The House Across The Street

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  We wait around for Rob to show up and I introduce her to my red-haired friend. We only chat a bit, and Rachel graciously lets Rob know to make himself at home. We say our goodbyes and I hold the front door for Rachel. We step outside, catching the evening sun as it dwindles, kissing against the horizon in a burst of dreamy colors matching a painter’s brush dipped in reds, yellows, and soft grays.

  Oh God, I suddenly think, wondering if we are going in my smelly, trashed-out car. When Rachel instinctively heads off the porch to the left, instead of down the sidewalk ending where my car is parked, I breathe a sigh of relief … until I wonder if she is going to drive me on our date. I kind of like to be in charge … if you know what I mean. “I’ll drive,” I tell her, hoping she will let me. Yeah, I’m in charge.

  “Okay,” she says, without giving me any flak at all. She just hands over the fob. I am elated until I can’t figure out the car adjustments, or even how to mash a button to get the damned steptronic transmission into reverse. What a freaking nightmare. But once I get the feel for the car, I want one. To hell with my rolling piece of shit.

  We arrive in perfect time, even walking in with her friends, Bradley and Catie. Right away I notice Catie is wearing unimpressive tan pants and a coordinating sweater which do not equate to how beautiful my Rachel looks. As we go through the glass doors and into the entrance hall, Rachel’s friend, Brenna, plows through a crowd of people, dragging some guy along with her. “My God, we were starting to worry if you guys were going to make it.”

  Fearing I must’ve looked at my watch incorrectly, I do a double check and see we are three minutes late. Is that late? Rachel blames me for having to adjust her car settings. I guess we are late. “I’m sorry,” I apologize, though I can’t believe the words found their way from my lips over three minutes. “I’m Jackson,” I add sticking out my hand.

  Introductions go around and Brenna introduces her boyfriend. “This is Damien Williams.”

  Damien. Right away I think of that movie, The Omen, and I just know this guy is pure evil. He’s at least six-four with thick black hair, combed straight back. He towers against my barely six feet and he is wearing a black dress jacket and black dress trousers with a white button-up shirt, making me look too casual. He looks damned good. He shakes my hand and says, “It’s very nice to meet you.” I decide I hate him.

  Bradley, who is dressed similarly to me, is only about five-eight and chunky around the middle. I decide I like him … even though he has a nice job.

  Catie bubbles up a smile. “You’re the client I saw the other day.” Then she jerks her head to Rachel, wanting more details.

  “He’s a friend too,” Rachel explains. I almost tell everyone this is our first date. I decide the timing might be off. So, I don’t. Plus, I don’t want to get in trouble with Rachel.

  Brenna, a tall, thin, brunette, turns her giant brown eyes in my direction. “Oh, you really were there? I thought Catie was lying just to get ten bucks out of me.”

  Catie sticks her hand out. “You owe me another ten bucks because Rachel showed up tonight.”

  Brenna laughs. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Rachel hired an actor both times.”

  At this point, I think my fake movie career would have been perfect. Then again, Brenna might have been dead set that I was an actor hired to show up with Rachel. Maybe Rachel dodged a bullet.

  We try to talk over the room filled with murmuring people. But it’s difficult to hear and even harder to find a spot to stand together and I am glad when the doors open for seating. Our tickets are a map to our aisle and Damien ushers Brenna in first by placing his hand on the small of her back. Bradley does the same for Catie. And so, guess what? I do the same for Rachel. It is the first time I have touched her … well other than the night I crawled into bed with her and the time I comforted her after the news story on Eugene Smith. But tonight, it’s different and I feel a big flutter in my heart.

  The show is funnier than heck. I laugh my ass off, and Rachel says she is about to pee her pants. Apparently all three girls feel the same, because once the show is over, it is a stampede for the ladies’ room.

  “Let’s go for a drink,” Brenna suggests once we have regrouped.

  Man, I am all in. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since being with Rachel. I suddenly wonder if she drinks. We pick a place within walking distance and find a table in a crowded bar and restaurant.

  “I’m hungry,” Rachel says. “We didn’t eat dinner, did we Jackson?”

  “Nope,” I say shaking my head. “And my roast beef has long ago disappeared.”

  From the looks Brenna and Catie toss at Rachel, I get the impression we must sound like a couple. I smile at Rachel, liking the thought of being a couple. Once we had a chance to inspect the menus, I move my gaze to her. “What would you like, hon?” Rachel narrows her eyes at me and gives me an undeniable scowl. It is a horrifying sight. The flutter in my heart has been replaced with complete terror. “I mean, what would you like, Rachel? My treat.”

  She keeps her back stiff and goes back to perusing the menu. Once the drinks and food are ordered, Bradley asks what I do for a living and I go ahead and tell him my police officer story about relocating from Oklahoma. It is closest to the truth and will barely need tweaking once Rachel and I become an actual couple and we are routinely hanging out with her friends. But what I notice is Damien’s reaction. In fact, I’ve noticed him eyeballing me all night, but especially now as he pushes back in his chair and grabs his drink. While he gulps it down, I notice tiny beads of perspiration forming on his forehead. He is nervous. I recall he met Brenna through her law firm. While I had previously pictured them in meetings over impressive corporate ventures, now my thoughts have swung the other direction and I wonder if it might have been criminally related. I watch him the rest of the night and he watches me. There is some tension between us, and I am determined to find out why.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Rachel

  “Goodnight you guys,” I told my friends as Jackson and I parted ways from our night out. Night had settled in, dropping the temperature into the low thirties. A breeze whipped up, causing a blast of crisp air to cut straight through to my skin and, instinctively, I moved closer to Jackson as we made our way out. “I had such a good time,” I told Jackson once we were in the car and headed back to the house.

  “Me too,” he said with a wide grin. “I really did Rachel. Thanks for inviting me.”

  “You and Bradley seemed to be getting along well,” I brought up and then wondered why it mattered. This hadn’t been a real date. Did it make a difference if he clicked with my friend’s significant others?

  “Yeah, I thought so too. Turns out we both like to play cards. We’ll have to invite him and Catie over for dinner and then I’ll whip his ass at euchre.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I agreed. Richard was always far too busy to sit still long enough for games. And too, there wasn’t any reason Jackson and I couldn’t remain friends once his job was over. It’d be nice to have someone to pal around with for a change.

  “What’s the deal with the guy Brenna was with?” Jackson asked with a concerned look on his face.

  “What do you mean?” I hadn’t noticed anything, other than he was good-looking.

  “When I told him I was a cop, he couldn’t stop staring at me. He was watching me all night, and you, too. Something wasn’t right.”

  “Oh, I didn’t notice. I suppose I was too busy visiting with Catie and Brenna.”

  “Ask Brenna why he was a client … at least enough to know whether it was for a criminal matter. Seriously, Rachel, he made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.”

  “Okay, I’ll ask, but she probably won’t tell me anything because of attorney-client confidentiality.” As we rode along in silence, I wondered if he was imagining things. It seemed against Brenna’s character to date a criminal. She was exceptionally straitlaced. And too, it wouldn’t look good for her position at the firm to
be keeping company with someone they represented in an unlawful act, particularly in her boss’s opinion. I didn’t think she’d take the risk, handsome or not, which Damien was.

  When we turned the corner to my house, Jackson let out a big gasp. “Rob’s truck is gone. He’s not here.” Jackson’s eyes darted across the street. “Shit, Foster and Hutchins’ cars are both gone too. Shit.”

  Before we could even get in the house, Jackson was on the phone calling Rob. Thank goodness the door was locked, as Jackson had given his key to Rob, just in case.

  “What happened?” Jackson excitedly hollered into the phone.

  Rob was on speaker and I could hear him. “Foster and Hutchins both came out and left around the same time. I followed Foster. There’s no telling where Hutchins went.”

  “Damn it,” Jackson muttered half to himself, half to Rob. “Tell me where you are, and I’ll come take over.”

  “We might be on our way back. Hang tight and I’ll keep you informed.”

  We went inside and waited for Rob to show up. “Damn it,” Jackson complained. “I can’t believe I’ve set around all this time and they waited until I’m not here to make a move.” He paced around and ran a hand though his mop of stringy hair. “It just figures.”

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized, thinking I shouldn’t have invited Jackson out. He was working and something like this could affect his job.

  “Let’s just see what Rob has to say.” He had the lights cut and in between pacing, he peered out the window and watched for his return. Some fifteen minutes later, Logan Foster arrived back home. About five minutes later, Rob pulled in behind my car. “Good, he’s back,” Jackson announced. “Come in,” Jackson said as he opened the door and then gestured for me and Rob to join him at the dining table. “What happened?”

  “Like I said, they both left at the same time. Since Foster was the handyman in both slip and fall cases, I followed him, thinking he was the primary target.”

  “And,” Jackson pushed when Rob’s gaze turned to peer out the window toward the Foster house.

  “He went to a nursing and rehab center.” He shook his head. “Saturday night … and our guy spent it with the old folks.”

  “His grandmother,” I explained, surprised at hearing Logan had spent his Saturday evening visiting his grandmother and was now apparently home for the night. “A few months ago, Imogene Foster took a bad fall, broke her hip and is now living in a rehabilitation center. Logan wasted no time at all taking up residence in Mrs. Foster’s home,” I added in a disapproving tone, thinking Logan always milked his grandmother for every dime he could get.

  Both men glared at me. “A fall,” they said in unison and then looked at each other.

  “I remember you telling me she had an accident and Foster placed her in a care facility. I didn’t realize the accident was from a fall. It occurs to me, Foster may have pushed his own grandmother,” Jackson pondered.

  “My God,” Rob added. “If he did, why did he let her live?”

  “I don’t know,” Jackson mused. “Maybe the circumstances would’ve looked too suspicious. Or maybe he couldn’t bring himself to finish the job on this own grandmother.”

  “Who found her? Do you know?” Rob asked me.

  “Logan found her. But I don’t think it was the type of fall you’re envisioning. She was on her back porch and there are only five or six steps going down. I don’t see how Logan would’ve expected her to die in such a short distance.”

  “Is there a cement landing at the bottom?” Jackson inquired. “Even from a short distance, if your head hits concrete, it can kill you.”

  “It is,” I said with a frown, not wanting to believe Logan would harm his Grammy, as he referred to her. Then again, I wondered how much he stood to gain on an inheritance.

  “He did it,” Rob spouted, both men jumping on the same bandwagon, fully believing Logan had tried to kill his own grandmother.

  “He’s been visiting her though. And he was there tonight,” I pointed out. “It seems to me he cares about her.”

  Rob shook his head. “He’s probably been putting on a show of concern for everyone’s benefit. In reality, he’s probably biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to put a pillow over her head.”

  I shook my head. “No. Even though Logan has always had his hand out when it came to his grandmother’s money, I just can’t believe he’d try to kill her. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the facility and talk to Mrs. Foster to find out the details of her fall.”

  Jackson nodded. “Thanks, Rachel. Anything you could find out would be greatly appreciated.”

  “Well, I’m going to leave you two to ponder over whatever Logan did, or didn’t do. I have a book club meeting coming up, so I think I’ll get ready for bed and read for a while. Feel free to sit up all night and watch the house across the street.”

  “Goodnight,” Jackson said.

  “Goodnight, and it was nice meeting you,” Rob responded.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jackson

  After discussing all aspects of the case with my friend Rob and watching the Foster house until late in the night, I am dead asleep on the couch in the back room when I hear the doorbell ringing. Rachel must already be up because I hear her telling someone to come inside. A check of my watch lets me know it is a little before nine. Though it is time for me to rise and shine, I wonder who in the world is here this early on a Sunday? Sneaking into Rachel’s bedroom, I listen to voices coming from Rachel’s desk area. I recognize the tone as Brenna’s. I try to recall if Rachel had plans with her friends today, but my brain doesn’t remember anything.

  “My God, Rachel, I came over to tell you what I found out last night,” Brenna splutters, sounding beside herself. “After we left the show, Damien came back to my place. While I was in the kitchen, I heard him on his phone. He was talking to Richard.”

  “Richard!” Rachel yelps. “How does he know Richard?”

  “I swear I didn’t know. But it’s why I’ve come over to apologize to you in person. After Damien was off the phone, I cornered him about the call. It turns out that Damien works in the medical records at the hospital where Richard also works. Apparently, they’re friends. Damien confessed that Richard asked him to come to my office to draw up his Will, along with a few other estate-planning documents. I thought he was a genuine client, but instead he was just a spy to see if Richard had a chance of getting back with you. When Damien failed to report much back to Richard, Richard had the bright idea to get six tickets to the comedy show … this is how we scored those tickets. Richard thought if we were all coupled up, you’d feel lonely and want him back. Then you showed up with the Geico man.”

  Geico man. I scrunch my brows together at hearing this. I don’t know what she means, but I think I am offended.

  “Jackson,” Rachel corrects Brenna.

  “Whatever,” Brenna waves her off. “Damien was calling Richard to report back to him about how the night went. He told him you were on a date with Jackson.” She pauses for a moment as if working up her nerve. “Rachel, I gotta tell you, Richard did not take the news well. I’m here to warn you about him being really upset from the way Damien described it. Also, it goes without saying, I won’t be seeing Damien again after discovering he was only using me to find out information for Richard. Anyway, I wanted to tell you in person.”

  “Thank you for the warning.” Rachel’s voice sounds extremely concerned … like she might be afraid.

  “Don’t you see, Rachel, Richard really loves you and wants to get back with you.” Brenna’s voice has suddenly taken on a pleading tone. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be going to these extreme measures. You need to give him another chance.”

  No, she does not, I think to myself. I strain my ears, waiting to hear how Rachel reacts.

  “My God, Brenna, haven’t I told you enough times that Richard and I are over. OVER! Why can’t you get it through your thick head?”

  Right now, I am jumping for
joy to hear Rachel is still anti-Richard. Take that Brenna, Rachel is over Richard. Get it through your thick head.

  “Jesus Rachel, he’s everything any woman would want. Why can’t you get it through your thick head?”

  “You don’t know everything about Richard,” Rachel sneers.

  “Well, you never say anything bad about him. I just don’t get it. He’s successful, charming, handsome, and he wants you back more than anything. He’s groveling and you won’t give him the time of day.”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you Brenna. You simply need to respect my decision when I assure you that Richard and I are over.”

  That’s right, Brenna, they’re over. I wish I could see Rachel right now. I chance a peek around one corner of the doorframe and see Brenna looking out the window at my car. Thank goodness I stowed my spy equipment before I crashed last night.

  “Holy cow, Rachel, is the hunk of junk out front Jackson’s?”

  “It is,” Rachel answers without elaborating.

  “Oh, dear Lord, he’s here!?”

  “He’s asleep. So, lower your voice,” Rachel warns.

  “No, please tell me you aren’t seeing him for real,” she screeches out her displeasure so loudly, her tone hurts my ears. “Not him! My God, Rachel, really?”

  She sounds so disapproving. What’s wrong with Rachel seeing me?

  “What if I am?” Rachel barks in a retaliatory tone.

  “No, you can’t be serious! Please tell me you aren’t honestly interested in a relationship with a Neanderthal. All night long, it felt like I was looking at that caveman from the Geico commercial. He’s mangy, Rachel. It was all I could do to keep from throwing up as I watched food going into his mouth with all those mustache hairs hanging down. Half of his food ended up as crumbs in his Brillo pad of a beard. And it grated on me to no end how he said your name … Raaachuuulll, making it ten miles long. Jesus, you can do better than him.”