Death Opens a Window

by Mikel J. Wilson

  “There’s nothing you can do about it. Just be patient.”

  Jeff’s hands tensed around the wheel as he again crossed the solid yellow line in an attempt to pass the truck. “Becky told Virginia that Frank used to be Corey’s boss.”

  “How did they reverse roles?”

  “I don’t know, but it couldn’t have made Frank happy.”

  Emory noticed Jeff’s growing impatience. “Just wait for a passing lane.”

  “There’s not going to be one for at least five miles.”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “I hate getting stuck behind these things. I can’t stand not being able to see what’s ahead of me.” Jeff pointed to the truck’s left turn signal, which was blinking red even though there would be no turn for miles. “Besides, if I don’t get past it, that light’s going to give me a seizure.” He drove over the yellow line once more and gunned it.

  “Crap!” Emory seized the grab handle and watched through squinted eyes.

  Jeff passed the truck and returned to the proper lane without incident, but when he glanced at Emory, he burst out laughing. “What’s your problem, Granny?”

  Emory relaxed and dropped his hands. “You’re a terrible driver.”

  “Hey, I’ve never had an accident that was my fault.”

  Emory cocked his head. “Do you hear that rattling?”

  “My car’s been making noise since my accident last month – which, as you know, wasn’t my fault.”

  “That noise is bad. You should get it checked out.”

  Jeff brushed it off. “A little rattle never killed anyone… as long as it’s not coming from a snake.”

  Emory rolled down his window and looked at the thousand-foot drop on the other side of the railing along the road. He held his ear to the outside. “I think something’s wrong with your tire.”

  “I hear what you’re talking about now. That’s not the same sound I…” Jeff didn’t have time to finish his statement. Without warning, he lost control of the car.

  He struggled to pull the wheel in the right direction while the car spun around at least three times. It skipped along the railing at the side of the road like a pebble over a pond.

  Emory screamed, clinging for dear life to the grab handle before it broke off.

  Jeff slammed the brakes, and after a few seconds, he was able to bring the car to a stop in the middle of the road. Panting, he looked at Emory. “Are you okay?”

  Emory saw that the car was now perpendicular to the lanes so that they were facing the railing at the side of the road. He held up the grab handle, which had broken off. “Yeah… I’m okay.” He stuck his head out the window to see the front of the car. “Your wheel’s gone.”

  Jeff faced Emory in silence for a couple of seconds. “Maybe you are cursed.” He let out a little laugh. “It’s probably not safe to be around you right now.”

  “You’re blaming this on me?”

  Jeff’s face turned to horror. “Get out of the car.”

  “What?”

  “Get out of the car!”

  Emory turned to his right to see the truck they had passed was now on a collision course, heading right for his door.

  Chapter 13

  With the truck about to hit, Emory and Jeff shoved their doors open and leapt to the other side of the road, tumbling over the pavement.

  BOOM!

  Crunching, twisting metal and smoking rubber screeched down the road.

  Lifting his eyes, Emory saw Jeff crouched beside him. He patted him on the back. “Are you hurt?”

  Jeff shook his head. “No.”

  They looked behind them to see that the truck had hammered into the side of the car and was now pushing it down the road, skidding almost one-hundred feet before it whimpered to silence.

  Emory raced to check on the condition of the driver. Jeff followed, but once his partner told him the driver was unharmed, he advanced to the front of the truck to inspect the damage to his car.

  “Damn!”

  Twist-tied to the truck’s grill, his red sports coupe was crushed in the middle like a stepped-on cola can, and every window frame held shattered glass or nothing at all.

  “Mother f…” Jeff caressed the trunk of his car. “There’s no coming back from this. DOA.”

  Emory joined him in front of the truck. “Jeff, I’m sorry.”

  Clutching a sweat-stained University of Tennessee baseball cap, the hefty lumberjack of a truck driver joined them. “What were you doing in the middle of the road?”

  “We lost a wheel.”

  The driver pointed behind him. “Must be that tire I almost hit back there.”

  Emory squinted up the road but couldn’t see it. “Why would a tire just pop…” His words dropped, as did his chin, when he saw the chicken-bone doll on the road.

  “What is it?” Jeff looked his partner’s face up and down, and followed his eyes. “Oh. My. God. You think it’s that curse?”

  Emory frowned at him. “I wasn’t thinking that!”

  “Don’t lie. I was kidding about that. Look, if it had really been the curse, it would’ve been your car.”

  “It did hit my side of the car.”

  “It’s not the curse!”

  “I didn’t say it was!”

  Jeff caressed his car’s broken side. “Someone obviously tampered with it while we were inside that damn meditation center.”

  “Who? Who knew we were there?”

  An hour later, after the three men involved in the accident finished telling their versions to the police, Virginia arrived to pick up her partners. As they piled into her black hybrid, she watched Jeff’s car being towed away. “Oh my god! Are you two sure you’re okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

  Jeff answered from the passenger seat, “We’re fine.”

  Emory slid to the middle of the backseat. “We got out of the car before it was hit.”

  Jeff checked his face in the visor mirror. “Did you find out about the hot air balloons?”

  “So we’re done talking about what happened here?” Virginia threw the car into drive.

  “Later.” Jeff eyed Emory in the mirror. “We have different explanations.”

  “Hot air balloon pilots aren’t required to file a flight plan, so I called all the balloon tourism companies in Knox County, and none had a balloon up in the air at that time.”

  By the time she finished speaking, Virginia had caught up to the tow truck. As no passing lane would appear for a while, they were unable to escape the image of the crash even as they avoided conversation of it.

  Jeff adjusted his seat, driving it into Emory’s knees. “Of course, since they’re not required to file a flight plan, we can’t know for sure a balloon didn’t fly near the Godfrey Tower at the time Corey died.”

  Emory put his feet behind Virginia’s seat, now sitting catty-corner. “I think someone would’ve reported a balloon flying that close to downtown.”

  “Enough about the damn balloon.” Virginia pointed at the damaged car in front of them. “What happened with your car?”

  “It was tampered with.”

  Virginia asked Jeff, “Who would want you dead?”

  “Me? Why do you assume it’s me? Emory was in the car too.”

  She smiled. “I know you better. Do you think it’s related to the accident you had last month?”

  “Possibly. We never did find out who that was.” Jeff turned on the radio station and winced at the sleep-inducing New Age music pan-fluting through the speakers.

  Emory tapped Jeff’s shoulder. “You said that guy last month – the one who caused your accident – was casing the office, right?”

  Jeff looked at Emory in the rearview mirror. “Yeah. I saw him from my apartment window.”

  “But you’ve had no break-ins. Do you think he was actually looking to kill you?”

  “No. He could’ve easily moved to ambush me in the time it took me to run downstairs and get out the front door.”

/>   Virginia asked, “When you chased him in your car, do you think the reason he put out the spikes was to stop the pursuit, or was he hoping you would lose control and die in the accident?”

  “I thought it was to stop me, but maybe he was trying to kill me.”

  Emory tsked. “I don’t think so. Police use those all the time, and I’m not aware of any resultant fatalities. So then why would he loosen the lug nuts today – something that had a high probability of killing us both? I could be wrong, but I don’t think they’re related.”

  “Of course, we’re missing the most obvious choice. The man we just interviewed. Guru Bike Shorts had plenty of time to sabotage my car while we were touring the place.”

  Emory responded, “But how would Randy Graham know which car is yours?”

  “Maybe he saw us pull up.”

  “Maybe. If someone is trying to get us off this case, at least there’s one thing we know for certain. Corey Melton’s death was no accident.”

  Virginia slapped the steering wheel. “Wait a second! Someone loosened your lug nuts?”

  “Tires don’t just fall off on their own.”

  “Oh my god!” Virginia turned the radio off again. “Becky said the same thing happened to her about a week before Corey died.”

  “It did?” asked Emory.

  Jeff followed with, “What are the odds of that?”

  Virginia shook her head. “I wonder if that has anything to do with… Becky gave me Corey’s laptop, and I searched his browser history. A few weeks ago, he started looking into home security systems.”

  “Huh.” Jeff reached for the radio power button once more, but Virginia slapped his hand. “Maybe he knew what happened to his wife’s car was no accident.

  Emory added, “And maybe he knew his life was in danger.”

  Chapter 14

  As Emory parked in front of the Godfrey Tower, Jeff craned his neck to look through the windshield and scaled the wall with his eyes to the square of plywood near the top. “They haven’t fixed the window yet.”

  “They probably have to special order the glass.”

  The two men made their way up to the fifth-floor TVA office. In searching for Frank Belcher, they found that he was already moving from his cubicle into Corey Melton’s former office. As the PIs entered his new office, Frank opened the blinds to reveal a window with a view of the building next door.

  Emory cleared his throat. “Mr. Belcher?”

  Frank’s narrow shoulders jumped an inch above his slender body – a frailty the padding in his suit jacket couldn’t conceal. He turned toward them, the new light exaggerating the contrasts at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know why Corey kept these blinds closed. It was always like a dungeon in here. If you’re looking for Darren, he’s at our corporate office today.”

  “We didn’t come to see him.” Jeff took a seat. “We’re here to see you.”

  Frank threw a hand to his chest. “Me? Why me?”

  Emory sat beside his partner. “We figured you were closer to Corey than anyone else here. You did work for him.”

  “Yes, but…” Frank stopped himself.

  “You were just colleagues and not friends? I understand.” Jeff tilted his head toward his partner. “We’re the same way.” He gave Emory a wink once Frank wasn’t looking.

  “That makes it sound like I didn’t like him. I did like him, and I’ll miss him.”

  Emory pointed to the nameplate on the desk with Frank’s name and new title. “Interim manager. You had that made pretty quickly.”

  Frank’s eyes followed Emory’s finger. “No, it’s a couple of years old. I was the interim manager after the last manager left, before Corey took the job. Actually, it’s out of date now because Darren just told me I’m officially the new manager. No interim.”

  “Congratulations,” said Emory.

  Jeff nodded toward the floor, to a box from which protruded another nameplate. “Is that Corey’s stuff?”

  “That’s all his personal belongings. I’ll have them sent to his wife.”

  “We can take them to her.” Jeff pulled the box closer and examined it. Despite Frank’s description, there was nothing personal inside, unless the possum skeleton was a family pet – just office junk like the nameplate, business cards, a couple of framed photos, etc.

  Emory continued with the questioning. “How long have you worked here?”

  Frank took a seat at his new desk. “I started out as a lineman seventeen years ago.”

  Jeff looked up from the box. “A lineman?”

  “I hung and maintained power lines.”

  “Seriously?” Jeff let a chuckle slip. “I thought those guys were big so they could lug around those heavy lines. No offense, but you don’t look that tough.”

  Despite Jeff’s hollow preface, Frank did appear to take offense to the remark. He pinched his lips into a dime-thin slit before they again parted to speak. “To be truthful, I wasn’t very good at it. I think the supervisor who hired me did so out of pity. I did that work for almost a year before I finally got an office job here and worked my way up.”

  “Commendable,” said Emory.

  “We understand Corey worked here for six years. Was he your boss that whole time?” asked Jeff, although he already knew the answer.

  Emory noticed a micro-expression of disdain on Frank’s face just before he answered. “No.”

  “What position did he have when he started?”

  Frank’s gaze dropped to his desk. “My intern.”

  “Ouch!” Jeff released a provocative laugh. “That must’ve hurt!”

  “He didn’t go directly from intern to manager. After a few months, he was promoted to a coordinator in another department. And then he became a specialist and then an assistant manager. He came back to this department when he was offered the manager job.”

  Jeff held up his hands. “Let me see if I get the math right here. After fifteen years, you had worked your way up to interim manager, but then they end up giving the permanent job to someone who had worked here for four years – not to mention someone who used to report to you as an intern. How lousy were you at the job?”

  Frank, whose cadaverous face now blushed to life, raised his voice for the first time. “It wasn’t like that! I was told from the beginning back then I wouldn’t be made the permanent manager.”

  Jeff told him, “I’d be thinking who do I have to sleep with to move up like that. Am I right?”

  “I never thought that.”

  Jeff continued, “Still, to choose Corey over you. That’d piss me off.”

  “Of course, I was upset!” Frank slapped his desk. “Who wouldn’t be?”

  Emory beat Jeff to the next question. “What’s changed?”

  “I’ve proven I can handle the job.”

  Jeff’s empathy was short-lived. “Good thing Corey’s gone now, isn’t it?”

  “Surely you don’t think I had a thing to do with his death.” Frank removed his glasses and placed them on the desk, perhaps so the PIs could see the earnestness in his eyes. “I had my differences with Corey, but I generally liked him. He was a great guy.” Frank put his glasses back on. “So he was murdered?”

  “We don’t know yet.”

  Frank nodded in agreement at Emory’s answer. “I didn’t buy that he killed himself. He never seemed depressed at all to me. He was always joking around. Of course, comedy can hide depression.”

  “If he were murdered, who would be at the top of your list of suspects?” Emory prepared to type the names into his phone.

  Frank fumbled through a stack of documents on the desk to retrieve a file folder. “Sometimes in our work, we get nasty notes and voicemails, along with the occasional threat. I remember one voicemail Corey received recently that was especially troubling to me, although I don’t think he took it seriously.” He held up a document from the folder. “Here it is. It’s a transcript of a voicemail from a Peter West.”

  The PIs pinged each other with
furtive glances when they heard the name of the clothing sales clerk they had questioned the day before. Jeff asked, “Could I see that?”

  He took it from Frank and read it aloud. “This is third message I’ve left for you. I’d appreciate a fucking call back! You son of a bitch think you can steal my house because you send me a letter?! Damn coward can’t even talk to me on the phone? I’ll come down and talk to you personally!”

  Emory’s eyes went from the letter back to Frank. “Did he actually come down?”

  “Sure enough. I know Corey was scared, but he stayed calm and let the guy yell at him until security showed up to kick him out.”

  “That was the end of it?”

  “As far as I know. Honestly, this Peter guy should’ve been happy. His home was a rusty double-wide trailer – not worth the money we gave him for it. In fact, based on the cursory report we did before acquiring that whole tract for the windfarm, it’s all worthless land. Except for two of the houses, the others have minimal value. They have great views but nothing worth dying over.”

  Jeff handed the transcript back to Frank. “How was the tract chosen?”

  “Meteorologists help us determine wind patterns for an area, and then a cursory assessment of the land is done using publicly available information.”

  “You don’t go check out the land?”

  “In most cases, we’re not allowed on the property until escrow closes, so we can’t order a geologic assessment and survey of the land until then.”

  Jeff couldn’t hide his surprise. “You don’t even know what you have exactly until after you’ve bought it?”

  “The cursory assessment almost always has reliable information to determine the property’s appropriateness for the particular project. The physical survey gives a comprehensive report that lets us know the kind of ground we have underneath and the best location to build on.”

  Emory scooched closer to the desk to look at the file folder. “Could we see the survey report?”

  Frank sifted through the papers in the folder. “It’s not here. Escrow closed the day before Corey died. He probably didn’t get a chance to order it yet. Add that to my to-do list.”