Dogs and More Dogs, Another Murder

by Christa Nardi

Her blue eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “I… I don’t know. Usually I talked to mom and she would tell me everything was fine. Dad was in the garden or went for a walk or was taking a nap.” She paused.

  “You’re telling me he was dead all that time for the last year or more and she didn’t tell me or Jacob?” Her voice rose and I shifted closer to pat her arm.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid so. Neither of them ever came to town or socialized other than church and Pastor Pete said he hasn’t seen them in over a year. Raises a lot of questions about how they functioned.”

  She nodded and sat up straighter. “I think I explained some of that when we spoke on the phone. Jacob and I left Clover Hill for college and both of us pretty much left for good. We’d both come home for holidays – at least until we had kids and travel was more difficult. Dad took care of everything and though I tried to convince them Mom needed to have her own credit card and at least be listed on everything, Dad was pretty old school.” She grimaced and shook her head.

  “You indicated everything was electronic when we spoke.”

  “Yes, sir. When Dad retired from the bank, we – Jacob and I – sat down with them and I set everything for autodeposit and autopay. My Dad was a little old-fashioned and he wanted some cash on hand at the house. He had a debit card so he could always go to the bank or most stores and get more cash if he needed it.”

  “Any idea what he would need cash for?”

  “Oh, yeah. When we first moved out, they hired some woman to help with housekeeping and paid her in cash.” She put her hands up. “I know that’s technically not legal, but the woman was local – not an immigrant – and life was simpler back then. When Dad retired, it was some girl who came out once a month to help with housekeeping. I think it was the daughter of the woman they’d hired to begin with. And then the young man who helped with the landscaping.”

  “Do you know any of their names? That could be helpful.”

  “No. Sorry, I can’t remember their names. The Pastor may know though if it’s still the same one. He’s the one who found the first woman, asked my dad to help her out as she was in a bad situation or something. I don’t know about the younger one. My mom mentioned she’d been in trouble as a teen. I only met her once and I didn’t quite trust her.”

  “Do you remember what she looked like? Why you didn’t trust her?”

  “Not what she looked like. I think she was in high school or just graduated? She just wasn’t very friendly and knowing she’d been in trouble before…”

  “You haven’t been back to see them since Herman retired?”

  “No, and now I regret that. They came to visit when our kids were born and once or twice, and otherwise I tried to keep in touch. I used to talk to them more often. Lately, only about once a month. Stan, my ex-husband, and I bought them smart phones, but they wouldn’t use them. They didn’t have an answering machine and they liked to sit outside, work in the garden, and go for walks. Most times, I’d have to try calling three or four times before someone answered.”

  “Can you describe what the house looked like when you were last there?”

  “Neat, clean, everything in its place. Now, the housekeeper had just been there to get the place ready for us. I don’t suppose you know who the current housekeeper is or had her get our rooms ready. Jacob will arrive tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 15

  I cleared my throat and Mrs. Wharton turned to me, eyebrows raised. “Were either of your parents collectors – you know, like figurines or china?”

  She sat up straight. “Not at all. The house is very small by today’s standards. Three bedrooms upstairs, but they are on the small size. Even the master couldn’t accommodate more than a full-size bed. Kitchen, dining room and living room downstairs weren’t all that big. No place to store or show off anything like that. Why do you ask?”

  I looked to the chief and he exhaled. “Mrs. Wharton. There’s no easy way to describe the house right now. It doesn’t look like your parents threw away anything for the past several years. And they had items shipped to the house.”

  She shook her head and I continued. “When the police arrived at the house? They had trouble even walking through the house. Boxes and papers and mail stacked everywhere. Definitely, no housekeeper.”

  Mrs. Wharton glanced from the chief to me. “I… I don’t understand.” I put my hand on her arm.

  “It sounds like your parents – or at least your mother – kept things, collected things, hoarded things to fill a vacuum or feel like she or they mattered. Dogs, too.”

  “No, my father wouldn’t have allowed dogs. If you found a dog there, it wandered from some place nearby.”

  “I’m sorry. Your mother adopted several dogs from rescues over the past year. She told one of them she wanted a dog because she was lonely after her husband died. I’ve been in contact with multiple rescues and they all told the same story.”

  She was silent for a minute. “No. This is crazy.” She stood up. “I’m going to the house now. You must be mistaken.”

  The chief and I stood as well. “Sheridan and I will follow you. It is still a crime scene.” We all walked out together and I accepted the chief’s offer to ride with him as long as it was in the front seat.

  “What do you think?”

  “Not a very close family and she is in for a shock. Did you ever find the cash she indicated Mr. Stoneham kept on hand? Somehow she paid Dan in October.”

  “Not yet. No telling where she stashed it. Oh, and by the way, some more packages arrived. Apparently the shipments are automatic. Mrs. Wharton will have to deal with those and returns.”

  “That will be the easiest thing she has to deal with.”

  He nodded. “She’s speeding, but I guess she’s in panic mode. I don’t have the heart to give her a ticket knowing what she’s about to face.”

  Soon enough, we turned down a dirt road. Mrs. Wharton stopped at the mail box, a package sitting on top of it. She looked at us as she picked up the package and took the mail. Her grimace and knit brows indicated confusion on her part and something more negative, perhaps anger that mail and packages were still being delivered.

  It was as Brett described. There was no way the mailperson or delivery person could see the house from the mailbox. We followed her up the driveway and through trees until we reached the house. A policeman saluted us.

  The house looked bigger than I expected given her description. A two-story home with a wraparound porch. It was old and needed a good painting and some repairs to the porch that I could see. She stood staring at the house and we joined her. She glared at the chief as if he was responsible for the condition.

  “I thought someone came to help with repairs and the yard?”

  “A young man named Dan mowed the lawn and cleared away dead branches and such. He was last here in October and due to come back in March.”

  “Has it changed much since you were last here?”

  She looked at me before she answered. “It looks older. The chairs on the deck. Where’d they go. It needs some work for sure.” She took a deep breath. “Why are there boxes and paper and I don’t know what on the porch?”

  “In order to get inside and get the stretcher in and out, we had to move some of the boxes out of the way. We didn’t want to destroy or remove anything.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” She started up the short stairs and we followed behind her. She fiddled in her purse, then stopped, shaking her head. “Key?”

  The chief responded, “Door’s open. It was open when we got here.”

  “Now that’s irresponsible. Someone could have come in and burglarized the place. Have you no concern for my parents’ belongings? What kind of police are you? Is this because of that silly feud with the Buchanans?”

  Chief Peabody took a step back. “Ma’am, begging your pardon. I’ve had an officer here round the clock. We don’t have a key and we are still investigating a crime.”

  She opened the door and lifted her foo
t as if she were going to stomp right in. Only she screeched and lost her balance. The chief caught her and I got my first view and whiff of the house. There were boxes or stacks of papers at least four feet high for as long as I could see. I knew from the early descriptions, the overflow on the porch created a wide path at least part way into the house. The chief managed to shift Mrs. Wharton so that she could sit on one of the boxes that offended her so much.

  “I… I… where did all this come from? What is that smell?”

  “Mrs. Wharton, that’s what I was trying to explain back at the station. At some point, your parents or more likely your mother, started saving everything and anything. If your dad liked things neat, she probably started in the rooms not being used or seen.”

  “My room and Jacob’s.”

  I nodded.

  “The smell is because when she adopted dogs, apparently some of them stayed inside and were still inside when the police arrived.”

  “What? Wait. How were they inside? These stacks are only here?” She stood up.

  “No, ma’am. They’re everywhere with paths like a maze. We found the dogs going through the maze and with the help of another dog. Some weren’t able to get out.”

  She sat back down, shoulders slumped and head in her hands.

  “Ma’am, I took the liberty of making reservations for you and for your brother at the Sleep Softly Inn in town. Staying here is not an option. If you’d like, we can walk through with you. We have no idea what might be of value in here – financially or otherwise. We can arrange for a dumpster and probably find some strong boys to help clean this up, but you and your brother will have to figure out what can be tossed and what can’t.”

  “Walk through first. Then I’ll call Jacob. You found my parents in here? How?”

  “We found Justine inside the house. We could hear dogs yelping or barking and made our way to them to get them out, assuming the place was abandoned. Justine was in one of the bedrooms upstairs. The next day we had two dogs checking outside. Your dad was buried in a shallow grave in the backyard. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded and stood, shoulders slumped and hands trembling. “Let’s get this over with and then you can show me the backyard.”

  CHAPTER 16

  We walked in. I left the door open to let in some air and light. We followed the larger path and the chief pointed out narrower paths on either side. Only a narrow sliver of windows was visible, letting in only minimum light. I wanted to turn on lights but didn’t see any switches. I noticed some stacks high and some lower, with no dust on the low ones. Stacks had been moved, probably to gain access.

  The wider path ended at the stairs, which were remarkably clear. Probably necessary to get Justine’s body out of the house. A quick few steps into the kitchen and a narrow path that paralleled the counter, sink, stove and refrigerator. The back door was hidden – if the house had gone up in flames there’d have been only one way out.

  Upstairs, the smell was worse. The hallway was only cleared on the short end. Justine’s room. Mrs. Wharton gasped and leaned against the wall of boxes. “The smell. Can’t we open some windows or something? Is the heat on?”

  “If we could get to them, we could, only then if it rains… We ordered the heat to be turned off. This…” He waved his arms. “…is a major fire hazard. Lucky the place didn’t burn down.”

  She nodded and stepped toward the master bedroom. She pushed the door as far open as it could get and gasped again. The chief caught her as she fainted. He motioned for me to close the door, which I did. I caught a glimpse in the process and understood her reaction. Nothing had been cleaned up after Justine’s death.

  The chief stayed with her and I ventured to the other end, a tight squeeze for my size ten body. I could only open the other three doors enough to identify them. A bathroom which had the most open space, a pink room, and a blue room. I walked back as Mrs. Wharton regained her strength.

  “The doors to the other rooms only open part way. The bathroom is the most accessible. I’m not sure that tells you much.”

  She shook her head. “This is unbelievable. I have to take a picture even if it feels ghoulish. Jacob won’t believe me without a picture. He’ll be very angry.”

  She pulled out her phone and took a picture of the hall. We went back downstairs. She took one of the kitchen and one of the main living area. Then she headed for the door.

  “Mrs. Wharton, before we leave the house, at least as of October, Justine still had cash on hand to pay Dan when he mowed. Do you have any idea where she might have kept it? With no idea how much money we are talking about, I’d be more comfortable if we could find it and account for it.”

  Her mouth dropped. “I don’t know.” She looked around at the many boxes and threw her hands up in the air.

  “You’re right. It could be in any one of these boxes or stacks. Chief, have you eliminated the most accessible places?”

  “Like where?”

  “The kitchen. On the counter? In the cabinets or drawers? In the dishwasher? The oven? The fridge?” I suggested.

  He turned around and we followed. “Mrs. Wharton, will you do the honors and check out the places Sheridan mentioned?”

  We all trudged back to the kitchen. I found a light switch and ceiling lights added some light – and shadows. Eerie. Mrs. Wharton’s attempt to walk down the path was thwarted by her heavy winter coat.

  “I’d have to take my coat off and it’s too cold.” She backed up.

  “Sheridan? I certainly won’t fit.”

  I squeezed my way to the far end and the fridge. I opened the door and stepped back as far as I could. Someone needed to clean it out, but nothing that looked like it might contain money. I checked the freezer and no unidentified packages there. The oven was empty and I reached up and opened cabinets over the stove and the sink. Dishwasher was full. I pulled out the first drawer – the junk drawer in our kitchen – and held up a manila envelope. I scooted down to Mrs. Wharton and handed it to her.

  She opened it and pulled out what looked like a listing of what was paid and to whom and money. Lots of money.

  “Please count the money and then I’ll have Sheridan re-count it. We’ll mark it on the envelope. I’m afraid the money and the papers will become evidence.”

  “I’m sorry. I missed something somewhere. Evidence of what?”

  “Your mother’s death has been ruled “suspicious” and whom she was paying and for what could lead us to the murderer.”

  “Why suspicious and not natural causes like my dad?”

  “There’s evidence Justine sustained a head injury, while there was no indication of foul play with your dad.”

  She nodded. “Who would kill her? Why? Couldn’t she have fallen and hit her head on something?”

  “That’s the part that’s not clear. The coroner can’t reach a conclusion without more information. In the meantime, this is an open investigation into a suspicious death.”

  We both counted the money, indicated the amount on the envelope and he took possession. A quick trip to the backyard and we stopped at the cars.

  “Mrs. Wharton, do you know if anyone contacted your parents about selling the property? Or perhaps contacted you or Jacob?”

  She snorted. “The only ones I ever heard wanted to buy the property were the Buchanans. And that was years ago. My dad mentioned some realtor once, surprised at the appraisal value, but he didn’t talk about selling to me. I’ll check with Jacob.”

  “Sleep Softly Inn, you said?” At the chief’s nod, she added, “I guess you know where I’ll be until Jacob gets here.”

  “Yes, ma’am. When he gets here, please let me know. I’ll need to get some signatures for us to review bank records. Do you happen to know who has Power of Attorney or has a copy of your parents’ wills?”

  She huffed. “Jacob, I suspect. Dad didn’t think women should be involved in finance or legal stuff. Hence, mom had access to accounts without actually owning anything herself.”
/>   CHAPTER 17

  At home, I immediately showered, cuddled Charlie and Bella, and then walked through the house. A quick glance into the garage and the unpacked boxes from my move, and I shuddered. I sat down with a cup of coffee and my phone chirped.

  “Hi, Chief.”

  “Sheridan. Thank you for helping out today. Did anything come to mind since we chatted on the way to the house?”

  “She was stunned by the condition of the house – she isn’t the killer, though I guess she could have arranged for it to happen thinking the house was worth a lot.”

  “I agree. Anything else?”

  “She hadn’t processed the suspicious death part at all. Also there’s some tension between Helen and Jacob. Did you get anything useful from the papers in the envelope?”

  “Yes. All I am willing to share is that I now know who the housekeepers were prior to Herman’s retirement and a few years thereafter. No housekeeper was paid for the past eighteen months.”

  “That would be after Herman died then?”

  “Timing would be right. I hate to ask this Sheridan, but can you spare a couple of hours tomorrow? After Jacob arrives? I’d like your take on him and his reactions.”

  I hesitated. My syllabi and class activities still waited. Curiosity got the better of me though. “Sure. What time shall I plan on meeting you and where?”

  “I’ll give you a call around two o’clock and let you know the details.”

  We disconnected as Maddie got home. She was smiling and that was always a good sign. “How’d your day go?”

  “Okay. Mr. Simpson talked about the spring concert. Auditions for the solos are next Monday. I want to decide which ones I want to try for.”

  “That’s quick. Maybe over the weekend you could try singing all the songs and ‘audition’ for your dad and me. How’s that sound?”

  “Great. There’re only four songs so it won’t take long. How are the dogs at Pets and Paws? I’m worried about them.”