by Rusty Ellis
“I’m Ransom Walsh,” he answered. “Just here to check up with Gabe and Kathryn.”
Hearing Ransom’s name, the officer’s face registered she knew him, or at least knew of him.
“Go right ahead Detective Walsh. Everyone else is gone except for their son and a pastor.”
“Thanks.”
The officer returned to her vehicle while Ransom made his way slowly to the front door. Leaning on his cane, he reached for the doorbell and pressed the lit button. A series of chimes could be heard through the metal door. Ransom could see a solitary figure approaching through the blurred glass insert.
The door opened and Ransom was greeted by Tisha’s younger brother, Devin. Devin was about 20 years old and still living at home. He was taking advantage of the free rent his parents’ offered him while he continued to attend college and work. Much the same as Ransom’s deal with Maddie.
“Hi, Mr. Walsh,” Devin forced a smile.
“Hey Devin. You know you can call me Ransom.”
Devin smiled a little broader, “You know my dad won’t let me do that.” Throwing up a set of air-quote signs with his fingers, Devin mimicked his father’s voice, “We’re not going to lose the battle of tradition and respect in my house.”
Ransom had to smile at the way Gabe had raised his children. He and Kathryn had done a great job with their two kids. A sick feeling came to his stomach as he realized Tisha was gone and this wouldn’t be passed on to their two grandchildren now.
The few seconds of silence became uncomfortable and Devin opened the door further, “Mom and Dad are in the living room.”
“Thanks,” Ransom knew his way and walked through the short hallway to the living room.
Gabe and Kathryn were sitting on the sofa next to each other holding hands. The look of exhaustion and despair were sorely reflected on their faces. The pastor was wearing a suit and sitting on the edge of the loveseat, leaning in their direction and talking quietly with them.
Seeing Ransom, Gabe and Kathryn stood. Kathryn breathed out a heavy sigh and her lip trembled as she closed the distance into Ransom’s arms. Her muffled cry was mixed with a struggle to control her emotions.
Looking past Kathryn’s shoulder at Gabe, Ransom told him, “I would have come by yesterday, but I figured you guys would be inundated with friends and family.”
“You are family, Ransom. You know that,” Gabe smiled in appreciation of Ransom’s support. “But I understand,” he continued, “we’re just glad to see you today.”
Motioning to his left, Gabe introduced Ransom to their pastor. The pastor stood and nodded toward Ransom. Gabe walked over and put his hands on the back of his wife’s arms, encouraging her to sit back down on the sofa.
“I’m going to chat with Ransom for a minute. Be right back,” Gabe walked toward the den just inside the front door.
Entering the den, Gabe closed the door once Ransom made it inside.
“Really, thanks for coming.”
“You’re welcome. I needed to check on you and Kathryn. Family, you know.” Ransom returned Gabe’s previous comments about their relationship. “How are you two holding up?”
“Kathryn seems to have it together and then falls apart. She’s on a horrible roller coaster right now. She has a ton of questions. Not having answers makes it more difficult.”
Ransom could tell they both needed some answers. The biggest question was simply “why?”
“Have you heard anything since leaving last night?” Ransom didn’t want to break harshly into the facts and blindside Gabe.
“Just that it didn’t appear any of them suffered. One of the paramedics said it appeared they died from carbon monoxide poisoning,” Gabe struggled mentioning the cause of death.
“We found out this morning that it was propane pumped into their house through a hole in the outside master bedroom wall,” Ransom said and carefully watched Gabe’s reaction.
Tilting his head to the side, Gabe was trying to envision the locations and methods Ransom described and apply them to his daughter’s home.
Ransom continued, “Also, there was a note left in Lee’s pocket at the I-15 scene.”
Gabe stared at Ransom, waiting to hear more. The urge to speak in direct contrast to breaking down into tears. He had to know.
“The note said ‘How does it feel?’,” Ransom watched Gabe’s face quiver at the disgusting implications of the note. “Does that mean anything to you?”
Gabe shook his head.
“Was Lee involved in any big cases recently? Anything that levied a good hit against someone?”
“Not that I know of. He was just working general beat work. Domestic violence and suspicious activity calls. Nothing big comes to mind. You think he did something to have this happen?” the painful possibility of Lee’s work was uncomfortably familiar to Gabe.
“We’re not sure. Just another piece of the puzzle. Something to help us put this together,” Ransom tried to comfort his friend.
Gabe remained quiet. Ransom was unsure if he heard his last comment or was still processing his daughter’s house and the propane.
“Gabe?”
“Sorry, what was that?” Gabe snapped back to looking at Ransom.
“We’re going to catch this guy. We’re going to put this together and we’re going to catch this guy,” Ransom wanted to make sure his promise sunk in.
“I want to work this case,” Gabe stoically shared.
“Not a good idea. You’re too close to it, buddy,” Ransom reached up and put a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “Plus, Kathryn needs you here now more than ever.”
As soon as Ransom touched his shoulder, Gabe’s eyes watered and a tear ran down his cheek.
“You gotta find this guy,” Gabe begged through stuttered breaths.
“We will, brother, we will.”
9
Driving back toward his house, Ransom’s phone rang. The screen read “Leesa.” Ransom pulled over into a convenience store parking lot and answered.
“Hey.”
“I just got a call from Mike. He already went back to the scene to check on the carbon monoxide levels and said it was safe to go over. Where are you at?”
Ransom could hear Leesa was driving and talking on her phone. Something he always called her out on, “Detective, if you break the law and do it, how can you expect Joe and Jane citizen to follow the law?” As tempting as it was, he let it slip.
“About 10 minutes from the Jones’ house. Meet you there?” he answered.
“Meet you there.”
* * *
A lone unit was parked out front of the house. Just behind the unit was a CSI van. Ransom could see people coming and going from the van into the house. Leesa hadn’t arrived yet. Ransom noticed Detective Gonzalez standing on the front porch, hands on his hips and taking in a couple deep breaths. Gonzalez noticed as Ransom pulled his truck to the curb in front of the neighbor’s house. By the time Ransom was out of his truck, Gonzalez had made his way down the steps to meet him on the small patch of grass in front of the house.
“Walsh,” Gonzalez greeted him.
“Hey Gonzalez. I heard you caught this case.”
“Actually, we asked for it,” he informed Ransom.
Gonzalez and his partner were good people and actually “played well with others.” Their style of detective work was a little more in the grey area at times, but their results were usually backed by solid detective work. They knew when cutting corners wouldn’t damage their case.
“I heard that Leesa asked you to help with this, though Sergeant Ricks isn’t too happy about it.”
“What’s the Sergeant’s problem?” Ransom hadn’t thought about the Sergeant having an issue with him. They butted heads at times, but they both always understood they were on the same team.
“He said something about liability and having ‘active duty’ officers on the case, for prosecution purposes,” Gonzalez shrugged as if the comments didn’t matter to him either way.
“I’ll try to be careful to not discover anything before you fine detectives do,” Ransom’s comment received a smile from Gonzalez.
Leesa drove past the two men and parked in front of Ransom’s truck. She walked over and raised an eyebrow at Ransom, then at Gonzalez.
Ransom commented, “Just getting caught up on the scene and political atmosphere around my visit.”
“Yeah, I forgot to mention that the Sergeant gave me a warning shot over the bow about having you tag along. Are you worried about it?” she asked.
“Me? Nah. Me and the Sergeant go way back,” Ransom gave a smart-aleck smirk to seal his comment.
“Have you been inside yet?”
“Nope, waiting for you,” Ransom responded and looked at Gonzalez.
Taking the cue from Ransom, Gonzalez turned and headed back into the house, “Hatch is inside.” Gonzalez stopped and turned back to Ransom and mocked, “Don’t touch anything Walsh.”
Ransom took his right hand and buried in his pocket, his other hand firmly grasping his cane, “Yes, sir.”
The three entered the Jones’ home.
* * *
Entering the home, a very faint smell of rotten egg hung in the air. A smell gas companies added to warn about the gas’ presence, otherwise it was odorless.
Nothing appeared out of place. In fact, if law enforcement personnel weren’t milling around, it’d look like any other middle-class home and not the scene of a quadruple homicide.
“Come look at this,” Gonzalez led the way into the couple’s bedroom.
Several drawers were pulled out of the main dresser. Clothes hung out of the drawers and continued in scattered piles on the floor. The bed was unmade with the comforter and sheets flipped down to the foot of the bed. It looked more like a house burglary than a homicide scene.
Walking to the side of the bed, Gonzalez pulled a small flashlight from his belt and shined it on the baseboard to the side of a nightstand. The glow revealed a small hole in the center of the baseboard with a small pile of sawdust under it on the carpet.
“That’s where the perp pushed in the hose,” Gonzalez wiggled the light to draw attention to the spot. “We haven’t found the hose anywhere yet. It’s not in the yard or the garage. We’re not sure if the guy tossed it or is saving it.”
The reality of Gonzalez’s comment struck a chord with all three of them. It would have been a little more comforting had they found the hose. It may be a long shot, but it would have added a small bit of finality.
“We didn’t find any signs of a struggle. In fact, it looks like the killer dragged the adults through the kitchen and into the garage. We found skids marks from two sets of shoes from the edge of the carpet, through the kitchen, and into the garage.”
Ransom chimed in, “It looks like the guy was looking for something specific through their drawers. Maybe some type of specific outfit. He had to have dressed them before leaving with them in their SUV.”
Ransom and Leesa glanced around the room. On top of the dresser was Lee’s wallet and Tisha’s purse. Both looked untouched.
Gonzalez noticed them looking at the dresser and commented, “There’s money and credit cards in the wallet and purse.”
Ransom looked around and surmised, “This was personal. It had nothing to do with money or status. There’s a connection to either Lee or Tisha or both. The killer wanted to make a statement about the family or he would have just killed one of them. Killing all of them is a statement about the whole family.”
The three walked into the children’s room and were met by Detective Hatch. He gave a grimaced smile, summing up his feelings of being in a room where children were killed, then nodded at the group. The room looked the same as the parents. Drawers open and clothes hanging out. Clothes discarded on the floor, some still partially folded.
Two beds on opposite sides of the room mimicked the bedding on the queen-sized bed in their parent’s bedroom. Pictures of princesses dotted the wall above the pink wooden framed bed. The other bed was red and had a race car appliquéd on the headboard. Toys overflowed from two boxes, one at the end of each bed. The toys matching the kid’s preferences of either dolls or cars. The two children were small enough to be carried out to the van in the garage.
Did he cradle and carry them out or throw them over his shoulder? Ransom grimly pondered.
One method could signify a sense of twisted compassion, the other disdain.
Gonzalez spoke up, “There’s really not much else to see except for the hole on the outside of the house and the propane stub on the patio. Oh yeah, and a vertical cutout of glass on the patio door. Looks like he used a glass cutter and then punched out the etched hole and flipped the latch on the sliding door.”
“CSI is going through and checking for prints in all the usual spots,” Hatch added.
“I’ll be shocked if they find anything. He probably wore gloves. It doesn’t appear that he was in any type of hurry though. He took the time to dress them instead of just taking them in their pajamas. Anything on the time of death?” Ransom looked to Gonzalez and Hatch.
“They’re putting it between midnight and three in the morning,” Hatch interjected.
“That gave him plenty of time to prep the family for the van ride to where the trooper found them,” Leesa concluded.
“Makes me curious what he did from the time he loaded them in the van until he dropped them off?” Ransom though out loud.
“Good question,” Gonzalez responded.
Leesa offered a thought, “Maybe he had to get to work and came back later? He had the time if he was done here by early morning.”
The group considered the possibility and Ransom spoke up, “If that’s the case, maybe he lives and works close by. That would make it easier to case out the house and the Jones’ movements to and from home. It wouldn’t be difficult to figure out their schedules, especially with having kids.”
“Anything else here?” Leesa questioned the two detectives.
Gonzalez answered, “Nothing you haven’t seen. If we find anything else out, we’ll give you a ring. Good to see you, Ransom.”
“You too, Gonzalez,” Ransom leaned on his cane and nodded at Hatch as he started to saunter away, “Hatch.”
“Thanks guys,” Leesa followed Ransom out of the house and back to his truck.
Ransom opened the door to his truck and sat on the edge of the seat with his legs still outside the truck. Grasping his cane in both hands he leaned forward and looked up at Leesa.
“How’s the leg,” she asked and feigned giving it a tap with her toe.
Ransom reacted by lifting his cane to block her attempt at humor.
“As long as I have my cane to protect it from cocky women, and a handful of ibuprofen I’ll be fine,” he smirked.
“How is it really doing?”
Ransom was not one to whine about pain, and certainly not his leg. From the day of his injury, he knew he would have to work through the pain and just count it as part of life. But with Leesa, he felt free to tell her how he was actually doing. When they were partners, it was important to let her know if he had anything holding him back, mentally or physically, which could affect how they handled a call. She didn’t look at it as complaining. It was a safety measure and she was a good enough friend to truly care beyond the scope of work.
“It’s about the same. I have to make sure to keep it up and hit it with some ice if I’m on it too long.”
“I’m sure Maddie gets on you about it,” Leesa smiled.
Maddie definitely kept an eye on him, making sure he didn’t overdue it.
“Don’t worry, she’s not afraid to give me the third degree if I’m gimping around too much.”
“So what do you think?” Leesa pushed forward with the case.
“I think that Gonzalez and Hatch need to get into Lee and Tisha’s calendar. Also look and see if Lee has had any big cases lately that would hold a grudge this big. They need to cast a pretty wide net on the
ir activities for now until we can start to weed out the unimportant stuff.”
“Agreed. I’ll follow up with them tonight and see what direction they’re headed with this and let you know tomorrow if there isn’t anything groundbreaking,” Leesa smiled and turned to walk back to her car.
“Leesa,” Ransom called and she turned back to him. “Thanks for asking for my help. It would have been difficult sitting on the sidelines on this one.”
Leesa smiled back, “I know. And not to make you too cocky, we need your help on this one. Have a good night, Ransom.”
“You too.”
Part II
Tuesday
10
Even though his ice cream shop didn’t open until 10 a.m., the owner always preferred to get to the shop just before sunrise, a habit he had learned working for his father at the family restaurant. This also gave him the added bonus of having no distractions especially employees and customers while working on the books and making sure that everything was ready when the first customer pushed through the front door.
This morning he smiled as he slid the key into the back door of the business. Selling ice cream had its perks. The customers were usually happy when they arrived, overly excited to indulge in the creamy goodness and myriad of flavors. The feeling never grew old. He felt as happy now as he had ever been, a good sign given that he had owned and run his little shop for the past 17 years.
He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and making sure it was still locked. He walked the usual route to his office to drop off his lunch in the little refrigerator. Flipping the light switch just inside his office door, he turned to the refrigerator against the near wall. After placing his sack-lunch on the shelf in the fridge, he shut the door and exited his office in the direction of the main counter and freezer that held the five-gallon tubs of ice cream. His wife always scolded him that one day he would pay for having a bowl of ice cream for breakfast, but he couldn’t help the indulgence. After all, this was the only ice cream he ate all day and why not enjoy the spoils of his business?