by J A Whiting
When the police arrived last night, they walked around the inside and outside of the house and discovered someone had picked the lock on the door leading to the basement and then was able to dismantle the security system. From there, he must have climbed the stairs that led to the back hall. “It was lucky some of you woke to the noise,” one of the officers told them.
“It was most likely an intended robbery,” a tall office said. “When the robber heard some of you get up, he decided to take off. No harm done.”
There was harm done. The family was stressed and concerned and worried for their safety, and when they mentioned this to the police officers, they were brushed off.
“I don’t think just because you’re looking into a seven-year old accident it would result in someone terrorizing you. It makes more sense that the intruder was intent on robbery. But we’ll make note of your concerns in the report.”
Angie decided to call Detective Owen after breakfast to inform him of their nighttime visitor.
“Oh, gosh,” Courtney shouted causing everyone to turn to her. “Look. Look at this.” She pointed at the television.
A newscaster was reporting on a story of a man found dead early that morning near the Boston Common. A picture of the victim showed on half the screen.
“It’s him.” Courtney stared at the television. “It’s the short, mean guy from the surveillance tape. He’d dead.”
Angie stood and walked over to get a closer look at the photo displayed on the screen. “It is him. His hair is black now. The name is shown under the picture. Jim Appleton.”
Stunned, everyone gathered around to listen to the report.
Found at 4am this morning. Identification was in his wallet. It appears the victim succumbed to a gunshot wound. No witnesses. Mr. Appleton was forty-one years old and he lived in Revere.
“Revere. That’s not far from here to the north,” Jenna noted. “It’s on the coast.”
Angie had her arms folded over her chest. “He must have broken in here last night. It had to be him. He was the one who was following me home.”
“Why is he dead is the more interesting detail,” Courtney said.
“Did he run into some random person who attacked him after he left here?” Ellie asked.
Orla’s eyes clouded. “Or was he punished for not doing the job he was sent here to do?”
The realization of what she meant settled over the others like a heavy blanket.
“Kill us?” Jenna’s voice trembled. “Was that what he was sent here to do?”
The doorbell rang and when Courtney returned from opening the door, Detective Owen was with her.
The cats jumped up to the top of the refrigerator to listen.
“Sorry to barge in.” The detective glanced over to the television. “I hoped I could get here to tell you before you saw it on the news.”
“We had a visitor last night,” Angie said.
The detective looked grim. “I heard.”
“Do you think the dead man … Jim Appleton … was the one who broke in?” Jenna asked.
Euclid hissed.
“It’s probable. His body was found not far from here. He was most likely attacked shortly after he ran away.”
“Do you know anything about him?” Courtney questioned.
“He did odd jobs in the surrounding towns, painting, lawn maintenance, snow removal … things like that. He also had a record of breaking and entering, robbery, stealing cars, some drug offenses, disorderly conduct.”
“We think he was the short man shown in the security tapes of our mother’s accident,” Angie informed the detective.
Detective Owen’s expression was unreadable. “I suspected the same thing. The victim has a scar running along his cheek just like witnesses reported about the man at the accident scene.”
“A man followed me home last night.” Angie’s face was covered in anger. “It was him.”
Circe let out a low growl.
“You got a good look at him?” the detective asked.
“A good enough look. He was dressed in black and was wearing a dark, knitted hat, but I could see his facial features when he stepped into the light of one of the streetlamps.”
“Why did he break in here?” Courtney’s voice was firm as she made eye contact with the detective. “What’s your guess?”
Detective Owen shook his head. “Maybe he found out you were researching the accident. He might have wanted to find your notes to see what you knew.”
“Was a weapon found with his body?” Ellie asked.
“No weapon.”
Circe turned to Angie and squawked.
“It could have been taken from him by whoever killed him.” Angie looked over at Gigi sitting in the highchair watching a squirrel run around the yard.
Jenna said, “Somehow he found out we were looking into Mom’s accident. Do you think he meant to harm us?”
“It’s possible,” the detective said. “From now until you return to Sweet Cove, we’ll have someone stationed outside the house every night … just in case. Call me if anything is amiss. Any time, day or night. I’ll let you know if we find out anything else about Mr. Appleton.”
Courtney walked the detective to the door, and when she returned, everyone was quietly processing the events of last night and this morning.
“I want to go home,” Angie announced.
Jenna was surprised by her sister’s declaration. “You’re not giving up, are you?”
“Absolutely not, but I think we should go home. They’ll find us there. Let’s fight them on our own turf.”
Courtney nodded. “Yeah. Let’s.”
“We’ll be more powerful at home. It’s where we feel most comfortable. I miss Josh. I want to be in the bake shops. I want to go to the Point.” The sisters’ nana once had a cottage on the Point in Sweet Cove where the family spent most of the summers when the Roselands were little. Whenever they were on the Point, the sisters felt the presence of their nana and their powers seemed stronger.
“I won’t say no to going home.” Ellie smiled.
The cats trilled in agreement.
“We’ve found out what we needed to here in the city,” Courtney agreed.
“We can take the train back in if we need to speak with someone here. It’s a short ride on the commuter rail.” Jenna pointed out.
“What do you two think?” Angie asked Finch and Orla.
“I think it’s a perfectly sensible thing to do,” Finch added his thoughts. “It might be best to go home and gather strength for the coming storm.”
Jenna asked, cautiously, “Do you think a storm is coming?”
“I feel it, Miss Jenna. I don’t know what form it will take, but it’s coming.”
“Then it’s best to get the babies home,” Jenna said. “There are more people around we know and trust who can help.”
“I think it’s time to return to Sweet Cove.” Orla took a deep breath. “We’ll be closer to Hamlet in case we need assistance or guidance.”
“Okay. I can’t wait to tell Josh. He’ll be so happy to have us home.” Angie’s eyes sparkled. “How about the day after tomorrow? It will give us time to speak to a couple of people before we leave the city.”
“Who do you want to talk with?” Courtney asked.
“I’m not sure yet.” Angie’s eyes narrowed. “But I thought it might be interesting to go walk around Revere and see what we can see.”
“Good thinking, sis.” Courtney nodded. “Maybe Jim Appleton has a friend or a relative living there.”
A look of determination showed on Angie’s face. “My thought exactly.”
16
The four Roselands drove to the city of Revere and parked at the curb of the boulevard that ran along the beach. Detective Owen had given Angie the name and address of Jim Appleton’s sister, Dorrie. He’d spoken with her yesterday, but she was pretty closed-lipped and acted nervous. He hoped they might have better luck with her.
Ellie a
nd Courtney planned to walk around and stop in at a few of the shops and restaurants on the sidewalks across the street from the beach to see what they could pick up on, and Angie and Jenna would seek out Dorrie Appleton and hope she was more forthcoming than she’d been with the detective.
Angie and Jenna walked north for about a mile and then turned away from the beach and headed a few blocks inland. Coming up on the address the detective had shared with them, they could see a woman shoving two suitcases into the trunk of a beat-up, old car.
“Uh oh,” Jenna said. “Looks like someone is planning a trip.”
“She matches the description of Dorrie.” Angie picked up the pace in case the woman got into the car.
“Dorrie?” Jenna called.
The thin young woman had long, straight blond hair that ran past her shoulders. The thirty-nine-year-old wore jeans and a blue tank top that showed her skinny shoulders and arms. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked tired and worn out from living a hard life.
“Who are you?” Dorrie put a hand on her hip.
“I’m Jenna and this is my sister, Angie.”
“I’m not talking to the press so you can keep walking.”
“We’re not the press.” Angie and Jenna came to a stop right behind Dorrie’s car. “We’re sorry about your brother.”
Dorrie winced and looked away for a few seconds. “Are you cops?”
“No, we aren’t.”
“Why are you talking to me then?” Dorrie tossed a small duffel bag into the backseat. “What do you want?”
“Can you talk for a little while?” Angie asked.
“I’m leaving.”
“Could you put off leaving for a few minutes?”
“Why?” Dorrie’s tone was defiant.
“Our mom died a few years ago in Boston. She was the victim of a hit-and-run driver,” Angie explained. “The driver was never identified. We’re talking to people who were around back then. Your brother was in the crowd at the scene.”
Dorrie leveled her eyes at Angie. “My brother didn’t hit her.”
“We know that. Could you talk to us for a few minutes?” Angie asked again.
“We could go get some coffee,” Jenna suggested.
“No.” Dorrie shook her head with vigor. “I can’t wait around. I’m heading out.”
“Could we talk to you here then?”
Dorrie wiped at her eyes. “If you talk fast.”
“Where are you going? Are you moving away?” Jenna asked.
“I don’t want to be around here anymore. I’m going somewhere else.”
“Are you staying in the state?”
“What do you care?” Dorrie flashed Angie a look.
Angie ignored the question. “Have you lived here long?”
“I’ve lived in Revere my whole life. I’ve been in this crappy apartment for three years.” She waved her hand at the three-decker. “I need a change. A fresh start somewhere new.”
“Do you have friends somewhere?” Jenna asked.
“I’ll make friends.” Dorrie slammed the car door shut.
“Are you leaving because of what happened to Jim?”
Dorrie stood still for a moment. “My brother got murdered. I don’t want to stay here. I’m going somewhere else, somewhere quiet away from cities and too many people.”
“Can you tell us a little about your brother?” Jenna asked.
“Like what?”
“What did he do for work?”
“He worked for himself doing odd jobs. Landscaping, snow removal, painting, fixing things up for people, building decks, stuff like that.”
“Were you and Jim close?”
“Yeah, we were.”
“Do you know why Jim was in Boston the night he got killed?”
“Jim went into the city a lot. He met friends, went to sports things, hung out. I don’t know why he was there that night.”
“Was Jim worried about anything lately?”
Dorrie shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
Angie knew that was a lie. “Did he have an argument with anyone? Was someone angry with him about something?”
“I don’t know.” Dorrie looked up and down the street with a worried expression on her face.
“Did Jim talk to you about our mother’s accident? Did he tell you he saw a woman get hit in Boston?”
Dorrie looked at the sisters. “He told me. He didn’t say much about it.”
“Jim was mixed up with a rough crowd?” Angie asked.
Dorrie seemed like she was going to say something sassy, but she held back and just gave another shrug.
“We heard Jim had a few problems with the police and did a little time for breaking and entering,” Jenna said gently. “Do you think Jim might have run up against someone and made that person angry?”
Dorrie pulled at the bottom of her tank top. “I don’t know anything about it except someone killed my brother. That’s all I know.”
Jenna asked, “Are you worried about your own safety?”
Dorrie’s head snapped up and she stared at Jenna. “What? No. Why would I be?”
“You look nervous. You keep looking around like you’re expecting someone to come by. You seem like you’re leaving to get away from something. It seems sudden and unplanned.”
Dorrie was about to deny what Jenna was saying, but then tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have an idea who might have killed Jim?”
Dorrie’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t have any idea.”
“Are you afraid of some of Jim’s friends?”
For a moment, the young woman looked like she might cry, but she swallowed and straightened up. “No.”
“Do you need some help?” Jenna asked.
“I don’t need any help,” Dorrie said almost defiantly.
“We could help you find someone if you wanted to talk to them or ask them questions. An agency, a lawyer. They’d keep your confidence. You could trust them.”
Dorrie shook her head and looked down at the ground. “Everything’s a mess.”
Angie asked, “Is there a name you could share with us? Is there someone you think the police should look at about your brother’s murder? No one would know you told us the name. No one would ever know where it came from.”
Dorrie let out a sad chuckle. “Yeah, right. Look, you don’t live in my world. You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”
“Did Jim ever mention anyone’s name to you in connection with our mother’s death?”
“I don’t remember hearing anything like that.”
“Or mom was crossing the street. It was early in the morning. She was on her way to work at the hospital,” Angie explained. “A car came rushing up the street. He could have stopped. There were more people crossing than just our mother so he must have seen them. Witnesses tell us that it seemed like the driver aimed right for our mom.”
Dorrie bit her lower lip.
“We know how it feels to lose someone you love. When death comes suddenly and without any warning and takes away someone you care deeply about,” Jenna said.
“We want to figure out who killed our mom,” Angie told the young woman. “In the process, maybe we could try to find your brother’s killer.”
“There could be a connection between the two incidents. Your brother saw our mom get killed. Maybe he knew the person who did it.”
Dorrie’s face paled and she took a step back. “He didn’t know. He was on the sidewalk and he saw your mother get hit, but he didn’t know who the driver was. How would he know that?”
“You told us your brother did odd jobs for people,” Angie said. “Did he only take jobs that were here in Revere?”
“No, he worked all over.”
“Did he ever do some work up in Hamlet?”
“Yeah.” Dorrie almost smiled. “He liked Hamlet. It’s a really p
retty town.”
“Did he have a lot of customers up there?”
“No, just a few.”
“Do you know their names? Do you know who he did some work for?”
Dorrie’s face clouded. “I don’t remember.”
“Do you recall anything about his clients from Hamlet?”
“He told me he did some work for a really rich woman up there. He said she had some important job in town, but I don’t think he told me what it was. She was in her sixties, I think. He said her house was right on the coast and you could see the ocean from her backyard.” Dorrie looked from Angie to Jenna. “Why do you care about Hamlet?”
“Someone there might know about our mother’s accident,” Angie said.
“Look, I’m sorry about your mother, but Jim didn’t have anything to do with it. He was in Boston when it happened and that was it. He didn’t know anything.”
Jenna slipped an envelope from her bag and removed a grainy photograph. “This is a picture of the car and the driver who hit our mother. Would you take a look at it?”
Dorrie took the photo, glanced quickly at it, and was about to hand it back when she paused and then stared intently at the picture. As a look of fear washed over her face, she shoved the photo into Jenna’s hands.
“Does the driver look like anyone you’ve seen before?” Angie questioned.
Dorrie’s head shook from side to side. “No, he doesn’t. I have to get going. I need to load a few more things in my car. I want to get on the road soon. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
With that, the young woman hurried back into her apartment and closed the door.
Angie and Jenna both heard the lock turn and the dead bolt slide into place.
17
Carrying Gigi, Angie hurried down the sidewalk and up to the Victorian’s front porch and into Josh’s open arms.
“It feels like you’ve been gone forever.” Josh kissed his daughter on the top of her head. “I’m so glad you came home early.”
“Me, too.”
Euclid paraded up the steps like he owned the place with his orange plume held high, and Circe trotted to the porch, rubbed against Josh’s legs until he patted her, and then went inside the house with a happy trill.