For I Have Sinned a Cate Harlow Private Investigation

by Kristen Houghton

  I am directly under Josh’s bedroom window and gripping the thick windowsill. Balancing and rising up on tiptoe I try to see inside his room. As far as I can see, everything looks the same as the day I went in and investigated. A veritable shrine to the missing.

  Looking up at the eaves I realize that to reach them I will have to stand with one foot on the top rung of this old ladder and the other balancing on the windowsill. It's a shame Mr. O’Leary didn’t have a longer ladder. The window frame is old wood but it feels solid as I grip the sides. I might be able to grab the top of the frame with one hand and use the small penlight I carry to look up under the eaves. Even though there doesn’t seem to be any openings inside them, I have to check it out.

  Heights don’t bother me and I take the penlight out of my pocket to help me see if there’s anything there. I close my eyes and take a deep breath preparing myself to make the climb.

  “Hello. Need any help?” A man’s face appears in the window startling me so much that I almost lose my footing.

  “Whoa, hold on. You okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.” He grabs hold of my hands on the windowsill. “Maybe you’d better climb down. Hold on tightly until I come outside and I’ll steady the ladder for you.”

  I grip the sill and look at a man who appears to be in his late twenties. He’s dressed in jeans, an old shirt, a knit cap that comes down to his ears, and wearing aviator sunglasses.

  “Who are you?” I finally say, steadying myself.

  “I’m David. You must be Cate, I guess. Either that or you’re someone about to break into Marie’s house.”

  So this is David. What’s he doing in Marie's house while she's at work? Maybe there’s more to this relationship than I thought. Either that or Marie is a little too free with handing out house keys. David didn’t get his from Mr. O'Leary; that protective elderly man would have told me about it.

  “David, how about coming outside to meet me? It's better if we’re both on solid ground, agreed?”

  He laughs and says, “Sure. Want me to hold the ladder until you get down?”

  I don’t answer, begin my descent quickly, and am standing beside the ladder before David makes it downstairs. Mr. O’Leary is sitting on his porch, watching us.

  The human mind, with all its so-called higher intelligence, likes to blame things on imagination. If we feel uncomfortable when we first meet someone, the mind says it's only our imagination. Humans are very good at pretending that everything is fine, we're only imagining danger. In that respect, animals have it all over us in the area of intelligence; they trust their feelings. If it doesn’t seem right to them, they don’t debate it. It doesn’t feel right then it’s wrong. Done. Over. Out of here.

  David holds out his hand to me and I look directly at him as I shift the penlight from my right hand to my left to shake hands. In that moment, I know that there’s something off about him, something I don’t like. As I’ve always said, I go with that gut animal instinct because it has never failed me. Maybe Mr. O has it too; he said he didn’t know if he liked David.

  The man standing in front of me, the one whom Marie said in her note that I know you’ll like him when you meet him, tells me he’s here to do some painting for Marie and that she came by on her break to let him in so he could change his clothes. Obviously Mr. O’Leary was still at the store when this occurred. David says he’s sorry if he scared me.

  “You didn’t,” I say. “Just surprised me that's all. I don’t scare easily.”

  “I’ve never met a private detective before. That must be pretty interesting work.”

  His pandering concerning what I do for a living doesn’t work on me. I ignore his phony interest in what I do and ask him when he’s going to start painting.

  “Oh, as soon as I do some sanding on the old railings, I guess.” He pauses. “Marie says you’re looking into her brother's disappearance. Re-opening a cold case, right?”

  “Yes, I'm working the case but I prefer not to talk about it. It is confidential, I’m sure Marie has told you that.”

  “She’s told me a lot about it. The letters she has received and how you’re going over every detail from ten years ago.” He looks at me as if he thinks I’m going to share info on my case. I don’t blink.

  “If she has, David, that’s her decision, but I am not going to talk about anything involving it.”

  “But, do you think he’s alive? I mean after all these years? Where do you think he is?”

  “I already said that I can’t discuss this.”

  “Right, I understand. Ethics and all.” He changes tactics. “There are so many things in the news that are horrible. Missing children, assaults on the streets, and that story about a murdered priest; I try not to even listen to the news much. But I guess in your line of work you have to listen.”

  “Part of the job. And speaking of that, I have to do my job now so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go into the house for a while. It’s necessary for me to be alone to do my work. Is there anything you need to get in there before I start?”

  David looks a little put out by my abruptness but says, “No, I got everything I need. Of course I understand that you need professional privacy.”

  He tells me it was nice to meet me and as we shake hands again, the penlight in my left hand falls to the ground and lands next to David’s sneaker. Before he reacts, I squat to pick it up and notice a dark reddish stain on the top of the sneaker. He sees me looking at it and says; “I guess you know blood when you see it, being a detective and all.”

  Not necessarily. It looks like a lot of things that are red. The stain could be catsup, tomato sauce, or paint for all I know, but I just nod. Let him think I can spot blood a mile away. It adds to the mystique of the private detective.

  “I’m a vet technician and I was assisting with a surgery at the animal hospital. The blood must’ve soaked through my scrub booties. I’ll have to bleach it out tonight.”

  “Yeah, bleach will do the trick.” I stand up. “I use it all the time. Works wonders.”

  I’ve never used bleach to get rid of a bloodstain in my life. Usually I either send the item to the cleaners or throw it out. Luckily for me very little blood has ended up on my clothes.

  As I’m walking away towards the front door, David calls out that the door is open.

  “Oh? Okay, David thanks for telling me. I’ll be sure to lock it when I’m done here.”

  Inside the house I make a quick run-through. Nothing looks as if anyone else is living here besides Marie. Even her ‘fridge seems to only still have food for one. So David has not yet charmed himself into her house or her pants. Marie is too innocent to see anything wrong with him. Glancing out the front window I watch David sanding the old railings on the front steps. He seems intent on what he’s doing. I quickly lock the front door and run around to the back one to make sure it’s locked as well. I want privacy and not nosiness.

  Upstairs in Josh’s room I lean out the window as far as I can and shine a light on the eaves. As far as I can see there aren’t any openings. The wood looks as if it is starting to rot though. Some chips of wood are breaking away from the eaves. Other than that I don’t see any openings.

  After I’m done I snoop through Marie’s room again and find it spotless. Not one thing out of place. Near her dresser is a small bookcase just like the one in Josh’s bedroom. As I noticed on my first visit, her book collection is eclectic; there are self-help books, romance novels, and classics sharing shelf space together. I see an old copy of Peter Pan and Other Works by J.M. Barrie next to a new book titled, And Then I’ll Be Happy! Stop Sabotaging Your Happiness and Put Your Own Life First.

  I take the book by Barrie and notice that it is dog-eared and well-worn, as if the reader had thoroughly enjoyed it and wanted to re-read favorite parts. One page has a bookmark in it as well as having been turned over to mark it. Joshua’s and Marie’s code.

  “Do you know why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stori
es.”

  The light is better at the window and I walk over to read a little of Peter Pan. It’s a great children’s book and more. What adult hasn’t wanted to fly away to Never-Never Land to get away from things every once in a while?

  The sun is shining through the window in Marie’s bedroom and I feel its warmth on my face. I look outside and see Mr. O’Leary pruning his hedges. David is probably still sanding or has finished that job and gotten around to painting the railings. Leaning my elbows on the sill, I look around, debating what I should do. I put the book back in its place and decide that I really need Mr. O’Leary’s coffee with a kick.

  ****

  Spend enough time with Mr. Albert O’Leary and you will come to know about every single thing that happened in his neighborhood over the last fifty years. He’s a great local historian. He tells me stories about neighbors, local stores, whose kids are walking on the wild side and whose marriages are shams. The spiked coffee puts me in a mellow mood and I am careful to sip slowly.

  “Got a sort of treat today, miss. Picked up some cream cheese spread to put on that raisin bread. I’m gonna fix it up for us right now. You just sit there.”

  The sun is shining making rainbow sparkles on the houses. Marie’s house is directly in the path of the sun’s rays and they hit above the bedroom windows. It’s a peaceful house that is hiding a secret, Josh’s secret.

  I look at the eaves above Josh’s room again but I know there’s nothing there. This really is a very peaceful neighborhood. My gaze travels over the dormers and eaves of the McElroy house.

  The corner of my eye is caught by a sliver of a glint above and to the right of Marie's room. The sun playing tricks, maybe the rays are hitting a stone or chip of paint up there. I get up to take a closer look. Inside the overhang of the eaves there is a glint of something that looks shiny and metallic. If I move I don’t see it but standing still it is very visible. Just a chink in the wooden eaves.

  “Do you know why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” What had Marie said about that line? That Wendy told her brothers bedtime stories so they’d fall asleep. “I did the same for Joshua; I was good at making up stories to help him relax.”

  “Do you know why swallows build in the eaves?” Because they want to hide something Peter? The Peter Pan eaves Josh mentions in his letters have to be the ones where he heard the stories; in Marie’s room. That glint tells me there may be something there in the eaves near Marie’s room, high up by the roof’s edge, outside her window. Easy for a tall teenage boy to access, and Mr. O’Leary had said that Joshua was a nimble boy, climbing in and out of the upstairs windows.

  I put my coffee down and head towards my car just as Mr. O’Leary comes outside carrying a tray filled with goodies.

  “Hey, Cate! Where you goin'?”

  “To get a bigger ladder,” I call over my shoulder.

  ****

  “Where have you been all these years my son? I have prayed for God to bring you back to me and He has! It’s a miracle that we’re together here now. Do you believe that.”

  “Yes, I do believe it.”

  Chapter 18

  Getting to the box hidden there was made a whole lot easier for me when I remembered that, while we were having dinner with his mother on Saturday, Will mentioned that he was taking Monday off this week. I call him from my car on the way to the hardware store.

  “Will? Hi, sorry to bother you. What are you doing?”

  “I just got back from the gym and I’m going to take a shower. Want to come take it with me?”

  Give the man credit; he never gives up trying to get me naked.

  “Nope, I already showered. But I need your help. Are you going to be busy?”

  “Why? What’s going on? I can tell this isn’t a social call.”

  “I need a ladder, a really long metal one. Your cousin, the one who does roofing lent you one a few months ago. Do you still have it?”

  “Boy, you get right to the point, don’t you? Yeah, I still have it. Why do you need a ladder?”

  “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m crazy and you won’t bring it here.”

  “I already think you’re crazy and where’s here?”

  “Marie McElroy’s house in Queens. The cold case file.”

  “Queens? You want me to come to Queens? Now? This is my day off! I had plans.”

  “Please? It’s really important. I may have found something big concerning the case.”

  He says absolutely nothing for a couple of minutes, then, “Can I take a shower first? Believe me you’ll appreciate it if I do.”

  “A quick one then, okay? I’ll send the address to your cell phone and you can key it into your GPS. Thank you Will. Seriously I owe you.”

  “You sure do.” And he hangs up.

  At the hardware store I get a sharp hand pick tool and a bottle of lubricant guaranteed to dissolve rust. I’m betting that if there is a metal box, it would be rusted shut after ten years of sitting in a moist wood opening.

  On the way back to the McElroy house I call Marie and tell her I need her permission to do something at her house that might damage some of the wood on the outside just a bit. I don’t tell her exactly what I’ll be doing and don’t mention the eaves or what I suspect. No good getting her hopes up. I just promise her that I’ll be careful not to do much damage.

  “Oh, Cate, don’t worry about damage. If there’s a possibility of a clue about Josh I don’t care if you wreck the house! I’ll come home. I can be there in a half hour.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” I say and tell her I’ll call her if I find something. I use all my charm to convince her to stay at work. Truthfully I want to check out anything I find alone. I don’t want anyone else touching evidence.

  It takes Will about an hour to get to Queens and he arrives not in the best of moods. While he’s untying the ladder from the roof of his truck. I quickly fill him in on why I need it, the problem of David, and my need for privacy with what I’m doing. I introduce him to Mr. O’Leary who has been not so discreetly watching me walk around the house, go back inside, and look out second floor windows.

  “Mr. O’Leary, this is Will Benigni; Will, Mr. Albert O’Leary.”

  They shake hands and talk for a few minutes. I’m sure that Mr. O’Leary thinks that Will works for me and I have to smile at that thought.

  With Mr. O’Leary supervising and Will holding the ladder steady for me, I climb to the top and am easily able to reach the eaves. At first it looks as if there isn’t anything there but weather-scarred broken wood; maybe the sun was only glinting off a chip of paint that looked shiny in the glare. Looking closer, though, I can see there is definitely something that does look like a piece of metal. I carefully chip away the larger rotted pieces with the pick. My hands are sweating and the rotting wood flakes stick to my fingers. Larger pieces fall to the windowsill.

  Suddenly the plinking sound of metal hitting metal makes me aware that I have hit something that might be the jackpot and I am right. I hurriedly break the old wood with my hands making an opening large enough to insert my fingers. Looking into the opening, I see it. Hidden deep within the wooden eaves is a narrow metal box. It had been wedged into an opening that looked to be about a foot deep and six inches wide. Using the pick and my fingers, I wrestle it slowly out of the wooden opening. Splinters jab into my palm.

  Once the box is free, I hold it against my chest with one hand and fish Joshua’s key out of my back pocket with the other. The key certainly looks as if it will fit but, as I suspected, the lock is rusted shut.

  “Does the key…?” Mr. O’Leary begins to yell up the ladder. Will turns and says something to him and Mr. O’Leary is quiet. I see David and a few neighbors standing a short distance away from them watching me. Will calls my name and nods at me as a signal to come down.

  “Well?” says Mr. O’Leary in a stage whisper when I’m on solid ground and cradling the box inside my sweatshirt. I do
n’t answer him.

  “Did you find something important?” David asks quietly, coming to stand in front of me. I’m about to tell him what I told him before about privacy when Will takes over, pulling out his wallet ID and his badge.

  “I’m Detective Will Benigni, NYPD.” I see Mr. O’Leary’s mouth drop open with that statement. “This is a cold-case private investigation by Cate Harlow. It can only be discussed with the person who hired Ms. Harlow. I’d appreciate it if everyone would just go back to whatever they were doing and not ask any questions. There’s nothing to see anyway. Everything’s over.”

  Turning to me he suggests we walk back to my car. I glance at Mr. O’Leary who nods and gives me a brief smile. He knows that Will had to talk the way he did to get rid of David. David walks quickly around towards the front of the house pulling his phone out as he goes. Probably calling Marie but I can handle that later.

  I turn towards Mr. O’Leary and call out that I’ll be back for the coffee kick soon.

  “Make it real soon. ‘Bye lady detective.”

  ****

  I am sitting in my office with only the desk light illuminating the papers I found in the metal box. Will followed me back to my office where we used the rust dissolvent to clear the lock. Myrtle insisted on putting paper towels on my blotter so I wouldn’t have a mess from the rust and solvent on my desk. I didn’t care; I just wanted the box opened. After cleaning away the rust from the lock I took the key and after a few tries, it turned in the lock and the box opened. It was after five.

  “Cate, this is your case. Check out what’s inside. I’m here and if you want to share what’s in there, that’s fine.” Will sits in Myrtle’s chair and puts his feet up on her desk. Myrtle doesn’t seem to mind and she busies herself by the copier.

  Inside the box is a brown canvas bag that contains rolled up papers. They are dated and in order. Sifting through them quickly, I am stunned by what I read and say quietly, “Will? You have to look at this.” Then I add, “You too Myrtle.”

  There are newspaper and magazine clippings about the sex scandals that have been rocking the Catholic Church for years. They are a veritable timeline of sexual abuse and the extraordinary efforts the church took to keep these horrendous crimes hidden.