Sexy Girls

by Gary S. Griffin

  We walked to the back left of the house towards the dining room and the table was there, but there weren't any chairs and it looked like a chest or china closet was missing too. Crossing the back of the house we passed the small laundry area and the powder room, tucked under the back of the stairs. The washer and dryer were still there and looked untouched. The back door was in this hall in the middle of the rear wall. The kitchen was in the back right downstairs. We noticed that the cabinets had been rifled and were nearly empty of dishes, cups and silverware. Only some old food stuffs, the stove, the refrigerator and an old toaster remained.

  I returned to the living room and ran up the extra-wide staircase that was in the middle of the cottage across from the front door. Upstairs the master bedroom ran across the front of the house. The bathroom was in the back center and the two small bedrooms were in the back left and right. The master bedroom was similarly stripped bare, except for the bed and one bureau. Even the bedding on the queen-sized brass bed was gone.

  I walked into the bathroom and found the first of two solid clues. There on the mirror, written in lipstick, was this message, “Take that you witch.”

  I came downstairs to find Cyndie sitting on her couch with tears rolling down her face. I went over, sat down, hugged them and said, “I'll call the police and have them come over right now.” I explained the message upstairs and Edie asked, “Who would write that?”

  “I'm not sure.”

  Cyndie's mood suddenly changed, yes, she was hurt but I saw some steel come into her eyes. She was determined to do something about this.

  I walked back to the kitchen. The phone was gone from the wall, but, amazingly, the local phone book was one of the only things remaining on the counter. I use my cellphone and called the police to report the robbery.

  I rejoined Cyndie and Edie and told them an officer would stop by within a half hour. In the mean time, I said we should make sure we don't touch anything else.

  While we waited I got up and did a second, slower walk through the small home. Whoever stripped the place didn't do it in a hurry. I didn't see any scars or damage to cabinets, walls or floors. The very heavy things were left behind; beds, bureaus, tables, big appliances and the couch. Most things taken would not have much re-sale value. In fact, having just gone through this with my divorce, most items taken would have no value, like everyday dishes and glasses, old rugs and sheets.

  It looked like the robber wanted to make a point. But, I wasn't sure what that could be.

  I had just finished looking in the master bedroom when I saw a Rehoboth Beach police cruiser pull up to the curb between the driveway's entrance and exit. Cyndie and I greeted Sergeant Jim Jester at the front door.

  Jester was attired in his grey-blue uniform and Smokey-the-bear hat, with holster, clipboard and walkie-talkie.

  He was six foot three and a few inches taller than me, but he made us relax with his big smile and easy going manner and a hint of a southern accent. I guessed Jester was in his late forties. He immediately took off his hat to reveal a tanned, bald head.

  I introduced myself and the two ladies.

  Edie said she’d take a walk in town to find a swimsuit as she knew the least about the cottage and its possessions. We agreed that was a good idea and Edie exited.

  Jim Jester asked, “How long have you owned this beach house?”

  “Just a few days. We inherited it from our friend.”

  I spent the next three minutes giving Jester a summary of Andi, her death and our relationship. I even let him look at Andi's will. We showed him our IDs. I gave him Detective John Morelli's information in Philadelphia, and Andi's attorney's name in Wilmington, in case he wanted to verify our story.

  Jester asked, “This place looks bare. What was taken from the home?”

  Cyndie answered with a sigh, “Almost everything.”

  Jester instructed us, “I'll need an inventory of what's missing. It would be a good idea if you could put together the list today and turn it in to me tomorrow.”

  I answered, “We'll try, but we were only here a few times before.”

  Jester responded, “How long are you in town?”

  Cyndie replied, “We intended to stay for a four days, until Sunday afternoon. But, I'm not sure now.”

  “Okay, what's your phone numbers?”

  We gave him the local number, but since the phone was missing, we also gave Jester our cellphone numbers.

  “Besides yourself, who has keys to the house?”

  Cyndie thought for a moment and then answered, “The housekeeping company, Beach Property Management, they're in Lewes. They're supposed to come by a few times in the off season to check on the place. Other than them, we're the only ones.”

  Jester wrote that down. “Okay, I'll check with them to see if they saw anything unusual. This happens too often, I'm afraid. When was the last time your friend was down to visit?”

  Cyn looked at me and answered, “Last year, in October, Andi and I came down for a weekend and she set up the contract with Beach Property, as it was easier. Andi inherited the cottage from her mother in early 2002. That first year, she came down about three or four times during the winter, but it was inconvenient. She thought this would be better.”

  Jester than said, “I'd like to take a few prints to see if I can get a match.” He looked at both of us and said, “Can I take yours to eliminate you two?”

  We said sure, and I told him I'd be on record since I was a private investigator. I showed him my Pennsylvania and Delaware licenses.

  Over the next hour, Jester took our prints and found some more on doorknobs, the refrigerator, the stove, windows and mirrors. Then he walked around the house and said we should check local resale shops for any of Andi's possessions or for anyone giving them business from Andi's home.

  Once Jester saw the bathroom message, he returned to Cyndie and asked her, “That's a terrible thing on that mirror. Do you know anyone who ever called your friend that?”

  I answered, “I'm not sure.”

  “Do you know anyone who'd be mad at her for any reason?”

  The way Jester asked that question sprung an old memory. “Holy shit! Maybe it was Fred.” I said with a gasp.

  Jester looked at me. “Who is Fred?”

  Cyn and I spent a few minutes describing Andi's old boyfriend, Fred Conarto. Bottom-line, the guy was creepy and made me rethink everything, including Andi's murder. Cyndie said Fred called Andi a witch when he was mad. And, he was very unhappy that Andi, and not him, ended their relationship.

  Jester then asked us two questions that made Fred a more likely perpetrator, “When did you see him last?” and “Had Fred ever been here?”

  Cyn said he was last seen in Philadelphia at the end of the prior October and he had been to the beach cottage with Andi last summer.

  After Jester left, Cyndie said, “Oh my God, Stevie. This is getting crazy and frightening.”

  “It is. We've got to figure this out.”

  “Where do we start?”

  I answered, “Well, first off all, we need to buy some sheets and a blanket for our bed, if we plan to stay in this place.”

  That comment brought the first smile to Cyndie's face since we arrived.

  I went on to say, “Also, let's get some food too. Then, we need to brainstorm ideas.”

  “If it is Fred who did this, how did he do it?”

  “I don't know. But, since he was here before, he probably liked the place and this would be a great place to hide in the off-season, after he skipped town. Andi must have told him about her winter plan.”

  Cyndie answered, “She probably did.”

  I then said, “He broke up with Andi in late October. If he did know that Andi had left for the season, he could have headed directly here.”

  Cyndie answered, “You could be right, Stevie.”

  “Okay, well, let's go shopping at the outlets. But, first, we're heading to Lewes to talk to Andi's property managers.”


  I called Edie’s cellphone and gave her a quick overview of the conversation with Jester and our plans for the next few hours. Edie would meet us for dinner on Route 1. I told her where she could find the keys to the SUV.

  searching

  Lewes, Delaware, is the first town north of Rehoboth and it is located on the Delaware Bay, not the Atlantic Ocean. It's a seaport around and behind Cape Henlopen, and protected from the ocean waves. Lewes was founded by the Swedes in the 1600s and is the oldest town in the state of Delaware. It has an active waterfront with a small harbor.

  Large ferry boats run between Lewes and Cape May, New Jersey, and cars and people can travel back and forth for fun and business between the two states. I've done it a few times myself. Lewes has a different feel to it compared to Rehoboth. This is a town with docks, boats, and fishermen.

  It was about 5:30 p.m. when we left the cottage. On the outskirts of Lewes, Cyndie directed me to Beach Property Management. The office was on the main road into Lewes off Highway 1, right next to Cape Henlopen High School.

  We parked in a freshly paved lot. The place was deserted. I got out and walked to the front door. The office closed at 5 p.m. and would reopen at 9 a.m. tomorrow, Thursday.

  Cyndie and I zoomed out of Lewes and aimed the Miata back to Highway 1. We called Edie and told her to take the SUV and meet us at a casual seafood restaurant for dinner.

  To my surprise, during dinner, Cyndie casually brought up the cottage’s sleeping arrangements. She said we could each have our own room. I saw Edie smile. My instincts told me she was very happy Cyndie and I weren’t sharing a bed.

  Edie said, “Cyndie, you should have the master bedroom.”

  I agreed with Edie’s suggestion. “Edie and I will use the smaller bedrooms.”

  My reply sounded like a Freudian slip, of sorts. But, Cyndie didn’t respond with a sharp retort. I guess she was happy with the result. It seemed curious how it worked out. We slept alone the entire time at the cottage.

  After dinner, we were off to shop at the outlets. Three hours later we headed back to the Cottage with two cars full of stuff; four folding chairs, three comforters, sheets, pillows, a small TV with a DVD player, a boom box, 15 CDs, food, glasses, plates, utensils, wine, mixers, Jack Daniels and vodka. We walked in at 9 p.m.

  Cyndie ran the sheets and pillow cases through the washer and dryer, Edie put away the groceries, while I unfolded the chairs in the dining room, and connected the TV to the cable. Cyndie directed and Edie and I rearranged the few pieces of furniture downstairs to make it cozy.

  I helped Cyndie make the three beds. Cyndie would sleep in the master bedroom and Edie and I would each use one of the two small bedrooms. While the women changed, I went downstairs and made drinks for each of us; chilled Chardonnay for Edie, Jack on the rocks for Cyn, and a tall, cold vodka tonic for me.

  Cyn and Edie came downstairs after and joined me in the living room. Edie started a Radiohead CD, OK Computer, on the boom box, but turned the volume down so we could talk. Cyn sat in the side chair and nursed her Jack Daniels in a wide-mouth tumbler. Ms. Myst wore a nightshirt under an above-the-knee crimson terry robe. Edie looked lovely in a long-sleeved white nightgown that reached to her ankles. She sipped her drink with a straw and lounged on the sofa. I slowly rocked in the oak rocker, enjoying the pleasant feminine company and began talking after two healthy sips.

  We discussed our plans for Thursday. We agreed that Cyn and I would go to Andi's property management company after breakfast to find out what we could about the robbery. While we were there, Edie would make a beach lunch, then head into town to get suntan lotion. Edie and I would go to the beach while Cyn did some photography work. Then, we'd all go to dinner tomorrow night and I'd make the reservations.

  We finished our drinks and Cyn headed upstairs. Edie helped clean up. When we finished, I gave Edie a kiss goodnight. She gives a very sweet kiss. While I walked around the cottage and turned out lights Edie silently went upstairs.

  I slowly walked upstairs, Cyndie’s room was dark. Light shined out from under Edie’s bedroom door. I thought about the earlier times in Los Angeles and Tucson when I’ve shared lodging, but not a bed, with Edie.

  My heart wanted Edie, now. My mind told me to be patient. Our time was coming quick. I finally put my mystery novel down after reading and re-reading the same paragraph three times.

  ***

  I woke on Thursday morning. It was 8:30. A cold front had passed through the night before leaving behind a sparkling clear blue sky, low humidity and a nice sea breeze; a perfect weather day was in front of us.

  The sun streamed in on my face through a gap between the drapes in the side, eastern-facing window. The gentle sea breeze blew in through the one-inch opening at the bottom of this window, fluttering the curtains.

  Then, I smelled something wonderful. The aroma of buttery pancakes and rich coffee floated in the bedroom. Some one had been busy.

  ***

  Edie had made breakfast, a delicious breakfast! What an unexpected treat! Afterwards, I volunteered to do cleanup while the women got dressed.

  Cyndie choose another head-turning outfit; halter, short shorts and sandals; all in her Goth black. I went with slacks and a light blue polo shirt. I didn’t see Edie before she we left the cottage. She was continuing her search for a swimsuit.

  We slid into my baby blue car and sped off to Beach Property Management. Fifteen minutes later we were in Lewes. I pulled into the parking lot and parked next to four identical white American sedans, each with the company green beach umbrella logo on the side. As we entered the white Cape Cod-styled office building, I noted that the exterior windows had green awnings and the signs were also in forest green. In the green carpeted lobby, we were greeted by Helen Meyers. Ms. Meyers was a forty-something woman with pre-maturely white hair and a nifty green business suit.

  Ms. Meyers inspected Cyndie's barely clad body, as Cyn asked, “May we speak to one of the building managers, please?”

  Ms. Meyers responded, “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but I have an emergency.”

  “What is your name?”

  Cyndie provided it, along with our local address.

  “Please have a seat and I'm sure one of our managers will be right with you.”

  Ms. Meyers turned to me and said, “Are you with her?” The way she said it I wasn't sure if Cyndie or I should be offended, but it felt like a put down of one of us.

  I replied, “Yes, I am.” I put my arm around Cyn's waist and led her to the white leather couch in front of the receptionist's station.

  While we waited ten minutes, Cyndie started another outlet shopping list for the things we discovered we still needed. I thought about the robbery and how the perpetrators did it without raising attention.

  Cyndie had her list finished and I was paging through a Delaware Today magazine when we heard a smooth, deep voice say, “May I help you?”

  We looked up and stood up and greeted Sam Greer. Mr. Greer was in his fifties and looked like an undertaker. He had grey hair and grey skin from a life-long addiction to cigarettes that matched his grey slacks and grey tie. Sam had doffed his Beach Property-issued green sports jacket and greeted us with a wide smile revealing yellow teeth.

  Sam was friendly enough and apparently comfortable enough with his life that he was one of the few men I've ever met that didn't do a trip with his eyes up and down Cyndie's body. He acted like a perfect gentleman, which was more than I can say about myself when I'm around Cyndie. He led us to his office which was a bedroom-sized room in the lower left corner of this house-like office building.

  Cyndie and I sat in the matching chairs in front of his desk. Sam asked how he could help us and we, Cyndie mostly, explained that we inherited a Rehoboth Beach cottage after the recent death of our friend. We also described the robbery of most of our possessions in the same cottage. Sam Greer took notes and asked a question or two for clarification, but mostly listened.

 
When Cyndie was finished, he asked, “When did your friend set up the property management contract, Ms. Myst?”

  “During her last trip down here in October; I was with Andi that day.”

  “I see. Who in our office assisted her with the contract?”

  Cyn thought and then answered, “A younger woman with blonde hair. I don't recall her name, but would probably recognize it if you said it.”

  Greer also thought for a moment and then answered, “That sounds like Judy Morse.”

  “Yes, that was her name.”

  “Very good. Unfortunately, Judy left our company during the winter. She moved to New Jersey.”

  Cyn then asked Mr. Greer, “Do you know who checked our home since last October?”

  “Let me look at our custodial schedule.”

  Greer turned to the computer on his desk and proceeded to look through a series of screens for minute and then said, “Your house is on Oak Avenue, that's the north side of Rehoboth, correct?”

  I answered, “Yes, one block east of Lake Gerrar.”

  Greer peered at the screen through reading glasses. “That's Mike Quinn's territory. He's on duty today, and should be over in Rehoboth. Do you want me to call him?”

  Cyndie replied, “Sure, could you?”

  Greer jotted his cell phone number down and said, “I'll try now.”

  A man answered on the third ring, “Mike Quinn.”

  “Mike, this is Sam Greer. I have you on speaker here in my office as we have a client with a problem.”

  Quinn answered, “What's the problem?”

  Greer continued, “I'm with Cyndie Myst and her boyfriend, Stevie Garrett. They recently inherited the house at 23 Oak Avenue. It was previously owned by Andi Grayson. I have learned that Ms. Grayson died tragically a few days ago. Upon their arrival in Rehoboth yesterday Ms. Myst and Mr. Garrett discovered that their house has been robbed of most of its possessions.”

  Quinn asked, “When did that happen?”

  Greer answered, “We're not sure.”