04 - Shock and Awesome

by Camilla Chafer

  "This is a surprise," he said, like we weren't working the same case. "How've you been?"

  "Peachy. Apparently, you got our guy. Has he cracked yet?"

  "You got our guy," replied Maddox with a sigh. "I assume this is why you called. Well done on getting the information we needed to make the arrest."

  "No problem. So..." I prompted, hurrying him along, even though a little blush of pride crept across my cheeks.

  "He's with his lawyer now. One minute he was a Chatty Cathy, now he won't say a word."

  "Damn. You think he's behind all this?"

  "Looks that way, but I won't know until I get in the room with him again. We're talking strategy right now."

  "Huh." I wondered who "we" were. "Will you call me back when you know something?"

  "Sure. Can I help you with anything else, Lexi?"

  "No, I'm good. That's it."

  "Okay then. Maybe we can get a drink when this is wrapped up? Congratulate ourselves."

  "Sure, uh, I guess so."

  "Later then, Lexi."

  "Bye."

  I stared at my phone for a moment, my frown deepening. Did I just agree to a date? I sucked in a long breath and grimaced into the rearview mirror. This day was never ending... wait. Was that...?

  Aidan Marsh's car pulled into the driveway, halting in front of the garage doors.

  Oh, hell. I'd had enough of today. Solomon might want to marry me, Maddox wanted a date, Ben hated me, and Justin, I mean Ken was a fraud... Today seriously sucked. As if accusing the wrong guy weren’t bad enough, now I had a date with my ex. On the upside, I assisted MPD in catching a fraudster, and it was only a matter of time before Lord Justin cracked, so Solomon's real objective of networking with local law enforcement was achieved.

  I could go home, order a pizza and drink the biggest glass of wine ever just as soon as this day was over. Before I knew it, I was hightailing it out of the car and across the street, only slowing to a jog when the Schuberts' neighbor exited his car and popped the trunk. I skidded to a halt just as he came around the other side. Between us, the trunk opened all the way. I looked at him, and he at me quizzically. We both gazed into the trunk.

  No dead bodies. Hurrah! Just a heap of grocery bags.

  The man flapped his hands and cocked his head, demanding "What do you want?" tacitly.

  "Do you kill people?" I asked. Oh, my mother would be so proud of that one, but it just didn't sit well my saying “Hi” and “how are you?” and all that jazz, when I really only wanted to know one thing. There was something familiar about his hand movements. He repeated them and I frowned.

  "Am I being Punk'd?" asked the man in a strange accent, scanning over his shoulder for cameras.

  My nose wrinkled. "No! It's a genuine question."

  "Oh." Aidan Marsh scratched his head.

  "You don't need to think about it. It's a pretty easy question."

  The man continued to frown and stared at me a long while. "No," he said finally, the syllable sounding slightly off key.

  "Okay." I rocked back on my heels and almost stuck my hands in my jacket pockets so they didn't flap around aimlessly. Instead, I refrained just in case he was lying and I had to defend myself right there on the street before being dragged inside and strapped me into the torture chair in the garage. "Are you sure?"

  "Yes," he said, very slowly; then, "No."

  "Yes or no?"

  "Yes, I kill people. I mean, no, I don't!" His shoulders slumped. "And yes, I'm sure. It's my dog."

  "Your dog kills people?" I gave him a look. The one I used a lot when I was temping, usually upon discovering the dumb-ass filing systems and foot-high backlogged files of my temporary employers. It was the look I reduced to three letters: WTF?

  "No! He's just a nuisance." At that, the dog in question galloped around the car and sat at his owner's feet. He was big and really cute. He looked up, panting, and his tongue rolled out. The dog’s, that is. Not Aidan Marsh’s tongue. He just looked confused. We both watched the dog. The man scratched the dog between the ears and his ears went up and down. Again, the dog’s, not the man’s. While they bonded, I took a closer look at the lettering on the dog's vest. It read "Assistance Dog."

  "Why's your dog an assistance dog?" I asked. The man ignored me, only scratching the dog's head. I waited. After for-freaking-ever, I coughed. The dog looked at me, then nudged his owner. It was only when the man lifted his head that I noticed the small devices tucked behind his ears. Hearing aids. Sign language. Of course!

  "You said something?" he prompted.

  "Yeah, but... are you deaf?"

  "Dead?" He frowned. "No."

  "Deaf."

  "Yes, definitely deaf. Mostly. I can hear some loud noises though without my aids."

  "Oh." We looked at each other some more. The dog barked. I really didn't know what to say. The situation had me stumped. Sure, we confirmed he wasn't a killer, and neither was the dog, but the hearing situation really threw me. It explained the strange inflections when he spoke though. "So..."

  "You don't need to raise your voice," the man said. "It won't make any difference."

  "I wasn't going to!"

  "So, what do you want? Does this have anything to do with the Schuberts next door?" He raised a hand and waved, and I looked over my shoulder. Sure enough, the Schuberts were standing on the porch. It was no ruse so he could whack my head off and let the dog eat me. What a relief! The Schuberts gave a confused, half-baked wave, more like a flap, in return. "Has Barney been making strange noises again?" Aidan stared down at the dog, then looked over to me. "Oh, jeez, he has, hasn't he? What the hell did he do now?"

  "There's been a lot of strange noises coming from your house," I answered, turning to him. I opted to go with the truth because there really wasn't anywhere else to go. "Machinery. Screaming."

  "Screaming?" The man seemed genuinely puzzled. I flapped my hands around, then stuck them around my throat and mimed screaming while simultaneously strangling myself. Judging by the bewildered expression on his face, as well as Barney's, my demonstration didn't seem to help matters much. Go figure. "Who are you?" he asked at last.

  I stuck my hand out. "Lexi Graves, Private Investigator."

  "Aidan Marsh. Confused." All the same, he shook my hand.

  "That makes two of us." I looked over my shoulder to where the Schuberts waited patiently. "Four."

  "Pardon? You said something."

  "Oh, right. It doesn't matter."

  "I hate it when hearing people say that. It's really annoying. See how you like missing what people say because they don't bother to turn their head towards you."

  "I thought you had hearing aids."

  "The batteries are weak."

  "You're really grouchy, you know that, right?"

  "You would be too if Barney woke you at five a.m. every day, by licking your face."

  "Nice." Barney stuck his tongue out and some slobber hit the floor. I wondered if his rough tongue had exfoliating qualities. Somehow, I didn't think Aidan gave two hoots. "So about these strange noises?" I asked, just as Aidan reached into the trunk and pulled out his groceries. He set them on the ground at our feet, then reached in again. This time, he pulled out a brand new and very shiny hammer. The clawed end looked lethal. He set it on top one of the bags and pulled out a couple more tools that seemed threatening. "Maybe later," I said, stepping back.

  "Not the serial killer thing again," sighed Aidan, giving me a sideways glance. "I make furniture, okay? I have a workshop in the garage. Sometimes I use power tools."

  "And the screaming?"

  "You are so fixated on screaming. I don't know. Barney sits on the TV remote a lot. Two nights ago, I found him watching a horror movie. He's really weird. I tried to get him into Marley and Me, but he refuses to watch it. That might be a good thing. I tried Disney cartoons too, but he always switches back to the horror channel. If anyone has serial killer tendencies, it's him."

  Barney barked and edged forw
ards in a butt-shuffle. For a mad dog, he sure was cute with his thumping tail and tongue-lolling expression. He stuck his head forward, sniffed my hand and gave it a good, long lick, leaving my hand very wet. I ran it down my skirt, glad we'd shaken hands already, and doubly glad that it was still attached to my arm.

  "So what about all the blood in your garage?" I persisted.

  Aidan set the grocery bags on the ground and frowned. "Blood?"

  "Yeah, you know, red stuff." I mimed stabbing myself in the heart and spurting blood everywhere.

  "You don't have to keep miming. I've seen blood before. I'm deaf, not exsanguinated. Come see the workshop." Leaving the groceries where he set them, Aidan shut the trunk and picked up his shiny new tools. He rounded the car and pulled the keys from his pocket, searching through them until he found the correct one. He stuck it in the lock, then rolled the garage door up and over, revealing what did indeed look like a workshop. Still, with all the neatly assembled tools on the walls, and the throne-like chair, as well as the mysterious red stain on the floor, it did look like a killing workshop. I wondered if Aidan would blame that on Barney too.

  Aidan beckoned me closer. I took another look at the Schuberts, craning their necks, and I nodded towards the garage. I figured I was okay. If Aidan didn't let me out, they'd know where to find me. If they tried to rescue me, and he captured them too, I would have company at least. Really, there was a bright side to everything. Maybe if the PI thing didn't work out, I could become a life coach.

  I stepped into the cool climes of the garage and looked around, jumping when Aidan nudged my arm and pointed at the floor. "Red paint," he said. He walked over to the chair and ducked behind, its huge frame hiding him completely. When he reappeared, he held a bucket of paint. It was a nice brand; no wonder the color looked so rich. "It's for a fancy club in New York. They want two of these things, painted red, leather buckles, the works."

  "Whatever for?"

  "Who knows? I prefer not to ask. Some of my clients are... odd. Here, this is my portfolio. Take a look." Aidan handed me a thick folder and I opened it to page after page of stunning furniture. A master of both wood and ironwork, Aidan did rustic as easily as wildly contemporary. "You made all these?" I asked incredulously.

  Aidan nodded. "Every piece. I keep some in the studio in the garden if you want to see?"

  Looking up from the collection, my eyes went around the garage, taking in all the power tools. I guess this explained the noise. The Schuberts would be so pleased. I wondered if Aidan would give me a discount. "How are you at making windowseats?" I asked. "I'm buying the house next door."

  Aidan grinned. "No problem." His face paled and he glanced outside. "Oh shit! Barney!"

  "What?"

  "I left him with the groceries."

  Aidan pelted out to the front and I followed him. When I got there, Aidan had his hands on his hips, while berating a very satisfied-looking Barney, whom he caught muzzle-deep in a grocery bag. An empty packet that once contained sausages listed on one side. Aidan grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out of the bag. Barney had a steak half hanging from his mouth. I swear if dogs could smile, he did.

  "Aidan Marsh, meet your neighbors, Mr. And Mrs. Schubert," I told him, as the older couple approached. Mr. Schubert wielded a wireless house phone; while Mrs. Schubert carried a wooden mallet, not for tenderizing the steak. It appeared that Barney was in no danger of giving it up. "Aidan is a furniture maker. He has a workshop in his garage. And this is Barney. He's just weird."

  "Aidan Marsh, the designer?" breathed Mrs. Schubert. "I've just been reading about you in my interior design magazine. They say you're the hottest new talent around. Your furniture sells for a fortune. And you're our neighbor!?"

  "Not for long," I reminded them. "Also, he totally doesn't kill people, but I think his dog might need therapy."

  "We know a great dog therapist." I raised my eyebrows as Mrs. Schubert hooked her arm through Aidan's. He seemed a little taken aback, but didn't shake her off, mostly because she had him in a vise-like grip and kept beaming up at him.

  "Lexi told me you heard things. I'm sorry about all the noise," Aidan said as he scooped up the remains of his groceries with his free hand. "Barney is supposed to tell me if it gets too loud with my tools, but he just turns on the TV and makes it worse."

  "Maybe he's lonely," said Mrs. Schubert. "He could come play with us until we move."

  Mr. Schubert nodded. "This young lady is buying our house."

  "High five," I said, raising my hand. After a tentative pause, Mr. Schubert high-fived me.

  "That's the spirit," I told him.

  "We'll contact our realtor and tell him we're proceeding with the sale," said Mrs. Schubert. "You still want to, right, dear?"

  "Absolutely! Yes, please! Thank you so much!" I turned to Aidan. "I'm really glad you're not a psycho."

  "You're welcome?" he said, after a moment.

  "And you'll send us a bill for all the surveillance work you did?" Mrs. Schubert asked me, with a nod to Aidan, in a not particularly subtle way. I hoped it wouldn't make the neighbor thing awkward.

  "No charge. I'm just happy to solve the mystery," I told them, hoping Aidan was watching.

  "You could have just asked," Aidan told Mrs. Schubert as she steered him towards the house. "You really thought I was a serial killer?"

  "Oh no, no! Goodness! Not at all!" She pulled a face at me and widened her eyes. Oh great! Now it looked like I suggested he was. Over Mrs. Schubert's head, Aidan grinned. He stuck his tongue out. I stuck mine back out at him and decided I liked him. A wet nose snuffled my palm then licked. That was fine too, mostly because it was Barney and not Aidan.

  "Yes," said Mr. Schubert, coming to my rescue. "We thought you were killing all kinds of folk in there. So, you create all this furniture my wife likes? Oh great." He didn't sound thrilled. He sounded like a man who expected a shopping spree in the imminent future. My father had a similar sort of a tone, but I knew he loved buying my mother whatever she wanted. After all, my mother was lucky to get him, but my father was even luckier to get her.

  "Come in and have a drink. I just made some oak patio furniture," said Aidan. His baffled expression turned to warm smiles, and he seemed pretty amused by the whole turn of events. Or maybe it was just because the Schuberts were so wowed by having a cool designer and master craftsman as their neighbor. "Lexi?"

  "Oh, no, I can't, but you go ahead. I have to get home," I explained, although a little bit of me wanted to take a look in his house. I figured there was plenty of time for that once I moved in next door. Maybe Aidan and I would become friends. Maybe he'd let me take Barney for a walk. Barney sniffed my leg, looked up with a doggy grin, and did a huge doggy burp. Maybe not.

  Mrs. Schubert and Aidan prattled on, and I'm pretty certain I heard him ask if I were single, but I didn't hear her answer. At the driveway, Mr. Schubert shook my hand. "Guess, I'd better follow and make sure she doesn't spend anything," he said, with a sigh. "Thank you for your good work, young lady. It's a relief to know he wasn't killing people all this time. We would have struggled with our consciences if we didn't do anything."

  "You're welcome. I'm glad to help."

  Mr. Schubert leaned in. "Of course, if you never see us again, you remember this is where you last saw us." He leaned out again. And winked.

  "You got it." I gave his hand one last pump, glad to see the couple happier than when I first met them. I continued to wave at the happy trio as I walked back to my car. I buckled myself in, and reached for my cell phone.

  "You're not going to believe this," I said to Lily when she answered.

  "You're not dead?" she asked. "That's great!"

  "I know, right?" I happily relayed the results of my investigation as she oohed and ahhed. Finally, she said, "Whoa. This is unreal. So, he's a deaf, blind, animal-loving serial killer? Wow."

  "Where did you get blind from?"

  "You? Didn't you say that?"

  "No!"
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  "But he is a deaf, serial killer?"

  "No. He's just a nice guy with a stupid dog. He's not violent at all. I thought I covered that?"

  "I must have missed that bit. Is the dog deaf too?"

  "No that would be pointless, wouldn't it? A deaf guy with a deaf assistance dog?"

  "I guess. Ooooh! Oh! Oh! Did you two have a moment?"

  "Me and the dog?"

  "No. You and the deaf guy? Did he look into your eyes and realize that now he's met you, the world is his oyster and he can achieve anything? Is he totally in love with you?"