by David Horne
“Because there is something he’s not talking about.” Trevor dropped into the sofa cushions. Nora sat in the chair across from him.
“Don’t go all emotional about this.” Joshua exhaled noisily through his nostrils. He moved around the couch and sat beside Trevor. Automatically, his hand pressed against Trevor’s thigh. He shook his head and looked at his daughter. “The doctor sent the MRI results for a second opinion. He said it was normal procedure. He said they confer with each other all the time.”
“You’re embellishing,” Trevor pointed out.
“I am. I know. But I’m not going to worry about it because there’s nothing you or I can do about it.”
“Are you talking about a tumor?”
“No, nothing like that,” Joshua said quickly.
“The doctor mentioned dementia.”
“Oh God,” Nora gasped.
“No. Relax,” Joshua said sternly. “This is why we don’t get all out of shape about it.”
“Are you kidding me?” Nora asked.
“No. Look. You can get up every day go out there and could get shot.” Joshua spoke straight to the point. A daughter with a badge and a gun made her a target. He wasn’t about emotions. Trevor liked that about him, but sometimes it was important to be emotional about certain things. “I can worry about that with you. But I don’t, because I believe in you and what you do, and I know you’re not out there doing anything foolish.”
“So, you’re waiting. I guess that makes sense.” She seemed to settle with his point of view. Trevor saw the resemblances between father and daughter. The similar viewpoints, the handsome characteristics, he saw more of Joshua in her than her mother. The wavy chestnut hair and inquisitive eyes, she followed her father into law enforcement, and Joshua couldn’t be prouder of the woman.
“Now, I know you looked into Stuart’s fire.” Joshua leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.
“I figured I’d have to if I came over here.” She shook her head. “The fire marshal said Stuart fell asleep smoking in bed.”
“Oh?” Trevor said. Joshua leaned forward, and they shared a look between them.
“What am I missing?” Nora asked. “They ruled out foul play immediately. There was damage to his nostrils, mouth, and throat from inhalation, so he was alive when it happened.” She pointed the finger at Joshua. “I should be pissed at you for rushing in there without thinking. What happened to safety-first? At least Trevor had the sense to bring a fire extinguisher.”
“Well, I get that smoking in bed is an easy answer.” Joshua stared at Nora. “But Stuart didn’t smoke.”
“Yes, he did.” Nora wasn’t going to look for suspicion where there was none to have. “I saw the reports. The fire marshal noted the cigars.”
Trevor looked at Joshua.
“What is it with you two?” Nora asked.
“Stuart didn’t smoke,” Trevor said. “He’s lived next door to us for ten years. We never saw him smoke. He’s been at our house for parties and barbeques over the years, and not once do I remember seeing him smoke.”
“Maybe he started it after he retired.”
“He’s been retired for five years.” Joshua shook his head.
Chapter Six
Trevor woke to a beckoning bladder. When he slipped from the bed and looked at the clock, he saw he was alone in the bedroom. After he used the toilet, washed his hands, and moved from the bathroom, through the bedroom, he was already used to Joshua’s sleeplessness. While the man didn’t want something to sleep, Trevor felt Joshua spent far more hours awake than resting comfortably. It was a lifestyle that he’d grown used to before Joshua retired. Long, intense hours when he was focused on an investigation, often Joshua was lost to the world around him, to Trevor, when he worked a homicide. Like father like daughter, Nora spun her way through the ranks, through the schooling and training to achieve the prestige of homicide detective. Trevor knew it wasn’t only because of her father. There was an innate need, a drive, which made her continue to reach; even when one of her parents did everything she could to hinder Nora’s achievements.
The kitchen was empty. Usually, Joshua sat at the breakfast nook, reading when he was unable to sleep through the night. That night the book was there, but Joshua wasn’t around. Trevor felt a stab of panic and quickly tamped it down. He wasn’t going to rush around worried about Joshua. But it was impossible to put together what he learned at the doctor’s office and how the man had been acting for the last few months.
Before he moved away from the kitchen, he saw a flash of light from Stuart’s house. It was momentary, and Trevor thought he might have imagined it. As he peered through the window, leaning over the counter with all the lights off in the house, he realized what he saw then and felt Joshua had utterly lost his mind.
***
“Are you out of your mind?” Trevor hissed as he stepped over the chair near the rear entrance to the house. There was a distinct burnt chemical smell permeating the blistered walls, and there was something else lingering in the stale air, a sweet, meaty scent that Trevor didn’t want to think about the source..
Joshua waited a moment, an illuminated face hovering in the hallway that separated the living room from the bedrooms. Their houses were similar in design and easy to navigate through without a lot of light.
“I had to look.” The flashlight beam pointed to the floor between them. “I had to be sure.”
“Sure of what?”
“I looked everywhere. I don’t see any ashtrays. I don’t see the cigars.”
“So what?” Trevor trembled with nerves. He felt they were breaking the law and Joshua was acting unreasonably.
“Aren’t you a little suspicious that our neighbor burned up in bed?”
“Of course I am. But there’s nothing I can do about it.” He took a few steps toward Joshua. “You can’t do anything about it either. It was an accident.”
Trevor watched Joshua slowly shake his head. “I don’t think it was an accident.” He waved Trevor to follow him. When they got to the doorway that led into Stuart’s bedroom, Trevor felt his feet glued to the floor. He was unable to make it over the threshold into the room.
“Look around,” Joshua said, slowly playing the bright light from the LED flashlight over the ruined bed and melted nightstand. “I don’t see any ashtrays.”
“They probably melted,” Trevor pointed out. He covered his nose with the collar of his shirt and hand. “Maybe he used a plastic cup or something.”
“No,” Joshua replied. He pointed the beam of light to the ceiling, forcing Trevor’s eyes to follow. “Look, see the smoke detector. The batteries are out of it.”
“Some people do that.”
“In all of them?”
“I don’t know, Josh, it just feels wrong to be here.”
“You’re standing in the bedroom of a man we’ve known for years. Aren’t you a little concerned that he died under suspicious circumstances?
“Just because Stuart lived in the house next door didn’t make him our friend. Did you even really know the guy? How many times did you come over here?” Trevor backed away from the doorway. Joshua followed him. Trevor had slipped on a pair of sneakers, but one look at Joshua’s feet said the man was driven without thinking again. “You’re over here in the dark. Walking around barefoot, and for what?”
“I looked at the smoke detectors, Trevor. I looked for the ashtrays. I don’t care what the fire marshal said, Stuart Chittenden died under mysterious circumstances.”
“You think he was murdered?” Trevor threw up his hands, the collar of the shirt dropped around his thin neck, and he stormed from the house through the back door. He heard Joshua behind him, trying to catch up. “You’re impossible sometimes, Josh.”
“I just want you to see it the way I see it.”
“Right now all I can see is the fact you’ve hurt yourself when you came over here during the fire. You returned to this house barefoot because you’re too
focused on thinking there’s some conspiracy.”
They rounded the privacy fence and back onto their property. Joshua slowed to drag his feet through the wet grass. Trevor went through the back door and threw a dish towel at Joshua when he went inside. Trevor turned on the light.
Wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and no shoes, Joshua looked frail and older than Trevor liked to see. They had been together for a long time. Time together that surpassed many of their friends and acquaintances relationships, even Stuart was married when he moved next door.
“I get that you think I’m crazy.” Joshua held up empty hands to Trevor. They were covered in black charcoal. There was a smudge on the side of his nose.
Trevor went to the sink, grabbed a paper towel, dampened it and went to Joshua. “Hold still.” He gently cupped Joshua’s face under the chin and wiped at the black smudge. “I love you. I don’t think you’re crazy.”
Joshua pulled back. “I know. But you’re worried about what the doctor said, and you think I'm irrational.”
“Well, if the shoe fits. Oh wait, you didn’t wear shoes.”
“Look, all I’m saying is they made a rash judgment on Stuart. No evidence supports the claim he died in bed smoking.”
“Okay,” Trevor said and sighed. “There’s no contradictory evidence either. But what can we do about it?” He frowned at Joshua. “What are you smiling about?”
“You said ‘we.’” He snapped his fingers. “This reminds me of something, but I can’t quite get my head around it.” He moved toward Trevor wrapped his arms around the man. Trevor’s tension melted away, he pressed against Joshua and squeezed him. It was impossible to get angry with a man who tried to defuse any fight between them with an embrace. It was their first real moment together as a couple sharing personal feelings for each other in a long time. He wanted to enjoy it, not analyze it.
Chapter Seven
The echoes of Nora’s crying rang through his head as the Ford rolled up to the house. His partner drove to the scene. He was a bigot who Joshua tolerated because he understood the man. They’d worked homicide together for six years. It was easier putting up with Glenn’s narrow point of view than transferring to another department or requesting another partner, which would make working at the Fredericksburg Police Department uncomfortable for the duration.
“Why are we here again?” Joshua asked. He had a stress headache. When he left the house that morning, Nora needed a diaper change, and his wife had continued to berate him about choosing work over family. She didn’t like it when Joshua explained that it wasn’t family he wanted to avoid, he loved Nora. The toddler had bright eyes and was ready to run before she could walk. Joshua quipped that it was his wife that he didn’t want to be around anymore. When he left the house, she held Nora in her arms and screamed at him.
“We’re just doing a follow-up. The arson investigator wanted us to do a walkthrough before he signed off the case.”
Larry was obese and had a hard time squeezing out from between the driver’s seat and the steering wheel. Joshua was out of the car. He straightened his tie and scanned the area. The house stood in a rural area, the outskirts of the city limits. Far enough for the sheriff’s office to want jurisdiction but close enough for their supervisor to browbeat them about taking cases for Fredericksburg. Even when cops were on the same side, they competed with each other.
“So, it’s just a walkthrough?” Joshua was ready to close the case before they opened the front door to the house. Larry was first inside.
It was broad daylight, hot in August, and the house sat in direct sunlight without electricity. That meant matching temperatures inside the house and outside. Before they left the air-conditioned car, Joshua saw the thermostat read 93 degrees and was already sticky from the heat.
Inside the house, it looked disorganized. It was impossible to think of a burnt structure as a crime scene, at least when it came to first appearances. Fire teams weren’t worried about knocking over tables or cutting holes in the walls. If the resident had an altercation that ended in arson to cover up murder, detectives had to decide what was caused by the fight and what damage was left over from the fire rescue people.
“So, what’s the story?” Joshua asked without effort. “Smoking in bed?” By the water-soaked but otherwise untouched living room, it was apparent the fire hadn’t consumed the entire house. He saw the black claw marks on the white walls upstairs. He followed Larry up the carpeted steps. Each footfall squished as if they walked on sponges going upstairs.
“That’s what the investigators said.”
“I see smoke detectors.”
“Yeah. But who knows if the guy heard them? There’re no neighbors close enough to the house to hear them. He might have died from smoke inhalation.”
In the bedroom, the localized blaze consumed the wooden bed frame, mattress, and the carpet around the bed. The ceiling was black, pieces of insulation and drywall coated the bed. Fire poles had pulled at the ceiling and walls around the area to make sure embers had nothing to reignite.
“Who called it in?”
“I guess it was some kid on a motorcycle. He rode by the house, smelled the smoke and stopped. You can see there are only cornfields around, so it’s just good he had the sense to call it in.” Larry kicked over a chair at the end of the bed. “That’s a shitty way to go.” He stared at the gouged mattress where a man had burned.
Joshua knew better than looking too closely, knowing body fat clung to wire and fabric even after they’d removed the corpse. “Was he married?”
He stood on the other side of the bed. While there were matching nightstands, one had burned and crumbled. The other was scorched but still in one piece. He opened the draw to peer inside. There was a collection of tchotchkes that were feminine.
“Yeah. According to the investigators, he and the wife were having problems.”
“Hmm,” Joshua hummed.
“I know that sound. You don’t buy it.”
“Where was she?”
“She said she was out of town on business.”
“Hmm.”
“You want to talk to her, don’t you?”
“Don’t you?”
He watched Larry look over the bed, the ruins of the bedroom. He visibly cringed thinking about death by fire. “Yeah. Let’s go talk to her.”
***
Lydia Green was an angry woman. That’s what Joshua got out of within the first few minutes of their introduction. He and Larry went to her place of work. It was something else that bothered him. A person, who lost someone who they knew formally, usually took some time off to regroup, but not this woman. Joshua spoke to her supervisor before they made contact with Lydia. She hadn’t missed a day of work.
“I thought we were done with all this. I spoke to the investigators already.” Arms crossed, stern brown eyes under a frowning hood, Joshua saw all the earmarks of a person uncomfortable with the meeting.
“Well, you talked to the fire department.” Larry interviewed while Joshua paid attention. Larry used a pen tip to wiggle between him and Joshua. “We’re with the police department.”
“Police?” she repeated. The attitude shifted, the tone changed. “Why?”
“Well, the fire department investigators sometimes like to discuss things with the police department.”
“Why? Gordon’s dead. He was smoking in bed.”
“You don’t seem too broken up about that, ma’am,” Joshua finally interjected.
“What are you insinuating?” The furrowed brow deepened. “You know, I knew something like this was going to happen. That rotten bastard smoked in bed. He lost his job a few months ago. He didn’t even buy his smokes. I had to buy them for him. And now he’s gone and died, leaving nothing, I get shit for him still, and he’s not even around.”
“You and he didn’t get along?”
Lydia shook her head. “You know when two people are together because they feel obligated but don’t really love each other?”
Joshua nodded. It hit close to home.
“That’s how it was with Gordon and me. Now he can’t even go and die right without leaving me with a mess to clean up.”
“All we’re trying to do is ask a few questions.” Larry was irritated, and Joshua knew his partner had no patience for an uncooperative witness.
“Well, they said if the cops start harassing me, I should get a lawyer.”
“Whose they, ma’am,” Joshua poked. Her nostrils flared.
“I’m done here.”
“Are you saying that you’re done with work or you’re done talking to us?” Larry had a way of clawing at witnesses when he didn’t like what he heard from them. Joshua knew he was already under Lydia’s skin.
“Look, you bastards want to—”
Hands up, palms open, Joshua stepped closer to the woman, between her and Larry. “We’re just following up on the investigation. That’s all. Aren’t you a little concerned that your husband might have died wrongfully?” He was careful with word choices when it came to making accusations.
“Maybe it was one of his whores that killed him then.” Lydia turned, flipping a middle finger at Joshua and Larry. “I’m done. If you have anything more to say to me, you can contact my attorney.” She slammed a door in the back room of the pharmacy where she was employed.
“Well, that could have gone better.” He looked at Larry. His partner tucked the pen and notepad into the pocket of his sports jacket. Larry started walking toward the double doors that separated the inventory backroom from the rest of the store. “What do you think?”
“I think I want to get lunch.”
Joshua caught up to his partner, and they left the store, climbed into the car, and waited for the cooling air to wash over them from the vent. “Aren’t you feeling a little bit anxious about her?”
“No, actually, I feel a little bit hot. I’ve got hemorrhoids that are bugging the shit out of me, and a partner who wasn’t interested in the case until the wife of an asshole started giving him shit.” Larry wiped the sweat off his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Let it go, Josh.”
