The Code Enforcer
~Crime and Passion Stalk City Hall~
by
Valerie J. Clarizio
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE CODE ENFORCER
~Crime and Passion Stalk City Hall~
First edition. November 2018.
Copyright © 2018 by Valerie J. Clarizio. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
Written by Valerie J. Clarizio.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication | To all the hardworking local government employees. Thank you for all you do!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
The End
About the Author
Connect with Valerie
Sign up for Valerie J. Clarizio's Mailing List
About the Author
Dedication
To all the hardworking local government employees. Thank you for all you do!
Chapter One
Investigator Markie Pearson covered her nose and mouth with the tissue balled in her hand as she squeezed between the piled newspapers, magazines, and plastic food containers stacked floor to ceiling in the enclosed porch. Sister Ann was a hoarder all right.
Markie kept her limbs tucked in in an effort to not touch any of the germ-infested filth, or more importantly, risk contaminating the crime scene.
Just ahead, stood a rusty, old upright freezer. Judging from the atrocious odor bringing tears to her eyes, she guessed the old lady had been locked in there for a while. Would have been better—smelled less vile—had the freezer been plugged in.
She blinked rapidly and then patted her eyes with her sleeve as she leaned over some garbage to get a better look at the body partially hanging out of the freezer. According to Officer Blart, the woman had been fully tucked into the appliance until Bryce Hawk, the City Planner and Zoning/Property Maintenance Administrator, bumped into it when a few rotting deck boards gave way beneath his feet.
Needing a closer look, she stepped gingerly over the broken planks holding hope the remaining boards would support her weight.
Involuntarily, her nose scrunched up. Yep, the body had definitely been there for a few days or so. The deceased's fingertips and toes were near black in color.
If Bryce hadn't done the court ordered thirty-day check on Sister Ann's property, it would be hard to tell when her body would have been discovered. Markie thought for a moment, did it matter? Two days or twenty days, dead was dead.
Now, for the bigger questions, who in the hell would stuff an eighty-year-old lady into an upright, unplugged freezer on an enclosed back porch? Was the woman already dead when she got locked in there, or did she die in the freezer?
The rundown home indicated Sister Ann didn't have two nickels to rub together, and there was likely nothing of value in the house—so a robbery motive was probably out. Plus, from what Bryce had previously told her, the place was loaded with garbage. When he and the firefighters inspected the home in the past, they had limited access by narrow pathways lined with newspapers, cardboard boxes, and plastic butter and whip cream containers. In some instances, they actually had to climb over debris to get to a room. If not for the fact the nun fell one day, and Father Dennis happened to find her and called 9-1-1, the first responders would have never seen the overabundance of debris in her home. They reported it as a health hazard, the city investigated, and eventually a court order was issued to Sister Ann to clean up the house. Yep, robbery was out—too much work in this case to find anything of value.
The fact this woman was a nun, and retired Catholic school principal, led Markie to believe she probably hadn't screwed anyone over in her life to warrant a revenge murder. Then again, maybe she rapped on some kid's knuckles one too many times with a wooden ruler.
She shook her head. The city had dealt with hoarders in the past, but this one took the cake. As she understood it, Sister had been issued a court order to clear out the debris. At first, she flat-out refused, but then warmed up a bit to the idea with some coaxing by Fire Chief Bosley. Perhaps the rumors about the flirtatious fire chief were true—he could even charm the panties off a nun.
Markie stifled her giggle and regained her composure. Sister’s death was no laughing matter.
The next breath she pulled in sent the contents of her stomach swirling, forcing her to spin around and head for the door, leaving the evidence technician alone to do his thing.
Once outside, she gulped in a fresh breath of oxygen. The hot, humid air almost melted her lungs, but anything was better than the flavor of rotting flesh that clung to her taste buds. A few more long, slow intakes of air cleared her burning nostrils. The horrid smell of a days old dead body was bad enough, but to add a ninety-degree, humid day increased it tenfold.
"That's some awful smelling shit in there, huh?" Kent Urban yelled to her from where he stood over by the leaning, detached, one stall garage.
He wasn't kidding, but was he talking about all the crap in the house or Sister Ann's body?
Markie swung her gaze from Kent to the man next to him—Bryce Hawk. She eyed his six- pack abs. Why on earth wasn’t he wearing a shirt? Scanning over him she noted he wore his other usual work attire—dress pants and shoes, but no shirt. Her gaze bounced back up to the man's broad chest. Nice. Too nice.
Being a firefighter and first responder for at least ten years or so already, Kent was probably used to this kind of stuff by now, but the tall, muscular man standing next to him, the one whose skin tone held a blue hue obviously wasn’t. The city planner wore blue well. In fact, he wore everything well. Problem was he knew it, and every woman between the age of eighteen and eighty knew it. The man reminded her so much of her cheating ex-fiancé she could hardly stand to look at him. It wasn't necessarily his looks that resembled Conner, but his actions. He was a smooth talker. Yet, he was so damn handsome she couldn't help gawking.
Even in consideration of the unusual Wisconsin ninety-degree temperature, Markie's body heat rose a few degrees when Bryce's dark gaze scanned over her as she walked toward him. Dammit. She hated being affected by a womanizer this way, but something about him got to her, and she had a tough time ignoring it.
She shifted her focus to Kent. "I see the fire department's volunteer efforts to help declutter Sister's house didn't go very far."
He shook his head. "We took a dumpster load out of the house last month, and all she did was refill the house fuller than it was prior to that. How on earth does she get all this garbage?"
"Good question. I don't know. But she won't be any longer."
Markie slid her gaze to the dark-eyed man next to her. His irises were almost as black as his thick, wavy hair. She was dying to ask him why he wasn't wearing a shirt, but then, the rotten, bodily juices stench from his direction hit her like a punch to the gut, and she burst out laughing.
"Don't tell me the corpse fell onto you?"
Bryce shook his head. "It's not funny. That putrid smell will forever be embedded in my nostrils, and I need to get the hell out of here to shower. When can I go?"
So, the old lady had fallen on top of him when she fell out of the freezer. That had to be why he wasn't wearing a shirt. Priceless. This was good stuff.
"This could take some time," Markie replied, working hard to keep her lips from curling into a
smile. She planned to keep the arrogant, womanizing guy for a while for questioning, just for fun. Let him wallow in the torture of that awful smell on himself.
Bryce crossed his arms over that appealing broad chest of his cutting off her view, then he shifted from his right foot to the left. He dipped awkwardly like his knee buckled or something. She'd noticed that before; he seemed to favor his left leg. Did the man's perfect body hold an imperfection? Maybe so, judging from the slight limp he displayed on occasion.
A fault. How deserving for a womanizer.
The medical examiner pulled into the driveway, parked and slipped out of his vehicle. The short, thin man walked up the cracked sidewalk and stepped into the enclosed porch.
"Don't go away. I'll be right back. I need to talk to the ME," Markie said to Bryce.
He blew out an exasperated sigh.
Taking her chances, she placed a foot on the spongy step of the porch. With caution, she took another step and then another until she was standing next to the scrawny man inspecting the nun's body.
With all the junk in the porch, it was amazing someone was able to stuff the woman into the freezer.
"How long do you think she's been there?" Markie asked.
The medical examiner looked over his shoulder and shrugged. "Almost a week, give or take."
"It'll be interesting to know how she died, whether she suffocated in there, or was she dead when someone put her inside? There's no claw marks to indicate she tried to get out. And since the door is only hanging onto its hinges by a thread, and there's no lock, she should have been easily able to push it open."
He nodded. "Time will tell."
Once the funeral home staff arrived, the ME bagged Sister Ann, and he and Officer Blart carried her out. They set her on the gurney, then they slipped her into the hearse.
Markie stared after them as they pulled out of sight. Who on earth would do this to a little old lady—a nun? Who had something to gain from her death?
The answer to the questions hit her like a ton of bricks—Bryce.
She glanced over her shoulder to the shirtless man by the garage. He definitely had something to gain. Sister Ann was nothing but a big headache to the guy. Her property maintenance issue caused him nothing but grief by having to file a ton of paperwork, and follow up every month to see if there were any improvements. Then there was the outcry from the general public he had to deal with. He was the mean old city employee who harassed a poor, little old nun. Of course, the public didn't understand the guy was just doing his job, and the actions he took were really only for the general well-being of the sister and her neighbors.
The death of Sister Ann would make the city planner’s life a lot easier.
Yep, the infamous Bryce Hawk was suspect number one.
Chapter Two
Bryce fixed his gaze on the sexy-as-sin investigator as she sashayed toward him. Markie Pearson reached up and flung her wavy, flaming red hair over her shoulders giving him a better look at her attractive, milky-white skin peppered with freckles.
But it was those bright emerald eyes that did him in. He could stare into those alluring irises forever.
Too bad for him those eyes belonged to a woman who detested him for some reason, and a woman he knew he was better off avoiding for his own sake. Markie was the long-term relationship kind—the marrying kind. The two things his father's four divorces had taught him were that long-term relationships were just a pipe dream to those who believed in them, and that the Hawk men were not meant for the long-haul.
Markie halted a few steps away but kept her judging gaze on him. "So, Bryce, tell me exactly what happened when you got here. Step by step."
Between the thought of the sister's dead body falling on top of him, and the stench of death clinging to his skin, he was two swallows away from hurling. He worked to tamp down the bile in his throat.
"I came here to see if she'd made any progress to clean up her house, as per the court order. I used the back door because ever since I've been coming here the front one’s been blocked by garbage. I stepped into the breezeway and knocked on the inside door. When she didn't answer, I knocked again. At that point, the floorboards gave way and I grabbed for the freezer. It tilted and the door flew open. I thought it was going to go through the floor too, but it caught on all the crap next to it and didn't. I still lost my balance and fell to the ground, and..." A tremor raked through his body, and he swallowed hard. "Sister fell on top of me."
The glint in Markie's gaze let him know she enjoyed his uneasiness.
Annoyance raked through him. Why does she feel the need to bask in my discomfort? What did I ever do to her for her to despise me?
Without conscious thought he shifted his weight from his right foot to his left. Pain shot through his knee. Instinctively he looked down at his leg while working to disguise his grimace—keep the secret about his leg. If not for that stupid prosthetic leg he probably wouldn’t have fallen all the way down, but no, when he twisted as he reached for the freezer it unhinged and he fell hard.
"Before today, when was the last time you were here?" Markie asked drawing his attention back to her.
"A month ago."
"And she was okay then?"
He shrugged. "She was alive."
"So, you had no other contact with her from then until today?"
This started to feel like an inquisition. "No."
"Do you know how her body got into the freezer?"
Holy crap. She was questioning him as if he were a suspect.
His pulse raced and his palms perspired. "No, I don’t know how she got into the freezer. You think I did this?" he asked in a tone a bit higher pitched than usual.
Markie raised her hand. "I'm just trying to figure out what happened here."
"Well, I don’t know. I just found her is all. If I had known she was in the freezer I wouldn't have let her fall on me. Last time I was here she was fine." He crossed his arms over his chest. "In fact, Father Dennis was here, too. He tried to convince her to let the firefighters help her clear out some more stuff. The dumpster they'd filled last month hardly made a dent."
"Hmm, I wonder when the last time Father was here." the exasperating woman stated.
"I can check with him," Officer Blart said from behind Markie, then he stepped up to her side. "I just spoke to one of the neighbors and they didn't recall seeing anybody here lately. A week or so ago they saw her hauling bags out of her car and into the house." Blart shook his head. "Like she needs more bags of junk. Where does she get it all?"
Bryce cleared his throat. "Can I go? I really need to shower."
Markie kept her probing gaze on him for a brief moment before she nodded.
So much for that beautiful emerald gaze of hers. It was more irritating now than anything.
He slid into his city vehicle and headed for home—shirtless. The police had taken it for evidence, but it didn't matter anyway because he would have tossed it into the garbage.
What a shit-ass day.
It wasn't even noon yet and he'd been threatened by Junior Willming with a broken handled trenching spade during his first property maintenance check of the day, and then Sister's dead body fell onto him during his second.
Screw it. He wasn't doing the other two checks today. They could wait. It wasn't like any of these people ever complied with the court orders anyway, and in the end, the judge would just slap them on the wrist and give them another thirty days to clean up the mess. Property maintenance was just a joke, a waste of everybody's time, his in particular. God how he hated this part of his job.
Bryce parked his car in his driveway and headed for the front door of his two-story, brick, fixer-upper. Though his dad thought him nuts for buying this old house, he’d fallen in love with it—the potential—the second he saw it.
He pushed through the heavy, wooden front door and made his way past the plaster buckets, down the wide hall, and into the master bathroom. Under the hot spray of the shower, he scrubbed h
is chest and arm raw to ensure he'd rid himself of the awful fluids and stench that seeped into his skin when the nun fell on him. As long as he lived, that horrendous stench would forever be embedded into his brain.
After a good length of time, he determined if the germs weren’t already scrubbed away they never would be. He stepped out of the shower, dried off, and slid into some work clothes, then he padded off to the kitchen to grab a sandwich before returning to work. No more field work for the day, though. He was going to hide in his office and do some menial paperwork for the rest of his shift which would hopefully take his mind off the awful morning he’d had.
Once back at work, it didn't take but five minutes and Markie Pearson knocked on his office door. He didn't care how beautiful she was, she was the last person he wanted to see right now.
Unfortunately, willing her away didn't work.
She stepped in and took a seat on one of the chairs opposite his desk, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest. Her judging, emerald gaze bore into him.
Not planning to let her get the best of him, he leaned back and mimicked her.
The woman's gaze softened as the corners of her mouth twitched upward. It was like she enjoyed his discomfort—the horrific morning he'd had. His jaw clenched.
Markie unfolded her arms and leaned forward. "So, it will be interesting to see the preliminary autopsy report on Sister Ann. Hopefully, we'll hear something tomorrow, though we'll have to wait months for the final."
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his desk. Why had she told him this? "Okay?"
"Just sayin'. Can you think of anything else you may have seen at Sister's house that looked out of the ordinary?"
"You've seen her house and yard. There's nothing ordinary about it. It's a complete disaster."
Flaming strands of hair shifted slightly as the investigator nodded. "True. The officers are canvassing the neighborhood, and so far, nobody's noticed anyone strange hanging around. Just you."
His heart slammed against his ribcage. Here she went accusing him again. "I was there doing my job."
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