"Edie gave them to me when she moved to the nursing home. She wanted me to keep an eye on the place so I usually take a run by every so often."
"So you knew it was falling apart like this?" I asked, waving a hand around.
"I haven't been inside; not since the window was broken."
I recalled the board I noticed upstairs. "You fixed that?"
"Yes. I called your mom and told her that a storm ripped a huge branch off last fall and it went through the window. She asked me to patch it up so I did."
"Why didn't you tell her about the bad condition it was in?"
"I did tell her. She told me to hold onto the keys in case anything else needed fixing, and when she wasn’t so busy, she said she’d run over and check it out. I reminded her a couple more times but you know your mom. She’s always busy with something. I figured she would call when she wanted me to fix something."
"Why would she call you instead of a handyman?"
Nate pulled back his vest and pointed to the emblem on the chest of his hoody. "Minoso Construction," he said proudly. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a card and handed it to me. "Anything you need built or fixed, I can do it."
I studied the card. "You haven't changed your number."
"Nice to see you haven't forgotten it," he replied. "I figured you had a long time ago." We stood in tense silence for a moment and I debated whether or not to apologize for not calling. I wanted to dozens, if not hundreds, of times but after a while, the long lapse of silence made it too hard. I could never work out what I should say. "I'm going to take off now since you're obviously not here to burglarize the house," he said. "Call me if you need any help."
"Okay," I said as he turned around. He opened the door he just entered through and stepped out.
"Thanks for keeping an eye on the house," I said.
"Yep," he said coldly. "’Night, Vanessa."
"’Night, Nate." I pushed the door closed and locked it but Nate was gone before I remembered that he still had the extra set of keys. I made a mental note to call him and ask for them; or should I just insist that he leave them with my parents? Yes, that would be an even better solution. Then I wouldn't have to see Nate again. I was sure neither of us enjoyed skirting around each other so uneasily, while failing to pretend the last day we saw each other never happened.
I breathed in and out a few times, centering myself, and trying to remember the task I was in the middle of doing. I could think about Nate any other time — or never — but I still had to clean the bedroom if I wanted to get a good night’s sleep in it. I was glad I had the foresight to eat something on the drive over so I wasn't too hungry. I was also glad my mom promised brunch. Just as soon as I finished cleaning the room, I could fall into bed. Tomorrow, I would open all the drapes and windows, ventilating the house with much needed fresh air. I also had to start making a list of all the repairs that needed doing.
I found cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink and took the basket upstairs. The vacuum cleaner was in the laundry room so I deposited the cleaning supplies on the bedroom floor before grabbing it and pulling it after me. I wiped down the bed frame and the nightstands. Next came the dresser in the window. I took all the pillows from the day bed and removed those covers, tossing them into the hallway before I stacked the pillows with the other ones I already placed on the turret's window seat. I wiped the chest of drawers and opened the closet, finding it bare except for a few hangers. I cleaned all the surfaces anyway.
The attached bathroom was in decent condition but there was no way I could take a shower until that was fully cleaned too. I wiped down the surfaces with tile cleaner and ran the water, relieved to find it was hot. The mirrored cabinet was empty and so was the unit under the sink but I wasn’t expecting to find anything there.
Finally, I vacuumed all the floors including the closet and bathroom.
"Congratulations on a job well done," I commended myself. Twenty minutes and several tedious trips of battling the blackberry bushes to my car later, I finished carrying all my things inside and I unloaded them in the bedroom. I unpacked the bed linens from one of the soft bags and made the bed before rummaging in my suitcase for pajamas. I took out a washrag and applauded myself again for my foresight in packing one decent set of bath towels.
The shower was short but refreshing. I washed my hair and braided it so it would be soft and wavy in the morning. I brushed my teeth before I finally fell into bed, utterly exhausted. My mind whirled with all the things I had to do. Now that I had a usable bedroom, minus all the pretty pillows, the kitchen was my next target. If I couldn't salvage the tableware left out to get moldy and dusty, I would have to throw them away. I hoped they hired someone to clean out the refrigerator and the freezer before the house was vacated; otherwise it would be a most unpleasant task. The cupboards would need to be emptied from all the expired dried and canned foods. Every inch of the pantry would warrant a deep cleaning. If it seemed too overwhelming for me, I intended to ask my mother to recommend a reputable cleaning service to tackle it.
That was enough resolution for tonight and I drifted off to sleep. I was more than satisfied that I had a plan.
~
I awoke with a start, and the moon shone in silvery shadows across the room. I looked around, trying to get my bearings until I reminded myself where I was. It wasn't my smart apartment, but a rambling, old house where I'd spent much of my childhood and early twenties.
Outside my door, a floorboard creaked and something in the walls rattled ominously. Had the house always made noises like that? Had I just forgotten about them?
Another eerie noise made me lift my head. I pushed back the covers, grabbed my cellphone to use as a torch and lowered my feet to the floor. I tiptoed to the hallway and stepped on something furry.
It squealed.
I screamed as I looked down, right into the eyes of a very small, very cute animal. "Hi, kitty," I said, stooping down. "What are you doing here?" The kitten bumped my hand with its head and sniffed me. "I always wanted a pet cat but you don't live here and you might have fleas. Time for you to go." I scooped it up and held it under my arm, hoping it didn't have fleas or any other parasites, and took it downstairs. I padded barefoot into the kitchen and opened the French doors before dropping it outside. It landed on all floors on the veranda and looked up at me in surprise. "Sorry," I said, shutting the door again and locking it.
A whisper in the night air made me stop. I pressed my face against the glass pane and waited. A moment later, the wind rustled in the wisteria that grew around the house on the back porch. I laughed. It sounded like whispers but thankfully, it was just rustling leaves. My mind was playing tricks on me.
Rapidly cooling off, I jogged back upstairs and dusted off my feet before I climbed back into bed. I pulled the duvet up to my chin and snuggled down into it, thinking of the cute, little cat. I wondered how it had gotten into the house to begin with and mentally added another item on my to-do list before I drifted back to sleep.
I woke up several more times in the night owing to unidentifiable noises. Sometimes they sounded like footsteps and whispers, another time a door started banging and I sat bolt upright. Each time, I consoled myself by remembering that in a few days I would be fully desensitized to all the creaks and groans made by old houses.
When seven o'clock came around, I was too frazzled to sleep any longer. My mouth was dry and my eyes were heavy. I only had three hours to tackle the kitchen before my mom was due to arrive. She mentioned eating on the veranda but I had no idea what condition it was in. If the ominous creaking on the front veranda steps were any indication, it wasn’t a good sign. Nate managed to walk across it so it couldn't be that bad, but what about the outdoor furniture?
With a groan, I knew it was no use to lie in bed and procrastinate over the tasks that needed doing. I got up, pulled on my jeans, a t-shirt and a light sweater, and went downstairs. If I couldn't sleep, I might as well do something useful!
; The kitchen didn’t look any worse overnight. I'd been worried it would be even filthier in the daylight. I rummaged in the cupboards for a trash bag and threw a few disposable items in it. I took all the plates and cups and other items that were left out on the sink and filled one side of it with hot, soapy water. I placed everything I could find in the hot water to soak. Next I cleared the table, glancing outside periodically to see if the little cat had returned.
With a start, I realized someone was sitting on one of the wicker chairs on the veranda, with his back to me and facing the garden. I dropped the last dish in the sink and stepped over to the French doors. No, I hadn't imagined it. It was a man wearing a dark knit cap with the edges rolled up. If Nate Minoso thought he could charm his way back into my life after everything he said to me, and after all this time had passed, he had another thing coming!
I grabbed my keys and stuck them in the lock. The door swung open before I could turn the key.
"So you thought you would let yourself in again, huh?" I yelled, stomping over to him. "I'll take my keys back, thank you very... Oh, my gosh!" I stopped in my tracks, and my eyes went wide with a horror.
It wasn't Nate Minoso parked in Aunt Edie's garden chair.
I didn't know who it was but I could tell from the wound on his forehead that he was definitely dead.
Chapter Four
"Do you know who this is?" Detective Logan asked as he stood on the back veranda and looked up at me. For the last couple of minutes, he was staring intently at the dead man. The detective was tall with dark red hair and a frosty expression that made me wonder if he thought I killed the man. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket while he waited for my reply. Behind him, the uniformed police officer seemed curious but he remained quiet.
"Nope," I said from my anchored stance, which was way over by the French doors. There was no way I could go out there to look at a dead man again. It was bad enough I'd already seen the bullet hole in his head. I doubted I could ever scrub that image from my poor brain.
"Not at all? He's not one of your neighbors?" Detective Logan bent down to take another look at his face.
"No, I don't know him. He could be a neighbor, I suppose, but if so, why is he in my yard and not in his own?"
Detective Logan straightened up. "Do you know your neighbors very well?" he asked, giving me a long look. Then he panned around the horrendously overgrown yard and raised his eyebrows. He probably thought I was an awful neighbor and my house was an affliction to the neighborhood. Maybe he assumed I was a hermit.
Don’t you dare judge me! I thought but instead, I said, "It's not that I don't know them, it's just that... well, truthfully Detective, I only got back in town last night. You see, I recently inherited this house from my great aunt. She used to run it as an inn and I often worked during my vacations here. That’s why I knew some of the closest neighbors, but that was back then — people like the Petersons — but I don't even know if they're still living here or if they moved, or maybe..." I jabbed a finger at the dead man, more than aware that I was babbling.
"You're related to Edie Swanson?" asked Detective Logan.
"Yes, did you know her?"
"Sure. Sweet lady. For your information, the Petersons haven't moved. I'm going to guess they won't be happy about all of this. You're lucky there isn't a homeowners’ association in this neighborhood," he added, waving a hand around the yard.
"Like I said, I only just got here last night and I had no idea it was in such bad condition. I fully intend to tackle the backyard and the front yard too."
"But not today," said Detective Logan. "The M.E. is on her way over. I'm sure I don't need to tell you this is a case of murder."
"Could it possibly be a suicide?" I asked, wondering if that were any better.
"Not unless he survived the bullet lodged between his eyes long enough to hide the weapon and run back here to take a seat before he died."
I took a deep breath at Detective Logan's blunt, sarcastic tone. "Guess it must be murder," I agreed. "But why in Edie's... I mean, why in my yard?"
"That's a good question and one I would like to know the answer to. Ortiz, you stay out here and don't let anyone come back unless it's the M.E.," he said to the uniformed officer who appeared within minutes of my phone call. After one look at the body, he called Detective Logan who promptly arrived a few minutes later, albeit, bleary-eyed and yawning. As soon as he saw the body, however, he became fully alert. "Let's go inside," he said to me. "I need to take your statement."
"Why? I didn't see anything!"
"No, but you did find a dead man on your property," he said slowly, almost like he was speaking to a raving idiot.
There was no use in arguing. I turned around and Detective Logan followed me into the kitchen as I attempted to formulate my jumbled thoughts. "I'd offer you a seat but..." I waved a hand around. Detective Logan raised his eyebrows at the messy kitchen.
"I'll stand," he said as he took a notepad and pen from his pocket. "I would sure appreciate a cup of coffee though."
"I'm sorry. If there is any here, it's probably expired and besides, I don't know where the filters..." I looked at the coffee pot and wondered if it was dangerous when I spotted the frayed electric cord. I was sure I packed another one in one of my boxes but it would take more time than I cared to spend to find it.
"Don't worry about it. Tell me how you discovered this guy." He nodded toward the veranda.
I rested my back against the counter and began. "I came downstairs because I couldn't sleep. The house was making funny noises and by seven a.m., I just gave up trying to sleep."
"Funny noises?"
"Noises in the walls, you know, like pipes clanging and then a little kitten got in."
"A kitten?"
"Four legs, kind of cute. I don't know how it got inside but I worried that it had fleas and I didn't want it to poop anywhere so I took it downstairs and put it outside."
"Which door did you use?"
"The French doors over there."
"And you locked them up afterwards?"
"Yes, I did."
"What happened then?"
"I went back to bed."
"Anymore strange noises?"
I nodded, remembering. "Yes, but I was just being silly. I thought I heard some whispers in the yard when I put the cat outside, but it was just the wind blowing in the wisteria. When I went back to bed, the floors were creaking again, but it's an old house. I'm sure I'll have no trouble ignoring the sounds it makes pretty soon."
"Are you sure it was just the house? Could it possibly have been someone inside the house?"
I shook my head. "Oh, no. No. You can't think..." I trailed off, feeling slightly horrified.
Detective Logan held up a hand. "I didn't mean to alarm you, and you're absolutely safe now, but I have to consider the possibility that this man might have been inside here for less than honest reasons."
I thought about the wound again. "Good deduction," I decided.
This time, Detective Logan cracked a smile. "Yeah, I thought so. Tell me about finding him."
"Like I said, I came downstairs because I couldn't lie in bed any longer. There's a lot to do in the house, as you can see, and I wanted to get started as soon as I could. I began clearing things away in here when I saw someone sitting on the garden chair. I thought it was Nate so I..."
"Nate?" asked Detective Logan.
"Nate Minoso. He came by last night and I thought he may have returned."
"Right, Minoso Construction. He does good work. So you went outside because you thought he was coming by at seven a.m.?" Detective Logan asked with a suspicious edge to his voice.
"He's an old friend. Aunt Edie gave him a spare set of keys and asked him to keep an eye on the place. My mom hired him to fix the broken window that’s visible from the front, but that was a while back. He was driving by last night and he thought someone broke in when he saw the light on, so he came to check on it and that's whe
n we ran into each other. I thought he might be waiting to see me this morning."
"Uh-huh. Pretty early for a social call."
"I know, I guess I just assumed he wanted something that couldn’t wait."
"What happened next? When you saw someone was sitting on the veranda?"
"I went to unlock the door but it was already unlocked. I walked over and that's when I realized the man was dead. I called the police. I don't know what else to tell you, Detective. I don't recognize him and I don't know what he was doing here."
"You said Nate Minoso had a spare key. Could anyone else possibly have had one?"
"I don't know. Aunt Edie might have given another set to someone else."
"I'm going to get the door dusted for prints and when we're done, I highly recommend you call Nate out here and get him to change the locks on all the doors. You said you arrived only last night?" Detective Logan waited until I nodded before he continued, "Plenty of people knew the house was empty, myself included. Maybe someone passed by and saw it was empty so they decided to let themselves inside. They might have seen you, or heard you, and gotten scared off."
"Oh, God." I slumped against the counter, my mind going crazy with all the painfully horrible things that could occur in a home invasion.
"Hey," said Detective Logan, "nothing happened to you so don't go crazy now by wondering what could have happened. Most burglars are only looking for valuables. This is a big, beautiful house and it's been empty for a while. If someone suspected it would soon be inhabited again, he might have decided this was his last chance to grab a few things he could quickly sell. On the other hand, it could have been a random burglary. Do you know if anything is missing?"
"I only looked around briefly last night but I haven't been here in a couple of years, so I can't be sure."
"What about electronics? You know, flatscreen televisions, and smaller devices like a tablet or a laptop, or maybe a camera?"
Alibi in April (Calendar Mysteries Book 4) Page 3