The House Across The Street

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The House Across The Street Page 6

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg


  “Okay,” she says, without even looking up.

  I go out the front door and rummage through the front passenger seat and grab up my laptop. While I’m there, I memorize the license plate and go back inside. Using the dining table, I get my computer up and running. “Can I have your Wi-Fi password?” I ask of Rachel. Reluctantly she gives it to me, giving me the feeling that she thinks I’m going to hack into her system and start monitoring her. I think I will, because now I can.

  “David Hutchins,” I murmur to myself once I’ve pulled up the registration. I search my computer for any information I can find on him. Unfortunately, I need access to the mainframe system at the police department to get the complete profile. I dig through my pocket and pull out my phone and place a call to Detective Sutton. “Hey, it’s me,” I say once he’s answered. First, I tell him I am going to work undercover at the house across the street, pretending to be the cousin of a girl who works there. Then I go on to tell him what I’ve discovered. “Apparently, Foster has a roommate … David Hutchins. He drives a Honda Accord. See if you can pull a record on him.”

  “Sure, give me an hour or so and I’ll get back with you.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Through my binoculars, I watch David Hutchins in a front room of the house, most likely his bedroom. He is sitting at a desk, hunched over some paperwork. I wish I knew what it was. Unfortunately, even trying my telescope, I simply can’t see it because I don’t have the right angle. After a while, he crosses into the living room and disappears, probably into a kitchen. I wait impatiently for him to reappear. Eventually he returns to the living room and plops in front of the TV with a sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other. As I peer diligently out the window, I realize my job is so unrewarding.

  As I sit and watch him watch TV, my stomach growls loudly, reminding me my intake for the day has been but a single cup of coffee. I turn my gaze to Rachel. “Is there going to be any supper?” I dare to ask.

  Her face bunches up like she just bit into something putrid. “You’re not expecting me to cook for you … are you?” She asks in an incredulous voice.

  “Uh, no, of course I’m not.” Yes, I was. “Would you mind if I raided your fridge?”

  “There’s a large container of vegetable beef soup in there. I made a huge pot a couple of nights ago. It’s what I’ve been eating. You’re welcome to heat up a bowl in the microwave.”

  “Thank you.” I waste no time clamoring to the kitchen and grabbing the glass container. Rummaging through her cabinets, I find two bowls and dip us each a hefty serving. Placing a paper plate over the tops to stave off her griping about splattering, I heat the contents. While dinner rotates around, I search her fridge for beer. No such luck. It looks like water, milk or orange juice. Over by a Keurig, I spot some tea and coffee pods. I frown and select a bottle of water. After a while, the microwave beeps and I stir the contents a bit and heat them a little longer. With a final beep, I pull them out and carry them to the table. The smell is so good, I can hardly wait. “Dinner is served,” I say glancing over at Rachel’s startled expression.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were heating a bowl for me.”

  “Well I did. So, come and join me.” Of course, I simply wanted her to dine with me. It is part of my plan in breaking the barrier between us.

  “Okay. I guess I could use a break.” She strides into the kitchen. “Did you want tea?” she asks.

  “No, I have bottled water. Thank you though.” My heart sings a little tune when she pulls the chair opposite me and we have our first meal together. “The soup is delicious,” I compliment.

  “Thank you. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

  We have barely taken a few bites when I hear a car door slam. I am seated facing the windows so if anyone approaches, I will have an opportunity to run and hide my equipment. Peering out, I see it is Sutton and he has a folder in his hand. Earlier when we talked, I told him where I was staying, but honestly, I didn’t consider it an invitation.

  “I’ll get it,” I tell Rachel. “It’s one of the detectives working this case.” I run to meet Sutton at the door. I can’t have that hunk coming inside. Rachel will go all gaga for him, just like every other girl does. There are three sharp raps on the door. Pulling it open, I get a blast of cold air in my face. “Hey man, I didn’t expect you to bring the report by. A simple email would’ve sufficed.”

  “I’m on my way home. Thought it would be just as easy to drop it by. I’d like to go over it with you anyway. Is there a table where we can spread this out?”

  Damn the luck.

  “Sure, I guess. Come inside.” Dammit.

  “Excuse me for barging in,” he says pouring on the charm the second that prick sees my Rachel.

  Rachel falls all over herself getting to her feet. “Welcome. Come on in. I’m Rachel Anderson.” She can’t wait to shake his hand. Bitch.

  “Tanner,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Detective Tanner Sutton,” I add to reduce his casualness, which only serves to brighten her eyes.

  “A detective,” she croons.

  My God, what am I … chopped liver? “He’s only here to drop off a file,” I hint, my gaze going to Sutton.

  “Well, to go over it,” the asshole corrects me.

  “Let me get you a bowl of soup,” Rachel is quick to offer. “You can join us.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

  That’s right, dude, take your stomach elsewhere. The soup is all mine. Rachel is all mine.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Rachel gushes, practically running to the kitchen to heat him up a bowl. I can’t help but recall how she left me to fend for myself. Suddenly she’s the perfect hostess. I am so jealous right now.

  Sutton places the folder on the end of the table and takes a seat next to Rachel’s chair. I consider telling him to sit next to me, not her. I also consider telling him to hit the road.

  “Anything since Hutchins came home?” he inquires, passing the time away while his soup is being heated.

  “He went to the bedroom and hovered over some paperwork. No way of knowing what it was. He’s watching TV right now. I have no idea where Foster is.”

  “What would you like to drink?” Rachel calls from the kitchen.

  “Iced tea, straight, if you have it,” he calls back.

  “Coming right up,” she responds with a noticeable lift in her voice. A moment later she serves him a piping hot bowl and a big glass of iced tea.

  “Thank you so much,” Sutton tells her, reaching for a handful of crackers.

  While we eat, she steals glances at Sutton’s handsome mug. I can tell she’s all giddy. Her heart is exploding. It hurts me to the core because I’m completely interested in her and he’s stomping on my turf. They’re chattering about the weather and how abnormally cold it’s been for the first of April. He’s pouring on the charm and she’s absorbing it like a sponge. I know he’s eligible and I know Rachel is separated. I quickly down my soup. It’s hot and burns my tongue, but I need to hurry up and get him out of here.

  “So, what do you have?” I ask pushing my bowl to the side.

  Rachel gives me a stern look. “He’s still eating, Jackson. Can’t you wait?”

  Sutton, polite as always, accommodates me by hurrying it up. Then the dickhead takes my bowl and his to the sink to rinse them. “I was going to do that,” I say jumping from my chair and following behind him. I grab the bowls out of his hand and get the water running. “Here, let me,” I say as I begin scrubbing them clean.

  “Be my guest.” Then the jerk goes back to Rachel. I speed up the washing because there’s no telling what he’s doing in the other room. When I return, Rachel hands me her bowl. My God. Now I’m obligated to return to the kitchen and leave those two alone again. This time I just stick it in the sink and get back to guard my Rachel.

  “The soup was delicious,” Sutton kindly tells her.

  “Thank you,” she gush
es. “It’s my mother’s recipe.” Now this is where our conversation left off before his intrusion.

  “I have all of my grandmother’s recipes,” he goes on. “We should compare them some time.”

  “I’d love too,” she blubbers, going all googly-eyed when he flashes his perfect white teeth at her.

  No, you are not, I think. I saw you first. Dibs is going through my mind. “About that report,” I remind Sutton. “Rachel, do you mind? We have business to discuss.”

  “No, not at all.” She pushes up from her chair and gives Sutton the sweetest of smiles. It’s her first smile since I’ve laid eyes on her. She is so unbelievably gorgeous, but it irks me to no end for her to have wasted such a beautiful expression on him. “Shall I go into the other room?” she asks politely.

  I’m thinking of sending her over to Mrs. Tuttle’s house simply to get her away from Sutton. It is also on my mind that I have only mentioned drugs as being a part of my surveillance.

  “No, you’re fine,” Sutton says, flashing his pearly whites at her.

  Good old Sutton, he is going to blow my cover. On the other hand, if Rachel perceives a possible murderer living across the street, maybe she will appreciate my presence in her home. She strides back to her desk and begins working, but I watch as her gaze pops up periodically admire Mr. Macho.

  Sutton spreads his paperwork out and begins talking. “Hutchins came into this area about three months ago. I’ve run his record and he’s managed to avoid any prior convictions. But get this … prior to his living here, he was brought in for questioning in California. Arnold Wilson, an elderly man, slipped by his pool and cracked his head open, killing him on impact. When the police were investigating the scene, they went through Mr. Wilson’s checkbook and found several recent checks made out to David Hutchins. Hutchins claimed to be Mr. Wilson’s handyman and even admitted helping Mr. Wilson write out the checks, but insisted the signatures were from the old man. The police couldn’t dispute his repair services, and they never discovered anything to indicate Mr. Wilson didn’t fall by the pool’s edge.”

  “What a coincidence,” I remark, letting out a low whistle. “Man, there must be a lot of work in the handyman department.”

  “Between Arnold Wilson, Norma Ramsey and Martha Hilliard, there seem to be a lot of falls to their death,” Sutton adds, talking in detail about each circumstance, with Rachel’s ears turned up on high volume. “Once again, it didn’t appear anything was taken. All bank accounts were fully intact, and the Will left everything to Mr. Wilson’s children.”

  “But since David Hutchins and Logan Foster are now roommates, they seem to have gone into the handyman business together … don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Sutton says nodding his head. “But I can’t figure out what’s in it for them. What are they gaining by knocking off these elderly people … assuming they are? Hutchins moved to Texas shortly after he was questioned, but we’re not sure how he ended up rooming with Logan Foster.”

  Peering over at Rachel, I note she is busy inputting financials on her computer. “Well, earlier today, Rachel told me the house across the street belongs to Imogene Foster. About three years ago, Imogene’s son and daughter-in-law moved to California. Possibly Foster went to visit his parents in California and met Hutchins while he was out there.”

  Sutton rustles through his paperwork. “Near San Diego by any chance?”

  “Rachel,” I call out gathering her attention, “do you know where Imogene Foster’s son and daughter-in-law relocated in California?”

  Rachel swivels in her chair and looks in our direction. “Oh, no I don’t, but my mother will. I’ll give her a call.” She locates her phone and gives her a ring. After a brief discussion with her mom, she answers, “San Diego.” Then she goes on to yammer about Old Faithful.

  I nod my head at Sutton. “That has to be where they met … Hutchins must be teaching Foster a thing or two about the handyman business.”

  “I agree, but again, what’s in it for them? There just has to be some financial gain.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but I intend to camp out right here in this house until I find out.” I look over at Rachel and she is frowning. I don’t care what she thinks right now. In a month’s time, maybe less, she will be clinging to me and begging me to stay.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rachel

  For the entire afternoon, while Jackson pretended to gaze out the window, he had done nothing but fixate on me. Each time I glanced up, there he was, looking right back at me.

  Though he had a telescope to look out the window, it felt as if he had me under a microscope. I was looking forward to his job being over and him getting out of my house. When he asked if there was going to be any supper, I can guarantee he thought I would rush to the kitchen and cook him something. I almost offered to heat up the soup, but in a moment of clarity, I realized waiting on him shouldn’t be set as a precedent. But then the situation changed dramatically when one of the other detectives dropped by. My heart skipped all kinds of beats when I looked at the amazing face of Detective Tanner Sutton. He might well be the handsomest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Tall, broad-shouldered and pearly white teeth were among his assets. His eyes were like dark brown delicious pools of tasty chocolate. He was well-shaven, and his hair was recently cut. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, which surprised me to the core. I thought if I was ever done with Richard, I was going to be done with men. But when glowing embers sparked in my girl parts, I guessed there was still some life left in me after all.

  At the dinner table, I couldn’t keep from comparing the two men. Tanner, as he had introduced himself, was not only mannerly, he was complimentary of my soup, even suggesting we should compare recipes. Jackson, on the other hand, loudly slurped every spoonful past the gnarly mustache growing down into his lips. He downed the whole bowl like he hadn’t eaten in a lifetime and by the time he was finished, he had cracker crumbs taking up residence in his straggly beard. It was disgusting. What a shame the undercover officer staying at my house wasn’t Tanner instead of Jackson. What a wonderful difference that would’ve made.

  My desk, being only a few feet from the dining table, easily permitted me to overhear their discussion. While I had pretended to be absorbed in my work, I couldn’t help noticing drugs weren’t mentioned even once and my ears had become antennae at the mention of Norma Ramsey and Martha Hilliard. Both elderly women lived in my neighborhood and in each instance, Mrs. Tuttle, my informant, had told me they had fallen to their deaths. But from the sound of it, it might not have been an accident at all and, worse, my neighbors, Logan Foster and David Hutchins, were possibly involved in their alleged murders, and maybe another one in California. It was bad enough when I thought drug dealers were living in the house across the street, but never in my wildest dreams would I have believed it was murderers. What if Logan or David discovered Jackson was watching them? If they did, my life might be in danger.

  When Jackson asked about Logan Foster’s parents, I was more than glad to supply them with the information. After all, I needed to do everything I could to help catch them. Just as I suspected, when I called my mom, she knew they had moved to San Diego. My input resulted in Tanner giving me a thank-you smile that sent my entire body tingling.

  They had been discussing the case for quite some time and, sadly, it looked like Tanner was about to leave. When he stood, he mannerly pushed his chair back up to the table. Jackson left his sticking out. It seemed there was no end to the amount Jackson irritated me.

  “It was so nice to meet you,” Tanner courteously said, approaching my desk.

  I rounded the corner and shook his hand. “Likewise, and feel free to drop by anytime.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be back from time to time while Jackson and I coordinate efforts on this case.”

  I felt a smile spreading across my face. “Then, I’ll look forward to seeing you again.”

  Jackson opened the door and practically shoved
Tanner through it. “I’ll talk to you later,” Jackson called out, quickly shutting the door behind him. Jackson turned and gave me a resentful look. “You can put your eyeballs back in their sockets now.”

  “What?” I asked in shock.

  “I saw how you were ogling him. Every woman does. He has them lined up around the block. You’d have to take a number.”

  “I was not ogling him,” I disputed, though I was. I couldn’t help myself. He was exceptionally attractive. “Besides, I’m still married.” It was only a technicality, and the sooner Richard and I were divorced, the better.

  “Are you thinking of reconciliation?” Jackson posed.

  “No, no way. I’m so over Richard. I cannot wait until the paperwork is signed by the judge.”

  “What are you waiting on?” he inquired.

  “Richard won’t let me proceed with the divorce.”

  “Why not?” he pushed.

  I frowned and shifted around on my feet. “I can’t talk about it. But, trust me, I’m over Richard.”

  “You can’t talk about it … or you won’t talk about it?”

  “It’s really complicated and there are gag orders in place. So, I can’t talk about it.”

  The gag orders were vague on their surface, generally prohibiting me from speaking anything disparaging with respect to Richard or his profession as a heart surgeon. But if I didn’t know something Richard didn’t want told, there wouldn’t be a need for legally binding court orders.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rachel

  Going to bed, I left Jackson in the dining room. He was peering out the window, switching between his binoculars and his telescope. Logan Foster had returned home, bringing with him a Whataburger sack, which he ate while he and David Hutchins watched TV. Jackson looked bored to death, but he was hoping the two men might venture out during the night. He wanted me to give him a house key in case he had to follow them. I just couldn’t do it, not yet. While Jackson was in law enforcement, I really didn’t know anything about him. He could be a dirty cop for all I knew and, by giving him a key, he might return sometime in the future and rob me. Instead, I told him just to wake me and I’d let him out and lock up behind him. He made me promise if he left, I’d let him back inside, which I did. Because, let’s face it, I had decided Jackson could stay here so long as Tanner was coming by every now and then. Hey, I was only human.

 

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