Death Opens a Window

by Mikel J. Wilson

  “I was fifteen minutes late.”

  “So why were you late this time?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  Jeff finished tying the knot, but the pointed hem was about two inches above his belt. “My dad only taught me one knot, the double Windsor. Is there a single Windsor so I can get my tie longer?”

  “There’s a half Windsor.”

  Jeff jerked the knot loose and removed the tie. “So it jumps up from a half Windsor to a double Windsor? That doesn’t make any sense. If it’s a double half, it’s a single.”

  “It’s one of life’s great mysteries. Right up there with flammable and inflammable meaning the same thing. Give it to me. I can tie a half Windsor.” Emory took the tie from Jeff and knotted it around his own neck. “While you guys are at the funeral, I’m going to check something out.”

  “You’re coming with us. The deceased is our case, the widow is our client and the killer – if there is one – could be in attendance. We all have to go.”

  “I’m not dressed for a funeral.”

  “You are always dressed for a funeral.” Jeff pointed with his right hand at Emory’s charcoal grey suit. “Look at you. Why aren’t you wearing any of the new clothes we bought the other day?”

  “You mean the clothes you forced me to buy.” Emory handed Jeff the tie with a clean half Windsor knot in place. “They’re at the dry cleaners. Look, I’m tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Is your insomnia back?” Jeff pushed his head through the loop in the tie.

  “It’s not that. I had an intruder in my apartment.”

  “An intruder?!” Tightening the knot around his neck, Jeff’s hand jerked the tie down too fast when he heard the word, eliciting a gagging cough. “What?” He curled two fingers between the tie and his neck, and gave it a slight pull. “Way to bury the lead! What happened?”

  Emory sat on the edge of Jeff’s desk as he recounted the events of the previous night to his spellbound partner.

  “Did he take anything?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  “You must’ve came home before he had a chance.”

  “Maybe. The worst part about it, when I saw him in that creepy ski mask, the first thought to come to my head was, ‘The curse!’ I froze for a second, and that allowed him to get the upper hand on me.”

  “Ski mask? What did it look like?”

  “It was white with red stitching.”

  Jeff squiggled a line over his mouth with his finger. “Jagged smile, circle eyes?”

  “You’ve seen him too?”

  “Oh my god!” Jeff jabbed his finger into Emory’s chest. “He’s the one who caused my car accident last month.”

  “You never told me that guy wore a mask!”

  “I didn’t?”

  “No.” Emory looked away as he remembered his encounter with the ski mask man from before – an event he had yet to share with Jeff. The same guy slips the postcard under my door, cases this building, causes Jeff’s accident and breaks into my place without taking anything. What the hell does he want?

  “What, have you seen him before?”

  Emory snapped out of his own thoughts. “On the street outside my apartment the night you came over to ask me to join the agency.”

  “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I didn’t think it was important.” No need to tell him about the postcard.

  Jeff began to pace. “Who is this guy? And what does he want?”

  “If he’s been stalking us these past few weeks, it isn’t connected to our current case.”

  “It’s personal. But personal for who? Me or you? He’s gone after both of us.”

  “I don’t know.” Emory thought about the postcard and knew he himself was the target.

  Chapter 17

  Thick, gray clouds veiled the midmorning sun, offering a dearth of daylight to those below – fitting for a day of mourning. Emory checked the sky as he held open the door to the funeral home for his partners. “It’s going to rain.”

  Jeff didn’t even glance up. “No, it isn’t. Those clouds will make it to the mountains before dropping their load.”

  “Guys, who cares?” Virginia gave them both a look of warning. “Be reverent.” Once inside, they were directed to the room where Corey Melton’s funeral would be held and found most in attendance had not yet taken a seat. “I don’t see Becky. I’m going to look for her.”

  When she left, Jeff scanned the room. “Remember, if he was murdered, his killer could very well be here. Look for any clues in their actions and demeanor.”

  Emory’s gaze locked on a familiar figure. “There’s Frank Belcher.”

  Jeff’s eyes followed Emory’s but were drawn to the person next to Frank. “Damn, who is that mammoth woman next to him?”

  “I bet it’s his wife.”

  “She’s like a foot taller than him. Maybe Lady Macbeth killed Corey so her husband could be promoted. Oh look, there’s our buddy, Randy Graham.”

  “Is he actually wearing a tank top under his sport jacket?” Emory asked with a scowl.

  Jeff snickered. “Maybe he thinks no one will realize with his jacket buttoned.”

  Emory noticed a conspicuous absence. “You know who I don’t see is Corey’s boss, Darren Gleeson.”

  “You’re right. Mr. Warm-and-Fuzzy is probably pissed his staff took off work to attend the funeral.”

  Emory’s phone dinged, and he saw it was a text from his lawyer. The paperwork for your lawsuit is completed. Are you ready for me to file it?

  “What is it?”

  Emory pocketed the phone. “Nothing important.”

  Virginia left the bathroom after checking the stalls for Becky, and she bumped into a mutual acquaintance heading in. “Hey, do you know if Becky is here yet?”

  Wearing a black sari with silver trim, the young brunette pulled a paper towel to dry her hands. “She’s here, but I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “Thanks.” Virginia kept looking around until she came to a closed door. On the other side was an empty viewing room – at least she thought it was empty at first glance. There in the corner, she found her friend embracing a man she had never met but recognized from her online research. It was the TVA’s director of generation resources, Darren Gleeson.

  When Jeff and Emory left the funeral home to continue their investigation, Virginia opted to stay with her friend as the mourners proceeded to the cemetery. Even as Corey Melton’s body was being lowered into the ground, her mind was replaying his widow’s embrace with his former boss. I should’ve told the guys. No, then they would’ve thought that Becky had something to do with it. I need to find out myself.

  Following the burial, several family members and close friends retreated to Becky Melton’s tiny house, bringing food and comfort. After most mourners left, Virginia broke away from a living-room conversation with Becky’s mom to find her friend alone in the kitchen. “Becky, I can take care of the clean-up.”

  “That’s okay. It gives me something to do.” The widow unspooled a copious sheet of aluminum foil to cover a tuna casserole. “I don’t know why I’m saving this. I can’t handle cooked tuna even when my stomach isn’t twisted in knots. Do you want to take it home?”

  Virginia waved a hand in front of her face. “I’m with you on that. The smell alone makes me nauseous. I could give it to Jeff, if you don’t mind.”

  “Take it.” Becky moved on to the plate of deviled eggs and grabbed the plastic wrap.

  Virginia placed the casserole next to her purse on the kitchen table. “Becky, I need to ask you something.”

  Becky ran her fingers around the edge of the plate to seal the plastic. “What is it?”

  “Before I ask you this, please know that I don’t for one second believe you had anything to do with Corey’s death, but Darren might have. That’s why I need you to be honest with me.”

  Becky squinted her eyes almost to closing. “Darren? What do you mean
you don’t believe I killed my husband? Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true, and I felt I should preface my question with that.”

  “What the hell could the question be?”

  Becky’s sudden anger prompted Virginia to lower her voice to a whisper. “Are you having an affair?”

  The de-escalation trick didn’t help, as Becky’s tone grew more confrontational. “Why the hell would you ask me something like that?”

  “I saw you two together at the funeral home.”

  “And?”

  “You were alone in a room together.”

  Becky stamped over to the purse on the kitchen table, pulled out a sealed envelope and threw it on the counter. “Corey’s colleagues at work started a collection for me, and he was giving me the money. He didn’t want to embarrass me by handing it to me in front of everyone. I was overwhelmed, and he was trying to comfort me. As far as the kiss goes…”

  Virginia perked up at the word. Kiss?! What kiss? I didn’t see that. Oh my god!

  “Haven’t you ever just kissed someone and not have it mean anything?”

  “Honestly, no.”

  “Well I have, and that’s exactly what happened. I was vulnerable, and he was there. For god’s sake, it’s not like he took me right there in the funeral home with my husband’s body in the next room! It was just a kiss.”

  “I believe you. But I noticed that you still haven’t answered my question about the affair.”

  “I’m not having an affair with Darren!”

  The way she said the last two words bothered Virginia. Why didn’t she end the statement at affair? “Your response seems purposely specific.”

  Tears stormed from Becky’s furious eyes, down her reddened cheeks. “I just buried my husband. If you can’t offer your support to me now of all times, maybe I misjudged our friendship.”

  “Becky, I—”

  “Please, just leave.”

  Virginia grabbed her belongings and scurried away.

  Chapter 18

  When Emory twisted the doorknob, the wind slammed the door open and rain pelted his face. “Not going to rain, huh?”

  Jeff followed him onto the rooftop of the Godfrey Tower. “I’m not a weatherman. Why would you listen to me about that? I’m still not sure what we’re doing back up here. If there was a clue here, your ex-partner must’ve found it, and that’s why he arrested Peter West.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on that. Wayne medaled in jumping to conclusions. I saw something the last time we were here and didn’t think anything of it…” Emory stopped in his tracks and pointed. “Oh my god!”

  “Did you find something?” Jeff looked to where his partner pointed, and a grin stretched across his face.

  “Are you kidding me?!” screeched Emory. “The bus stop wasn’t bad enough?”

  The object of his consternation was the huge rooftop billboard. Gone was the hair product ad, and in its place was now one for Mourning Dove Investigations. It was similar to the bus stop ad he had seen days ago, but in this one, his face was gigantic.

  A beaming Jeff proclaimed, “It looks amazing!”

  “It looks ridiculous!” Emory threw up his hands and forced his eyes to look away. “Forget it. We have a rock to find.” He headed toward the flagpole near the edge of the roof, to where he had tripped before.

  “A rock? Is that why you brought me up here?”

  Emory searched the rooftop. “Remember what Randy Graham was telling us about his holistic counseling? He uses meditation and visualization to help them overcome their obstacles. What do you want to bet he had Corey meditating up here to overcome his fear? Virginia got me thinking about it when I saw her meditating with a crystal. Here it is!” Emory found the rock in a puddle of fresh rainwater and held it up.

  Jeff shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s a rock.”

  “It’s rutilated quartz. See the brown filaments in it. It’s used in holistic circles to overcome phobias.”

  “Okay, if that was Corey’s, you really think he could make it this close to the edge?”

  Emory’s attention was drawn to an incessant clanging. The weeping wind was blowing the short rope dangling from the flagpole’s pulley, causing the snap hook near top to bang against the aluminum pole. “The halyard.”

  “Halyard?”

  “The rope. He could’ve used it as a crutch, a security blanket.”

  Jeff stretched to grab the end of the rope as it swayed in the wind. “You saw him. He was a short guy. He wouldn’t have been able to reach this. It’s not even long enough to hoist a flag up. That’s why the pole’s empty.” He felt the tip. “This rope’s been cut.”

  Emory extended his arm. “Hold my hand.”

  Jeff smirked. “You want to fool around up here?”

  “I need you to steady me.” Emory poked his head over the edge to look at the wood-covered window below. Once he erected himself again, he faced Jeff with a wild look in his eyes. “I know what happened!”

  “Well? Spill!”

  “First, let’s search every possible hiding spot up here.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  Emory pointed at the flagpole. “The rest of that rope.”

  The two PIs split up to search the roof, and within three minutes, Emory heard a pronouncement from the other side of a ventilation system. “I found something!” He met Jeff to find he had removed one of the panels from the side of the system. He grabbed something from inside it. “It’s a gym bag.”

  “Open it up.”

  Jeff pulled from it some blue fabric. “It’s a blanket.”

  Emory thought back to Virginia’s meditation mat. “Maybe Corey sat on it to meditate.”

  Jeff removed a long length of rope from the bag. “The rope!”

  Emory grabbed the rope and returned to the flagpole, followed by Jeff. He held the end dangling from the pole. “It matches! Not only that, but notice how it doesn’t stretch. It’s Kevlar.”

  Jeff slapped the right side of his butt and clenched his fist. “Hot damn! Like the fibers Cathy found in Corey’s hand!”

  “This proves it was murder. Here’s my theory. Randy Graham was helping Corey overcome his acrophobia by having him come to the rooftop of the building, where he meditated during his breaks, or judging from the time of his death, before he started work each day. He probably began near the door the first time, gradually working his way closer to the edge each time he meditated. He eventually made it to the edge, but he would hold onto the flagpole rope as a security blanket. The day of his murder, someone followed him up here, likely waiting for him to be in full meditation before approaching him. Here, sit down like you’re meditating.”

  Jeff reached out a hand. “Give me your jacket.”

  “Why?” Emory started unbuttoning his black field jacket.

  “The ground’s wet. I need something to sit on.”

  Emory took a step back. “You’re not going to sit on my jacket!”

  Jeff waved a hand over the rooftop. “The water’s not going to hurt it. If it does, we’ll stop by the thrift store and get you another one.”

  “Use your own jacket.”

  Jeff patted the breast of his pea coat. “This doesn’t touch the ground.”

  “Then just pretend you’re sitting!”

  “Fine!” Jeff crouched, facing the edge. Emory continued, playing the part of the murderer. “So the killer came up from behind Corey Melton, grabbed the back of his collar and his belt and then flung him over the edge before he had time to react.”

  Playing Corey, Jeff stood and pretended to be hurled toward the edge. “The killer would have to know that Corey came up here, and he’d have to be strong enough to throw him.”

  Emory nodded. “Like you said, Corey was a small man.”

  “That doesn’t explain how he crashed through the window. He would’ve still fallen straight down.”

  “Not if he held onto the rope and was hurled out far enough. He would’ve shot
away from the building, and once the rope was taut, he would’ve come flying back toward the building, giving him enough speed to crash through the window.”

  Jeff picked up the story, “Once he did, the killer drew the rope back, cut it off and hid any evidence of Corey being on the roof. That explains the rope burns on his palms.”

  “Except he didn’t pay any attention to the rock, just like we didn’t the first time up here.” Emory saw Jeff grinning at him. “What?”

  “We did it! We know how he died.”

  “Now it’s just a matter of figuring out who.”

  Jeff reached again for the rope dangling from the pole. “The killer has to be at least six-foot tall to reach where the rope was cut.”

  “And strong enough to hurl Corey at least ten feet from the building. That narrows our list of suspects. Peter West definitely fits that description, and the TBI must have something on him to have arrested him.”

  “True, but I wouldn’t close the case based on your ex-partner’s assumptions. Randy Graham is about six-one, he’s strong enough and he could’ve known Corey was coming up here.”

  “Again, we’re lacking motive. There’s also Corey’s boss, Darren Gleeson, although he has no apparent motive either.”

  “Don’t forget Lady Macbeth, and she does have a motive – so Frank could move ahead at work. Is that it for our suspect list?”

  “Your friend from the museum could’ve done it, but he has no known motive.”

  Jeff grabbed his own neck at the mention of the man who held a knife to his throat. “He definitely has a hair trigger on that anger of his.”

  “Plus, I still have a couple of people to check off my list of ejected land owners because they weren’t home the other day.”

  “I have one of those too. We should get to those after we leave here, so we can hopefully have a complete suspect pool to focus on.”

  “Agreed.”

  Jeff advanced toward his partner and stole a kiss. Emory didn’t fight it, but he did end it. “See, this is exactly the type of thing we shouldn’t be doing now that we’re working together.”