A Dead Husband (Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery)

by Anna Burke

  Once in the office Jessica tried to remember the last time she had been in there. She had used Roger’s office briefly when she spent the night recently. Nothing seemed disturbed. The door to the closet was ajar. Roger’s desk sat facing the door to the hallway, with a window behind it. Book shelves were set against the wall to the left of his desk, and on the wall opposite his desk near the door. A leather desk chair sat behind the desk and another in front for a guest or maybe a client.

  “Let’s be sure to ask Laura if Roger actually met with clients here, okay?”

  “Sure, Jessica, I was wondering the same thing.” Jerry said making a note on the little pad he had pulled from his pocket as soon as they entered the house. Jessica seated herself in Roger’s chair. His laptop was sitting on the desk. The battery must have been dead since it did not boot up when she opened the lid. She searched around and found the plug for the power cord under the desk, still connected to a power strip. Plugging in the laptop, she took a quick look. The password Laura had given her worked. From a cursory scan of the icons on Roger’s computer she figured out what he used for keeping the books for his business and personal finances and for email. She quickly found his contacts list and an electronic calendar.

  Roger’s calendar for last week revealed he had no appointments on Friday but earlier in the week, he had several. The first couple of entries looked like they were clearly business-related appointments. Names and addresses Jessica assumed were for customers were listed along with the time he was to meet with them, and a brief note about ‘clean up’ or ‘estimate for drywall repair’. She would try to match them to names on his contact list later, and to contracts, invoices or receipts.

  On Thursday, there was a more cryptic notation. It simply read: lunch MT, 12:30, Adobe Grill. The Adobe Grill was a casual, but upscale, Mexican restaurant at the La Quinta resort. They emphasized fresh takes on Latin classics and served a wicked Margarita, with high end tequila, if you were willing to pay for it. Laura might be able to tell them about someone they knew with those initials. If not, they would ask around at the restaurant to determine if anyone remembered seeing Roger on Thursday, and could recall who he met there for lunch.

  Jessica was starting to wish she had one of Jerry’s little notebooks of her own. The list of things she needed to do to follow up was getting longer. She did have her smartphone. Using a “to do” app, she made a list of the things to ask Laura when she stopped by Sara’s house later. She also noted questions for Detective Hernandez, once Uncle Don gave her the go ahead to speak to him. She wanted a copy of Roger’s cell phone records, and the record of any calls placed or received on the land line that night, in addition to information about messages left on his answering machine.

  After about ten minutes, Jessica started feeling antsy. It was going to take a while to go through the files on Roger’s computer. Her neck and shoulders were already beginning to ache. Not just from the early morning swim, but from the tension she was feeling hanging out at a murder scene. She could no longer smell the noxious scents that had bothered her earlier. Jerry said that would happen. Would she carry the smell home with her, though, in her hair and on her clothes? Jessica shuddered at the possibility.

  Jerry had checked the front door and the door leading from the garage to the kitchen and had confirmed that there was no sign that either had been forced or tampered with. The sliders in the great room didn’t look forced open either, and there was no sign of any kind of struggle anywhere in the house. Most likely, Roger knew his killer and let him—or her—into the house. Or, Jessica had to admit, maybe there was no sign of an intruder because there hadn’t been one and Laura killed her husband. That was a creepy thought. So was the possibility that whoever murdered Roger hung around, looking for something or lying in wait for Laura.

  While she was poring over the laptop and pondering things she didn’t want to ponder, Jerry searched the large bookshelves in the room. He was thorough, flipping through books, holding them by their spines and shaking them in case something was hidden in them. He picked up every knick-knack and examined it carefully; looked through photo albums, even removing photos from frames to be sure there was nothing concealed in them. Jessica asked him to hang onto one of the photos he removed from a frame. It offered a good close up of Roger that they could use to ask about his whereabouts before he was killed on Friday. He looked on top of the bookshelves and even scooted them out away from the walls a bit to see if there was anything hidden behind them. After that, he moved to the closet and searched it methodically.

  Jessica shut down the laptop and began making her way through Roger’s desk. She found several checkbooks and a book that contained copies of receipts made out to customers. The paper calendar on his desk was empty, not surprising given the electronic calendar he kept. She picked up the blotter on the desk and found a business card under it for a waste disposal company. It was probably someone he used to carry off the debris from worksites after he was done with a remodel. She placed the card onto the growing pile of things she intended to take with her. In a drawer she found a much larger cache of business cards and decided to take those too. Finally she opened the desk drawer that served as a file with hanging folders crammed in there. It was filled to the brim, with the edges of some items sticking up out of the folders in which they had been filed.

  “Jerry, you said someone might have been looking for something. Do you think Roger kept the contents of this drawer like this, or was this tampered with?”

  Jerry stepped around, picked up Jessica’s smartphone and took a photo of the contents. He had been taking photos of his own as they made their way through the house.

  “You can show this to Laura when you see her later and ask if this is the way Roger typically kept things. I’ll send you the ones I’ve been taking so you can show her those too. That way you can ask her the same thing about other areas of the house, when she’s ready to do that. The police investigators have been in here. If they took a look at the contents of the file drawer maybe they weren’t all that concerned with keeping things tidy. See this? It’s fingerprint dust. They checked for prints in here on the door knobs, drawer handles, the phone, and the computer, see?” Jerry pointed to smudges on the laptop and elsewhere.

  “We’ll have to ask if they found any prints, and what, if anything, they took from the drawer. The police have obviously checked all the entrances and exits and gone over the house pretty thoroughly. I found fingerprint dust when I checked the entrances to the house, and on the phone in the kitchen and a few other places. You’ve picked up a little of the residue for yourself,” he added, pointing to her pants. Sure enough, there were dark smudges on her brand new white pants. She tried to wipe it off but only made matters worse, realizing she had the stuff on her hands too.

  “I told Laura I’d just take everything in Roger’s office that seemed relevant. This drawer is where they keep copies of important things like the insurance papers she’s going to need. Laura’s got to get this place cleaned up and it will probably need to be repainted. The proceeds from any life insurance will come in handy, too. I can contact the companies directly on her behalf if she’ll let me help. There are supposed to be tax records in here for Roger’s business for the last couple years as well as contracts, invoices, receipts for the jobs he did. There’s so much in here though. I should have brought a box for all this.”

  “No problem, I’ll go get that basket from the laundry room. I saw a flashlight in there too. I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything in the closet. There’s an overhead light in there but it’s burned out. Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes?”

  “Sure, I’m going to go get the things for Laura that she needs from the bedroom and the master bath.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  Jessica looked at her watch. They had been here less than an hour but it seemed like an eternity. She was careful to stay on the towels Jerry had put down as she moved from the den to the master suite ne
xt door. The bedroom was more disorderly than the office. Remembering what Jerry had done in the office, Jessica took several pictures of the bedroom using the camera on her cell phone. She’d have Laura take a look at them to see if this was the condition in which she had left the room the last time she was in it.

  The room was large with a king size bed set against the back wall, facing the doorway into the hall. Jessica moved to the left of the bed where an arch led to the master bathroom. There were two doors at the back of the spacious bathroom. From her previous visit she knew one door opened to a tiny room for the commode and the second led to a large walk-in closet. Both were open. Jessica pivoted and continued taking pictures of the room. A couple of the drawers in the vanity were partially open, as were drawers in the nightstands on either side of the bed. The bed was not made and the sheets were half off the bed. The mattress was askew. Most of the outer wall to the right of the bed was covered with windows that went about two-thirds of the way from the ceiling to the floor. A fat upholstered chair sat under the windows, a corner of the bottom cushion was raised. Across from the foot of the bed was a large chest of drawers. Clothes were hanging from a couple of the drawers that weren’t closed completely.

  What did the police mean when they said the place didn’t look like it had been searched? And how did they know nothing was taken? The room wasn’t trashed but it did look like someone had been in there. When Jessica had been a guest, the room, like the rest of Laura’s house, had been neat as a pin. She continued taking pictures as she surveyed the room. Next to the dresser was a glass door leading out to the patio. Jessica clicked a photo then froze. The glass was broken and door was slightly ajar. She snapped a couple more pictures.

  “No forced entry, my ass,” Jessica muttered under her breath. As she opened her mouth to holler for Jerry she heard a rustling sound, then felt someone grab her from behind. She was shoved down on the bed, face first. Struggling, frantically, Jessica kicked out behind her like a mule and made contact with some part of her assailant’s body. He grunted and loosened his grip. It was not enough to shake him loose but enough so she could get her face out of the bedclothes.

  “Motherfucker,” she screamed. She felt a surge of adrenalin. The kind that usually hit her when she was faced with imaginary fight or flight dilemmas. She struggled to remember what she had learned in the self-defense classes her father insisted she take as a teen. She kicked out again behind her and this time connected with the side table but it sent the lamp crashing to the floor, making a lot of noise.

  Jerry’s reply came from somewhere down the hall. “Jessica?” he hollered.

  Jerry’s voice was enough of a distraction to cause the son of a bitch to loosen his grip.

  “I’m not okay! I’m not okay!” Jessica screamed, as she reared up, butting her assailant with the back of her head. She heard her brand new shirt give way as he tried to hang on to her. Jessica twisted and spun around, smacking her attacker on the side of his head with her smartphone. She hit him so hard it shattered the glass on the face of the phone.

  The face of the man assaulting her was twisted and distorted, and blood was plastered on the side of his head and near his mouth. It took half a second to realize that the distorted face wasn’t caused by the blow from her cell phone. He was wearing frigging pantyhose on his head like some idiot in a movie. The legs were dangling down the back of his head. The bastard scrambled around the end of the bed, making for the door to the patio.

  “Oh no you don’t!” Jessica wailed, not wanting Roger’s murderer to get away. Catching hold of one leg of the pantyhose Jessica gave it a yank, hoping to stop him or at least slow him down. Or maybe, if she pulled them off his head she could get a better look at him. His head sort of snapped back and, for a second, it looked like he might fall. Regaining his footing he spun toward Jessica and punched her in the face with a couple quick jabs. The first was a glancing blow, but the second landed with enough force to send her reeling backwards, right into Jerry’s arms who had flown into the room at breakneck speed. They crashed to the floor with Jerry absorbing most of the fall. In a flash the guy was out the door and heading around the side of the house. The side gate slammed shut. Jerry got to his feet and bounded out the back door, picking up his gun that he had dropped on the floor when they collided. Jerry took off around the side of the house in pursuit but came back almost immediately.

  “Sorry, lost him.” He rushed over to Jessica, climbing onto the bed where she had collapsed. He lifted her chin to examine her face. Not exactly the way she had imagined getting this guy into bed. Jessica tried to smile, a kind of lopsided grin that quickly became a grimace. She had a split lip and smiling hurt like hell.

  “Guess I showed him,” she said, as she began to realize what she had done in a pitch of adrenaline.

  “Cut the bastard’s face and he returned the favor.” There were a couple drops of blood on her white pants, probably her own but who knew for sure? Jessica made a mental note, advice to sleuths everywhere: don’t wear white to a crime scene.

  Jerry got on the phone, “Yes, hello. This is Jerry Reynolds. I want to report an assault by an intruder in the home.” He gave the dispatcher the address at their location.

  “No, he’s gone. He fled the scene a couple minutes ago, but he’s probably still in the area.” Holding the phone away from his mouth, he spoke to Jessica.

  “Correct me if I get any of this wrong, will you?” Then he picked up the conversation on the phone. “The intruder was male, in his late 20s, maybe. He had dark hair, was medium height with a stocky build. He has tattoos on his left arm and a cut on his face.”

  “He was wearing worn blue jeans, an olive colored t-shirt, and I think black motorcycle boots with buckles and laces.” Jessica interjected. Jerry passed along the info then paused for a second, listening to the dispatcher on the other end.

  “Yes, there is one person injured. I’m not sure, minor injuries, I think. Someone should check her out.” He hung up the phone and turned his attention to Jessica.

  “They’ll send somebody over in a few minutes.” He took another look at her. “I don’t think you’re going to need stitches for that split lip, but you’re going to have a real shiner. Let me get something to put on that eye until the EMTs get here and take a closer look.”

  “I should get the stuff Laura needs,” Jessica mumbled under her breath as Jerry darted out of the room. She stood up but felt a little woozy, so sat back down. She was starting to hurt everywhere. She was more determined than ever not to set foot in this place ever again. After a couple more minutes she got to her feet, steadier this time. She made her way to the walk-in closet that Roger and Laura had shared. It looked almost as bad as her own closet at home. Somebody was definitely looking for something and she and Jerry had obviously interrupted the search. As Jessica reached down to pick through the littered items on the floor, Jerry caught her hand and pulled her to him.

  “Jessica, this is a new crime scene you can’t take anything to Laura until the police have gone through here.” She sank into his arms, resting her head on his chest, knowing what he said was true. He walked her back to the bed and handed her a bag of frozen peas, “for the shiner,” he said.

  “Does that include the stuff in Jerry’s office?” Jerry thought about that for a minute.

  “You can probably take that with you. Given the level of destruction in his wake, I think he was making his way from the back of the house forward. The office was probably going to be next. Even if he was in there before we arrived, we’re likely to have destroyed or contaminated any evidence he might have left.”

  Jessica gulped as Uncle Don’s warning about staying out of the way echoed in her head. Surely, walking in on a perp in the middle of a new crime wasn’t the same thing. In fact, thanks to her and to Jerry’s meddling, the police were going to end up with more evidence than they would have had otherwise. They saw the guy, sort of, and Jessica helped make sure he left plenty of his DNA behind. Not only
wrestling with the son of a bitch, but actually drawing blood by smashing him in the face with her cell phone.

  “Can you put Roger’s stuff in the car while we wait?” She asked. “I want to get out of here as soon as we can. I’m not coming back, ever.” Whatever Laura needed Jessica could get from the mall or, better yet, from Saks. El Paseo was calling to her. She had to replace her iPhone and there was an Apple store not too far from Saks.

  “I need a little retail therapy,” she announced aloud.

  CHAPTER 10

  It was another hour before they were able to get away from Laura’s house. Jessica asked to sit outside on the patio rather than stay confined to the house, but it was hot out there and her head hurt. The EMTs agreed with Jerry that she was going to have a doozy of a black eye. She didn’t need stitches for her lip, and there was no indication she had suffered a concussion or had any broken bones. Nevertheless, they offered to take her to the ER, by ambulance, no less. Jessica declined, signing all the papers they required. Jerry and Jessica gratefully accepted bottled water from them before the EMTs left. They promised to go straight to the hospital if Jessica began to feel worse or exhibit any of the symptoms indicative of a more serious head injury.

  The most grueling part of the process was telling and retelling the story of what happened, especially to Detective Hernandez. Not the most auspicious way to meet. He knew right away who she was since Uncle Don had spoken to him as promised. He was not happy about being called to the site of a homicide that was still under investigation.

  Surly in look and manner, he was in his late 40s or early 50s, of average height and heavy set but solid-looking. There was the barest hint of grey in his jet black hair which was cut short. The broad angular features of his face and high cheek bones made Jessica wonder if he was, in part, Native American, despite his Spanish surname. She could not tell how much of his bristly demeanor was due to the fact that he had already spent most of Saturday at Laura’s house. Now he would spend a good chunk of Sunday there too. So much for having a day off. He wore a polo shirt and khakis like he had just walked off the golf course.