Murder Mansion

by M K Scott

  “Probably.” Her shoulders slumped forward as her knee throbbed, reminding her of her fall. “Who else would want it?”

  Mark threw her a sympathetic smile. “It probably belonged to a teenage couple planning to use the house for a romantic tryst. They had to come back for the bag in case you informed their parents.”

  Her nose crinkled as she imagined an anxious teen boy slipping into the kitchen to retrieve a bag that his girlfriend insisted he get back. If the young lover had been a real jerk, the girl would have retrieved the bag. Something didn’t work about the whole scenario. “Why would they think I would inform their parents when I had no clue who they even were?”

  His hand went up and stroked his chin. “Good point. Teens seldom think in the grip of hormone overload. Could have left a license or some sort of identification in the bag. Being a good neighbor, you’d walk the bag home, deliver it to who ever answered the door, which would probably be a parent, then all hell would break loose.”

  “It could happen.” She agreed, although she hadn’t even thought that far ahead. The man had a point, a valid one.

  “Too bad about the bag. Would have liked a peek in it.” He held up a finger. “I want to make a cast of the footprint.”

  His statement poked at her, drawing her back into the present moment. “Don’t you have a crime scene investigation unit?”

  Taber’s eyes lit up before he erupted into a hoarse chuckle. After a few seconds, his open palm covered his face as he managed to still the laughter. Silence hung between the two of them for a few heartbeats, allowing the sounds of the house to fill in the stillness. A dripping sound came from nearby along with the sounds of nails scraping against the wooden floor. Creepy. It could be the soundtrack for a teenage slasher film. The drip could be a body bleeding out. Of course, as a nurse, she realized blood flowed as opposed to dripping. Tell that to her imagination and the goose bumps on her arm that united to put images to the sounds.

  Jasper entered the room with a noticeable clicking as he sniffed the floor searching for a conveniently dropped morsel. That explained the clicking. Good. One less thing to worry about. Taber knelt and scratched her dog between the eyes, which resulted in a tail-wagging frenzy. The image of the detective wriggling his rump instead of the dog surprised a chuckle out of her.

  “What’s the joke? Is it because television fools you into thinking every town possesses a crackerjack CSI unit or that I’m the unit?”

  Unwilling to share the mental image of the good detective waving his backside like a wet duck, she decided to agree. “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Ah.” Taber continued petting the dog. “Don’t worry too much about it since I actually attended classes on evidence detection and retrieval as a uniformed officer and a more recently as a detective. I know the difference between visible, plastic and latent prints.”

  Visible sounded self-explanatory enough. The other two not so much. “Tell me.”

  He grinned at her inquiry. Then his brow furrowed as he backed out of the kitchen, motioning for her to do the same. Jasper followed, his nails scratching the wood with every step. Tomorrow, she’d cut his nails or at least get them trimmed.

  “I just realized our culprit could have left behind visible or latent prints if he entered the kitchen.”

  Donna’s head whipped around as she stared into the shadowy kitchen for an identifiable footprint. None that she could see, especially with the forty-watt bulb that came with the house. Most people would consider it an energy-saving method. It could be, but it also hid some imperfections in the wall and ceiling. Maybe it had been installed by the real estate agent on purpose. Tomorrow, she’d replaced all the light bulbs with stronger ones.

  Taber peered over her shoulder. “Don’t see anything, but that doesn’t stop the latent footprints from being there. Best thing we can do is not walk across the kitchen floor.”

  “Why?” Outside of hovering in midair, she saw no way she could cross the room.

  “There are latent footprints on the floor, rather like fingerprints. I could dust some fingerprint powder over the surface. I’d prefer the fluorescent powder since using a black light makes it easier to see. At that point, we can photograph the print.”

  “At last, a break in our case.” Her hands went together in a clap as she pretended to ignore the way Taber’s bushy eyebrows shot up at the use of “our” when referring to the case. It really was their case, even if he didn’t think so. “I’ve seen the powder used on television shows. Why didn’t they use it when they first found the body?” Good chance the case would be solved already.

  “Wouldn’t have worked with everyone milling around. Dozens of footprints, most overlapping another one and would have taken hundreds of dollars of dust and countless manpower hours without anything to show for it.”

  Her brief exhilaration suffered an abrupt landing. A mental movie of various footprints running all over her kitchen resembled educational videos about the spread of germs. In this case, it was more about the smearing of evidence. “Wouldn’t some of the same issues still be present in my kitchen?”

  Taber’s lips tugged down as if he watched the same mental movie with the colored footprints stepping over one another and often creating new colors as their footprints overlapped. “Could be a problem. I still think we have to try. Right now, we’ll close the kitchen door and wait until we get enough powder to ghost the floor. I do have the equipment to make a plastic print impression in my car.

  Both Donna and Jasper followed the detective to the front door, watching as he twisted the deadbolt free. Anyone inside could easily leave the house without too much trouble or drama. Her eyes remained on the closed door after it swung shut. A person could probably brazen it out with the house on the market while comings and goings of the house inspector, the agent, the mortgage assessor and herself. The murderer could have left by any door. All he or she had to do is act normal, not creeping around like someone who might fear discovery or intent on murder.

  Jasper stared at the door, keeping a dedicated vigil for a man he’d recently met. Donna glanced at the door expectantly. Was this how the murderer felt? Expectant? Knowing someone was on his way. Of course, the victim had no clue he’d been summoned to his death.

  A shadowy side parlor beckoned as a hiding place. She slid into it, trying to think like the killer. Was the victim told the door would be unlocked? The soon-to-be dead man may have wandered slowly through the house calling out the name of his host. Possible. Her lips twisted to one side, which didn’t explain why the man ended up in the uppermost parlor.

  Most people would have left, not hearing an immediate answer to their call. Something compelling made him stay or at least search the house thoroughly by moving upward. The sound of the door opening along with Jasper’s greeting signaled Taber’s return. Her initial motion to step out and join her dog in recognizing the man stopped.

  “Donna, I got the kit. I’m gonna need your help to hold the flashlight.” Taber’s voice echoed slightly in the empty hallway.

  Her lips pursed as she forced herself into silence. The red second hand on her illuminated watch swept past fifteen seconds, then twenty.

  The wooden floors creaked slightly, allowing her to trace his movements. He headed first to the kitchen. A slight clicking indicated her dog followed. This meant the killer could easily follow the victim as he wandered the house. The murderer probably abandoned his shoes somewhere and moved silently on sock feet, avoiding the boards that creaked excessively. That meant whoever the killer was had been in her house more than once.

  Who had access to her house? The real estate agent, of course, but didn’t that apply to all of the ones who’d shown the house to prospective buyers? They punched some number code in the box and were able to obtain the key. Was there a homicidal agent in town? The thought had her re-examining her own. Maybe the woman wasn’t just sly about unloading houses.

  Then again, the number pads pushed on the keybox would have shown
more wear than the other keys. Four numbers that could only be used in a little more than a dozen combinations. Anyone could have come up to the side entrance, which was conveniently shadowed by trees and tried various combinations until they hit the right one. The key might have been lifted and copied too.

  Half dozen crime dramas used vacant houses on the market as places for illicit affairs, murders and body dumps. Her inn could have served for all three. Donna’s hand pressed against her chest as she felt outrage on the house’s behalf. Wasn’t being used as a former bar, enough of an indignity.

  Taber’s silhouette filled the open doorway, blocking most of the light and making his expression unreadable, but his tone made visual inspection unnecessary.

  “There you are! You took about two years off my life. Didn’t you hear me calling?”

  “I did.”

  Taber started to turn but swung back for a double take. “What?”

  “It was an experiment. If I told you what I was doing, then it wouldn’t work.” Her shoulders went up in a shrug, realizing as explanations went that it was lame.

  “Come again?” He stepped back, allowing her to move into the lighted foyer.

  Her canine glanced up. Most people wouldn’t consider it a judgemental glance, but she’d lived long enough with her dog to know that even he questioned her actions.

  “Sorry if I scared you.”

  He shook his head in denial. “Not exactly, but I was somewhat concerned. In the end, I figured you’d have an explanation.”

  She cocked her head, rethinking her foray into crime re-enactments. “Well, I was wondering how the man got all the way upstairs. He was murdered there, not dragged up the stairs. Something had to compel him up there. He must have been meeting someone. I wondered how far the man would search if the killer had arrived first and hid.”

  “Hmm,” Taber commented. His bent finger rubbed at the lines between his eyebrows. “Not a bad train of thought. Still, I wish you’d told me what you were going to do.” He held up his free hand palm out while his left arm cradled a full white plastic bag with writing stamped on it. “Yeah, I know it wouldn’t work as well if I knew.”

  She nodded in agreement. At last the man understood. “I think I may have discovered something.”

  “What?”

  Why did she have to mention anything before she had it fully thought out? “Well, maybe two things. First, I believe the killer was in the house, hidden, waiting and able to trace movements just by the creaking of the floor.” She held up two fingers when it looked like he’d reply.

  A silent killer creeping about wouldn’t be all that startling of a discovery. “My second point is the better one. The man’s willingness to search for his host demonstrates how much he cared about him or her.”

  A loud snort had her narrowing her eyes at the man and retorting, “Okay. Give me your theory.”

  He bent and placed the bag down on the floor. Jasper circled it, darting in for a sniff and acting as if it might come alive suddenly. “I doubted if the two or possibly three involved were in some tawdry love triangle. It’s been my experience that murder happens due to betrayal. Call it payback. More often, it’s money. A falling out of thieves. I’m not entirely dismissing a crime of passion, but the man would notice whoever he expected to be there wasn’t. His first response would be to leave.”

  His words didn’t gel with the desperate man searching the rooms to find his beloved. “Why would he leave?”

  Taber acted shocked at her ignorance. It irritated, but she decided not to mention it this time. Next time, she would.

  “Save face, of course. If he was involved in some hot and heavy clandestine affair, there’s a chance that either partner can pull out without warning. If he arrived and thought no one was here, then he’d leave. It would keep him from being the one that was dumped. Understand?”

  “Now, I do. Even though, I consider myself a realist I still have issues with someone killing his or her lover. C’mon now, they were having an affair, which means they weren’t married. It couldn’t be a dispute about community property.” She refused to elaborate, unwilling to expose her hidden soft, sentimental side.

  Another dry, humorless chuckle filled the air. “Working in homicide, the first thing I discovered is the loved ones are the first people we look at when looking for a culprit. The husband decides a divorce is too messy. A wife discovers her husband’s infidelity. The grandchildren agree it is taking too long to get their inheritance. There’s a fragile line between love and hate.”

  “That’s awful.” The familiar statement she’d heard more than once. Still her stomach rolled with the words. In the heat of the moment, a person could turn on someone he professed to love. Daniel declared he’d hunt down her missing bridegroom and pulverize him. At the time, she wanted him to. The image of her brother choking the man who cast her aside along with all their dreams for the future gave her some small satisfaction. On some level, she recognized it wasn’t meant to be and hung onto the impulsive teenage Daniel’s arm the way a tick attaches to a dog to prevent any retribution.

  Yep.” Taber agreed as he bent to pick up his casting mix. “You got a big flashlight? The bigger, the better. If not, I have one.”

  She held up one finger, indicating he should wait as she dashed back to her bedroom where she’d hauled most of her supplies, including an oversized camping flashlight. A person could do surgery with such an intense beam. The hefty battery weighed more than the actual flashlight did. Flashlight in hand, she made her trip back down the stairs.

  They left by the front door with her goal of keeping Jasper inside. Unfortunately, she hadn’t shared the info with Taber, who held the door open for the canine, who squeezed out while throwing a backward glance over his shoulder at her.

  “Be quiet this time,” she warned the dog.

  “I didn’t say anything.” Taber raised his eyebrows as he spoke.

  Seriously, living only with her dog had caused her to revert to talking to the animal as if he really understood her. The way the canine angled his head and regarded her with a long stare almost convinced her that he did. All the same, people labeled pet talkers as nutso. This small idiosyncrasy made everything else she said suspect.

  “I know. I was talking to Jasper. He may have chased off the trespasser with his barking. He tore through the shrubbery hot on the trail of something. Initially, I thought it was a rabbit, but maybe it was a person.”

  “Hmmm.” Taber stared at Jasper as he disappeared around the hedges. “As for the bag, tell me about it.”

  A porch light came on next door. Great, her undercover mission had just gone public. The blinds opened as a curious neighbor peered through them. “We’re being observed.”

  “Really?” The detective turned in the direction of the peeking neighbor and waved. “Don’t blame them for looking. You would if someone was killed in the house next to you.”

  Good point. Her lips twisted up as she tried to consider her neighbors’ plight. “Yeah, I hate to admit it, but you’ve got a point. I don’t have to like it. Personally, I just want it to be over with. I want the culprit caught and I want this forgotten. There’s a big difference between a house with some charming legend attached to it and a place where a murder happened.”

  She pointed in the direction she’d glimpsed the footprint. As least, it was where she thought it was. All the overgrown hedges tended to look alike. The light hit the area under the leafy branch. A few stones, a residual bit of wood mulch, but nothing else.

  “Not here.” It had to be here. The flashlight beam moved ahead as she hurried to the next bush. It had to be here. Maybe it was too dark to see anything. Although, she saw it earlier when she fell. “I need to start at my car and walk. There has to be an imprint where I fell.”

  Could it all be a figment of her imagination? It could be Taber doubted her, but all the same he followed with a bag of foot-casting material. The flashlight beam came across a set of footprints, actually several. �
��Look!”

  “Hmmm.” He knelt to examine the print. “Come here.” His cupped hand motioned her closer.

  Two steps had her legs practically brushing the squatting detective. With any luck, they could follow the prints to possibly the killer’s home or hideaway. She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees and trying to see what he was doing. “Are you going to cast a print?”

  “Not yet, but I have an idea.” He stared at her foot, then back at the print. “Put your right foot in the right print.”

  “Well,” she spoke as she wondered about the wisdom of ruining the evidence. Taber didn’t look the least bit worried. A closer examination showed that whoever’s print it was had the same type of boot she did. In fact, about the same size foot. Her eyes narrowed as she stepped into the print. A perfect fit. Heat moved up her neck despite the frosty wind that rattled the tree limbs overhead.

  “Okay. You got me. Still, I saw a print. It couldn’t be mine because I hadn’t walked there yet.” Her shoulders went back as she steeled herself for ridicule.

  A slight groan accompanied the man’s rising. He rubbed his hands slightly on his pants, ridding his palms of dirt. His right hand massaged his neck as he spoke. “I believe you, but it’s easy to be fooled by your own prints. Most rookies make the same mistake. Let’s go find that print.”

  Donna didn’t like being compared to some fresh-faced rookie straight out of the academy. Then again, she’d never gone to the academy so maybe it wasn’t as big of an insult as she imagined.

  The flashlight’s beam illuminated their feet and about five feet in front of them. Any neighbors and the possible killer could pinpoint their location and deduce they were searching for something. Not good, not good at all, not the covert operation she had hoped to conduct. Then there was the missing backpack. “Do you even believe there was a bag? That I didn’t just make it all up to somehow lure you to the house?”

  His husky laugh touched something inside of her, making her vaguely uncomfortable, but not in a tainted food way, but more of driving down an unknown road feeling. Who knew what the next turn might bring.