Psychosis_When a Dream Turns Deadly

by Roger Bray

  “Look at all the other pictures, if the shelving unit scenario doesn’t stack up, but we are assured that she was attacked in the house where’s the evidence? There’s no damage, at all, anywhere. It wasn’t anywhere where there’s carpet, cleaning blood out of a carpet is almost impossible and would leave signs of product behind. There are ornaments and breakables, a glass topped table and pictures …” as he spoke, Steve pointed out the item he was referring to in each picture, “everywhere and yet none were damaged during this furious assault where even an injured Hazel would have fought back. Nothing appears damaged.”

  “She would have fought.”

  “That’s what you said, ‘she would have fought’ and yet there’s no evidence whatsoever of a fight of any sort. Where the DA says they found the bloody fingerprint, Hazel’s bloody fingerprint, here. Look …” He pulled out a photo showing a shelving unit built into the kitchen counter, the glass shelves full of cut glass wine glasses. “…it’s on the underside of the counter directly in front of these glass shelves. There was no slamming, or those shelves would have either collapsed or Hazel’s legs would have hit them as she was propelled forward.”

  “And they didn’t!”

  “Not according to this picture but I’ve no idea, I’ve never been to your brother’s house, but you have: does it look different to you, the shelves, the glassware, anything?”

  Alice had studied the pictures at length during the trial and the appeals and she studied them again now, looking from one to the other until she was satisfied. She shook her head slowly.

  “Nothing,” she decided, “They are pictures of the house.”

  “Exactly, they could have been taken by a real estate agent; Brian could have taken these if Alex and Hazel had asked him to list their house. The house is clean, it’s neat and tidy, there’s no damage. No damage at all and yet, according to the DA, Alex bludgeoned or beat Hazel and in the process, apparently ‘slammed’ Hazel into the counter top, smashing her down onto her wine glass, breaking it and seriously wounding her, from there, we supposedly have a murderous dance around the kitchen, dining area, and wherever else … until Hazel was dead. But …”

  “There’s no damage.”

  “No, there isn’t, certainly not in my mind enough for what we are told happened here. Looking at these pictures, the DA placed his crime scene between the blood spots, both next to vulnerable glass fittings which would have been broken if what he says happened actually happened. Instead, we have a beautiful home, and a real estate portfolio.

  “You said that she would fight, on the evidence of these pictures there was no fight. She was either hit so hard that she dropped like a hog and a blow that hard would have left evidence behind, without some congenital defect giving her a weak skull it would have taken a few blows to finish her, and as soon as you strike more than once you start spreading evidence around the place, evidence that would have been impossible to clean-up completely, as they have suggested Alex did, and which I know is impossible.”

  “Or,” she asked, starting to understand what he was saying.

  “Or, simply put, this is not a crime scene. Because nothing happened here. Based on this, I think your brother is innocent.”

  Alice’s fingers flew to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears.

  “You honestly believe that?”

  Steve nodded, “I have seen absolutely nothing in all this paperwork, in all these crimes scene photographs that could convince me that Hazel was killed in this house and I have seen nothing that suggests that Alex was involved. Forensics went through the house with black lights and these few spots are the best that they could come up with? It doesn’t add up to anything. The evidence says more to prove that Hazel cut herself as you described rather than Alex assaulted her.”

  She hesitated, remembering what he had said previously.

  “So, what does this do for us, for Alex? Where does this take us?” she asked.

  He spread his hands and shrugged.

  “Honestly this does nothing for Alex, unless you can get the judge to reopen the case, or the DA to admit that the evidence doesn’t stack up, or the governor might be persuaded to listen to a plea on the basis of the non-existent evidence.”

  “But?”

  “But, I don’t believe that any of those things are going to happen. I don’t think there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that this is substantive enough to get Alex out. The judge would have been your best chance, but reading the documents, he is an honorable man, who was a little surprised by the verdict, but he will follow the court procedures to the letter. He will only hear an appeal if there’s something new, and I think you know that the appeal’s process has run its course. Unless we can come up with something more than this, we are no further forward.”

  “So, nothing at all is going to change? The whole thing is a waste of time? Now you know Alex is innocent and we still can’t do anything about it?”

  “Hey, I didn’t say that so let’s slow down. I know what you’re saying, but you can’t say that nothing has changed. You knew Alex was innocent before I came along, but now,” he grinned broadly at her, “I believe you as well. And we can cross off that piece of evidence from the DA’s case. One brick in the foundation of the case that we can kick away.”

  She smiled despite her mood and the sudden deflation of her hopes.

  “It’s a start, it’s a place we can start.”

  “Correct.”

  “Alex’s statement of that night. It’s not an alibi or the lies of a murderer, we know that it’s another witness statement—we can start from where his statement ends.”

  Alice nodded.

  “I need to go and see the house; would that be OK?”

  “Sure, when would you like to do that? I have a key and we can go around anytime.”

  “It’s not far from here is it?”

  “No, not at all, a ten-minute walk, if that.”

  “Tomorrow morning then, I’ll be here at nine and we can go around then.”

  “OK, not a problem.” Alice said as Steve stood to leave.

  Chapter Two

  “And he still owns it?” Steve asked the next morning as Alice opened the front door of Alex’s house.

  “He and Hazel, well Hazel’s mom now, I suppose she inherits or whatever it is, all of Hazel’s property.”

  “And she hasn’t tried to sell it?”

  “Hazel’s mom?”

  He nodded.

  “No, she can’t do anything without my approval as I have power of attorney over Alex’s half, and I wouldn’t do anything without Alex’s OK.”

  “Do you think that he will sell?”

  “I don’t think he wants to, he and Hazel owned it outright, they put everything into it and they both loved it, but in time, I suppose he might have to.”

  Standing inside the front door, Steve looked across the front yard and the single driveway which broadened to a double as it passed the corner of the house and out of his line of sight. Looking at where Alex said Hazel parked her car that night, he could see the bit of road where the Volvo had been, was blocked by foliage and the fence. A car parked there at night would be pretty well hidden from someone standing where he was and he couldn’t see if Hazel had been alone.

  They walked through the hallway and into the kitchen and the dining room where the glass displays, with their ornaments, were still standing, exactly where they had been in the crime scene pictures.

  “Do you come in and check it often?” Steve asked as he wiped a finger across the work bench, expecting dust but finding none.

  “I pay for a cleaner to come in once a month and dust and vacuum, mop the floors and keep the porches clear. It doesn’t need much but I want it to be clean when he gets out.”

  “What about the yard?”

  “I was going to get a yard maintenance company to come in every month or so and keep it cleaned up, but the neighbor on the left, Jim Fletcher, volunteered to do it. I drop him a bottle of Jack
every couple of months to say thanks, but he seems to be happy to do it. Apparently, he doesn’t have much else to do on the weekends so keeping Alex’s, and his own yard clear keeps him occupied.”

  “Only on the weekends, so he isn’t retired?”

  “No, he works for the Union Pacific, maintenance engineer or something like that, he keeps irregular hours, but likes to spend his free hours gardening.”

  “Doesn’t his wife mind, you would have thought that she would want to do more than stay home while he tends the neighbor’s garden.”

  “He’s a widower, his wife, Linda, died fifteen years ago. It was tragic, she was so young, he was devastated when she died, and he never remarried.”

  “Accident?”

  Alice shook her head, “Cancer, cervical cancer, she was only thirty-five. It was all so quick from what I remember. She complained of abdominal pains that were getting worse and was finally persuaded to go and see a specialist. She was diagnosed, but it was already too late, it had spread through her body.”

  “She went quickly?”

  “A couple of months from diagnosis to burying her. From what I remember, Jim fell apart, he lost his spark, and he’s being going through the motions ever since. Of course, Alex and Hazel didn’t live next door then, but they were living only a few streets away and everyone was talking about poor Jim. He’s a nice guy to talk to, polite, almost cheerful at times, but you can see that he is a bit lost, he’ll be talking, even laughing then he’ll stop like he suddenly remembers that he’s not supposed to be happy.”

  “You said he never remarried?”

  “No, I asked him once if he ever thought he would remarry, but he shrugged and said that no one could come close to Linda, although he did flirt at times, saying that if ever Hazel or I were looking for someone new, he might make the effort. But I don’t think his heart was in it. It used to make us laugh though, in a nice way.”

  “There was nothing from him on the night of Hazel’s disappearance? I don’t remember seeing a statement from him on the brief. Was there one?”

  “No, Jim is a real early to bed and early to rise type. He’s quite outdoorsy, in his early years, working for the Union Pacific he would often camp out when he was away. Now he stays in motels for work, but he still likes the outdoors, his wife used to like to camp as well and they used to go away quite a lot. He still goes camping and a bit of amateur prospecting on the Umpqua River.”

  “When he’s not working.”

  She nodded. Steve moved the curtains at the big bay window in the lounge so he could check out the houses around, none of which could be seen clearly, thanks to a border of shrubs around the garden.

  “Are any other neighbors that were around when Hazel went missing still living here?”

  “They all were, I think, except Art Jenkins. He lived at number twenty-seven, down the hill a bit, He died before Hazel went missing.”

  “Illness or old age?”

  Alice shook her head.

  “Neither, car accident, he crashed on the road to Leaburg. Old Mrs. Bailey, at twenty-six she left …” Alice thought for a moment, “…only a few weeks before Hazel went missing. She moved to a nursing home near Bend, where her son lives.”

  “Did she sell the house?”

  “No, the house has been empty since then, but apart from that, it’s about the same as when Alex and Hazel lived here. Behind here,” she waved through the trees and shrubs to the rear of the yard, “backing onto Alex’s back garden is another old lady, Miss. Muir, Glenda Muir. She lives on her own and hasn’t been married as far as I know. Jim looks after her garden as well, and keeps an eye on Moth for her.

  “He keeps an eye on the moths for her?” Steve asked, confused. “Is she a lepidopterist or something?”

  “A what?”

  “Someone who studies moths.”

  Alice laughed, “No not moths, Moth.”

  “She has a pet moth?” Steve asked again, none the wiser.

  “No, it’s a cat.”

  “Called Moth?”

  “Yes,” she laughed, “he’s beautiful, a Maine Coon, he’s huge, with silver and black fur, he is the friendliest and most laid-back cat I have ever met. He’ll probably wander over if he knows someone is here.”

  Steve had wandered back through the kitchen and into the dining room. He pulled the curtains back from the tri-fold doors which, when opened fully and tucked away almost flush to the wall, turned the back patio and dining room into one big indoor/outdoor area.

  He pulled down on the lock levers and unlocked the left of the two doors before folding the first section back and walking out onto the patio. The area was neat although a few leaves had blown up against the low wall at the far end. The furniture was neatly stacked along one side with a tarpaulin covering it and tied down against the weather.

  “Was this Alex’s work or the neighbor’s, stacking everything up and covering it?”

  “It must have been Jim. Alex didn’t have much time to clean-up or tidy anything away before he was arrested. He didn’t make bail, so I had to come over and clean out his fridge and check everything over. Jim’s always on the go, either traveling for work or away camping. I think that he likes to keep busy. Being at work keeps him busy, and then when he is here, he takes care of his, Alex’s, and old Miss. Muir’s gardens.

  “He must like to be busy, there’s a lot of work here.”

  “He enjoys it and he likes having Moth around as well. He wanders around, making these three or four gardens a part of his territory. Jim feeds him as well, I think, but then when he’s away, Moth wanders back home again or checks out other people.”

  “He sure sounds like a sociable sort of cat.”

  She laughed, “Hazel used to say that Moth would come and take up residence on their back porch unless they invited him in, which they usually did, in which case he would make himself at home and raid the fridge. He would stay for a few hours, or a day, and then wander off after head-butting their legs a few times as if to say thank you. Since … well … now I’m not sure, but a few times when I’ve been here, he comes and sits outside the back door waiting to be let in. I have a couple of times and he’s checked out the house. Looking for Alex and Hazel, I think. He always seems disappointed that they’re not here.”

  Steve climbed the four steps down from the patio onto the rear lawn. He walked over to the rear of the yard where he presumed Jim’s property started as there was a fence. It was broken and decayed, held up more by the privet hedge that ran alongside than its own structure. Gaps through the fence and hedge made access between the two yards easy.

  He walked toward the corner of the house where a tangle of shrubs stopped him from going any further toward the street. To get to the road he either needed to go back through the house, around the far side of the house or, track back to one of the gaps in the hedge, cross Jim’s yard and then work his way forward. Both the yards had neat and tidy lawns, but they both also had areas where it was almost impossible to pass because of the shrubbery.

  “What are you looking for?” Alice asked.

  “Anything and nothing, I suppose. What I was actually trying to figure out is if Alex, once Hazel had left through the front door, could have made it out the back and around to sneak up on her car without her seeing or hearing him?”

  “And what do you think now that you’ve seen it?”

  “I would say not, Alex knew the yard better than I do but I doubt that he could have made it across all these twigs and foliage without her hearing him, there’s no evidence to suggest he did, but I thought I should check.”

  They were making their way back to the patio area when a male voice called out from an unseen person to their left, from Jim’s garden.

  “You know that’s private property you’re in. What are you doing in there? Speak up before I call the police.”

  Alice looked at Steve and smiled as if they were children stealing apples, before she called out, “It’s OK, Jim, it’s me, Alice.”<
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  The rustling increased and Alex’s neighbor, Jim Fletcher appeared. Quite short, probably six inches shorter than Steve. Wiry and muscular, Jim defied his age. If his silver-gray hair and weather-beaten face hadn’t given him away, Steve would have thought him ten years younger than his fifty-seven years.

  He smiled when he realized who was in the garden and his defensive posture relaxed.

  “Oh, hi, Alice. I didn’t recognize you through the trees, I didn’t expect you to be here. What’s up?”

  “Nothing, Jim, this is a friend of mine, Steve and I thought I’d show him around.”

  “Alex’s not thinking of selling, is he?” he said looking suspiciously at them both.

  “No, no nothing like that. Alex needed some documents and Steve came out with me to get them,” she lied, unsure why she did.

  “And how is he, Alex? It must be terrible for him up in that place.”

  “He’s coping, Jim, he’s coping but you know …” she shrugged her shoulders.

  “I know, girl, well I don’t but I can imagine I suppose. I did try to go up there, sent him a letter and asked to go up, but he said no. Politely, as Alex is, but no nevertheless.”

  “He’s a bit …” she struggled for the word, “embarrassed I suppose more than anything else.”

  Jim made a noise that Steve guessed was exasperation, “He has nothing to be embarrassed about, nothing at all. Whatever happened to poor Hazel had nothing to do with Alex and the DA is an idiot for thinking otherwise.”

  “You seem sure of that, Jim,” Steve said, “how are you so sure?”

  “I only had to see them together to know, they had their problems, but weren’t they resolved, they were over that and loved each other, so whatever happened to her was nothing to do with him, I can feel it.”