by Diane Weiner
“It’s only been a few minutes. They’ll be here. Sit down. You’re contaminating evidence walking around in those boots.”
“I don’t want to sit. I want the ambulance to come. I want the EMTs to say it was a mistake, that she’s not dead. I want Ellie to sit up and say this is all a big misunderstanding.”
“I think I hear sirens. Yes, it’s them.” He ran outside to meet the ambulance. When they came in, she heard him say, “She’s upstairs in the master bedroom.”
Sara followed them up the steps, watching as they rolled her gently onto her back and tried CPR. Ellie’s eyes were open. She looks scared. What was she thinking in those last moments? Did she know her attacker? She felt vomit rising in her throat.
“Ma’am, there’s nothing we can do. I’m sorry.”
She wiped her mouth with her coat sleeve. “Then take her away. Don’t leave her here like this.”
“We have to wait for the medical examiner. Why don’t you wait downstairs?”
Sara heard another siren. Before she could get her legs to move, the police came upstairs and started asking questions. When did Sara find her? Was she sure of the time? Did she see anyone in the house? Had she touched anything?
“Earlier tonight, a Buick whizzed past us on the road leading away from here. I thought it was strange. Where was he going in such a hurry, you know? Then I could swear I heard it again, when I was in the bedroom with Ellie.”
“You say it was a Buick?”
“A Le Sabre. Blue. I can tell you the plate number.”
“Great. That’s helpful. Now, why were you here tonight?”
“I was supposed to house sit and watch her cat. She was supposed to leave yesterday, for London. The house was a mess. Ellie wasn’t messy.”
“Ma’am, how did you get inside?”
“She’d left me a key under the mat, but the door wasn’t locked. She always locked the door. Are you sure she’s dead?”
“Come downstairs. Is there someone we can call for you?”
“My parents live here.” She certainly didn’t want to wake her parents with this news. “I have to watch the cat. Where’s Panther?”
“Do you want us to call them for you?”
“No, I can’t bring the cat home. My grandfather’s allergic.” Words seemed to float in the air, like the speech bubbles in comic strips.
The officer’s voice was gentle. “Ma’am, this is now a crime scene. I’m afraid you can’t stay here. There’s a motel about a mile down the road.”
The neighbor interjected. “I have a spare room downstairs. You can stay with me tonight.”
“It locks from the inside. It’s practically morning anyhow.”
Locks from the inside? Stay with that arrogant piece of…Too exhausted to protest, she followed him next door. “What’s your name again?”
“Travis. Travis Jennings. And you?”
“Sara Baron.”
Although the night air stung her cheeks, she felt somewhat better as soon as she walked outside. Ellie’s parents! Someone had to call them. She had no idea how to reach them. Last she heard, they were doing missionary work in South America.
“Panther!” How did she forget the cat? She ran back toward the house.
“Hey, where are you going?” She heard Travis’s boots crunching in the snow behind her.
“I have to get the cat.”
“I’ll check upstairs; you check downstairs. What does it look like?”
“I don’t know. Whiskers, four paws…It’s a cat.”
When they reached the house, she ran inside. She could hear the police buzzing around upstairs. “Panther. Come here, kitty.”
She looked in the kitchen, in the downstairs bathroom, behind the sofa…She was beginning to feel panicky. What if Panther ran outside in all the commotion? I have to find him. The least she could do for Ellie was to watch over her beloved pet.
Then she opened the door leading to the garage. “Panther, are you in here?” She flicked on the light and spotted Ellie’s Nissan. Sara glanced at the back seat. No cat.
She popped open the trunk. No luggage? She couldn’t imagine going away for six months with only an overnight bag, having herself paid for two extra bags for her own flight from San Francisco.
She scanned the garage, spying a large suitcase perched on top of the dryer, price tag still attached to the handle. Unzipping it, she found three smaller suitcases inside, nested like Russian Marushka dolls. I’ll bet she bought this set for her trip. Why’s it out here?
A cat screeched from under the car, a black arrow flying through the open door and into the kitchen. Putting aside her superstition about black cats, she called, “Panther, come here, baby.” After some gentle coaxing, Panther let her pick him up. The door squeaked open.
“Ma’am, you can’t be in here. It’s a crime scene, like we told you.” The officer’s voice was a bit less gentle than before.
“I just had to get the cat.”
Travis walked up behind him. “We’re going now, officer.”
He led her back outside. “Let’s park your car in my driveway.”
She’d forgotten the case was inside. She prayed it hadn’t been in the cold too long.
“What do you have there?”
“My oboe. It looks like a clarinet but…”
“But it’s thinner and uses a double reed. Do I look like a Neanderthal? I love classical music.”
“I’m impressed. Most people have never even heard of an oboe.”
Travis drove while she cradled Panther and her oboe on her lap. They were in his driveway before the heat even kicked on. She followed him into the house.
“The bed is made up already, and there’s a spare blanket in the closet.”
“You have guests often?” She had no idea why that came out of her mouth.
“Not yet. I rented this place furnished. All the beds were made up when I moved in and no one’s been in that room since.”
“Thank you for letting me stay. I’ll call in the morning, and see if the motel allows pets.”
“Do you want something to drink? I’ve got milk and soda. Maybe even Kool-Aid.”
She’d had enough of his sarcasm. “No, thanks. I just want to go to sleep.”
Chapter 3
In the morning, sunlight streamed through the window. For a moment, Sara couldn’t remember where she was. Panther jumped up on the bed, nudging her with his head as if to push her out of bed to get him breakfast.
“Poor baby. You must be starving!” She pulled on her flannel robe and made her way into the kitchen, following the aroma of fresh coffee.
“Travis? Are you up yet?” She saw a lonely note on the refrigerator door, held in place by a single magnet advertising a pizza delivery place. At work. Help yourself to food.
He’d attached the same business card he’d shoved into her palm last night––Travis Jennings, Physical Therapist. Panther meowed and rubbed against her legs.
“Sorry, baby.” She realized she didn’t have cat food and the nearest grocery store was twenty minutes away. She pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a flannel shirt. “I’ll be right back.”
The air was brisk, despite the sunshine. Looking across at Ellie’s house in the morning light, it was hard to imagine the horror that had occurred there. She pictured Ellie lying on the floor. She shuddered. You can do this. Breathe in and out, in and out. She hustled across the yard to the porch and trembled, not sure she could make herself go inside. Panther has to eat. Poor thing. I wonder if he knows Ellie isn’t coming back. She took a deep breath, and reached into her coat pocket for the key she’d retrieved from under the mat last night.
She felt like a criminal, ducking under the crime scene tape. Ellie had said on the phone she’d leave the food on the counter, but whatever had been on the counter had been swept onto the floor in the ruckus. She didn’t see cat food.
The pantry. Maybe in there. Cans and paper goods rolled out in an avalanche as soon as she opened th
e door. On the floor, behind the boxes of cereal and pasta noodles, she spotted a nearly full bag of Purina Cat Chow. What had someone been searching for last night? Had they found it, or would they be back?
She heard a door slam. She froze, unable to breathe. She wasn’t alone. Someone was in the house and like a fool, she hadn’t taken her phone with her. She heard the sound of a computer booting up and saw light shining from the room. Like a bigger fool, she crept toward the den, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder, Ellie’s killer in all probability, without getting caught.
The door den door was ajar, and peeking in, she saw a man in a hoodie sticking a jump drive into Ellie’s computer. Taking a step closer, the floor boards squeaked. The man turned toward the door. Heart beating wildly, she shot herself out the front door like a bullet, never pausing to look back. When she reached Travis’s house, she quickly locked the door, then ran to check the other door to be sure it too was secured. Had the intruder seen her? When she’d caught her breath, she called the police, who promised to be right over.
After she hung up, she realized she’d been hugging the bag of cat food. Poor Panther still hadn’t eaten. “Here, Panther. Let’s find you a bowl.” In the kitchen cabinets she found a brand new Tupperware container with the lid still attached, and two shiny white mugs. She poured food for Panther, and a cup of coffee for herself. The warm cup soothed her hands. She hadn’t noticed the emptiness in her stomach until she sat down at the table.
Travis said in his note to help herself to food, so she peeked in the fridge. A quart of nearly expired fat-free milk, English muffins, peanut butter, a few bottles of imported beer … This is a bachelor pad if I’ve ever seen one. She popped an English muffin into the pristine toaster. She couldn’t help snooping through the remaining cabinets to occupy her time while she waited for the police.
One plain white plate, one bowl, and two medium sized glasses, lost in the ample cabinets. Travis was easily in his mid to late thirties and this was all he had on the shelves? She wished her own cabinets looked like that. Back in San Francisco, she couldn’t fit all her mugs in her kitchen cabinet when they all happened to be clean at the same time—which wasn’t all that often.
She heard the patrol car pull into the driveway and ran to open the door. “I’m glad you got here so quickly. Come in.”
“You said someone was in the house across the way? The house that’s still a crime scene?”
“Yes. I know I shouldn’t have gone over, but the poor cat was starving. I just ran over to find cat food.”
“And someone was there?”
“I heard a door, then heard a computer booting up. I peeked in the den and saw a man in a hoodie inserting a jump drive into the computer.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Not really. The hoodie was cinched around his head. He was wearing jeans and boots with metal heels. Around my height, maybe an inch or so taller.”
“Metal heels?”
“I heard him walk across the tile.”
“Are you sure it was a man?”
“Well, come to think of it, I assumed so, but it could have been a woman, I guess.”
“Anything else you can remember?”
She thought for a moment. “Not right now.”
“We’ll go over and check it out. Maybe we’ll be lucky and get prints.”
“I doubt it. He was wearing black, leather gloves.”
“Stay inside, lock the doors. Call if you see him return to the house.”
“I will. Thanks.” She saw him out, locking the door as instructed.
Ellie had something someone wanted. Is that why she was killed? She couldn’t stop thinking about last night. Maybe the killer was caught by surprise when he went to search for whatever it was he wanted last night. He didn’t expect Ellie to be there. Or he didn’t care if she was. Ellie was going to London for six months. How was she planning to do that with an overnight bag? And she was supposed to have left the day before yesterday.
Ellie’s poor parents! She had to figure out how to contact them. Knowing they were ‘somewhere in South America’ didn’t give her much to go on. She should have asked the police if they could help locate them.
She retrieved her phone from her purse. Still dead. She’d completely forgotten she needed to charge it, and didn’t feel like digging through her suitcases to find it. Surely Travis had a charger lying around here somewhere.
She took a bite of her breakfast, then pulled open more kitchen drawers. Most were completely empty. She poured herself a glass of water. When she went to carry it to the table, it slipped from her hand, shattering on the stone tile. Not now, please, I can’t deal with this now. She only had six months to get this under control. If things weren’t better by then…
She swept up the mess. In her own house, she’d always left a charger by her bed. She climbed the steps to the master bedroom. The layout of this house was identical to Ellie’s, undoubtedly constructed by the same builder back when housing developments took off.
Travis’s room had as much character as a room at a chain hotel. No photos on the dresser, bed made up with a non-descript beige comforter…no shoes all over the floor or gym clothes in a heap, like at Brandon’s place.
She saw the charger on the nightstand and bent down to unplug it. She heard footsteps behind her.
“What are you doing in my room?”
Sara shrieked. She looked up at Travis, standing at the edge of the bed, looking as imposing as a storybook giant.
“I…I thought you’d gone to work.”
“I left my agenda book. I invite you to stay here and the minute I’m gone you snoop through my things?”
She stood up, charger in hand. “Absolutely not. I was looking for a charger. My phone’s been dead since yesterday.”
Travis’s face softened. “I’m sorry I overreacted.”
“You know what? I’m going to drive over to the Ramada Inn and see if they’re okay with pets. I’ll be out of your hair in a flash.”
“No, wait. I said I was sorry. I’m a very private person and I guess my guard is always up. Stay. I want you to.”
She absolutely would have gone to a hotel, in spite of his apology, if she felt she could afford it. This six-month leave didn’t come with a paycheck and she’d already lost sleep wondering how to cover her bills and rent in one of the most expensive cities in the country. When Ellie said she could stay here rent free, it was a Godsend. She’d been able to sublet her tiny San Francisco apartment to a visiting conductor.
“Yeah, okay. But only because my choices are limited. As soon as the police are done at Ellie’s I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Grab the charger and let’s get your phone juiced up.”
She followed him downstairs to the kitchen and plugged in her phone. When it came alive after a few minutes, she saw she had a few voicemails. The first was from her mother. She’d called to see if Sara had gotten settled in and reminded her to come over for dinner.
The next message chilled her down to her bones. It was from Ellie, and had been left yesterday evening. Sara. The voice was barely a whisper. Don’t come, it’s dangerous. I think someone is in the house. If anything happens to me, find the…
“Find the what?” Sara replayed the message. “Find the what, Sara?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Ellie left me a message last night. She thought someone was in the house. Listen.” She put the phone on speaker. Chills ran up her back as she listened. The killer was in the house when Ellie tried to call her.
“Find the what? Do you know what she was referring to?”
“Not at all. I can’t believe I didn’t have my phone charged. Maybe I could have saved her.”
“How? It’s a good thing whoever it was had gone before you showed up.”
“I could have called the police…I could have…”
“Stop. If the killer was in the house already when she left that message, the police wouldn’t have made it
in time.”
“Speaking of the police, an officer just left. I went over to Ellie’s to find cat food and there was an intruder snooping in the den, trying to get info from her computer.”
“You didn’t lead with that?”
“You didn’t give me a chance. I need to get this phone message to them.”
“Come on, I’ll drive you.”
“Don’t you have to be at work?”
“Both of my morning patients canceled. I’m free until after lunch.”
Chapter 4
Travis parallel parked in front of the old Hudsonville Police Station in the center of town. Sara had almost forgotten that her mother had recently started working there. Mom is going to freak out over what happened last night.
Her mother spotted her the moment she entered the station. “Sara, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
It felt impossible to soften the news. “Mom, it isn’t. When I got to Ellie’s last night, the place had been ransacked and Ellie…I found Ellie dead on her bedroom floor.”
“Oh my God! That was Ellie’s house? You found her? The officers have been buzzing around all morning talking about this case. It’s the first murder most have ever seen.”
“I need to talk to a detective. Who’s in charge of the case?”
“There’s only one detective on site. Detective Lambert. I mentioned him last night. Come on back.”
Detective Lambert reminded Sara of an actor she’d seen in a traveling production of Book of Mormon. His neat hair and clean-shaven face made him look younger than he probably was, given he’d had time to climb the ranks to detective.
He stood up from behind his desk. “Can I help you? I’m Detective Lambert.”
“Sara Baron. And this is um, Ellie’s neighbor, Travis Jennings.”
Travis shook his hand. “Ellie Rossi was my neighbor. The officer last night said to come by and give a statement.”
Detective Lambert grabbed a legal pad off his desk. Sara had expected something more technologically up to date. An iPad, maybe?
“Tell me what you know.”
“I was supposed to cat sit for Ellie. When I got to her house last night, it had been ransacked. There was stuff all over the floor. I went upstairs to her bedroom and she was lying on the floor. I saw blood. It looked like she’d been hit on the back of her head.”