As he and Marvin drove through Stuyvesant Sean reflected that this was a perfect place to hide out. The place was large enough so new people wouldn’t stick out and, more importantly, its population tended to come and go quickly, people moving up when they found better-paying jobs. Basically, unless you lived in Stuyvesant there was no reason to go to Stuyvesant. The place was like the Bronx. Everyone knew where it was, but no one wanted to visit.
Marvin found Ostrom Avenue quickly enough. Fortunately for Sean’s and Marvin’s purposes, the street was only three blocks long. Marvin parked the hearse carefully to avoid getting any dents in it—nothing worse than a banged up or dirty hearse, his father always said—and he and Sean started knocking on doors. Because it was early afternoon, most people weren’t home yet and the people who were home hadn’t heard of Renee Connor. Sean and Marvin had done almost a block and a half without any positive results and Sean was beginning to tire when they got lucky.
The man who answered the door at 249 was about thirty-five, with stubble on his chin and graying sideburns. He was wearing running pants, a T-shirt, and jogging shoes, and was holding a mug in his hand. The mug was clearly handmade and carried the inscription Best Dad in the World on it. Sean put him down as someone who had lost his job and was now a stay at home dad. That opinion was confirmed when a small boy and a fat yellow labrador came running out and joined the man at the door a moment later.
“Daddy, Daddy,” the little boy said, pulling at the hem of the man’s shirt. “Abby just ate the roast chicken off the counter.”
Sean looked down at Abby. Abby wagged her tail. She did not seem at all repentant. In fact, she seemed rather happy.
“Abby, did you do that?” the man asked.
Abby wagged her tail even harder. Clearly the answer was yes. The man cursed under his breath.
“You said a bad word, Daddy,” the little boy cried.
“Listen,” the guy told Sean, “sorry, but I gotta go.”
“One question,” Sean said, not feeling it was necessary to point out the obvious, which was that since the chicken was already gone, the damage had been done. “I’m looking for Renee Connor. Would you know if she lives around here?”
“She’s away somewhere,” the man replied. “But there’s some lady house-sitting for her.”
“Which house is Renee’s?” Sean quickly asked.
“The blue and brown one down at the end of the next street. And now,” the man told him, “I really have to go.”
Sean could hear the man say to his son, “Your mother is going to kill me,” as he was closing the door.
“It’s all right, Daddy,” Sean heard the little boy reply. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell her it was my fault.” Then the door shut and Sean couldn’t hear anymore.
“Let’s drive down,” Marvin suggested.
Which Sean thought was an excellent idea. So that’s what they did.
“You think we’re going to find Liza in there?” Marvin asked as he parked near the corner of the block the man in the house had indicated.
“We’ll see,” Sean said as he got out of the hearse.
The house they were looking for was the fourth house from the corner. It was blue and brown with a small lawn that was bordered by a chain-link fence. The house was in good repair, and as they s ant wapproached the front walk Sean was cheered to see two cars parked in the driveway, one of which he feverently hoped was Liza’s.
“What are we going to say to her?” Marvin asked Sean.
“How do you mean?” Sean asked absentmindedly. He noticed, or thought he noticed, that the front door was ever so slightly ajar. Well, sometimes people went into their houses and didn’t close the door after themselves firmly enough so the lock didn’t catch. Maybe this was one of those cases. Or maybe not.
“I mean,” Marvin said, “what are we going to say? Are we going to march up to her and introduce ourselves and tell her why we’re here? It seems to me that if we do that, given the circumstances, she might just take off again.”
“We’ll see,” Sean said as he noticed that the mailbox was full. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about things. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“I think we need a plan,” Marvin countered while he and Sean mounted the porch steps.
“We might not need a plan,” Sean said grimly.
Marvin turned to him. His eyes widened. “Why? I don’t understand.”
“Think about it, Marvin.”
Marvin shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
Sean didn’t reply. All of his attention was focused on the house. He slowly approached the door. When he got close enough he reached into the mailbox and took out a couple of pieces of mail and checked the addresses.
“Isn’t what you’re doing illegal?” Marvin asked nervously.
“Not unless I keep the letters,” Sean told him. “Although most people would consider getting rid of junk mail doing them a favor.”
“So does Renee Connor live here?” Marvin asked.
“According to Pizza Hut and GEICO she does,” Sean said as he slipped the flyers he’d taken out back into the mailbox. “The question,” Sean continued, “is whether or not Liza is staying here.”
Marvin looked at his watch. “Okay. But if she’s not, we can’t look anymore today. I have to go back to work.”
“I thought you liked doing this kind of thing,” Sean said.
“I do,” Marvin said with feeling. “It’s just—” Then he stopped talking as he watched Sean put his hand up and ring the doorbell. No one answered. He could hear the bell echoing in the house. There was no TV or radio on. The place was silent.
Sean rang the bell again. Still nothing.
“I guess we should go,” Marvin said, turning to leave.
Sean shook his head.
“But no one’s home.”
Sean put out his hand, grasped the doorknob, and pushed. The door opened. This, Sean decided, was not a good sign.
“I don’t think we should go in there,” Marvin said to him.
“Stay out here if you want,” Sean told him as he took a step inside. Suddenly he wasn’t tired anymore. His adrenaline had kicked in.
“This is really not a good idea,” Marvin continued.
Sean ignored him and took another step inside.
“What if someone’s here who’s not supposed to be?” Marvin protested.
“Like the big bad wolf?” mocked Sean. He was now in the hallway. The first thing that hit him was how cold the place was. It was the same s wa wo temperature inside and out. He wondered if the heat was off.
“I just think—” Marvin started to say, but Sean raised his hand and cut him off.
“Enough,” he said to him. “I know what you think about what we’re doing. You’ve already told me. At length. But I’m doing it anyway. So what I want to know is whether you’re in or you’re out. Because if you’re out, that’s fine. I won’t hold it against you. But then wait outside. I can’t think when you’re going on the way you are. So what’s it going to be?”
“In,” Marvin said promptly. He recognized a losing battle when he saw one.
“Then let’s go,” said Sean, continuing on.
“I think I should be in front,” Marvin said. “You know . . . because ...”
“Because why?” Sean asked in a scarily pleasant voice. “Because I’m old? Because I’m senile?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Marvin protested.
“Then what did you mean?”
“Nothing,” Marvin said, taking a step. “It’s just that Libby ...”
“Libby, what?”
“Nothing.” Marvin bit his lip. He gave up. Clearly, anything that he said was wrong.
By now he and Sean were in the hallway. Sean noted that the floor plan was typically colonial. A central hall, which led to the stairs, separated the living room and the dining room.
“Anyone home?” Sean called as he stepped into the living room and took a quick look aroun
d.
Everything seemed in order. The TV was off. The sofa and the chairs seemed to be where they were supposed to be. The landscapes on the wall were still on their hooks. Sean stepped over and lifted the newspaper off the coffee table and checked the date. It was eight days old.
“Liza might not even be staying here,” Marvin pointed out as Sean walked into the dining room.
“Maybe,” Sean said, as he shuffled through the pile of mail on the dining room table. “But someone’s been bringing in the mail. At least until recently.” Sean gave the dining room another quick look before moving on to the kitchen.
“It could be one of the neighbors,” Marvin said, forgetting his vow to himself to remain quiet.
Sean grunted as he opened the refrigerator. There was nothing in it except tofu, smoothies, and melon. One thing was for sure—the man in the house with the kid and the dog had been right about a woman staying here—no guy that he knew would be caught dead eating or drinking that stuff.
“Or maybe,” Marvin went on, “Liza is here and she just went to the store or is off visiting a neighbor.”
Sean sighed. Perhaps if he didn’t answer Marvin, he’d get the idea and be quiet—although past experience told him that Marvin didn’t pick up on cues very well.
Sean turned to him and in a fit of irritation said, “You’re certainly not the strong silent type, are you?”
Marvin turned red. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s just that when I’m nervous I tend to talk a lot.”
Sean instantly felt bad. Being nasty to Marvin was like being nasty to a puppy. No matter which way he went, he couldn’t win.
“Let’s go upstairs, shall we?”
Marvin nodded.
As Sean climbed the stairs he got that feeling he always got in th says>
Walking down the hallway, Sean noticed that everything was in place, from the Oriental runner on the middle of the floor to the landscapes on the walls. He entered the first room. It obviously served as Renee’s master bedroom. It had a canopy bed, a large chest of drawers, a couple of bamboo nightstands, and a large plasma TV hanging on the wall across from the bed. Everything looked nice and tidy. Marvin stood in the doorway and watched Sean take a linen handkerchief out of his breast pocket and use it to open first the closet and then the dresser drawers.
Marvin pointed to the handkerchief. “I didn’t know people had those anymore.”
“Got a big supply of them,” Sean told him as he finished the second drawer and went on to the third.
“Can we go now?” Marvin asked.
“No,” Sean replied, closing the bottom drawer. “We can’t.”
Marvin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “May I ask why you’re doing this?”
“Because I like to be thorough.”
Sean left and walked into the second bedroom with Marvin trailing behind him. Again, nothing seemed to be disturbed. Sean observed that the furniture was a conglomeration of styles instead of a set, leading him to speculate that the pieces had been acquired over a long span of time and that this was the guest bedroom. The bed was made up. The blinds were down. A digital clock radio on the nightstand ticked off the minutes. The only thing out of place was a suitcase sitting on the carpet over by the closet.
Sean went over and opened it. It was empty. Then he walked over to the dresser and opened the drawers. The left side contained enough woman’s belongings to tide someone over for a couple of weeks, while the other side was stuffed with more woman’s clothing, leading Sean to surmise that Renee had made room for Liza’s belongings.
“I bet this is where Liza’s sleeping,” he said to Marvin.
“If she’s here,” Marvin said.
“Oh, she’s here,” Sean replied as he moved on.
Marvin didn’t say anything else. He just watched and thought, uncharitably, that Sean had been easier to deal with when he’d been less mobile. When Sean was done with the second bedroom, he and Marvin moved on to the third. That didn’t yield any more information than the first two had. The third bedroom had been turned into a hobby room and contained a sewing machine, boxes of material, a table for cutting out fabric, an iron and an ironing board, along with a sofa and a coffee table that was covered with patterns.
“Can we go now?” Marvin asked again, when Sean was through poking around. “There’s nothing here.”
“After the bathroom,” Sean told him.
“There isn’t going to be anything in the bathroom,” Marvin said.
“We’ll see,” Sean told him, although privately he thought that Marvin might be correct and that maybe his gut was beginning to fail him after all.
As it turned out, Marvin was wrong.
Chapter 11
Sean saw Liza the moment he walked into v thin"2e the bathroom. There was no missing her. She was lying stretched out, fully clothed in the bathtub. From the looks of the large dried splotch of blood on her white shirt, she’d been shot in the chest. Blood had pooled under her body as well. Marvin was right behind Sean. He looked at Liza’s body and cursed silently.
“Okay. You were right,” he told Sean. Now he was really sorry they’d come, instead of just a little bit sorry. This was going to mean nothing but trouble.
“Always am,” Sean told him, grinning.
“You like this, don’t you?” Marvin asked indignantly.
“The fact that she’s dead? Hardly. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Marvin protested.
Sean’s grin grew. “Okay. You got me. Yeah. I got to admit that I do. Reminds me of old times. And who knows? We may even learn something. I saw some rubber gloves by the kitchen sink. Why don’t you run down and get them for me?”
“What’s wrong with your handkerchief?” Marvin asked.
“It’s a bit awkward for what I need to do. Come on now. Time’s a-wasting.”
Marvin didn’t move. “We have to call the cops,” he told Sean.
Noting that Marvin already had his cell out of his pants pocket, Sean said, “Put that away.”
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“I won’t.”
“Why is that?” Sean asked as he took in the crime scene.
“What do you mean, why is that? Are you kidding me?” The words just slipped out before Marvin could stop them, but that’s what happened when Marvin got flustered. Unlike Sean or Brandon, he was the antithesis of cool. He’d fought that tendency his whole life but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. “Because what we’re doing is illegal, that’s why,” Marvin cried.
Sean turned and gave Marvin his full attention. “You’re wrong. What we’re about to do isn’t illegal. Exactly. We’re operating in a gray area here,” Sean said, which was pretty much true, although he had to admit there was a lot of room for interpretation here and that he was definitely pushing the envelope.
Marvin raised his phone. “I don’t like gray.”
“Who does?”
“You do.”
“I used to uphold the law.”
“Not anymore, as far as I can see.”
Sean raised his hand. “Hold on a second before you make that call.”
Marvin began tapping his toe on the floor. “I’m waiting,” he said.
“Okay, most people don’t like gray,” Sean conceded. “Unfortunately few things in life are black or white. Most are judgment calls.”
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?” Marvin asked. “Because I don’t think that’s a very good argument. At all.”
“No. What I want to tell you is this. If we don’t look around now, we won’t be able to after the police come. They’re certainly not going to allow us access to the crime scene. This is our only shot. We have a responsibility to our client to find out as much as we can.”
Marvin frowned. “But aren’t the police supposed to tell Duncan’s lawyers if they find something that will help with his de
fense?”
Sean snorted. If he’d been Bernie he would have rolled his eyes. “Yes, and the world could end tomorrow, but neither is very likely. Supposed to being the operative words here.”
“They really won’t tell us?” Marvin asked.
Sean laughed. “Welcome to the real world.”
“Didn’t you when you were on the force?” Marvin asked.
“I have to confess that most of the time I did, but there were times when I didn’t.”
“But why?”
Sean shrugged. “A variety of reasons. Because it was expedient. Because I thought it was going to let the bad guy get away. That’s why I’m saying what I am.” Sean pointed to Liza. “You know, she’s not going to tell and I’m not going to tell, and if you don’t tell no one is going to know.”
“But someone might see us,” Marvin said. “Like one of the neighbors.”
“They might,” Sean conceded. “However, if you noticed, there weren’t any cars in any of the neighboring driveways, meaning that no one is home yet.”
Marvin hung his head and lowered his phone. “No. I hadn’t noticed.”
“You should because things like that are important.” Sean checked his watch. “Now my guess is that everyone is still at work or making their way to the train station right about now, which gives us a small window of opportunity to finish up here. So the faster you get me those gloves the faster I can do what I’m going to do so we can get out of here.”
Marvin nodded at the body in the bathtub with his chin. “Maybe that’s not even Liza.”
“That,” Sean replied, “is what I’m hoping to find out. And while I’m doing that you can look through the laptop on the dining room table and see if there’s anything interesting in that.”
“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” Marvin muttered.
“You’re right,” Sean snapped. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Sorry,” Marvin said.
“Apology accepted. So,” Sean said after a moment had gone by, “do you want to tell me how long ago you think she died? Do you think you can do that?”
A Catered St. Patrick's Day Page 10
