Molly: House on Fire

by R. E. Bradshaw

  “Always, Ms. Kincaid. Have a good evening.”

  “Thank you,” Molly replied and drove through the gate when it slid open.

  Leslie grew quiet, as they rolled by one estate after another. Not as populated as Rainey’s neighborhood, the Rosewood Hills community was made up of large mansions on wooded lots of considerable acreage. Molly’s house, located at the end of the long winding drive, was isolated on almost seven acres of land, and bordered by nature preserves. She could not see her neighbors and was not in danger of having any new ones. The entire estate was fenced in, with a security gate at the entrance to the property. Molly stopped at the gate to punch numbers in a small box, sending a signal to the massive iron gates to open.

  Leslie, whose look of wonderment had grown with each passing estate, gasped when she saw the front of the authentic French country manor. “Who the hell are you, Molly Kincaid? I mean, I knew you had money, look at your car, but this, this is way over the top.”

  “It’s just a house,” Molly said.

  Leslie shot back, “Maybe to a one percenter, to the other ninety-nine percent of us, this is definitely over the top.”

  Molly used the controls on the steering wheel, directing the onboard computer to open the massive garage door. She pulled in beside her other car, a Lexus LS sedan she used when driving the LFA was not practical, like when she had more than one passenger or luggage. She turned off the engine and looked at Leslie.

  “I have more than enough, I know, but what I have I earned, every penny of it. I don’t live in this house to flaunt it. It was an investment, a deal I could not pass up that turned into my home when the market went south. I could sell it, but I wouldn’t get what it’s worth, so I live here. My car, well, I was rewarding myself for letting go of some baggage. Some people spend this much in a lifetime on a hobby. I just spent all of mine at once. But I give back, as well, more than anyone knows.”

  Leslie was embarrassed. “I didn’t mean — I’m sorry, it’s just so out of my realm. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone with this much money.”

  “Does it make a difference in how you perceive me?” Molly asked, really wanting to know.

  “Yes, it does.” Leslie answered, taking Molly aback, but then she continued, “The fact that I had no idea how wealthy you were from your behavior, speaks volumes about your character.”

  Molly smiled. “I hope it speaks well of me.”

  Leslie reached to touch Molly’s hand. “Very well.”

  Molly was again overwhelmed with the urge to kiss Leslie and from the look Leslie was giving her, she probably would not have minded. She opened the car door instead, afraid that if she did kiss Leslie, she would not be able to stop. Molly was beginning to realize that jumping into bed was not what she wanted with this woman. She wanted a romance and that thought sent her scrambling out of the car.

  “Come on in,” she said to Leslie, and led her to the kitchen entrance.

  Leslie was behind her, chuckling. “I’ll try to keep my gushing to a minimum. If this is the garage, I can’t wait to see what’s behind that door.”

  Molly opened the door and stepped aside, so Leslie could enter first. She heard another audible gasp, when Leslie saw the French country kitchen. An Italian-marble topped island, large enough to seat six comfortably, was the centerpiece of the room. The ambers and shades of red in the rock walls warmed dark hardwood floors and cabinets. The rustic ambience of the room contrasted with the stainless-steel modern appliances, but it worked. Molly never used the formal dining room, preferring to take her meals in the kitchen. Leslie looked around in amazement.

  She commented, “This kitchen is half the size of my house. Tammy would think she’d died and gone to heaven in here.”

  There was a note on the island from Swoop. She had been by, cooked some meals, and left them in the freezer. As Molly’s hovering, self-appointed guardian, Swoop was concerned that she hadn’t eaten all of what was prepared for the previous week, and wanted Molly to send her a text, letting her know everything was all right. Her last line made Molly laugh aloud.

  I hope it’s a woman keeping you away from home.

  Leslie saw Molly reading and asked, “Is that a note from one of your girlfriends?”

  Molly laughed again. “No, it’s from the girl that cooks for me. I forgot to tell her I was out of town.” She paused, and then added, “I don’t have any girlfriends with access to my house.”

  “Oh, you’re one of those,” Leslie said. “I guess I am, too. If you don’t let them in your house, then you don’t have to deal with throwing them out.”

  Molly grinned at Leslie. “That sounds about right. Do you want something to drink? Are you hungry? Swoop is an excellent cook.”

  “Swoop?”

  “She has a real name, but if I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Molly said, going to the refrigerator. She turned to see Leslie staring at her. “I’m kidding. Swoop was a former client, a gang-banger pro bono case. She’s out of that life now and running a catering business for high-end clients. Of course, she has to wear full chef-whites to cover the tattoos, but she’s doing well for herself. Her employees are all former homeless LGBT teenagers or gang members looking for a way out of the life. She’s giving back. I admire her.”

  Leslie moved closer. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with her success.”

  Molly pulled containers of fresh cut vegetables and Swoop’s special dipping sauce from the refrigerator, placing them on the island. “I helped her get through chef school and fronted the money for her business, in the beginning. She paid me back, but she insists on taking care of me, so I let her. If she knew what I have been eating, she’d hit the roof, but I admit she keeps me healthy.” She looked in the refrigerator. “Water, tea, or you could have wine, if you like.”

  “Water is fine,” Leslie answered, sitting down at the island. “So, you live in this giant house by yourself?”

  “Parts of it. The only time I go in the other bedrooms or the formal areas is when my parents visit.” Molly opened the containers and grabbed a few small plates from a cabinet. She set a bottle of water in front of Leslie and asked, “Would you prefer a glass?”

  “No, this is fine,” Leslie said, reaching for the bottle. “You have to give me a tour. This might be my only shot at seeing your lair, since you don’t allow access, as you say.”

  Having Leslie in her house presented several possibilities. Molly’s mind was busy running through a few scenarios, none of which were puritan in nature. Swaggering Molly wanted out to play. It was amusing that Leslie chose the term lair, because she was definitely in danger of being preyed upon. With her desire growing exponentially, and her troubles placed on the back burner for the moment, Molly calculated her next move. Swaggering Molly was disappointed, when her heart whispered, “Wait. Don’t rush this.” The part of Molly that wanted more than a tryst with Leslie, listened.

  Molly made it clear to Leslie that she was being treated differently from the other women, when she said, “You are welcome, anytime.” She let that hit home, before suggesting, “Let’s have a snack, and then we’ll do the quick tour. I just need to grab something to sleep in from my room.”

  “You mean you don’t usually wear three-hundred dollar silk pajamas?” Leslie teased.

  “No, I don’t,” Molly answered, putting dip and vegetables on a plate for Leslie. “I’m a tee shirt and shorts kind of girl, information Randy was not privy to when he packed for me.”

  Leslie stuck a celery stick in Swoop’s dip. Before taking a bite, she said, “I’m under the impression that you two know each other very well, but it is compartmentalized knowledge.”

  Molly watched Leslie take a bite of the celery, and then the smile form on her face at the first taste. “See, I told you. Swoop can cook.” She continued to talk, as Leslie chewed. “Randy and I lead very separate lives outside the office, and I’m not one to talk about my personal life to anyone, especially not Randy. I catch enough grief fro
m what he thinks he knows.”

  “He told me you both dated the same woman,” Leslie said, behind a little smile. She was enjoying herself at Molly’s expense and just for good measure added, “He said she was the love of your life.”

  “A prime example of why Randy is not privileged to many personal details. He did tell you it wasn’t at the same time, right?” Leslie was laughing and trying not to choke on the celery. She nodded that he did. Molly sipped her water and then asked, “What else, pray tell, did he tell you?”

  Leslie swallowed and answered, “That the old flame came looking and you sent her back home to her wife. She was the blonde in the hot black dress, dancing with you in that picture, right?” Molly nodded that it was. “Then I commend you for your restraint.”

  It had taken restraint, but Molly was happy it turned out the way it did. “Let’s just say, candles are burned for memories, which are rarely based in reality. She’s safely back with her wife and kid in the suburbs, with her integrity intact.”

  “How chivalrous of you,” Leslie teased.

  Molly’s cell phone rang in her jacket pocket. She pulled it out to see Rainey’s name on the screen. Molly noticed the time, nine-thirty, before answering.

  “I’m not bringing her back to sing to the kids. You’ll have to get them to sleep yourself,” she said, teasingly.

  Rainey did not laugh. “Where are you?”

  “We’re at my house. I had to pick up something. We’re leaving in a few minutes.”

  “You received another email. This one troubles me more than the others, Molly.”

  Not wanting Leslie to see the fear on her face, Molly turned away. Still, she was not prepared for Rainey’s answer to her question. “What does it say?”

  “It’s not what it says, really, it’s how it’s worded. Listen. ‘Your meddling in Dobbs County is not wanted. Be careful what you stir. The results may be more than you bargained for.’ Now, that’s a different voice, don’t you think?”

  “Or the same voice unmasking itself,” Molly commented. “It’s much easier to dumb down your English than suddenly begin to wax eloquent.”

  “You may be right about the knowledge level of this person. The last email went all over the world and back, bouncing off satellites in every hemisphere. We traced it to downtown Waitesville, but it appears you can sit on the street and Wi-Fi from several connections. There is a router set up to bounce between the links, hard to pinpoint. I think you’re dealing with two threats, the man you say is behind the murders of your mother and Cheryl Erickson, and someone else who has reason to want you out of Dobbs County.”

  “I know you have a theory on this, so let’s hear it,” Molly said, turning around, gesturing to Leslie that she needed to step out of the room.

  She walked into the spacious den, one entire wall a rock fireplace, with a red leather, extra-long couch and matching chairs, forming a conversation area she never used. The house came fully furnished by the former owner, a client in need of cash, and not a lot of time to wait for it. Molly lived in a three-point-nine-million-dollar mansion, which she snatched up at less than half-price, every room worthy of a center spread in Architectural Digest. The furniture was free. The middle-aged software genius and his wife suddenly cashed out, and bought a boat to sail around the world. Once again, she was in the right place at the right time, but Leslie’s comment made her think. What was Molly doing in this huge house alone?

  Rainey lowered her voice, as if someone might hear her. “I do have a theory, or actually, Danny does. These serial crimes have an element involving superior knowledge of the Internet and computers.”

  “That doesn’t help me, Rainey. My client is a computer genius that creates software for the military. I think he would qualify as having superior knowledge.”

  Rainey was quiet for a few seconds, and then said, “What I am going to tell you is known to very few people. You cannot under any circumstances disclose what I am about to say.”

  “Understood,” Molly said, now wondering what in the hell she had stumbled into.

  “The reason it took so long to form a task force was because this is more than one serial killer, actually it’s not a serial killer at all. It’s three, maybe four killers working together, what we call a pack. Your client is incapable of establishing the kind of relationship it requires to form the bond that holds this group together. I won’t go into how the investigators discovered it was more than one person, but this looks similar to other cases we’ve investigated, where sadistic personalities team up. And there is one other thing.”

  Molly was hesitant to ask. “What else could there possibly be?”

  “This connection to the Erickson murder — I think, and Danny agrees, this was not part of the pack’s activities, but an act by a single member. One of the members has gone rogue and is exceedingly dangerous. He tried to pass this crime off on his former pack. Your client was an unintended patsy.”

  “How are you connecting this pack to the emails sent to me?”

  “I don’t think it’s the pack sending them. The task force formed after all leads were exhausted. If you exclude the Erickson murder, then the pack had not committed a crime in months. Danny feels there is one distinct personality among the group, more sadistic than the others. The rest have gone to ground, so to speak. This rogue is acting outside the pack. You wanted him making mistakes. That was his first one. He either offended the pack and they have cut him off, or he has gone beyond what the rest were willing to do. Unfortunately, he’ll probably decompensate further and become more aggressive.”

  “I’m having trouble following you here,” Molly said, staring out the French doors to the pool beyond.

  “This Jarvis Branch does not fit the profile or the physical evidence for the crimes committed by the pack,” Rainey said. “If you’re right and he committed the Erickson murder, then he has teamed up with this rogue. The scene was so different, yet similar, as if there were two perpetrators. That’s what bothered me and why I called Danny after you left. We think one man killed her, and the rogue from the pack was called to help cover it up. These two men have a reason to work together. They know each other’s sadistic nature. The rogue is forming his own pack, or has found a new leader. I don’t think Jarvis is the alpha here.”

  “This is going to be hard to sell to a judge. The cases are related, but not.”

  “When this all washes out,” Rainey began, “I think you’re going to find someone pulling Jarvis Branch’s strings, someone connected to all the elements in your cases, someone with a lot to lose should any of this come out. That’s who is sending these latest emails. Molly, you can’t know who to trust in this situation. It could be anybody.”

  Molly looked back in the kitchen at Leslie, who was up, examining the Wolf gas range. “It could be anybody,” rang in her ears. She turned away, walking further into the house. “Who am I looking for? What’s the profile?”

  “Organized power is at the root of this. This person either has it or wants it and, like I said, it’s someone with something to lose. It could be the gold, as you say. It just as easily could be something you have no clue you’re about to unravel. This smells of small town reputations and deeply held secrets. Throw in a couple of sadistic murderers, and you have a dangerous mix.”

  “I can’t back out now. This kid needs help.”

  “Then help the kid, and leave the rest of it alone. Sever the cases. That should be easy enough, and if you need me to come speak to the judge, just ask. There is unexplained physical evidence at your scene. Make them account for that. Examine the time it took to do what the murderer did and compare Joey’s strict routine. I bet there wasn’t time for him to do what was done at the scene. You don’t have to prove who actually committed the crime, just show your client didn’t. You can beat the charges without dredging up the past. You’re letting a sense of duty to your mother interfere with your thinking, Molly.”

  “That very well may be, Rainey, but would you let the m
an who murdered your mother walk away?”

  There was silence on the phone. Molly waited, but she knew the answer, before Rainey said, “No, I would not. Okay then, a few words of warning, keep your weapon close and your eyes open. Watch body language, reactions to the questions you ask. Anything that grabs your attention, investigate it. It’s the little things that trip them up, Molly. Danny is going to be watching your case closely. Your rogue is the only lead he has right now. If you need help, just ask.” Rainey paused before she hung up to say, “You’ll be surprised when you find out who it is. The first time you think, no it couldn’t be him, that’s probably your guy.”

  “And it’s definitely a guy?” Molly asked.

  Rainey laughed. “Go ahead and kiss her, Molly. It’s not Leslie. You need someone watching your back, and I think you’ve made the right choice. Let her help you. She has good instincts.”

  “I think so too. Thanks for calling. I’ll keep you up to date.” Molly said, before saying goodbye and hanging up.

  She walked back into the kitchen, where Leslie was now making a cup of coffee with the single serve machine. The sight of her standing next to the counter, concentrating on the steaming cup filling before her, gave Molly the same coming home feeling she experienced when Leslie opened the door earlier.

  Leslie looked up, smiling, unaware of the power she held over Molly. “I hope you don’t mind. It’s getting late and I need some caffeine, or I’ll be snoring on the way home.”

  “That sounds like a plan. Would you mind making one for me, while I clean this up?”

  Leslie answered, “No problem. How do you like it?”

  “Black,” Molly said. She started putting away the food and loading the dishes in the dishwasher. Leslie did not ask about the phone call, but Molly felt the need to explain, although she kept Rainey’s confidence, leaving out part of the information. “That was Rainey, I’m sure you guessed. I was sent another email. She doesn’t think it’s Jarvis sending them, and now neither do I.”