Murder on Valentine's Day

by P. Creeden

  “The coolest thing, I think, is the automatic thermostat. No matter which room you’re in, all you have to do is set the temperature you want, and it stays that way.” Denise smiled. “Even if it’s a blizzard outside, the house will be the perfect temperature. Warm and cozy.”

  “That sounds amazing. I usually have three blankets and my pajamas to keep me warm,” Emma joked. They saw the living room and the guest bedroom before making their way to the main hall again.

  Oddly, Colby was standing at the end of the corridor. Emma’s heart leapt and she blinked twice to make sure she wasn’t imagining it. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, as his ball cap was snapped onto a belt loop on his side. Always the gentleman, he’d never wear a hat indoors. His green eyes flashed in their direction as they approached.

  Denise didn’t seem terribly surprised. “Hello there, officer. Did my aunt call you out today to check the system?”

  Colby blinked when he saw Emma. Dismissing Denise for a moment, the frustrated K9 officer sighed and asked, “What are you doing here, Emma. This is a crime scene. And who is this with you?”

  “Crime scene?” Denise blinked, her smile faltering a moment.

  Emma’s eyes flashed toward the bedroom Colby stood in front of and she spotted her father. “Dad?” she called out.

  He stood in front of the large bed and when he turned toward the sound of her voice, the body on the bed was exposed. Mrs. Van Horn lay there, motionless. Eyes still closed, she still appeared to be asleep but for the blueish pallor of her skin.

  Denise shrieked and rushed into the room. “Aunt Elaine!”

  The sheriff growled. “Colby, dang it. Why are there people here? I told you not to let anyone in!” He caught Denise in his arms before she could touch anything and nodded toward Colby. “Get them out of here; I’m trying to figure this mess out!”

  Denise whimpered and started panicking, lunging for the room where her deceased Aunt lay. “No! This can’t be happening. NO!”

  The two men combined forces to calm Denise. Meanwhile they herded her toward the door. The poor girl was horrified at the sight of her aunt motionless on the bed. Once everyone was ushered out in the hallway, Emma’s father glared at Colby, returned to the bedroom and shut the door.

  “What happened? Why is she like that?” Denise hollered at the closed door.

  “Ma’am, please calm down. You’re family of the deceased?” Colby asked, his eyes infused with sympathy.

  “Deceased? My aunt’s really gone?” Denise’s voice cracked.

  Colby nodded, a grave look on his features. “I’m afraid it appears your aunt had a heart attack. She died in her sleep.”

  Looking down, Denise really started to freak out. “This can’t be happening. What am I going to do? The shareholders. The company. I can’t do all this without her. We’re completely unprepared.”

  Denise was having a meltdown. And though Colby continued to try to talk to her, the woman was unreachable. Emma stepped in. She tried consoling Denise briefly, before clasping her shoulders and giving her a stern reorientation. “Listen, Denise. You need to think clearly. Focus on me! Look at me. I’m here! Everything’s going to be all right. It will all work out. Just look at me. Okay?” Her grip on Denise’s shoulders locked her in place.

  Denise was in shock. Emma’s quick thinking was able to bring Denise’s emotions to a stable point but the damage had been done. She stared at the closed doorway again, as if the image of her aunt’s body could still be seen. “I don’t understand. What’s happened? I’d just spoken to her on the phone last night.”

  Emma oriented Denise and helped her calm down some but not enough. Her own curiosity of the crime scene had caught Emma’s eye but first Denise needed to exit the area. Emma distracted Denise’s attention away from the doorway long enough to escort her with a bit of persuading back out to the front of the home. She used her grip on Denise to guide her outside. There was a chair on the large concrete porch and she had Denise settle into it. “Stay right here. The fresh air will help. Okay?”

  Holding the door open, Emma made sure Denise was calm enough to leave alone for a moment. After several minutes, it seemed Denise had settled down enough. Before returning indoors, Emma spotted the men’s two patrol cars parked up near the other side of the driveway. Those weren’t there earlier, were they? Dismissing the thought, Emma made her way back inside and approached her father. The bedroom door stood open again, Colby and the Sheriff conveyed over the body on the bed.

  “I think we should call the paramedics. Denise may still be in shock,” Emma said as she stepped inside. “Do either of you know how long Denise was here?”

  “The door was unlocked, so we came right in. The 10-39 we received this morning reported a body in the master bedroom,” the Sheriff said.

  Emma thought it strange that Denise left the door unlocked, but that maybe the security system was set up that way.

  Colby gave the Sheriff a look of disdain. “You shouldn’t see this, Emma, it’s not good,” Colby said. “Besides, you might be a risk to the integrity of the scene.”

  “I think I can help. Anyway, I’m not here for the body, I’m here for a cat. Dr. Lawrence told me to collect a cat,” Emma rebutted.

  “I haven’t seen a cat around here,” the Sheriff said, kneeling down to look at the body from a different angle.

  “Where’s Gabby?” Emma asked Colby about his K9 partner.

  “It’s her day off. She’s resting at the house,” Colby replied, still frowning.

  “Must be nice. Have you seen a cat?” Emma asked.

  “Nope. No cats around here.” Colby swiveled and took a quick look around to be sure.

  Emma tapped a finger against her chin. If Colby and Dad just arrived, who called in the death? For that matter, who called in that the cat needed to be picked up? Denise didn’t seem as though she could have done it, and there hadn’t been anyone else in the house that they’d seen yet. It was all curious. She needed to find the cat but first she noticed something strange about the body in the bed.

  Chapter Three

  Emma walked over to look at the body. Poor Mrs. Van Horn was soaking wet. Her night clothes were thoroughly covered in what looked like sweat. The area immediately around her body was also soaking wet. It was as if Mrs. Van Horn had drenched herself with several bottles of water whilst lying in the bed. Emma looked up to the ceiling for leaks but found none. The Sheriff eyed his daughter and smiled. “You notice it, too?”

  “Is this much fluid normal for a heart attack?” Emma asked.

  “I’ve seen it before, but this does seem like a lot. It’s possible she may have evacuated during or after the attack,” the Sheriff replied.

  Remembering that Denise explained how the house would automate the temperature, Emma was sure the deceased wouldn’t have sweated to death. A heart attack seemed most likely. Poor Mrs. Van Horn.

  “Normally heart attacks are more sudden, but it’s possible that she suffered a wee bit. Regardless, I’m concluding heart attack, around three a.m. this morning,” the Sheriff decided. “C’mon Colby, let’s go interview the claimant and call in a 10-66.” The Sheriff called out for George, the claimant.

  Emma blinked as a man she hadn’t seen yet came around the corner. Balding, stocky, and a little shorter than Emma, George wore a mask of concern. There was a definite family resemblance between George and Denise. The Sheriff introduced them. “This is a nephew of the decedent.”

  “Are you Denise’s brother?” Emma asked.

  “Cousin,” he answered in a clipped tone, barely glancing up before his gaze dropped back down to the floor.

  “Let’s move this conversation to the living area, as I have a few questions for you as well, if you don’t mind?” The Sheriff and Colby ushered George toward the living area so they weren’t standing in the close quarters of the hallway. Emma followed, but kept her eyes open for the cat. The fake plants in the living room were a mixture of perennials, bamboo, and dracae
na. Each was potted to look like real plants, with no dust on any of them. The entire house was well kept.

  Emma’s tingling nose alerted her to the possibility that a cat was nearby. She perked up, looking around the home from her vantage point in the living room. George was still explaining his story to Colby and the Sheriff but Emma’s goals had not changed. Poor Molly waited in her SUV and she would need to check on the dog soon.

  “My aunt had a late dinner meeting last night. She called me looking for a ride home because she’d had a bit too much to drink,” George explained to the officers. “I dropped her off here at her house a little after 11 and had to help her get to bed. If I hadn’t helped, she’d have forgotten to take her blood pressure medications, I’m sure.”

  “Once I left the mansion, on my way home, I got hungry and stopped for a quick snack at the convenience store just down the street from my townhouse.”

  Colby jotted down a note, probably to check for the alibi.

  Emma observed Denise through the window, distraught and crying. George’s behavior seemed quite calm and collected. People react differently, Emma thought. In order to comfort Denise, Emma walked out to the front and invited Denise back into the house, advising her not to go into the master bedroom.

  Denise agreed. Comforting her by wrapping her arms around Denise’s shoulders, the two walked back in the house as George’s interview ended.

  Suddenly, Emma sneezed violently. Her allergies flared up. It had to mean the cat was close by. Her itchy eyes and runny nose were starting to irritate her. Emma looked around desperately trying to locate the feline.

  George made finding it easy. The cat rubbed itself along his pants. “This darn cat always wants my attention,” George said. Sneering at the tan and black long-haired cat, George flung his leg back and away from it.

  “You know Julius has always liked you. How can you still hate cats?” Denise jabbed at George.

  “Cats are so intrusive and selfish. They always take, take, take. Julius always wants me to pet him or feed him,” George replied. “I’m much more of a dog person.”

  “That must be the cat Dr. Lawrence promised would be in the carrier.” Emma sighed before sneezing again.

  “Oh, I forgot to put Julius back in his box,” George said, snapping his fingers. “This morning has been moving so fast. With everything that’s happened, I totally forgot.”

  “That’s fine. Can you get the transporter while I get the cat?” Emma asked.

  “Julius doesn’t like to be picked up.” Denise grabbed Emma’s arm, stopping her from fetching the cat.

  “Well he needs to be in the tote, because I’m not driving back to the hospital with my allergies.” Emma motioned toward George, “Would you please fetch the tote?”

  The cat let out a soft meow in George’s direction as he walked away. Emma decided to reach for the cat and sneezed again when she got close. Julius jetted across the house. “Well, shoot. This is going to be fun.”

  Julius perked up and stared down Emma, as if the cat knew a game of chase was afoot. As Emma neared, Julius would scurry away just out of reach. This game continued, all while Emma would sneeze any time she got close to the cat, encouraging it to run away faster each time. Eventually, the cat zoomed into the kitchen with Emma and Denise following behind.

  The large dining room could seat at least twenty people. The dark oak table and maroon colored cloth gave an authentic Medieval but modern feel to it. On the table were place settings with very fine China, accompanied by polished silver cutlery and eating utensils. In the center of the table was a large vase, filled completely with wilted and dead flowers. The cat sat under the middle of the table.

  “Maybe I should get him?” Denise offered.

  “Yes, please. That might be for the best,” Emma replied.

  Denise began her attempt to collect the cat from under the table. It was unsuccessful. The excited feline sprung out from underneath the table, across the kitchen and back out into the foyer where George stood. He had not yet retrieved the cat carriage.

  “This,” Emma sniffled, “is going to be a lot harder than I thought.”

  “Julius will get tired before we do,” Denise tried to joke.

  The two began walking back to the foyer, when Denise tried apologizing to Emma for the dead flowers in the dining room. “I’m sorry you had to see those flowers. Normally my Aunt keeps this place fresh and vibrant all the time.”

  Emma eyed the flowers again.

  “Actually, it’s quite strange. The shareholders sent them over yesterday. They must not have been very healthy if they died overnight. But they also sent chocolates, so there’s that,” Denise said absentmindedly as she followed Julius toward the foyer.

  The Sheriff and Colby had made their exit during the fuss over the cat. They were outside waiting for the medical examiner to arrive. Emma saw them discussing something out front. “How nice of them to help,” Emma mumbled with a frown.

  “Where’s the cat’s travel box?” Denise asked when they arrived in the foyer.

  “It’s over there in the living room,” George pointed. “On the other side of the plant next to the fireplace.”

  Denise marched off.

  “Can you help me catch the cat, please? At least it likes you.” Emma sniffled again. Her eyes were turning red from the allergies.

  Grunting, George agreed. Emma took the small opportunity to take a look around. The box of chocolates sat on the foyer table. The bright red Valentine’s Day box, shaped like a heart, proudly displayed the beautiful chocolates it should contain inside. Maybe she could prolong her allergies with a chocolate, Emma thought. She popped open the lid to sneak a caramel confection, finding the box to be a single melted box of chocolate. There goes that idea, she thought.

  Denise returned with the tote just as George returned to the area, still following the cat. “The cat likes to play chase, but hates being picked up,” Denise said to Emma.

  “Does your cousin really hate cats?” Emma asked, glancing around at the framed artwork in the room. She noticed a few tiny rocks making a trail. Her eyes followed the trail to the litter box. What a strange place to put the litterbox.

  “He doesn’t like them because our Aunt likes them.” Denise mentioned.

  “What do you mean?” Emma asked, confused.

  “Our aunt is always opposed to George. He wanted to do art, but she didn’t think that was a good career path,” Denise said.

  George could hear them speak his name. “That’s not true! I never liked cats from day one!”

  “Maybe that’s why the cat likes you,” Denise teased, switching the tote between her hands.

  George finally got ahold of the feisty feline, picking it up awkwardly and holding Julius out in front of him. “And my aunt never liked my art or my life choices.” They fumbled with the cat to get it in the box. “She always said science was an art. She wanted all of us to follow her path and join the business.” The cat finally gave in and got into the box. “I like my art more than security systems. It’s freer.” The plastic tote was quite tiny, but for the cat it was enough space to move around comfortably. “All right—one cat.” George took the tote and handed it to Emma. “Here you go!”

  “Our aunt really does want us all to join the business. I was going to ask her about moving up today, actually.” Denise became visibly shaken. Emma wrapped her arm around her shoulder again while the girl looked down at the cat. “Will we be able to get him back?” Denise worried.

  “Of course! The doc just wants to make sure the cat is okay, and to give the family time to grieve without having the responsibility of caring for an animal they’re not accustomed to taking care of,” Emma explained.

  Denise’s contorted face said she was holding back another emotional breakdown. Emma patted her on the shoulder.

  “That makes sense,” George said.

  Denise nodded.

  Emma sneezed, again, quickly turning away from the group with the tote in her hand
s. “I should be going now. I have a dog in the car and I don’t want to leave her long,” Emma said. “But it’s been nice meeting you both! This is a lovely home. I don’t know why I’ve never stopped by here before.”

  “Thanks,” George and Denise said at the same time.

  “I wish we could be of more help,” George suggested.

  “I don’t know what I should do now…” Denise muttered.

  “Can you get back home?” Emma wondered.

  “I could go home, but I need to let the shareholders know what happened,” Denise said.

  “That’s a good idea,” George nodded.

  “I agree.” Emma paused. “Spend some time with George, maybe call in to delay the meeting and collect your thoughts. Once you’re prepared then go to the meeting,” Emma suggested.

  “I could go with you if you want. It’s what she would have wanted,” George said, wrapping an arm around his cousin.

  “No, no. I can take care of it. The shareholders will look to me for updates anyway. They know you like your art more than the business,” Denise said, pulling a tissue out of her purse and wiping her nose with it.

  Emma watched them a moment, and then nodded. “I think that’s a good plan. Let me take the cat and you two try to relax.”

  Emma went straight for her truck after nodding once more in farewell, her nose itching violently. Another sneeze was approaching.

  Colby and her dad stood near their patrol cars that were parked next to Emma’s SUV, talking about the events that had unfolded that morning. As she neared them, the sneeze came on full blast. The loud achoo startled Colby. “Goodness, girl! I thought you might blow a lung out there.”

  “I’ll be…” She sniffled. “All right.”

  “Is that the cat?” the sheriff asked.

  “Yes. Dr. Lawrence asked for me to get it and I did.” Emma pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and wiped her nose.