Death Theory
Page 18
Jeff swallowed hard, trying to lubricate his voice box. “How do you know me?”
“Your note on Mrs. Schwender’s door.”
An instant later, Jeff’s vocal cords became unhinged. In a very nervous voice, he recounted his relationship to Mrs. Schwender. He made sure to include the fact he had been by the house twice to check on her.
“I went by yesterday and tried to talk to some of the neighbors, but none of them would give me the time of day. I had planned on calling you guys today on my lunch break to check on her,” Jeff finished.
There was an uncomfortable few moments of silence. Jeff jumped as laughter erupted on the other end of the line.
“One of those neighbors would have been Mrs. Dee Jones. She phoned in the report yesterday of two hooligans, as she put it, trying to break into Mrs. Schwender’s house, and then hers. She said you tried to kick the door in.”
“I hope you don’t believe that,” Jeff said, wiping sweat from his eye.
The Captain chuckled. “Not from a woman who phones in a report of some kind every other day. I think the last time someone tried to break in, it was her mail man.”
“Have you been able to get in touch with Mrs. Schwender?” Jeff asked.
“No, I wasn’t aware she was missing. I’ll go by there this morning and check. If I can’t find her, I’ll try and get a hold of next of kin to get to the bottom of this. You say it’s been over a week now and you haven’t been able to reach her?”
“Yes...I’m quite concerned,” Jeff said.
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything...is this the best number to reach you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, all right then. Thank you for your time, Mr. Granger. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks,” Jeff said, and hung up the phone.
He breathed a sigh of relief. His mind was a little more at ease now...the police were on it and they would get to the bottom of it –good or bad.
The feeling didn’t last long. As Jeff walked to his truck for the afternoon commute home, Captain Dean called. His news was not encouraging. Mrs. Schwender seemed to be an anomaly when it came to relations, she had none - not a single, solitary person.
Captain Dean explained that her husband passed almost twenty years ago, and they had no children. Both Mrs. Schwender and her husband had been an only child, so there were no siblings or in-laws.
“We have nothing,” Captain Dean said. “Even her neighbor’s say they only see her a few times a year, catching a glimpse of her picking up the newspaper or mail.”
“How does she get her grocery shopping done?” Jeff asked.
“I imagine delivery – there are several mom and pop stores nearby providing those kinds of services.”
“What else can we do?” Jeff asked.
“She has been out of contact long enough ... it would be reasonable to assume she may be in jeopardy. I’m going to search her house.”
“Don’t you need a warrant?” Jeff asked.
“No, not if we have reason to believe she may be in danger.”
“May I come?” Jeff blurted before thinking it through. Of course, he couldn’t. He is not a relative, and he was not a cop. This might end up being a crime scene.
“No, son,” Captain Dean said. “But I’ll let you know what we find.” He cleared his throat and raised his tone up an octave. “Ghosts huh? Did you find any?”
“No, nothing that isn’t explainable,” Jeff said.
“Huh... okay then... well, I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know. Have a good evening, Mr. Granger.”
“You, too,” Jeff said.
He drove to Debbie’s house to convey the news. To his dismay, he found Debbie’s place dark and empty. Lily happily lolled her tongue at him from the front window. He tapped on the glass and spoke to her. This resulted in an excited jaunt around the living room.
Jeff got out his phone and called her; frowning when he got no answer. He checked in the small garage and saw her car was gone. He walked back to his truck and watched anxiously for the approach of headlights. The headlights never came. The street was silent except for the excited yip and whimper coming from Lily. As he climbed into the truck, his phone chimed with a text message. He opened it up and read aloud, it was from Debbie.
“Got parent teacher conferences tonight...not over till 9...I’ll call when done...TTYL -Deb”
Jeff sighed in relief, and then mentally kicked himself. She was a big girl who could take care of herself. “Why had I been so worried?” he wondered.
He was about to turn the key to drive home when he heard the e-mail notification ding. He opened the new e-mail and read it. The content of the letter so engrossed him, he didn’t notice the white sedan rounding the corner. It sped away when the driver spotted him. Yes, Pac was on the prowl tonight after work, and Jeff was the last person he wanted to see.
Pac had thought about going to check on his mom. He wanted reassurance. He wanted to be certain everything was still peachy between them. But, when he thought about Debbie, Momma could wait. He wasn’t going to do anything weird, in his book, just drive by for a quick peek. The problem was, Pac got his book from a different library than most people.
“Damn, asshole!” Pac grunted into his rearview mirror.
He didn’t know what he expected to see when he cruised by Debbie’s house, but it wasn’t Jeff Granger. He might come back later, or he might not. Whatever he was going to do, he had to eat first. Pac’s stomach growled in unison with his foul mood. He headed in the direction of Taco Bell as Jeff typed on his phone
Jeff wore an enormous smile from the e-mail he just received.
Before SMS PAST even formed or held their first meeting, Jeff had put in a request with Pythian Castle to do an investigation. The castle was one of the most popular places to investigate in the Springfield area. The waiting list was long and difficult to make. In Missouri paranormal circles, it was the Holy Grail of investigation sites.
Jeff had been there previously with the Missouri ‘Shit Seekers’, as Jeff liked to call them. During the tedious visit, he made an acquaintance with the owner of the castle. Since then, he had casual contact with her on Facebook. She liked him, and agreed to pull a few strings if anything came open. As luck would have it, this coming Saturday was Halloween. The group scheduled to investigate Saturday night had cancelled. There was some drama in the group, causing them to dissolve and cancel the event. Saturday night ... Halloween ... was Jeff’s night if he wanted it.
This would be the perfect opportunity to try out their new arsenal of equipment. The last time he was there, it ended with a fat chick burning sage. But... it had also been the defining moment to form his own group.
He replied with a big ‘yes’, sure that everyone else would agree. They couldn’t say no to Pythian Castle. Jeff didn’t wait until he got home; he sent the announcement to everyone before he started his truck.
By the time he got home, he had a yes from Dr. Staples and Elvis. Pac didn’t reply until almost midnight, but he was in as well. Debbie’s confirmation came during her promised phone call at nine o’clock. The call lasted about three hours past both of their bedtimes. It seemed like the shortest three hours of their lives. After a reluctant farewell before going to bed, reality returned a couple of hours later when their alarms sounded.
Neither of them could focus at work, they were anxious to hear about Mrs. Schwender. When three o’clock rolled around, Jeff was about ready to call Captain Dean himself when his phone rang. He ducked into an empty conference room and answered it.
“Hello... Captain Dean?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Granger.”
“Did you find her?”
“Mr. Granger, would you mind coming by Mrs. Schwender’s house this evening? I have a few questions I would like to ask you.”
“Mrs. Schwender...is she okay?”
“I don’t know son. That’s what I would like to talk to you about.”
Chapter 26
“I don’t understand,” Jeff said. “Did you find her?”
“No, we didn’t, Mr. Granger – this is what I would like to talk to you about.”
“How soon would you like me to come by?”
“Now please; I’d like to get this wrapped up before dark.”
Jeff agreed and hurried to his direct supervisor’s office, trying to think of a valid excuse for leaving early. He couldn’t go to her and say – Hey, I need to leave early to talk to the cops about an old lady who disappeared after I checked her house for ghosts.
He had to think of something a little more ... normal. By the time he reached her office, he had concocted a plausible alibi.
“I think I broke a filling,” Jeff said holding his left jaw and wrinkling his face in a bogus grimace. “My dentist said he could work me in if I come now.”
Jeff’s supervisor was an older lady named Anne Frankel. She was firm, but supportive. Jeff liked working for her. He knew Anne wouldn’t mind his departure because he didn’t make a habit of such things. Of course, he hated lying to her.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Anne said, opening her desk drawer, “I have some ibuprofen or some Aleve, maybe even some BC powder.”
“No...but thank you,” Jeff said, holding up his free hand. “I would be in the dentist’s chair before they had a chance to kick in anyway.”
“Well, okay then. Let me know if you need anything. If you need to take off tomorrow, I understand,” Anne said. She displayed the nurturing smile of a grandmother. His guilt skyrocketed.
Jeff didn’t remove his hand from his cheek until he was in the parking lot. His convincing bit of acting wasn’t enough to win him an Oscar, but it served its purpose. Sweat beaded on his forehead once he was outside, adding to the realism of his distress. However, this wasn’t the sweat of a toothache victim; it was the sweat of an individual about to be questioned by the police. Also, he had dressed appropriately for the forty-degree morning, but not for the eighty-degree afternoon.
Fall weather in the South is often as fickle as a coy schoolgirl; unable to make up its mind between skinny-dipping and snuggling. Today was indeed a skinny-dipping day. Jeff got in his truck and turned the air conditioner on full blast. He pushed his guilt aside and drove to Mrs. Schwender’s house.
During Jeff’s drive, he envisioned her house surrounded by police with a dozen or so squad cars in the street. Their blue lights flashed as several officers combed through every square inch of Mrs. Schwender’s yard and house. A police helicopter circled overhead with a probing spotlight. Jeff’s fantasy had little resemblance to reality.
When Jeff pulled up at Mrs. Schwender’s, it surprised him to find a solitary patrol car parked in front. It was silent, with not even so much as a parking light on. He pulled in behind the squad car, got out, and walked to the front gate, where he stopped. Police tape circled the entire perimeter of Mrs. Schwender’s property.
Jeff fidgeted. He thought about going under the tape, but the idea only conjured up another image. He imagined a police sniper waiting behind the curtains of Mrs. Schwender’s den. His orders were to pick off violators of the yellow tape boundary.
He reached in his pocket for his phone to call Captain Dean, when a voice made him jump in surprise.
“Jeff Granger?” the male voice boomed.
At the right corner of the house, Jeff saw a man in tan slacks and tweed sport jacket studying him with hands on his hips.
Captain Bronson Dean of the Springfield Police Department wasn’t an ugly man by any stretch. His deep, hulking voice seemed was indeed a contrast to his appearance. Jeff guessed him to be fortyish judging by the salt and pepper in his brown hair. The most shocking characteristic to Jeff was his size. He didn’t think Captain Dean was any taller than 5’9” and maybe weighed a buck-fifty if his clothes were soaking wet. His scrawny build made him appear as an under-nourished high school kid, if not for his hair and crow’s feet lining his eyes.
“Captain Dean?” Jeff said with an unintended tone of incredulity.
“Come on in, Jeff,” he said, motioning with his hand.
Jeff ducked under the police tape, careful not to touch it. The last thing he wanted was for it to snap in two.
“The sniper could still be watching,” he thought to himself in jest.
He walked to the corner of the house and shook hands. While Captain Dean’s appearance may not have matched his voice, his handshake did. Jeff felt as if his hand was in a vice.
“Good to finally meet you, Jeff,” he said with a sincere smile, and probing eyes. Jeff felt as if he were being x-rayed.
“Same here, Captain. What can I do to help?”
“Let’s go around back,” he said, jerking his head for Jeff to follow.
There was a narrow area between the side of the house and the chain link fence. It was barely wide enough for a grown man to walk without brushing the house or the fence. If Jeff had a broom, he could have reached out and swept the siding of Mrs. Schwender’s neighbor.
They hadn’t taken more than a few steps, when a shrill voice from above made them both stop in their tracks. Mrs. Dee Jones, the neighbor who called the cops, leaned out her kitchen window, pointing a bony finger. “It’s him, officer! He’s the hoodlum who tried to kick down my door! Arrest him!”
She glared at Jeff, her mouth pursed shut and one eye squinted shut.
“I’ve got him, Mrs. Jones,” Captain Dean assured her. “I’m taking him for questioning now.”
“Throw some cuffs on him! He’s dangerous!” she shouted.
Captain Dean winked at Jeff and motioned for him to step forward.
“Okay, Mrs. Jones. I’m securing him now,” he said, giving Jeff a gentle push in the back.
The two men rounded the corner of the house. Once they were out of view of Mrs. Jones, Captain Dean chuckled.
“She’s a sweet old lady, but nosy. I’ve had to keep my eye on her today. I wouldn’t have put the tape up, but it seemed like the only thing that would keep her out.”
Jeff laughed nervously. Under normal circumstances, he would have found Mrs. Jones’s behavior amusing. He knew one thing Captain Dean said to Mrs. Jones was true; he was going to be questioned. Even though Jeff knew he had nothing to hide, it still made him nervous.
“Why don’t we go in the kitchen, so we can wrap things up tonight,” Captain Dean said, pointing to a narrow red door at the back of the house.
They ascended the small concrete steps and went inside. Jeff was amazed to see the kitchen was unchanged from the night they investigated. Mrs. Schwender’s recipe books were still neatly arranged on the table. Four wooden spindle backed chairs ringed the table. Captain Dean pulled out the one closest to the door, and gestured for Jeff to take a seat. The Captain crossed his legs and leaned back with a small notebook propped on his knee. Jeff sat stiff as a board with his forearms resting on the edge of the table.
“So, Jeff, exactly which night did you perform the séance here?” he asked flatly.
Jeff blinked.
“We didn’t perform a séance. We measured environmental conditions in Mrs. Schwender’s home. We tried to find a reason for what she had been experiencing.”
“What was she experiencing?” Captain Dean asked, with skeptical inflection on the last word.
Jeff recounted the experiences as told to them by Mrs. Schwender. When Jeff finished, Captain Dean jotted a few notes on his pad, and then narrowed his eyes. A thin frown creased his face, adding about ten years to his features.
“Don’t you think that is something you should have reported to the police?”
“Perhaps,” Jeff began as his heart ricocheted back and forth between his spine and sternum.
He swallowed hard when nervous pers
piration mixed on his forehead. It ran down in thin streams around his eyes, before splashing on the tabletop. Several drops dotted one of Mrs. Schwender’s recipes for cornbread stuffing. He felt pools forming in his armpits. Jeff crossed his arms, and took a deep breath.
“But we had no physical proof of any of what she told us. She told us these people were here one minute, and vanished the next. Would you have believed us?”
Captain Dean regarded him for several moments.
Finally, to Jeff’s relief, Captain Dean’s face turned into a broad and amiable grin.
“Good point, Jeff...very good point, indeed!” he chortled, passing Jeff a dishcloth to wipe his brow. He took a handkerchief from his own pocket and began to dab his own.
“Man, it’s gotten hot on us again today, hasn’t it?” Captain Dean said, picking up one of Mrs. Schwender’s recipe cards and fanning himself.
“Yes sir, weather can’t make up its mind,” Jeff said.
Even though Captain Dean was now chortling, Jeff had no illusions. He was still under suspicion. He knew he was innocent, but he also knew he must be careful of what he said. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.
“Do I need an attorney, Captain Dean?”
The Captain seemed shocked.
“Do you think you need one?” he asked.
Jeff shrugged. “I don’t know...I’ve told you everything I know.”
“I’m sure you have Jeff; I’m sure you have,” Captain Dean said, as he stood up and placed the recipe card back in the stack. “I have two questions for you, and then we can call it a night. One of them is not really a question...more like information.”
Jeff nodded. He tore a page out of his notebook and handed it to Jeff along with his pencil.
“I would like you to write down the name and phone number of everyone who participated in this investigation. I might have a few questions for them, if the need arises.”
Jeff froze. He didn’t want to give out everyone’s personal information, but this was a cop. He couldn’t very well refuse. He decided on a compromise. “I can give you everyone’s names, but I don’t have their contact info with me. I can send it to you when I get home tonight.”