The House Across The Street

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  I’m anxious to get started. My first agenda is to do a drive-by of Mrs. Ramsey’s house and then Mrs. Hilliard’s home. The two residences are only a few blocks apart. Then I make my way over to Logan Foster’s address, only to discover he lives in the same neighborhood as the two fall victims. It doesn’t mean anything though. He may know several of the area residents and it provides him an avenue for his handyman jobs. Most elderly folks like knowing who they’re letting in the door. If they already know Logan, he has an inside track.

  I pull up in front of his home. There’s no car in the driveway, but I can’t tell if there’s one in a detached garage further back. Peering through my filthy driver’s side window, I don’t see any activity. Pulling over to the curb and stopping on the opposite side of the street from his house, I take a few moments to review the documents in a file given to me by Sutton. Periodically, I glance between my notes and the small white, two-story home and wonder if a murderer lives inside.

  Chapter Three

  Rachel

  Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, I quickly calculated just how late I was running. Five minutes was my estimate. Brenna was the punctual type, never late for a single thing, especially our lunches because they cut into her working hours, making timeliness an even bigger deal to her. She was an attorney at Carlson & Carlson, a high-powered legal firm in one of the fancy high-rise buildings in downtown Fort Worth. Her job was overly demanding and most days she ate lunch at her desk, only breaking away on Tuesdays to spend time with us.

  In my haste to make up for lost time, I zipped around a city bus and then popped back over into the right-hand lane a few blocks before wheeling into the parking tower. Three levels later, I finally found a spot.

  Jumping out of my vehicle, I quickly slid my short frame of five-two to the ground. Using my fob, I locked the car over my shoulder and hurried for the elevator. The lift stopped at level two for a seventy-something couple to board. As soon as the doors split apart, the elderly couple peered out in a confused state, trying to assess if they were at the correct level.

  “Ground floor,” I called out behind them, hoping they’d come to a speedy decision and get out of my way.

  “Oh, I guess this is where we need to be,” the older woman said to the aging man. Then she gazed at me. “Do you know if this the floor for Juan’s?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “I’m heading there myself. I’ll be glad to show you the way.”

  “Well, thank you. That would be lovely,” she gushed while they slowly disembarked at the speed of a sloth.

  As soon as the elderly couple cleared the door, I stepped out. Being polite, I took the time to walk with them to the exit. Then I pointed to the restaurant. “See the blue building with teal trim right there? That’s Juan’s.”

  “Oh yes,” the man answered. “I see it.”

  “Do you think you can make it from here?” I asked, noting they were barely shuffling along. “I’m running behind for a luncheon. But if you’d like, I’ll be glad to walk with you.” Yes, my lateness was my own fault. I should’ve left earlier, or cancelled entirely and saved myself the misery I would surely have to endure.

  “Oh no, it’s quite all right,” the lady said. “You go right ahead.”

  “Enjoy your meal,” I threw over my shoulder as I scurried away.

  It was a block’s walk to the restaurant with the cold wind whipping in my face and it had started drizzling. Hopefully, this would be the last cold spell before spring arrived and we could resume eating outside on the patio again.

  Arriving at the big wooden Spanish doors, I tugged one open and stepped inside. Glancing down at my watch, I noted being six minutes late. For most people, it wasn’t all that remiss, but for Brenna, I might as well have been a no-show. Punctuality was important to her and, because of that, I normally made it a point to arrive early for each of our get-togethers. My tardiness today was uncharacteristic and based solely on not wanting to come. It was only after giving myself a good talking to that I managed to get ready and out the door.

  Peering around the restaurant, I looked for Catie and Brenna. Across the room on the far back wall, I noticed Catie had already arrived. Shit, I’d bear the brunt of things.

  “Table for one?” the hostess asked.

  “I’m meeting someone here,” I responded. “I see them over there.” I pointed to the area, already walking in their direction.

  “Enjoy your lunch,” she said, giving me a slight nod and a warm smile.

  Hustling across the room, I began apologizing before even nearing the table. “Sorry, sorry,” I said, without offering an explanation.

  “I just got here too,” Catie offered, adding a sympathetic smile. “Janie’s sick, so daycare wouldn’t take her, and I had to leave her with my mom. All that shuffling around got the best of my time.”

  They both looked at me, like it was now my turn to explain myself, especially since Catie had.

  “Traffic,” I said, leaving it at that. Brenna scrunched up her nose as if my excuse were lame and I should’ve better prepared myself. Feeling the heat, I added, “Also, I got caught up in a short conversation with my neighbor. Oh, and I helped an elderly couple from the elevator find the place. Delays here and there just added up.” Jeez, it wasn’t like I’d tarried on my porch for exceedingly long. Give me a break.

  Brenna frowned at us. “I’m disappointed in both of you guys. Remember, my job doesn’t allow much leeway for lengthy lunches. Being late cuts into the time I can spend visiting.”

  “Sorry,” I said once again, giving her an apologetic look.

  Brenna shrugged. “Well, I went ahead and ordered for everyone to save time. So, you’re both eating what I selected. If you don’t like it, then tough. You should’ve been here.” She smirked at us both, as if daring either one of us to complain and then added, “Chicken fajitas all around.”

  “Fine with me,” I quickly agreed. “We all know I’m not a picky eater.” Honestly, I was going to order the enchilada special, but I supposed I should’ve been here.

  “Besides, both of you need to watch what you’re eating,” Brenna chastised. “Rachel, I know your figure is still eye-catching, but with your short stature every pound shows.” She twisted her face to Catie. “And you could lose a few pounds. I’m sure you’d like to keep that handsome husband of yours.”

  Catie let her comment roll off her back with a light chuckle. “No worries there. I have Bradley wrapped around my little finger.”

  For me, it started a smoldering ember burning in my gut. While I was on the shorter side, I didn’t think of myself as overweight. My boobs were a decent size and I felt my waist was rather tiny. Still, Brenna’s comment only served to remind me I was nothing compared to what Richard found attractive these days. Asshole.

  Brenna was tall and thin with shapely legs. She was one of those types of gals who could eat anything she wanted without gaining an ounce. Her hourglass figure, oval-shaped face, giant brown eyes, and brunette hair gave her a model-like appearance.

  “So, Janie’s sick,” I said, hoping to get off the subject of weight problems, which apparently Brenna thought we had.

  “She has a tiny cold. Really, it’s nothing. But the care center tries hard to keep sick children at bay so as not to infect the others,” she explained, munching on some chips and salsa.

  “Sounds reasonable to me. I hope she feels better soon,” I sympathized and Catie nodded.

  The conversation shifted to Brenna’s new client. “He’s gorgeous,” she beamed. “I can’t wait to conclude his case so I can make a move on him.” Brenna had never found Mr. Right and Catie and I both wondered who she was searching for. Brenna was outgoing, personable and had never come across a stranger. Brenna knew a lot of people and everyone was her friend. Yet when it came to men, she was always in search-mode, never quite satisfied.

  “What’s he like?” Catie asked with enthused eyes.

  “He’s tall, dark black hair and equally dark eyes. I
can’t stop staring at him every time he comes by the office.” She grinned. “I have to check my mouth to make sure I’m not visibly salivating.”

  We both giggled at her obvious infatuation. Hopefully, our dinner would remain on light-hearted conversations and never focus on my problems.

  “Well, tell us how the divorce is coming along,” Brenna started in.

  Well, that didn’t take long. And just when I had hoped things were going to be different. The topic of my pending divorce was the whole damned reason I was finding these lunches unbearable. We had talked it to death, and I was sick and tired of discussing what an amazing catch Richard was and how unforgiving I could be. My friends knew of only a few details and couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t simply swallow my pride and get back together with him.

  “We haven’t made any progress,” I said blandly, hoping for once they’d just let the conversation go at my less than encouraging response.

  “Unless you’re willing to go out more and meet someone new, you should get back with Richard,” Brenna started in. “You can’t expect Mr. Right to simply knock on your door one day.”

  Catie nodded agreeably at Brenna. “You know, I feel like Richard’s only stalling on an agreement because he doesn’t want the divorce,” Catie suggested, as if the thought just came to her ... for the umpteenth time. “If you’d admit it, deep down, you probably want to get back together too, and it’s most likely why you never feel like going out.”

  From their viewpoint, I was tossing a good marriage away and must have lost my mind.

  “I agree,” Brenna added. “Otherwise, he’d be offering you a settlement you couldn’t refuse and sending you on your way. You two have been married for years and he’s only cheated on you this one time. Maybe you should forgive him and give him a second chance. It was probably just the seven-year-itch thing.”

  “And he’s so handsome ... and successful ... and charming,” Catie pointed out.

  “And you’ve gotta be crowded in that little house. There’s hardly enough room for your clothes there,” Brenna added with a light chuckle. My wardrobe was quite extensive, including more purses than the normal person. “Don’t you miss your penthouse?”

  “No, I don’t,” I said firmly. “I’m ready to move on. And, like I’ve told you guys a thousand times, Richard and I aren’t good together anymore.”

  This was the politically correct way of putting it. My friends had been shocked when I’d told them I’d filed for a divorce, and for months now they’d urged me to get back with Richard. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I had let it slip that Richard had been cheating on me with some gorgeous registered nurse at the hospital. Their affair had been going on for several months and, if things had not derailed, I might never have known. But, once the news emerged, things couldn’t have gone worse. Not only were there several out-of-control arguments between Richard and me, two legal battles of epic proportion had ensued. Unable to fully discuss the circumstances with Brenna and Catie, I had kept my mouth clamped and listened to countless discussions about saving my marriage.

  After one of mine and Richard’s huge fights, I was no longer able to tolerate the situation. The next day, after Richard left for work, I spoke with an attorney and filed for a divorce. As soon as the papers were in the works, I packed my car to the brim with my clothes, handbags, jewelry, personal items, a few small electronics, and the antique trunk my grandmother had given me. After taking everything over to my dad’s office and storing it there, I went by the bank to clean out our checking account, but found he’d only left five thousand dollars in there. So, I took it all. Later that day, he was served with the divorce papers, but since the bank account was basically cleaned out, I had a feeling he was somehow tipped off beforehand.

  Withdrawing the leftover money may sound harsh on the surface, but Richard was a sought-after heart surgeon and because of his prestigious job, during our marriage we had amassed a penthouse taking up the entire top floor of the Santa Fe Building. The place used to be a train depot but had been converted into high-dollar units, with the most expensive one being ours. Together, we had also managed to accumulate a sizeable bank account and two other homes, one in Aspen and the other in Italy. But, believe it or not, when I left with only my personal items and the five thousand dollars, I had considered myself lucky and would’ve loved nothing more than to finalize our divorce and moved on with my life. Unfortunately, Richard wasn’t about to let that happen.

  From Brenna and Catie’s viewpoint, all they saw was Richard portraying himself as the victim. He had managed to spew words into their open ears and convinced them I was being unreasonable, professing he loved me more than life itself. In front of our friends, he’d openly begged me to come back home, claiming he’d been an idiot and I belonged with him. Richard had the ability to persuade anyone, including them, that he was God’s gift to mankind, and I was lucky as hell to have him for a husband. That being said, no one could understand why in the world I’d want to leave him.

  But they would, if only they knew.

  Chapter Four

  Rachel

  Richard had been a decent person, or at least he used to be ... until things just happened. And because I knew his reputation was important to him, out of respect, well, and the gag orders, I’d kept my mouth shut and endured Brenna and Catie’s constant nagging. But as lunch dragged on and I repeatedly tried steering the conversation away from my separation, the discussion only went in a loop right back to the same topic, over and over to ad nauseam. Barely picking at my lunch, I ended up getting a to-go box. Feeling beatdown and queasy at my stomach, I decided to call it an early lunch.

  “Guys, I have a new client coming by and I’d better head back to the office.” Once again, I felt awful for my little indiscretions. But I needed to get away before my mouth broke into saying things it shouldn’t and legally couldn’t.

  “Are you serious?” Catie asked, while both looked at me with doubting eyes, practically accusing me of being the liar I was.

  “Of course, with it being tax season and April 15th fast approaching, I’m in high demand right now,” I bragged, though I didn’t have a client coming in.

  “Rachel, no,” they chorused.

  Then Brenna bluntly said, “There’s no way you would’ve scheduled someone to come in during our lunch time. We do this every week. Do you really have to rush off?”

  “I’m sorry. I really need to make a break for it. I don’t want to keep him waiting.” I threw some money on the table, grabbed my to-go box and headed for the exit, trying my best to keep from running for the exit.

  Heaving open the heavy wooden door, I was once again assaulted by the cold brisk air. Scurrying along at a quick pace, I headed for the parking garage. After stepping on the elevator and riding to the third level, I trotted to my car and hopped inside. Immediately cranking the engine to run the heater full blast, I held my hands against the vent to let my frozen hands thaw out. Fearing Brenna and Catie might have taken after me, I didn’t linger in the cold vehicle before backing out. Waiting for a gap in traffic, I pulled out and headed toward my house which also served as my office.

  For the last year, I had been working as a CPA and bookkeeper out of a tiny two-bedroom, one bath, Craftsman-styled home built in the early 1920s. My dad, also a CPA and bookkeeper, previously used it as his office. Once Dad retired, and with my separation from Richard, it became my home, as well as my place of work. I loved the little place and didn’t mind it being teeny-tiny. There was plenty of room for myself since Richard and I never had any children together.

  Well, we almost did, but this was a whole different part of the story, one I could hardly admit, even to myself.

  Chapter Five

  Rachel

  On the drive back, my mind wandered back to the day when I first meet Richard. It had been years and years since then, but it all came back to me like it just happened.

  “Can I help you? You look completely lost.”

&n
bsp; Glancing sideways I noticed an incredibly attractive guy, jet-black hair and dark brown eyes, standing a few feet away from me. “Yeah, I was trying to find the Administration Building.” I held up the campus map tightly clamped in my hand and zeroed in on the guy approaching me wearing medical scrubs. I couldn’t imagine what he was doing on a university campus but welcomed any help he could give me.

  “You’re in the right place,” he answered. “Some big-wig died and left a bequest to the college. As a catch, the funds were conditioned on renaming the building. It must have been enormous enough for them to do it. Maintenance took down the ‘Administration’ sign so they could center the lettering to become the ‘Holt Administration Building.’”

  “Oh, okay, well I guess that explains it,” I said looking up at the humongous H-O-L-T currently in place without the additional identifying words.

  “Let me see your schedule.”

  “This is what I’m going by.” I passed him the handwritten notes I’d jotted down on where I was supposed to be and at what times.

  “Basic Accounting with Mr. Shields. I know right where you need to be. Come on, I’ll walk you there.”

  “Thanks,” I said with an appreciative smile on my face, though if I were standing in front of the correct building, I felt certain I could find my way to the classroom. But, hey, he was super good-looking, so why not let him help me? He led the way up a set of steps and into the building. “You look like you’re in the medical field. How do you know your way around the administration building?”

  “My baby sister started classes this morning too. I just walked her to Economics, and I remember passing your room on the way there.”

  “What’s her name? Maybe we’ll end up in the some of the same classes together.”