The House Across The Street

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “Well, it’ll certainly come up in discussion,” my mom assured me.

  We talked for a while and then I signed off. “Thanks Mom and give my love to Dad.”

  “I will. Goodbye.”

  My gaze went to Jackson and Rob. “Well, I’m sure you’ve already put two and two together.”

  Rob shook his head. “I suppose, if you looked at things from a stepfather/stepson relationship, it makes sense Dawson would’ve demanded his son do a late-night heating repair.”

  “But if they were upfront about their relationship, you’d have thought Dawson would’ve spent the night at the Foster house if his house was too cold,” Jackson pointed out.

  “Guys let’s face it, there was no heater repair,” I barked.

  “She’s right,” Jackson agreed. “So, what did they do those two nights to make those noises?”

  “We need to get Rachel into that house,” Rob said firmly.

  Jackson peered out the window, this time looking at Dawson’s house instead of the Foster house. “We’ve been watching the wrong house this whole time. We need to be following Jarrod Dawson.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Jackson

  Earlier Rachel cooked up a delicious pot of chili. Unfortunately, she added beans. I’m scared to death I’m going to set off a stink bomb. Foul smells were not what I had in mind when I asked Rachel if she wanted us to get to know each other better. I may have to run several times to the bathroom just to find cover. Or, I’ll blame it on Rob. Right now, I have distance working to my advantage as Rob teaches Rachel to learn his camera detecting equipment.

  “Okay Rachel, this isn’t the best device money can buy, but it’s still a high-grade professional camera detector. It can be set to vibrate or beep when you’re near something that’s transmitting. To find a hidden camera, hold the viewfinder to your eye, press this button on the top to activate the LED lights, and look around the room until it spots a glint of light. It works best in a dark room, but if you’ll practice, you’ll be able to perform the technique even in the daylight.”

  Once Rob gives her the rundown, Rachel waits in the pantry while he hides several tiny cameras throughout the house. On first attempt, she is slow as heck about finding them and she wants to know how many she needs to locate. But after several practice runs and changing up the number of cameras each time, she is getting proficient.

  “Perfect,” Rob praises when she sweeps the house in record time and locates every camera. “You’re ready,” he declares after literally hours of her becoming familiar with the device.

  “What if I come across a camera and I’ve already stepped in front of the recording view?” she thoughtfully brings up.

  “Text me at once and I’ll come take a look. Hopefully, I can make it look like it malfunctioned. Or, maybe I can loop a recording over the top of it. We’ll just have to cross that bridge when, and if, we come to it.”

  He didn’t look at all convincing, causing me to worry for Rachel’s safety, not to mention, entering a person’s house without authority could tarnish her good reputation, or get her killed. “Rob, we can’t do this. There are too many variables. Dawson could be watching his cameras from a remote location. He could see her enter the room before she’s even swiped the area. There might even be motion sensors. I don’t want her to do this.” I glance worriedly between Rachel and Rob.

  Rob’s foot is nervously bouncing up and down and he is fidgeting with a pen. “I know. But we need something. We don’t have one thing on Dawson to suggest he’s doing anything illegal. If she can find anything, we can get a search warrant. Hopefully, it can be in place before he knows what hit him. And if he’s in jail himself, it’s unlikely he’ll want to press charges against Rachel.”

  Sighing, I rub my hands over my face and peer out the window at Dawson’s place. My eyes grow wide when I see Logan Foster heading across the street. “Red alert,” I yell, grabbing my tripod. “Get everything to the pantry.”

  Rob doesn’t hesitate for a second and we cart the equipment as fast as we can. “Rach, tell Logan I’m your cousin and this is my friend. We’re staying here a few days while we get on our feet.”

  “Logan! Logan’s coming over here!” She has barely screeched out her surprise when there is a knock on the door.

  Rachel hesitates, giving me a panicked look. “Open,” I whisper.

  She sucks in a long breath and pulls on the door. “Logan, what a surprise.” She opens the door wider. “Come on in.”

  As soon as Logan steps inside, his eyes dart between me and Rob, then back to Rachel.

  “This is Jackson,” Rachel introduces. “And his friend Rob,” she adds. “Jackson is my cousin. They were roommates in Oklahoma and their house burned down. They’re staying with me until they can figure things out.”

  “Hi, I’m Logan.” He sticks out a friendly hand in introduction. “Dang, it must be crowded over here … isn’t this only a two-bedroom?”

  “Yes, it is,” Rachel answers, not divulging one of those rooms is her copy/file room … with no bed. And she doesn’t bother to explain the sleeping arrangements either. I hope I will soon be sharing her bed. The thought causes me to realize I need to stop telling people I’m her cousin. This could get weird.

  “What brings you over?” Rachel questions him, her eyes darting to a notebook Logan is holding in his hand.

  “Tax return,” Logan answers and then he rolls his eyes and says, “I know … I know. I should’ve got this information to you sooner. At first, I wasn’t going to report anything to the IRS. Screw them.” He chuckles, but then stops short when none of us join in. “Then I started to worry about the checks I’ve received. So, I made a list of those. Then I got worried about tax fraud. So, I’ve reported everything … even the cash I’ve received from clients.” He pauses. “Oh, this is for my odd-job business. I don’t know if you knew I was doing small repairs. But I am. Been doing it for about a year now.” He pauses again, looking between the three of us. “If you need any repairs, I’m your guy.” He beams a proud smile.

  Rachel nods. “Yes, remember when I spoke with you about Mr. Smith turning up missing, you said he wanted you to help him with a porch swing. I gathered you were doing handyman jobs.”

  “Oh yeah,” he says, putting a palm to his forehead recalling the conversation. “I’d forgotten.”

  “Have a seat,” Rachel instructs. “Let me look this over to see if I have any questions.” Logan sits in one of the two client chairs in front of her desk and Rob and I meander into the kitchen to give them some privacy … though we are well within hearing distance.

  Rachel makes rustling noises as she sifts through the paperwork and then she says, “I know you were in California for a while. Does this include any labor you may have contracted out there?”

  “No, there was only one job out there and I didn’t get paid for it. It was for Arnold Wilson and it was David’s job. I was only helping him.”

  Rob and I give each other knowing looks, remembering Arnold Wilson was the elderly man who supposedly slipped by his pool and cracked his head open, killing him on impact. When the police investigated the scene, they found several checks made out to David Hutchins. Hutchins admitted being the handyman, but since there wasn’t anything suggesting Hutchins had caused the fall, it had been ruled as an accident.

  “Let me take a close look at this,” Rachel tells Logan, referring to the paperwork.

  “Sure thing,” Logan responds. “It’s in booklet form. The first tab represents last year’s work. The second tab is for this year. You’ll only need to go from here to here,” he instructs. “I wanted to keep it together, so I didn’t lose anything. And since it barely took up any of the pages, I just tabbed it by year and kept going.”

  For a few minutes, the shuffling sound of papers could be heard, and then Rachel says, “This looks simple enough to follow. I can probably get this knocked out tomorrow.”

  “Okay, good. Sounds great. I’m sorry to have waited un
til the last few days. I appreciate you being able to prepare my return on such short notice.” I hear Logan getting to his feet. “If you have any questions, give me a call.”

  “I will,” Rachel says. “Oh, by the way, my parents are traveling. They’re in California right now and are planning on an evening out with your parents. They asked if you wanted to pass anything along to them.”

  “Yeah, tell them I’ll come for a visit over Easter and David will be with me. I’m hoping if I can get him back out there, he won’t come home with me.”

  “Oh, are things not working out for you two over there?” Rachel inquires.

  I hear Logan scuffling his feet. “Not really. My grammy doesn’t like him, and she wants him out of her house. Grammy is improving a lot. If she’s able to come home, I’d like for her to be able to do so. But she won’t if David’s there. So, I need him gone.”

  “Why doesn’t he just move in with his stepdad?” Rachel suggests.

  “What do you mean?” he asks, and from our hiding spot in the kitchen I look at Rob and shrug because surely Logan knows Jarrod Dawson is David Hutchins’ stepfather.

  “Mr. Dawson,” Rachel answers. “He could simply move in with him.”

  I hear Logan faltering backwards. “No … what gave you that idea?”

  “Your mother told my mother. She said Mr. Dawson was David’s stepfather and they’ve always been extremely close. I assumed it was why Mr. Dawson moved down here at the same time as David came to stay with you.”

  “Damn … are you sure?”

  “My mother said Larry came to visit Mrs. Foster a few weeks ago and she indicated her distaste for David. Your father asked a friend in the police department to run a background check on him. He told your dad about Mr. Dawson being David’s stepfather.”

  “Shit. I can’t believe this. I’m going to confront him about it.”

  “No Logan, don’t,” Rachel said forcefully. “Talk to your parents first and don’t mention anything at all to David or Mr. Dawson.” A pause follows and then Rachel says, “Logan, in fact, since those two haven’t been upfront with you about their relationship, they may be up to something underhanded.”

  Rachel gives a clear warning to Logan about opening his mouth and he leaves, promising to keep his trap shut for now. As soon as he is out of sight, we regroup at the dining table.

  “Rachel may be right,” I decide. “The stepfather/stepson team may be using Logan to get what they want, and Logan doesn’t have a clue.”

  “But what?” Rob asks. “There’s still nothing missing from the residences and unless Dawson is selling an insurance policy to a family member, killing the policy holder and then getting a cut, I don’t see how there’s anything to gain for them.” Rob ponders the possibility for a moment. “And, think about it, eventually there would be too many people embroiled in his scam. Someone would trip him up. He can’t possibly be involving third parties.”

  “Well, Logan just gave me a list of all of his clients, not only from last year, but the information includes this year. Maybe this paperwork will provide a lead.” Rachel proudly waves the notebook around.

  “Well don’t just sit there looking beautiful,” I push with what I’m sure is a cute grin on my face. “Go make copies.”

  Rachel flashes me her pearly whites and heads for the copy/file room. A few moments later she returns with two sets and Rob and I began poring over the data. The list includes the two slip and fall cases: Martha Hilliard and Norma Ramsey.

  We are all seated at the table and Rachel is perusing the originals supplied by Logan when she suddenly inhales a large breath of air and a hand flies over her chest. “Oh my God,” she screeches. “Logan’s list includes Levi Crandall. The job performance details him trimming branches.” She looks at both of us, her face as white as a ghost. “Betty Crandall, his widow … I just talked to her at the book club meeting. Remember, I told you he recently died from falling off a ladder while trimming some branches in the backyard.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Jackson

  “But why would he be trimming branches if he just hired Logan to trim them?” Rachel second guesses herself.

  “Maybe Foster missed one and it was bugging him,” Rob offers in explanation.

  “And don’t forget, Jarrod Dawson tried to sell him insurance. What if Hutchins or Dawson went over and killed Mr. Crandall and they’re trying to pin everything on Logan Foster?” I theorize.

  “I don’t know about that,” Rob disagrees. “Just because Dawson tried to sell him insurance, doesn’t mean the old man didn’t fall off the ladder. Besides, I’ll bet the whole neighborhood has a business card from Dawson. I’m sure he’s tried to sell everyone some type of insurance at one time or another. It doesn’t make him a murderer.”

  “It doesn’t make Foster or Hutchins a murderer either,” I concede. “But it seems a little too coincidental for there to be three incidents where elderly people have fallen to their deaths.”

  “They could all be involved somehow,” Rob concludes.

  Rachel shrugs. “I don’t think Logan’s involved. If he’s worried about the IRS catching up with him, he wouldn’t be the type to murder someone,” Rachel speculates.

  I nod at Rachel, thinking she is probably right. “Let’s take this list of clients Foster gave us and talk to everyone on it. Surely, we will find the common denominator. We’re going to have to try something different anyway since Dawson’s garage faces the alleyway, making it impossible for us to know when he leaves his house.”

  “Mrs. Tuttle is supposed to be watching for him to leave,” Rob reminds me.

  Rachel shakes her head. “Mrs. Tuttle spends a lot of her day out at various clubs and other functions. She’s an active member of the Royal High Garden Club, a bridge club, the book club, and she likes to play bingo. When she’s not attending functions, she’s on the phone or over at a neighbor’s house, gossiping about someone. Or she’s watching out her front window or listening to the TV,” Rachel informs us. “Unless she’s in her bedroom, she won’t hear Mr. Dawson’s garage door going up.”

  “Well, shit,” Rob cusses. “I’ve been waiting for her to give the go-ahead for Rachel to search Dawson’s house.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Dammit, then let’s get started on the list first thing in the morning.”

  Using Foster’s list, we map out the addresses for each client. Everyone lives within a few blocks of each other. Our first stop will be Betty Crandall and we’ll go from there. Rachel tells us if she knows the residents. Unfortunately, she only knows a few. We’ve been at this for hours on end and after a while her eyes begin to droop, and I can tell she’s getting tired.

  “I’m going to bed,” she finally caves and pushes up in her chair. From previous nights, I know she will remove her makeup, moisturize her face, brush her teeth, and change into her night clothes. She will don her thick terry cloth robe and come and tell us goodnight. This will be my cue tonight.

  First, I hear the water running, the toilet flushing and then I hear her in her bedroom. A few moments later, just as I predicted, she comes in to tell us goodnight.

  “I’ll walk you to your door,” I tell her. I can tell she is surprised when she falters back a few steps.

  “Oh, okay,” she agrees.

  Walking beside her down the short hallway, we arrive at her doorway all too soon. “Well here we are,” I announce, when about five seconds later we’re at the threshold. I push her against the doorframe and lean into her. She looks up at me expectantly, anticipating a kiss. I want to kiss her so bad I can hardly stand it. But I don’t. I am implementing the three-date rule of no contact. I’m counting the comedy club as the first date. And because I’m supposed to be “at work” I can’t take her out anywhere. Since I asked about getting to know each other better, I’m considering this whole afternoon to be our second date. And now I am walking her to her door … without a kiss. See, I can be a gentleman. But I am so close to her face, I can feel her just
-brushed breath on my face. “Well, goodnight,” I whisper softly in her ear. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Oh, goodnight,” she says. I can hear the disappointment in her voice. She wants me. It is just like I originally said … soon enough she will be begging me to have sex with her. I’m not going to torture her, mind you. This is simply my way of staying in control, because I am not treating Rachel like every other girl I’ve had in my life. With Rachel, I am going to hold on tight.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Rachel

  Jackson never ceases to amaze me. When he walked me to my door, I thought for sure he was going to kiss me. When he didn’t, I felt a little disappointed. I thought he must have chickened out. He was much shyer than the cad he originally came across as. It was sweet, like we’d been on a date and he was abiding by a no-contact rule. I found myself liking this version of him a lot. When I fell asleep it was with thoughts of what Jackson and I might become together, and I discovered renewed hope blooming within my soul. While I never thought it possible to have feelings for another man again, apparently Richard hadn’t killed my spirit completely.

  When I awoke the next day, after cooking us breakfast, I set to work on Logan’s tax return. It was done in no time and, after calling him, he came over, paid me and the return was sent off electronically. Working on a few others, I discovered I was finally making headway. And from the looks of my dwindling pile, I might not have to file any extensions.

  “I can’t stand the thought of leaving you alone,” Jackson told me as he and Rob prepared to leave to go and talk to several of Logan’s clients. “I’m worried to death Richard’s going to come back.”

  “I’ll keep the door locked,” I assured him. “And you can come back for lunch. I’ll prepare us something to eat.”

  “Okay,” he agreed with a shrug.

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” I suggested, which in this case meant about five steps from my desk to the exit.