Terror on Top

by CeeCee James

  His gruff answer boomed through the speaker. “Hey, you do what you want with it. Just make sure you get paid.”

  My ears perked. Paid? I was down with that.

  “Okay. So when do I meet the bankers?” Stella paced the length of the kitchen. At the end, she turned around like a toy soldier and headed back.

  “Go ahead and go right now. They’ll fill you in on all the details.” He paused and cleared his throat. “There’s been a little hiccup they’re dealing with.”

  “What hiccup?” Stella was instantly suspicious.

  “Well, the house went on default because the owner is missing.”

  She glanced at me. The look on her face spoke exactly to what I was thinking. Why couldn’t anything be easy?

  “Of course he is,” she responded dryly.

  I saw my chances of owning the house evaporate before my eyes. It sounded like this was going to be complicated after all. Probably not what I wanted for my first home purchase.

  She clicked the phone off. “Ready?” she asked.

  We headed back to the car, with her locking the door behind us.

  At Security International, a very harried looking clerk wrote down Stella’s name and told us someone would be with us shortly. She pointed vaguely to some upholstered chairs to wait. We wandered over. I gave them a quick inspection. It only took one experience of sitting in someone’s old gum to become more choosy. We sat down, and Stella looked at her phone, her leg swinging in irritation, while I watched the people standing in the lines.

  Every single person standing in line had their phone out. It kind of made me feel like the weirdo for not being on mine.

  There was a wall of certificates, stating the FDIC, along with the manager’s name, Seth Martin.

  I started doing the name game in my head.

  Seth, Seth bo beth.

  Banana-fana fo-feth

  Fee-fi-mo-meth

  Seth!

  I caught a tall man’s gaze. Dressed in a dark blue suit and with slicked back brown hair, he walked over with firm steps like I was in deep trouble.

  “Ms. O’Neil?” he growled.

  I pointed at Stella. Totally threw her under the bus.

  She stood up. “Yes?”

  “I’m the bank manager, Jonathan Twist. I’ll be helping you this morning.” He smiled, but his blue eyes didn’t carry the smile his mouth was giving me. “Follow me, please.”

  I went after the two of them. He paused when he saw me, and his eyebrows rose questionably as he turned to Stella.

  “This is my partner. She’ll be joining our meeting.” Stella firmly smiled.

  His gaze flickered back toward me like I was a piece of toilet paper dragging on Stella’s shoe, but he said no more. I bet he was real fun at parties.

  We walked down a side hall, past various offices, the air smelling more and more like a library the further we went. Finally, he entered a door on the left.

  The metal plate outside stated it was the office of Jonathan Twist – Assistant Bank Manager. The sign was so prestigious that the inside took me off guard. The office had a misplaced quality to it, like someone was either moving in or just moving out.

  The placard on the desk also said Jonathan Twist. I read it and remembered the sign by the certificates in the lobby. Maybe Jonathan had recently received a promotion.

  I couldn’t help asking. “I’m sorry, I hope this isn’t rude, but I’m confused. Are you the bank manager, or the assistant?”

  He stared at me like I was a dead moth on his windshield. “We are currently without a bank manager. I’m in charge at the moment.”

  “Oh, I see.” I sat in one brown pleather chair, and Stella took the other. Jonathan unbuttoned his jacket and settled behind his desk. He scooted forward. Frowning, he picked up an expensive looking fountain pen and idly began to play with it. Back and forth, under and over his fingers. The pen had a name engraved on it, Black Cat LLC. “So we have to work with you, hmm?”

  Stella’s smile dropped off at his tone. “Excuse me?”

  “This is an unfortunate situation. You realize we think the owner is dead, right?

  Chapter 3

  “I’m not sure where this is leading, but I’m not enjoying how this conversation is going so far,” Stella said. From the way she perched on the edge of the chair, it was obvious she was about to get up and leave.

  Jonathan’s eyes widened. “I see. Perhaps we should start over, shall we?”

  Stella arched an eyebrow, but eased back into the seat.

  “So, just to clarify, you’re the realtor handling the Dunham house?” He flashed a plastic smile.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Okay. I was expecting someone different, a Chris O’Neil. Is that your husband?”

  Stella’s nostrils flared. “No. That’s my uncle.”

  “Ah. I see.” Jonathan picked through a stack of papers on his desk and pulled out a manila folder. “Usually these cases are handled by Justin Smith, our mortgage broker, but he’s sick today. Hopefully, he will be in tomorrow, so if there are any specific questions, you may want to wait until then.”

  Frowning, he opened the file and quickly scanned. “I do have some general information on the residence here. What do you need to know outside the paperwork we sent to your uncle?”

  “You want an open house this weekend?”

  He checked the paperwork again and gave a quick nod.

  “Well, we need a cleaning budget. There are some minor repairs that need to be made. Do you have a sell-by date?” Stella asked.

  “I’m sure we can approve a reasonable amount for a five hour clean. I’ll send the details over to your office today.” He flipped to the front page in the file. “We are hoping to get closing by the end of the month. We really don’t want this to go to auction, so do your best to get exposure for a sale.”

  Stella typed the information into her phone. “Okay, that sounds good.”

  “Is there anything else?” He asked, his impatience beginning to show again.

  “I’m curious what you were saying about the missing owner. You said he was deceased?”

  He stretched his hands on his desk as the fake smile returned. “From what we’ve gathered, yes. Owners who are this far in over their head sometimes duck out, thinking that it is a relinquishment. They believe they’re saving themselves from any legal action. But in this case, he seems to have dropped from sight. He had a thriving career and still has an account with money open in this very branch. The investigation has surmised he must have died.”

  “What investigation was that?”

  His eyebrows lowered, obviously not appreciating being questioned. “The one the bank runs.”

  “Has anyone reported him missing?”

  He shrugged. “There are a lot of missing people in this world.”

  A cold trickle ran down my spine at his cadence. He spoke about the lost owner like he was talking about a piece of stale bread.

  Stella nodded and rose to her feet. I followed her example, honestly eager to get out of there..

  Jonathan shook Stella’s hand, and after hesitating, reached over to shake mine. After the firm shake, I glanced at his desk, a bit surprised to see a framed family picture with a man who was decidedly not Jonathan. But what did I know about this stuff?

  With hurried steps, Stella led the way out of the bank. She was on the phone before we made it back to the car.

  “Flamingo Realty!” answered her uncle.

  “That was a crazy meeting. I think it could have been taken care of by a phone call and an email.”

  “What happened?”

  “First of all I had to talk with the manager because the original guy handling this wasn’t there. I’ll tell you right now the guy was rude.”

  “Aw, I’m sorry. Let me send you Justin Smith’s number. That’s the name on the documents the bank sent over. You set up our sign and the flamingo yet?”

  “I’m heading over to the office now.”


  They said goodbye and Stella dropped her phone into her purse. After stretching her fingers as if she needed a second to regroup, she turned to me. “What did you think?”

  “You’re right. The guy was rude.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “But there’s something I don’t get. The sign at the front said someone else was the manager.”

  “Who?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t remember, but it wasn’t Jonathan.”

  “You think he was trying to fake us out?”

  “I don’t know. He certainly was arrogant.”

  “They say arrogance is just insecurities playing dress up.”

  I thought of Jonathan’s slicked back hair and scowl. There was something about him I didn’t trust. “Maybe so.”

  “Well, you ready to get some cleaning supplies?”

  “Onward and upward!” I said.

  We arrived at the hardware store about ten minutes and a doughnut later. Both of us got out and brushed off crumbs.

  The spring flowers were out in front of the store in hoards, beautiful little primroses and bulb plants. I practically skipped over to admire them.

  “You all are so pretty!” I crooned over their colorful heads. “Little beauties.”

  Stella yanked a basket from the line. “You coming?”

  I grabbed a bucket that held a bouquet of different bulbs. I couldn’t resist.

  After sniffing the daffodil, I set the flowers in the basket and we headed inside.

  The store was pretty empty at this time of day, with the exception of a few general contractors who were buying in bulk. It smelled of fresh-cut wood and something else… unpleasant and sharp like chemicals. We walked down the aisle with Stella scooping in sponges, cleaners, gloves, paper towels, and goop that plugged holes. At the last second, she grabbed a hammer as well.

  We loaded all the supplies onto the conveyer belt. I went first to pay for my flowers and Stella then paid. She carefully folded the receipt and placed it in her wallet.

  Then it was a fast return back to the house. We carried the supplies inside. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be there so I placed my flowers on the front porch. Just seeing them there sent a zip of joy through me. Maybe I could get this place after all.

  “You ready to get started?” Stella tore open the package of gloves and handed me a pair.

  I nodded.

  We explored the house again. Stella took pictures of anything that would need fixed or cleaned. I pointed out a few things myself.

  Then I was sideswiped by the discovery of a gorgeous painting hanging behind a door in the study. It was shocking that it had been left behind. I stood before it while Stella disappeared up the stairs.

  It was gorgeous. Look at that technique. I stood back to capture the full picture on my phone. If only I could paint a third as well, heck even a tenth, I’d die a happy woman.

  “Georgie!” Stella’s voice held a slight panic, ending with a squeak as though her air were cut off. I’d never heard her sound like that before and started to run.

  She stood at the top of top of the stairs, frozen and pale-faced. When she saw me, she beckoned me forward with her finger over mouth.

  Well, seeing her do that sent another jolt of adrenaline through me. I fished for my phone and crept up the stairs.

  “When we came through the first time, did you shut the master bedroom door?” she whispered.

  I shot it a glance, but honestly didn’t remember. I shook my head and shrugged.

  “We might have an intruder.” She pulled out a container of pepper spray from her purse. She walked forward, leaving me confused and scared on the steps. Had she heard something? What was going on? Should I call the police right now?

  Stella tensed outside the door and then suddenly swung it open. I scurried after her to be her backup.

  The room was empty.

  “Huh,” she said, her gaze landing on a half-opened window. Underneath lay chunks of broken crockery along with dirt and a sad plant. “I thought I heard something. Maybe it was the wind?”

  I scanned the room, pausing at the closet door. An ominous prickle rose in my chest.

  Stella shut the window and locked it. She started to pick up the plant. I waved at her like a wasp was bombing me.

  Her eyebrows rumpled, and I pointed to the closed closet door.

  Her eyes widened with realization. Slowly she stood. Her arm that held the pepper spray stiffened like she was clutching a gun. She tip-toed over to the door.

  My breath felt stuck in my chest. I dialed the 9 and the 1, with my thumb hovering over the remaining 1.

  We stood like that for a few seconds, two scared mannequins. I think both of us were trying to prepare and brace ourselves.

  Stella counted down to three with her fingers and then leaped on handle and flung open the door.

  Both of us stared in shock.

  There was definitely someone in the house. But he wasn’t going to be jumping out at anyone any time soon. Whoever he was, he was quite dead now.

  Chapter 4

  “Holy… cow,” Stella whispered.

  I was filled with horror. Almost in automation, I clicked the final 1 on the phone.

  “Should we check to be sure—” I couldn’t finish.

  She knew what I meant. “People aren’t supposed to be that shade of blue.”

  Shivering, I tried to drag my eyes away. Yet, as the phone rang, I couldn’t resist one last glance at the corpse. It was morbid, but there’d been something around his neck that had caught my attention.

  He was wearing a lanyard. The logo seemed familiar.

  “911, what is your emergency?” the operator asked, jarring me.

  “Yes, I’m at a house with a realtor, and we just found someone who is… deceased.” I grasped for the most technical word I could think of.

  Stella had spotted the lanyard as well. She leaned forward and then turned back to me with wild eyes. “It says Justin Smith!”

  My mouth dropped. It was the banker who was supposed to be handling the repossession.

  “What’s your address?” asked the operator.

  I had no idea and simply held the phone out to Stella. She rattled off the address.

  “Are you sure he’s not breathing?” the operator asked.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “Can you check for me please?”

  “Uh.” Stella grimaced before putting her fingers on his wrist. “Yes, he’s gone.” She wiped her fingers on her pants.

  “Okay, ma’am. Don’t touch anything else. Try to get to the front door while making as little contact with the scene as possible.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is there anyone else besides you two in the house?”

  When I heard the question, my heart jolted inside my chest. Was there someone else in the house with us? We hadn’t checked. What if the killer was hiding behind some corner, ready to make a clean sweep of any witnesses?

  I wasn’t waiting to find out. I grabbed Stella’s arm and yanked her out of the room. Quietly, we tip-toed down the stairs and out the front door. Once in the sunshine, I took a breath of relief.

  Stella wasn’t satisfied with our distance and stalked to the car.

  “We’re outside now,” she told the operator.

  “The police are on their way. Please stay there until they arrive.”

  “We will.”

  Stella was already in the driver’s seat by the time I climbed into the car. We stared at each other in shock.

  “I can’t believe that just happened,” I said, quite unnecessarily. Obviously we couldn’t believe it, but I had to say something to break the silence.

  “Uh, huh.” Stella watched the front door as if she expected some wild man to come racing out, brandishing a knife.

  Why was Justin Smith in there in the first place? Was he possibly waiting for us? The weird thing was that the door had been locked when we’d arrived, I remembered Stella unlocking it.

&nb
sp; “Why was he here? Was he meeting someone?” asked Stella, speaking my own thoughts into words.

  “Wouldn’t we have known if he was meeting someone? I mean, how did he get in? I thought only realtors had access to the lock box.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I don’t get it.” Stella chewed her thumbnail.

  A short while later, two police cars rolled up. I groaned as I recognized one of the police officers from another run in I’d had a while ago.

  “What’s the matter?” Stella asked.

  “That cop doesn’t like me.”

  Stella watched them get out of the cop car. “Lovely,” she breathed. “Okay. Let’s go do this.”

  We climbed out of the car and walked over to meet them.

  “Ms. Tanner.” said McCormick. His face was like a cement wall. “Long time, no see. Tell me, what do we have to deal with now?”

  Stella answered for me. “There’s a dead body in the closet of the master bedroom upstairs.”

  “Did you touch anything?” he asked. His hand dropped to his belt where he kept his handcuffs like he hoped to use them on me.

  I felt even more creeped out. “Yes, the operator asked us to check his pulse. Plus we’ve been moving about the house, trying to get it ready for an open house this weekend.”

  “Naturally.” His mouth flattened. “So I’m guessing you’ve touched every surface and ruined the crime scene.”

  “We hadn’t done a lot,” Stella answered. “I was removing nails from downstairs, and Georgie was cleaning windows. We already did a full walk-through earlier today.”

  “And the body wasn’t here then?” He watched me, brow arched.

  I ruffled and crossed my arms. “It’s not like we’d sit on something like this.” His eyes narrowed so I softened my tone. “We didn’t see anything, but to be honest, neither of us checked the closet. Our goal was to see the condition of the house and figure out if we had a cleaning budget.”

  “That’s right.” Stella jumped in. “We’d just returned with supplies when I noticed the master bedroom door was closed. I thought I heard a noise on the other side. When I opened it I discovered the window was open. And then we found the body in the closet.”