forth.
Geir studied him carefully, but nothing was easily distinguishable. He wore jeans and a black hoodie, the hood over his head, like so many other people in the area. Geir watched and waited until the man hung up in frustration, but he continued to pace as if waiting. Geir and Jager waited quietly too. This was a game they well knew.
Fifteen minutes later an old Buick drove up, and the kid got in the front seat, snapping, “About time you got here. Did you bring the money?”
Beside him, Jager read off what he could see of the license plate into the audio. The plate was partially covered with mud—whether on purpose or not. They also couldn’t see much of the driver. When the light had gone on as the young man had hopped into the front seat, still wearing his hoodie, they’d seen a beard and long hair on the driver, but that was it, not enough to identify either men. Whoever was in the vehicle drove away slowly. Geir and Jager slid out from their tree cover and walked down the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the vehicle. Up ahead it took a right and went around the corner. They were almost at the corner themselves. The vehicle had been driving that slowly.
An empty lot was beside them. On a sudden move, Geir bolted to the right, Jager following, ran through the lot, jumped the fence and raced out to the sidewalk. The vehicle had turned the corner and was slowly passing the teacher’s house. When it pulled into the driveway and parked, Geir and Jager snuck down beside a nearby parked vehicle and watched.
The young guy with the hoodie yelled, “I don’t want to go back in there.”
“We have to check it out,” the other man said, his voice calm, unflustered.
But the young man was not having anything to do with it. “You go in. You check it out.”
“Sure, no problem, but you’re the one who’ll be seen hanging around.” The older man slipped into the front door and left it slightly open. The young man looked around, paced back and forth, and then swore. He bolted inside.
Jager and Geir exchanged hard looks, ran up to the vehicle, confirming the license plate. The doors were closed on the vehicle but not locked.
With Jager opening a car door and checking the registration from the glove box, Geir slid toward the front door to the house and stood where he could hear the two inside. The door itself was still open, the young man needing a quick exit just in case.
From inside the house, Geir heard the young man once again snapping, “Why are we here?”
Geir heard a pop sound, and his heart froze. The pop was followed by a slumping noise. Geir bolted around the garage, hiding from view.
Jager saw his actions, closed the vehicle door quietly and joined him. “What happened?” he whispered against Geir’s ear.
“Sounded like a shot and a body hitting the floor.”
Jager swore and pulled out his phone, slid over to the tree line on the far side of the property close to the neighbor’s. Geir watched him disappear and realized he was putting in an anonymous tip to the police. Geir wondered how long it would take for somebody to arrive in this part of town. He joined Jager, where they could keep an eye on the comings and goings of the property.
Jager pointed to Geir’s truck parked down a block. “Do you want to move it?”
Geir frowned. “Not sure we need to.”
Jager nodded. “I suggest we sit and wait.”
“What if he comes out and runs, disappears?”
“That would be good because then we could follow him. From here, we won’t make it to the vehicle in time.”
Geir nodded. “Gotcha.”
And the two of them headed to Geir’s truck. There they could watch and wait, in case this asshole tried to disappear.