by Dale Mayer
“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe, as long as he got Mouse, Poppy was totally happy if we all went too.”
Jager nodded. “I could see that. But it’s extreme. Especially when those winos claimed Poppy wasn’t a killer. He was a wimp, a beggar. But he could have easily hired somebody to do the dirty jobs.”
With Geir driving, they headed to Joel Henderson’s address. They parked across the road and watched a man, his wife and two young children playing out in the front yard. The man pulled out a big handkerchief and blew his nose. He sat down and said, “Honey, I may have to go back inside and lie down.”
She placed her hand on his forehead. “You’re running a fever again. Maybe you should.” She looked worried, and it was evident in her tone, even from where Geir and Jager sat.
Geir turned on the engine and drove away. “It might be him, but chances are it’s not.”
Jager nodded. “Doesn’t seem likely.”
They pulled onto the main highway. The second teacher’s address was a more run-down-looking house in a decrepit section of town. It was barely respectable, not all that nice.
Geir pulled off to the side of the road and said, “Aren’t we close to the address Badger found for Mouse here in San Diego?”
“We’re about six blocks away. From here to there, it gets nastier.”
“So, close enough to do the fishing he wanted, to provide a home, and yet to keep the young man close to his own home. Close enough but just far enough away.”
“Exactly. Mouse probably wouldn’t have been thrilled with high living. He would have become very jealous if this guy had been in a massive house with obvious wealth. But here? It’s like he was a step above, a step Mouse could easily see himself making.”
“Adding in the father-figure persona, and it was almost like going home,” Geir said. “Mouse wouldn’t have remembered his stepfather too much as he was so young, and, even if he did, the memories wouldn’t likely be wonderful as the guy and his mom split soon afterward.”
“Did we ever get any information on him? The stepfather, I mean.”
Jager shook his head. “Not much. Other than the fact that he knows nothing and wants to know nothing. He didn’t have anything helpful to add about Mouse.”
“Well, that’s getting information. Just not the kind we were hoping for. And apparently there is no way to confirm who was Mouse’s father.”
Jager nodded. He stared at the empty house and said, “What do you think?”
Geir turned the engine on again, pulled out into the small street and said, “I think we need to do a couple laps around the block. Then a little B&E.”
Three times around the block later, he found a parking spot one block over, where he parked, locked up the truck and they headed back to the house. This time for a much closer look.
Chapter 5
As soon as Morning made herself a salad, she decided she would take it out on the deck to eat. Her mind was consumed with her two recent paintings. Taking a cup of tea with her, she sat in the sunshine and smiled. A lot was right with her world. Also a lot wasn’t so right, but, hey, this was good. Scrambling for a living or working a nine-to-five job wasn’t up her alley. But this, the bed-and-breakfast, helped a lot. Her rates were high enough to keep her solvent but still giving her a lot of return customers. It just wasn’t full-time. Maybe that was a good thing.
As she sat here, she could feel an eerie sensation, as if somebody watched her. She looked around the backyard. Sometimes neighbor kids would stare through the holes in the fence at her, but it was a school day and during school hours, and there was no sign of them. She looked behind her, but no one was there.
Slightly unnerved but throwing it off, she finished her salad and sat for a few minutes, thinking about the gallery showing. How many was a reasonable number of sample paintings to take in? How many did she have time to do? She had one and a half to date. But today was Wednesday, so she barely had a couple more days. Four? “I want four to take in,” she determined.
She found that, if she set goals and labeled them as such out loud, she’d do her best to reach them. And, if she fell short, three would still do. It would give her something to work toward. She didn’t have a clue how many she needed to have for the actual showing. And she didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on herself right now. She had enough to worry about.
Still unnerved at that strange sense of being watched, she stood, took her plate and cup back inside, rinsed them and loaded the dishwasher. She decided it was full enough, and she turned it on. The couple this morning had chosen to go out for breakfast, so she hadn’t had to worry about them.
She headed back up to her studio. She should be doing paperwork in the office, but she needed the studio work time. As she walked in, she realized how strong the paint smell was. She opened the windows wider, trying to get fresh air recirculating through the room. By rights she needed a workshop that was properly vented. But, since that wouldn’t happen anytime soon, she’d take what she could. She turned back around to the canvas and heard footsteps in the hall. She glanced up to see her new guest. “This room is out of bounds,” she said firmly. “You have your bedroom, the living room downstairs and the kitchen.”
He smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just wondered if there was any chance of getting that offer of coffee.”
“Of course.” She beamed and motioned him to the stairway. “I’m surprised you knew where I was.”
“I saw you come up here earlier,” he said with a laugh. “And now I see it’s an art studio.”
“Yes, I do like to paint.”
For some reason she didn’t want to say anything about the showing. What if they didn’t like her work?
In the kitchen she put on a small pot of coffee. “I was thinking you’d be gone all day,” she said, turning to smile at him.
He nodded. “I’ve been waiting for phone calls. I had a business conference online,” he confessed. “That ran long, so, when I do go out, I won’t be back until later this evening.”
“No problem as long as you remember eleven is curfew.”
He chuckled. “Got it.”
As soon as the coffee was done, she poured him a cup, then poured herself a cup. “There’s still a cup left if you decide you want a second one. I’ll see you later then.” She turned and walked back out.
She smiled to herself. She was lucky to meet so many interesting people. She’d never been nervous in her own house. Mason had made a point of telling her that she should beef up security, and she had to a certain extent. But she’d never been afraid here. It was home, and she liked that. Still, having the guest come into her private space, at least to the door, had unnerved her.
Returning to her studio she put her coffee down to study her painting. Then walked back to the door, closed and locked it. Having Geir inside yesterday hadn’t bothered her. Maybe because he’d so obviously enjoyed seeing her paintings. At least the new one. Yet Ken’s presence had been an intrusion. One she hadn’t liked.
She walked onto the balcony of her room and took several deep cleansing breaths. The house had all these small little Juliet balconies off every second- and third-floor room. They were barely big enough to hold a chair, but they provided a lot of fresh air. She sat with her coffee for a moment. And then determined not to waste any more time. She went back inside, picked up her paintbrush and got back to it. Because of the cityscape in the front, the lighting had to be perfect. And this one would take longer than the first one in the series.
Finally her grandfather’s clock chimed four p.m., and she thought she’d done as much as she could for the day. Plus, the natural light had decreased, and she needed that for this particular style of painting. She stepped back, wiping her hands on her smock. It was good, but it wasn’t perfect yet. She still needed to work on some of that light and fog.
She hesitated, wanting to stay a little longer, but, between the loss of light and the fact dinner would be la
te, she knew she had to go.
She thought she heard a sound downstairs. She opened the door and walked out to the front near her bedroom where she could see if the men had arrived. But there was no sign of Geir’s truck. But then she had other company as well. Making a fast decision, she went back to her studio, feeling like a child playing hooky, and set about working on the corner of the canvas that bothered her in particular. It just needed a little more black here, a little more gray there. And before long she was lost again. When she straightened up, she realized she’d been leaning forward intently.
An odd light filled her studio as the sun had set. Now she knew it was late. She closed the windows by half, reminding herself to shut them before night settled in, and then walked out of the room. Realizing she’d left her smock on, she stopped. With a laugh, she pulled it over her head, put it back in the room, and then closed and locked the studio from the outside. She couldn’t remember the last time anybody had gone in. But now she’d had two men who had tracked her up here.
She ran lightly down the stairs to see the couple had come in. They all smiled and exchanged greetings. They were just here to get changed before heading out for the evening.
She walked into the kitchen and pulled out the steaks, seasoned them a little more, drained the juice off the platter and brought out the shrimp. They’d been marinating all day too. With that done, she thought about dessert and realized she had time for a quick cheesecake. She pulled out the cream cheese and whipping cream. Few people realized just how fast cheesecake was to make. If they knew, they’d make it all the time.
But did she have any fruit? And then she remembered the blueberries in the fridge. Before long she had the ingredients ready to go into the pan. She decided instead to put them into small terrines, so they were individual servings. With that done, she put them on a cookie sheet and back into the fridge.
She turned and realized it was going on six. How many people were still in the house? Anybody? She had no way to know. But until Geir and Jager returned, she didn’t want to go forward with grilling the steaks. She could do something about the potatoes though. She scrubbed them, sliced them very thinly, mixed them with cream, cheese and a quick butter sauce and put them in the oven.
They would take an hour, but hopefully the men would get back in perfect timing. All that was left were the almond-topped green beans. Wandering the house, she wondered why she decided these men needed dinner. It was an invitation she rarely gave to other guests. But then something about Geir and Jager had her wanting to spend more time with them. Especially Geir.
She walked into her office and got down to work. At least this way she’d keep an eye on the front door.
As she sat, she realized she’d left her phone here. She picked it up to see several text messages from Geir. She smiled as she hit Dial. When he answered, she said, “I’m sorry. I was upstairs painting.”
“That’s fine. You’re not at our beck and call by any means. I called earlier to tell you that we’re running a bit late.”
“Well, you’re not here, so that makes sense.” She laughed.
“We’re only a couple blocks away, so we’ll be there soon.”
She hung up and returned to the kitchen to turn up the oven temperature, hoping to expedite the potatoes. That’s when she saw a stranger walking through her backyard. She stepped out on the deck and called out, “Hey!”
Large evergreens were in the back corner. He disappeared behind them. She frowned. “You’re on private property. Leave please.”
She did have trouble with some people in the neighborhood, but generally it was a very safe family-oriented location. She slipped down the deck steps and headed to the back corner. Mason would tell her to stop immediately, but she’d never been one to avoid confrontation if necessary. But, when she got there, she found no sign of anyone. She walked through the small treed area and frowned. “Hello?”
No answer.
Shrugging, she headed back to the house. As she started up the deck steps, she peered into the shadows of the back corner and swore she could see somebody, despite just being there and finding no one. She walked back into the kitchen, laughing at herself. “I must be imagining things. But why now?” she asked herself. “Why today?”
“Why what?” Geir asked.
With a start she spun.
He gave her a lazy smile that set her heart pounding.
“Don’t turn that lethal smile on me,” she warned.
His eyebrows shot up. “Lethal?” he asked with interest.
She snorted. “Like you don’t know.”
“I really don’t. Tell me more,” he said, walking closer.
She chuckled. “Where’s Jager?”
“Oh, so it’s Jager now, is it? Not me? My heart is broken, you know that?” he said with a laugh.
She rolled her eyes at him. “Not likely. And you guys did get here quickly.”
“Told you that we were just a couple blocks away.”
“Any luck hunting?”
“No. The person we were looking for wasn’t at home.”
“Sorry. Come on.” She turned back to him. “Are you ready for dinner? Or are you going out?”
He pointed at the steak and prawns in front of her. “I’m not going anywhere if that’s what we’re having for dinner.”
She chuckled. “It is indeed.”
He glanced at his clothes. “In that case, I’ll grab a quick shower, if Jager is done.”
“You don’t need to wait. I’ve got an extralarge hot water tank.”
He raised his eyebrows again. “Perfect. I’ll be back in five.” And he slipped out just as silently as he’d slipped in.
She crossed her arms and thought about that. It was one thing to have guests around the house, but it was another to find so many men who could move as silently as they did. She turned to the copse of trees in the backyard because that was exactly how whoever she’d seen moved. Could it have been Jager or Geir? No, she would have recognized them. But, then again, she hadn’t exactly gotten a good look at her intruder. She didn’t want to consider that Ken might have been the man skulking in the backyard as that meant she was questioning everyone around her. Not the way she wanted to live.
Pushing the issue to the back of her mind, she checked on the potatoes and found they’d started to bubble. She turned the oven down slightly and returned to her paperwork. Until the men came down, no point in putting the steaks on the grill. And the prawns? Well, they took even less time to cook.
She settled down happily, a smile on her face thinking about Geir’s smile. There was something about it. Just the corners kicked up, but it tugged a response from her that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She’d had several boyfriends, but they always seemed to be more interested in her house and the property than her. One had wanted to move into one of the bedrooms on a permanent basis. When she explained she needed all the bedrooms for income, he’d been quite disturbed, to the point she had to call a friend to help escort him out. She hadn’t seen him since. That had been only a few months ago. At the time she’d been affronted at his forwardness, but Nancy had put it in perspective. She’d said, “You have to understand that anybody who doesn’t have what you have looks at this and sees revenue and a home, and, because you cook, it’s perfect. This is a family home. This is all one needs wrapped up into one.”
“But only for me,” Morning had said. “As far as I’m concerned, he was just a user.”
“Oh, I agree. But, if you look at it from his perspective, being Johnny-on-the-spot and getting free rent, it would have been a pretty damn good deal.”
“He only got one night out of it. Once I realized he didn’t plan on leaving, I kicked him out of here.”
“And that’s because of your generous heart,” Nancy said. “You’d give anybody a bed for the night. The trouble is, you never do any background checks to see if they’re upstanding citizens.”
“Like a background check will tell me that
,” Morning scoffed.
Nancy nodded, chuckled and said, “True enough. All of my boyfriends would have passed a background check, yet I definitely know how to pick the losers.”
“And I’m not picking them at all,” Morning said. “Can’t say any of the relationships I’ve had have been any better.”
“No. And for a different reason,” Nancy said. “People look at my house and think it’s mine without realizing it’s my parents’ and, when they realize it’s my parents’, they don’t want anything to do with me. In your case, it is your house—at least half of it is. So that becomes a huge checkmark on the side of right.”
“Until they realize I run a bed-and-breakfast, and people will always be around.”
“Exactly.”
Morning left her past thoughts, finished the accounts and walked back into the kitchen. There she found Ken. “Ready to head out, are you?”
Ken turned, his movement smooth and silent, just like Geir and Jager. Was he ex-military too?
“Absolutely.” He smiled at her.
His smile was cheerful and bright, which was nice.
“I just wanted to say goodbye. I’ll be back later tonight.”
She walked with him to the front door.
He patted her shoulder gently and said, “Take care.” And he walked down the steps with a light tread and a whistle.
She smiled and called out, “Have a good evening.”
He raised a hand in goodbye.
She watched as he went to the corner, looking for whatever vehicle he drove. She had parking for six here, but often the neighbors took them up, making it a struggle at times. Then she smiled when he got into a Porsche, a black one, and disappeared around the corner.
She closed the door and turned around, returning to the kitchen. There Jager sat at the table, his laptop open. He lifted his head and said, “I’m home. Something smells good.”
“It’s dinner. As soon as I know Geir is ready, I’ll light the barbecue and put on the steaks.”
Jager lifted his gaze, grinned at her and said, “Or you could just do it now, and Geir might lose out.”
