by Cat Connor
“Was it accidental?”
“I would’ve said so, but they told me it was suicide.”
“What was behind your sister’s suicide?”
“I told all this to the investigators from the postal service.” She seemed a little annoyed.
“They investigated her death?”
“Yes, they did, but it was too late. They should have investigated all the complaints she’d made while she was alive.”
“Complaints?”
“My sister worked for the USPS for twenty years. She loved her job.”
“What complaints did she make?”
“She had to deal with dogs, abusive people, and people blaming her for missing mail.”
Kurt gave my foot a discreet tap. I moved my head in a tiny acknowledgement.
“Excuse me,” he said, rising to his feet with his cell phone in his hand. “Just need to take this.”
“It didn’t ring,” Marjorie stated.
“Silent,” Kurt replied and let himself out the front door.
His phone never rang, silent or otherwise; he’d gone to call in back up and to get Sandra to run a comprehensive report on both sisters. I was sure he also called USPIS.
I turned my attention back to Marjorie as Elvis sang ‘Return to Sender.’ If that wasn’t confirmation I don’t know what was.
“Did your sister use Twitter?”
She nodded. “We both did.”
I couldn’t help but find her a little too accommodating. If she was killing people and sending them to me and others, I would have expected a little more in the way of disturbing mannerisms when confronted with the FBI.
“She died six months ago?”
“Yes, Agent, she did.”
“That must have been awful for you. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
At that moment I heard Dire Straits. I listened, not recognizing the opening bars of the song at all. It all became clear. I was hearing ‘Private Investigations.’
“Marjorie, have you hired a private investigator over the last six months?”
“No.”
Her head didn’t agree. I detected a subtle nod. As if she wasn’t sure.
A private investigator would have been able to supply her with the addresses she needed to have the boxes delivered, and maybe even supply the addresses of victims.
“You’re sure about that? Because I can check,” I said.
I turned my head so I could see Kurt through the window; he was on the phone.
“I haven’t,” she said with more conviction.
All that did was make Mark Knopfler sing louder. He was pretty sure she’d hired a private investigator.
I heard the front door open and then shut. Kurt came back in. He looked like he knew something.
“Marjorie, do you know Danny Diamond?” he asked, sitting back down next to me.
Her cheeks flushed. “No.”
“He knows you and he told a colleague of ours that you owe him five hundred dollars for services rendered.”
“I don’t owe him anything. I don’t know him.” She was flustered.
I love how people jump into denial mode, as if that makes it all better. We have evidence that you did something, but hey, you can just deny it. We’ll believe ya!
“You never hired Danny Diamond from the Diamond Detective Agency to locate people for you?”
“No.”
“I knew Danny had limited morals but I never thought he was liar,” Kurt muttered so Marjorie could just hear him. “Seems he found some of his missing morals when the newspapers reported boxes of meat being delivered to various people.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered.
“Maybe you don’t,” he replied. “After all he was hired by Luella Smith, not Marjorie.”
Oh now that’s cold, setting up Marjorie by using her dead sister. I was mightily impressed with Kurt.
“Hang on. You telling me Luella set this up before she checked out? That she put everything in place ahead of time?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s looking like that.”
Smart. I think I would’ve liked this Luella chick. I wasn’t so fond of her sister though; she was hiding something. I didn’t believe for one second she knew nothing.
“When was Danny hired?”
“Six weeks before her reported death. All the arrangements were in place. He was paid up front.”
“So maybe, Marjorie, you should tell us what you did with the information that Danny provided.”
“Envelopes came addressed to me. I had instructions to forward them to a post office box.”
Ironic.
“Box number?”
She handed me a slip of paper from her refrigerator door. “Thanks.”
“What name?” Kurt asked.
“Fred Kensington.”
“Thanks.”
We had a name and a P.O. Box. So far we had more than the USPIS. I wasn’t planning on sharing. From what Marjorie told us, the mail service had their chance and opted to do nothing. Inter-agency cooperation was flying out the window.
“Don’t leave town, Marjorie,” I said and turned to leave. “If you think of anything else, call me.” I handed her my card.
I caught up to Kurt. We headed to the post office where the box was held and flashed badges at the woman behind the desk.
“We need to know who pays for this box,” I said, sliding the piece of paper to her. She punched a few keys on her computer.
“Fred Kensington,” she said.
“Does he have an address?”
She looked at me with bloodshot eyes. “One second.”
The woman printed out a copy of the post office box authorization.
“Thanks. How does he pay?”
“He doesn’t. The box was pre-paid for a year by a woman, I think it was a woman. It’s a funny name for a man.”
“Yeah, but so is Marian,” I replied.
She smiled. “How many people would’ve taken John Wayne seriously as Marian?”
“Very few. Do you have a record of the payment?”
I passed the authorization to Kurt who called Sandra at the office and had her run both the name and the address.
“Yes. Credit card.” She printed the credit card details and gave them to me. Luella paid in advance. Nice. She was one vengeful about-to-be-dead person. Perhaps she missed her calling in life. She should have been a project manager of some sort, or maybe an independent contractor. My mind took off on a tangent imagining Luella as a hit woman until Kurt nudged me.
“Thank you,” I said to the smiling woman with tired eyes.
Kurt was still talking on his phone as we left. I used mine to call Sam and Lee.
“Stand by, we might need back up.”
Kurt hung up and opened the car door for me.
“Where too?” I asked. “Lee and Sam are waiting.”
“The address was a baseball field. Sandra turned up a current on his driver’s license.” He took my phone from my hand and spoke to Sam and Lee. “Meet us outside Marjorie’s house.”
He read them the address then handed me back the phone. I had the feeling he was starting to read my mind.
“Sam, I want you and Lee to talk to the neighbors on either side of Marjorie’s house before we get there. Find out how often the new neighbor across the road visits her,” I said.
“On it, Chicky Babe.”
I hung up. Kurt was looking at me with that bemused expression he wore so often.
“You really do scare me. You haven’t seen this yet.”
Kurt showed me the photo Sandra had sent. Fred was the spitting image of Marjorie – except he was male.
“And we thought she knew nothing. Brother?”
He shook his head. “Oh no, way more complicated than that. I think it’s Luella.”
“But she’s dead,” I replied.
“No body. There was never a body.”
“She killed herself.” I was having trouble keeping up which wasn’t usua
l for me.
“She drowned in the Potomac. Her body has yet to surface,” Kurt said. “There was a suicide note, but no body.”
“That wasn’t in the report I saw, from USPIS.” My eyes rolled skyward at the lack of information in the report they filed.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Incompetent much?”
“That’s what I was thinking. But how much does Marjorie know?”
“They’re siblings who were, it seems, close. She knows her sister is alive.”
We detoured a little on the drive over to the house, giving Sam and Lee time to talk to the neighbors. I enjoyed the coffee break.
Kurt pulled up short of the driveway. The same car was still there. I saw Sam and Lee were parked a few houses away, on the other side of the road. Sam gave a slight wave. I reached around and took my vest from the back seat. We were looking for someone who’d been hunting and chopping up people; it was doubtful she would take too kindly to our arrival. From our car I could see Lee and Sam put on their vests. I grabbed Kurt’s and handed it to him.
“Bullets are bad for the constitution.”
He grinned and put it on.
“You think Fred/Luella is here?” Kurt asked, fastening the Velcro side and shoulder of his vest.
“No idea. Hell, I thought she was dead. Am I the person to ask?”
“We all thought she was dead. But you, I don’t think you really did.”
Lee tapped on my window.
“What did you find?” I asked as he pulled his notebook out.
“There is a neighbor across the street who is a frequent visitor to Marjorie’s. Dinner every Sunday, from what the neighbors have said. They’ve never been seen out together. But one neighbor reports seeing the man entering the garage late at night. He moved into the house across the road almost a year ago.”
“Fascinating. And he has a name?”
“Fred, that’s all they knew.”
“Awesome,” I said with a smile.
“Is Fred home?”
“We scouted around the house, lots of raised gardens out back, but no sign of life. Neighbors say he works during the day, but don’t know where.”
“Good.”
“We rolling?”
“Oh, yeah.”
I took four radios from the glove compartment and handed them out.
I switched mine to channel six and depressed the squawk button. “Delta A for Comms. Over”
There was a slight crackle. “Comms for Delta A. Go ahead. Over.”
“Delta A going into an address. Arrange a warrant.” I relayed the address to Comms. “We’re active on channel six. Over”
“Understood Delta A. We’re monitoring your frequency. Over.”
I clipped the radio to my belt. Everyone else switched to channel six and did the same.
“Lee and Sam, take the back. Kurt and I will go in the front.”
We stood by our car and heard the doors lock automatically. For a moment there was just us, shoulder to shoulder in our circle. We took a collective breath, touched hands and it was on. Lee and Sam broke away and headed silently up the driveway, separating to take different directions around the house. Kurt and I walked purposefully to the front door. Weapons in hands.
I knocked. Kurt watched for signs of life.
Marjorie opened the door. She seemed surprised. She would be more surprised when Sam and Lee stormed in the back.
“Come outside, ma’am,” I said taking hold of her arm. I led her away from the door. “I’m sorry,” I said and searched her for weapons. I handcuffed her and sat her on the grass in front of the house. She was involved somehow, I just didn’t know to what extent and that meant she was a potential assailant. Better to be safe than dead.
Kurt was just inside the doorway. He signaled it was clear. I joined him. We cleared the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Sam’s voice bellowed into the hallway beyond the kitchen. “FBI!”
I answered, so he knew where we were. Death by friendly fire would suck out loud.
A large cupboard in the hallway drew my attention. I opened the door. It was a linen closet. A linen closet with nothing on the floor. There was a big gap under the shelves, big enough to sit in. Big enough to conceal something like a trap door.
Sam and Lee moved to secure the bedrooms while we inspected the odd closet.
“Down here, Ellie,” Lee called. “Back bedroom.”
I motioned to Kurt to stay where he was and to watch the closet. I ran to Lee.
“What is it?”
He was standing in front of a bedroom closet. “Check it out. There is something under this house.”
I peered inside and saw another big clear gap in a closet. This time I could see a trap door.
“The one in the hall has carpet in it. This must be the one they or she uses; the other one may be an emergency exit.”
“Going down?”
Not keen.
“One sec, watch that.” I pointed to the closet.
I ran back to Kurt.
“Looks like there is a basement room, accessible from the closet, here and in the back room; I think that was Luella’s room.”
“Dangerous going in there. Could be booby-trapped. Plus, if she’s down there she’s not going to be happy to see us.”
“Camera, we need a fiber-optic camera.”
“SWAT.”
I used my radio. “Delta A for Comms. Send SWAT to our location. Tell them to bring a warrant. Over.”
“Comms for Delta A, understood. SWAT dispatched.”
Every radio crackled at once as a message came over for all of us. “SWAT for Delta A. Ten minutes out. Over.”
I smiled at Kurt.
He nudged me. “What is it with you and men with big guns?”
“It fills me with joy watching them storm buildings.” I shrugged. “It’s a girl thing and maybe a gay guy thing too.”
Kurt reached into the back of the closet and ripped the carpet back. It was too easy. Hadn’t even been secured. Underneath was a trapdoor.
“You think there any other exits or entrances?” he asked.
“Garage maybe. Stay here.”
I left the house to have a quick word with Marjorie. “Where do the trapdoors in the bedroom closet and the linen closet go too?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said. It was the most unconvincing lie I’d ever heard.
“How long have you lived in this house?”
“Since Luella died.”
“You didn’t share the house before then?”
“No.”
I brought up an image of her bank file in my mind. This was a new address.
“Is the house as it was when your sister died?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you would like to tell me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Anything unusual happen in the house?”
It was like pulling teeth. I knew she knew something.
“Once,” she said. “Once I put a box of soaps in the linen closet, on the floor. When I got home the next day the box was on a shelf.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever put anything on the floor since?”
“No.”
I left her on the grass and headed to the garage. At the door I turned and called out. “Why don’t you put your car in the garage?”
“Because Luella’s is already there.”
Seemed like she was trying too hard to know nothing. I opened the side door and felt for a light switch. No car. A big empty space where a car should be, but no car. The room hummed.
Down the sides of the garage were chest freezers. They lined both sides. I counted five on each side. At the end of the garage was a small room. I opened the door and found a stainless steel room, complete with stainless steel counter and a sluice. It was immaculate without reeking of bleach. I detected a faint scent. Pine disinfectant.
“Kur
t. Go for Ellie. Over.”
“Go Ellie. Over.”
“Garage is lined with freezers, found a steel-lined room. Over.”
“What’s in the freezers? Over.”
“Looking now. Over.”
I shut the door to the creepy sluice room and opened the lid of the first freezer.
“Packages of meat. Over.”
“Swap places. Over.”
I closed the lid and left the garage. I passed Marjorie.
“You all right, Agent?” she called after me. “You don’t look well.”
She had to know. The electric bill alone would’ve hinted at something untoward going on. I ignored her and hurried to Kurt.
“You going to puke?” he asked.
“I might,” I replied, taking a breath and sliding down the wall. “Ten freezers, chest variety. This could be the cold storage we were looking for.”
“I’m going to look,” he said and hurried away.
I watched him go. From the end of the hallway Sam spoke, “You think the other woman knows?”
“I don’t see how she can’t,” I replied. “She said Luella’s car was in the garage. It ain’t.”
“Freezers suck power,” he said.
I nodded. “You’d think she’d notice a high electric bill.” My mind started working on why she wouldn’t notice. Surely the bills were paid by her?
Her sister was a planner.
“Sam, can you watch this closet? I have an idea.”
“Sure,” he replied, jogging down the hallway. I slipped out the front door and joined Marjorie on the lawn.
As I glanced up, I saw the SWAT truck and two black SUVs arrive. I waved. A hand waved back.
“Marjorie, who pays the taxes and bills related to the property?”
“An accountant,” she replied.
“Do you ever see utility bills?”
She shook her head.
Luella had tried hard to give her sister complete deniability. Maybe if the bank robbery hadn’t landed on my desk, no one would’ve figured this out.
“Why did you say Luella’s car was in the garage?”
“Because it is. I looked there when I first came to the house.” Panic edged into her voice for the first time. “Her car was there.”
I was about to ask her why she hadn’t sold the car but I still had Mac’s truck and someone could easily ask the same of me. It’s not always that easy walking away from the dead.
Two armed men approached us.