The Blood Files, Case #2: Give Me Shelter

by Joelle Ayers

  There was no other option.

  This time, instead of choosing wheels for us, he took us to pick one out ourselves as long as we stayed within budget. He’d always been generous with money, treating me like the daughter he never had, making sure Josh was mindful that the car belonged to me just as much as it belonged to him. That’d never been an issue, though. If there was one thing I could say about Josh, it’s that he looked out for me before anyone else. Even himself.

  I stopped in front of the brick colonial and eyed the “For Sale” sign out front. After looking it up and realizing it was on the market, I promptly made an appointment with the listing realtor so I could get inside. I was sure the place was empty and didn’t expect to feel anything, but… I had to try.

  Stepping out onto the pavement, I realized I probably should’ve worn something other than a t-shirt and jeans, something that made me look older, something that made me look like I could afford a monstrously huge house like this.

  What was I thinking?

  I knew Duggan had money. Why didn’t I take into account that he most likely lived like a doctor? This is what I get for being flighty and doing things before I think them all the way through.

  The realtor hadn’t arrived yet because I purposely showed up half an hour early. I eyed the neatly manicured lawn and well-kept exterior of the home and envisioned Duggan, imagined him living here, his family, too, before the divorce proceedings began. My search revealed bits and pieces about him, but I knew there had to be more to his story.

  What had driven someone so successful to make such a careless decision that night? Was he really just that irresponsible or was he maybe drinking a little heavier than usual because of his divorce?

  Something was missing.

  “May I help you with something?”

  I turned on my heels when a deep, gravelly voice startled me from behind. Apparently, residents of this neighborhood could spot an outsider from a mile away.

  Clearing my throat, I introduced myself. Well… kind of. “Abigail,” I said, giving the middle-aged man the same false name I’d given the realtor when making the appointment.

  “Fred,” he replied, offering me his hand.

  I shook it and explained why I was loitering on abandoned property. I was pretty sure that was why he approached me.

  “I’ve got an appointment for a tour.”

  He nodded. “It’s a beautiful property,” he assured me. “Wife and I live right next door.”

  A breath hitched in my throat when a jolt of excitement hit me. If he lived next door to Matthew Duggan, he might know a thing or two about his personal life that wasn’t shared in the media.

  “Is the neighborhood pretty quiet?” I inquired.

  “Incredibly. There aren’t many children on the block and with the cul-de-sac at the end of the street, not much traffic either.” He paused and looked me over, probably taking note of my less than spectacular attire. “Do you already live in the area or just looking to make a change?”

  I had to think quickly. “Looking to make a change,” I blurted. “My husband and I are hoping to find something with space to start a family.”

  Fred seemed to lighten up a bit. “Oh! Well, the Duggans have a playset out back. Before they split, their kids used to be out on that thing all the time.”

  This was my way in. “So, the family who lived here before had children?”

  Fred nodded. “Sure did. A son and a daughter. Both had to have been close to ten. Maybe a little older. Maybe a little younger.”

  “Did they just decide to sell the house because they were splitting up?” I asked, knowing that wasn’t the case, but hoping I could get Fred to talk a little more.

  “Eh… not quite. The missus left with the kids about a year ago, but I believe Matt was planning to keep the place.”

  “Planning to? What changed his mind?” I asked next, eyeing the for-sale sign, wondering if this guy was ready to crack yet.

  “Well, I don’t mean to scare you off or anything, but… he passed away. Not inside the house, so no worries there,” he added with a nervous laugh. “Wouldn’t want to spook you.”

  I faked a smile. “Nope. Wouldn’t want that.” I glanced at the large home again. “With a place this big, this guy must’ve had one heck of a job to afford it on his own.”

  Fred nodded. “Yeah, I’d say. He was a pediatrician,” he shared, something I knew. “Owned a restaurant, as well, but I can’t recall the name of it. He fancied himself a landlord, too,” he added, “but I’d hardly call him that.”

  This new information intrigued me, but not as much as the last part of Fred’s statement. “Why? Was he into something shady?”

  I shouldn’t have asked that. The journalist in me reared her ugly head and I felt like I’d come on too strongly. However, I was getting the impression the Duggans’ former neighbor just liked to run his mouth.

  “Depends on who you ask. To us, it probably would’ve just seemed like he didn’t mind expanding to the inner cities. However, to the tenants, Matt was the biggest slumlord this side of heaven,” he added with a gruff laugh. “One time, a tenant found out where he lived and made quite the mess of the front yard—still not sure if the fecal matter they smeared on his front door and garage was from a human or dog.”

  He was clearly amused as he stared off, recalling the incident, I was sure. “Some might say he got what he deserved.”

  I pretended to be casual while making a mental note of what I’d just been told. “Sounds like a possibility.”

  “Yeah, Matt was a good neighbor, but I always got the feeling he wasn’t well liked.”

  Fred had my attention again. “Why’s that?”

  He shrugged. “Between his wife leaving him and his tenants hating him, I just think there was more to him than most of us knew.”

  That was usually the case.

  “Well, thanks for filling me in.” As I walked toward my car, I imagined the confused look on Fred’s face.

  “Aren’t you waiting for the realtor?”

  I waved at him from over my shoulder without looking back. “Nope, I think I’m done here.”

  I climbed in and headed home. There were two new leads to pursue:

  Duggan’s wife and his tenants.

  *****

  “Long day?”

  I turned toward Cody when he asked. “Not necessarily long, but frustrating definitely fits.”

  “Same.”

  He had my attention. “Do share.”

  He let out a breath and Josh joined me on the couch after grabbing a soda from the fridge. “I took a cab to see Mom today and I’ll give you one guess who just so happened to have taken the day off to crash my visit.”

  “The Duke of Doucheville himself?” I asked, referring to our stepfather, Bryce, by the nickname I coined for him a couple months ago.

  Cody pointed a finger at me. “Bingo.”

  “Ugh.” I let my head fall against the back of the couch, feeling my brother’s frustration. We hated the guy and for good reason—he treated us like trash.

  “The second I stepped foot inside the door, he starts getting on my case about finding a job and what my plans are for the getting out of your apartment and standing on my own two feet.”

  “Why does he even care if you’re staying here? It’s not like he pays any of our bills or even cares what goes on here?” I hissed.

  “You and I know it’s not about looking out for you. My staying here is just another way for him to take jabs at me,” Cody reasoned. He was right, I was sure, but I was sick of Bryce thinking he had any kind of say in our lives. He had his own children to worry about.

  “And I’m working on the job thing,” Josh cut in. “I spoke with my dad again yesterday and he’s pretty sure he has something for you in one of his warehouses.”

  “Sweet. I’m available. Doesn’t even matter what shift,” was Cody’s answer. He was, possibly, the most agreeable person ever—besides Josh—so why Bryce continued t
o pick on him, I wasn’t sure, but I was positive I was sick of my mother allowing it. Cody hadn’t been home long enough for anyone to accuse him of being any kind of freeloader or whatever Bryce was thinking. He needed time to readjust, to let the buzz surrounding his case die down. And, in the meantime, he was more than welcome to crash with Josh and I.

  “Now your turn,” Cody exhaled. “Make me feel better by telling me about your sucky day.”

  I sighed and recalled how things went after leaving Duggan’s former neighborhood. Following neighbor Fred’s lead, I looked up the city records to find what properties Matt owned and visited both. To my surprise, one had been leveled already with a sign informing passersby of the new condominiums being built as part of the city’s rejuvenation project. The other was a duplex that’d gotten a facelift since being under new management. When I stopped in to speak with both residents, they weren’t shy to tell me what they thought of Duggan. One, an elderly gentleman of around eighty, even admitted responsibility for the incident Fred shared with me the day before.

  And, for the record, it wasn’t dog feces…

  He was proud to share how he’d taken a bus all the way to that ‘hoity-toity neighborhood and made that slumlord’s house just as crappy as his own’. While, yeah, I could’ve investigated this lead further, I had a feeling in my gut telling me this was a dead end.

  Or maybe it was Matt Duggan telling me.

  Either way, I decided to let it go and gave Cody the condensed version of my day. “I just wasted a lot of time and a lot of gas for nothing.”

  “Same here. Accept instead of gas, it was cab fare.”

  We sighed at the same time. Needing to relax, I reached for the remote, hoping to find something to take my mind off everything else. I found a network that aired all the good 90s sitcoms and the guys wanted me to stop there. I propped my feet up on the coffee table and Josh did the same beside me as the three of us zoned out.

  Midway through the first scene, I accidentally hit the remote and changed to a different channel. “Oops! Sorry,” I said with a laugh, fixing it right away.

  We got maybe another few seconds in and I did it again.

  “This is why we can’t let the one with monkey paws control the TV,” Cody joked.

  Sticking my tongue out at him, I fixed it again, but this time leaned forward to set the remote on the coffee table so I wouldn’t mess it up again.

  “Happy?” I asked.

  Cody gave a thumbs up, but kept his eyes glued to the screen because it was getting to the good part. However, just as we were about to find out if Maxwell was finally gonna tell Fran how he felt… the channel changed again.

  Only, this time, the remote was in clear view and none of us had touched it.

  All three sets of eyes were fixed on it and, I can’t speak for Josh or Cody, but my heart was beating hard and fast. The air around us seemed to grow colder by the second.

  He was here.

  Matthew Duggan.

  I’d been so focused on the channel changing on its own, I hadn’t paid much attention to why. However, he had my full attention now. On the screen was a commercial for a local attorney—a brunette with a friendly face and confident smile. After a spiel about her winning record in malpractice cases, a name flashed beside an 800 number—Maureen Duggan.

  A sudden wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere and, before the commercial even ended, I bolted from the couch for the bathroom. The lunch I’d eaten before coming home came right back up and my head swam. There was no time to lock the door, so Josh and Cody followed me right in. Neither said a word, but it was Josh who gathered my hair, holding it behind my head when I retched for a second time.

  “Grab a rag from the linen closet,” he called out to Cody before he ran off to do just that. When he came back, Josh instructed him to wet it with cool water and hand it to him. Seconds later, my forehead didn’t feel like I could cook an egg on it.

  I was exhausted; could hardly keep my eyes open. I had no idea what this was, but knew it had nothing to do with a stomach bug or anything I’d eaten. Somehow, this was Duggan’s doing. It wasn’t until the woman came on screen that I felt this way. I wasn’t sure if I was reading the signs correctly, but… I believed he was trying to tell me that she was who he needed me to contact on his behalf.

  I wasn’t sure what warranted such a violent attack, but I wouldn’t hesitate to reach out to my new mark.

  Apparently, before the day ended, I’d be getting in touch with Maureen Duggan, Matt Duggan’s estranged wife.

  —

  Chapter Five —

  Going against Josh and Cody’s wishes, and against my better judgment, I sat in the waiting room of Maureen’s office. I was pale and woozy, but I had a hunch the sensation wouldn’t pass until I came here. Whatever Duggan wanted me to do, it started here.

  Josh insisted on driving me and I was grateful. I probably wouldn’t have made it on my own. He sat beside me now, holding his tongue, trying not to scold me for being here instead of in bed, but he’d never understand the sense of urgency growing in my gut. It was strong enough that I knew I couldn’t have rested even if I tried.

  “Ms. Cicero? Ms. Duggan will see you now.” I offered the receptionist a weak smile as I passed her station, leaving her and Josh behind in the waiting room.

  Walking the long, dark corridor alone, I accepted the fact that winging it was my only approach to these things. I never knew from one incident to the next how I’d handle it until I was in the trenches. Mostly, it worked for me, but it would’ve been nice to have a plan at least some of the time.

  The door at the end of the hallway boasted an expensive name plate and I read it before knocking, confirming this was the right office. A boldly spoken, “Come in,” prompted me to turn the knob and I was greeted by a bright, smiling face when I entered.

  “Ms. Cicero?”

  I nodded.

  Maureen gestured toward the chair across her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  I couldn’t wait to do just that, feeling my knees weakening by the second. “Thank you.”

  “Can I offer you coffee? Water maybe?”

  I shook my head, feeling nauseated again just at the thought of consuming anything. “No thanks.”

  She studied my face for a moment and then shocked me with a question. “Is this about the accident?”

  I suppose I didn’t expect her to recall the details of Matt’s accident so readily—especially my name—because they weren’t even technically together. However, she seemed to be abreast of things.

  “Uh… no. I mean, yes,” I stammered, unsure of how to classify the reason for my visit. “Not exactly.”

  Luckily, she seemed intrigued more than annoyed by my stammering. “Well, what can I do for you today?”

  Here I was, winging it yet again. Only, this time, the sickening swirl my stomach kept doing on its own made me a little less inclined to beat around the bush.

  “I was hoping you could tell me more about your husband,” I blurted, staring at her from beneath half-closed lids. I felt like I’d keel over any minute.

  It didn’t surprise me that she seemed shocked. I was sure this was the last thing she expected to be faced with when she left her home for work this morning.

  “I um… I guess I’m not quite sure what sort of information you’re seeking.”

  “Anything,” I clarified.

  She stared for a moment and then clasped her hands on her desk. “Are you filing some sort of lawsuit?” she asked. “Because I can assure you my assets are protected and there’s not much you can get from Matthew’s estate that hasn’t either gone to our children’s trust funds or paying off his mountain of debt.”

  My ears perked. “No, I’m not suing,” I assured her. “I just need answers. But what sort of debts are you speaking of. Like… gambling? Student loans? That’s a broad term,” I reasoned.

  No, this woman had no reason to tell me a single thing, but I had a hunch based on what Fred the neig
hbor shared, Maureen wasn’t too fond of Matt. Sometimes, women who’d been made bitter by divorce jumped at the chance to badmouth their exes.

  …Maybe that would still hold true despite Duggan no longer being alive.

  I had to cross my fingers and hope she’d spill whatever she could.

  “I mean business debt. Lawsuits,” she clarified. “There’s a reason I was careful to protect my assets even before Matthew passed.” Her eyes drifted toward her window. “That man had more enemies than he had friends.”

  And there it was, that bitterness I was counting on to get Ms. Duggan to talk.

  “I know you have absolutely no reason to share any of this with me,” I explained, deciding to be transparent, “but… can I ask what the lawsuit was in regards to? Did it have anything to do with the property he owned?”

  A short, cynical laugh hit the air, but Ms. Duggan’s expression didn’t match the sound. She was all business, even now.

  “No, it had nothing to do with those hunks of junk he tried to pass off as housing,” she hissed. In a sudden moment of clarity, she seemed aware of the fact that I played on her emotions.

  “I’m doing all the talking, but you still haven’t told me why you’re sitting in my office asking questions about my dead ex-husband.”

  Her tone was cold and unfeeling, very telling of the relationship she and Matthew had.

  I scrambled for a moment, trying to think of a reasonable explanation, but ultimately decided to tell as much of the truth as I could.

  “I haven’t slept much since the accident,” I shared. Hearing my answer, Maureen lowered her head. “I keep thinking that, if I can make sense of things, if I can understand who your ex was… I might be able to get past this.”

  Silence followed my admission and, to my surprise, she seemed to soften up a bit.

  “Leave it to Matt… still ruining lives even from the grave,” she scoffed, looking toward the window again.

  I didn’t say anything when she vented.

  “It was a malpractice suit,” she shared. “He misdiagnosed a couple’s child and cost him his life. Matt was inherently sloppy and dismissive and it caught up to him.”