“Has he been professionally evaluated?”
“Many times. The military makes sure that their guys aren’t going to be a danger to society before they turn them loose into the real world again. The shrinks said he’s fine, and that as long as he takes his meds, he should be able to function mostly normally.”
“And have you found that to be true?”
“For the most part, yeah. He has his moments. I accidentally ran over a squirrel a couple of months ago, and he came unglued. He started shaking and sobbing…made me go back and pick the thing up so that we could bury it.”
“Where was your son on the night of the 18th?” Chas asked.
“Probably the same place he is every night. In his bed with his phone, watching movies on it.”
“But you don’t specifically recall?”
“No, I didn’t have any reason to think that any night is any different from any other night recently. Things have been pretty routine.”
“Did Bart know Maureen?”
“Not well. He fixed a couple of things in the house, but I usually send him out when I know the tenants won’t be home, so he doesn’t freak anyone out.”
“So, they hadn’t met?”
“Maybe once or twice, I’m not sure.”
“Did he ever talk about her?”
“Not that I remember, no. He’s not much of a conversationalist these days. He’s convinced that the FBI is listening to everything he says and that they’re coming after him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, the upstanding soldier that I raised has been gone for quite a while,” Ned mused, seeming melancholy.
“I’d like to go back to the house and take a look around, would you mind?”
“Not at all. I can even give you the extra key if you bring it back to me afterward. I can keep Bart here for a couple of hours, so that he won’t bother you, if you want to go look now.”
“I’d appreciate it,” Chas nodded.
Ned went to a file cabinet behind his desk and flipped through a few folders, before pulling one out and extracting a spare key from it, which he handed to Chas.
“I’ll get this back to you in about an hour,” the detective promised.
“Just drop it at the reception desk so that Bart doesn’t see you. It would make him so suspicious that he probably wouldn’t sleep for days.”
“Not a problem, thanks again.”
Aside from the fact that the blood-stained carpet was still in the house, and that all of Maureen’s furniture was in the garage, Chas and Spencer saw nothing unusual in the house itself. When they looked in the garage however, something sticking out from underneath a cushion on an upside-down couch, caught Chas’s eye. Slipping a nitrile glove on, he grabbed the corner of the object and pulled it out.
“Matches?” Spencer looked at his boss.
“This very same type of matchbook was in the top drawer of Blake Mauzey’s desk. Do a quick internet search and find out where the closest gas station with that logo is located.”
“Will do.”
Spencer whipped out his phone. “There’s one just a couple of blocks from here.”
“Let me guess, it’s between here and the college, isn’t it?” Chas grimaced.
“Yep. Are you leaning toward Mauzey?”
“It’s looking more and more like him. Bart may be unstable, but he doesn’t seem capable of committing the kind of violence that occurred here.”
“I’m sure he killed people while he was deployed,” Spencer said grimly.
“Yes, but that’s a different scenario. I want to talk to some of the women who made reports about Mauzey, and I’ll need you to go through Solinsky’s reports about Maureen’s stalker with a fine-toothed comb. Look for similarities in the reports, patterns, types of threats…you know what to do.”
“I’ll get on it when we get back,” Spencer nodded. “I’ll also get Ringo working on getting more background info on this guy too.”
“Good idea,” Chas approved, placing the matchbook delicately into an evidence bag.
The two men searched through the furnishings and didn’t find anything else of note, so they headed back to the office to get started on checking further into Blake Mauzey.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
* * *
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas around here,” Chas grinned at his wife when she padded down the stairs in bare feet, her hair askew, wearing pink pajamas with cartoon dogs all over them.
“I finally got some decorating done,” she yawned and sat down on a stool next to him at the breakfast bar.
“Coffee?” Chas asked, rising to refill his cup.
“Definitely,” Missy nodded, blinking slowly.
“Didn’t you sleep well?” Chas looked concerned as he set down her cup in front of her.
“I did. I slept really well, I just can’t seem to shake the sleepiness this morning,” she blew on the hot brew and took a sip. “Oh, that’s so good. Do you have a busy day today?”
“Unfortunately, yes, but I think we’re getting close to a breakthrough. I have some interviews set up that may give me some insight into one of the suspects.”
“Oh, that’s good. I have to bake around five hundred cupcakes today,” Missy put her elbow on the granite countertop and leaned her head in her hand, taking small sips from the piping hot liquid in her cup.
“By the time you get in, Beulah will probably have baked that many plus a few dozen more, just in case,” Chas chuckled.
“I don’t know where she gets her energy,” Missy shook her head. “She has more pep in her seventies than I do right now.”
“Are you okay? Do you think maybe you’re coming down with something?” Chas brushed the hair back from her face and placed a lingering kiss on her cheek.
“I hope not,” she yawned again. “My annual physical is the day after tomorrow, so I guess I’ll find out then.”
“Good. Try to take it easy in the meantime,” her husband counseled, his voice tender.
“During the Christmas season? Not likely,” Missy smiled ruefully.
“Just do your best, and I’ll help as much as I can, I promise,” he kissed her again and stood to go.
“Aren’t you going to have breakfast?” Missy asked, not wanting him to leave.
“No, my first meeting is at Betty’s Diner, so I’ll just grab a bite while I’m there. Have a good day, sweetie,” Chas waved on his way out the door.
“You too,” Missy murmured, already missing the warmth of his presence.
**
Jennifer Craymar, Blake Mauzey’s ex-girlfriend, was not at all as Chas had expected her to be. He’d pictured a soft-spoken bookworm, perhaps with glasses, and conservatively dressed. Instead, he saw her sitting at the bar at Betty’s Diner, and dismissed the possibility that she could be the woman with whom he was supposed to be meeting. He sat several stools away from her, and the buxom brunette with an amazing amount of makeup on her face leaned his direction.
“Hey, handsome!” she called out, tearing off a corner of her toast. “I’m Jenny. You here for me?”
Taken aback, Chas slid off of his stool and approached her.
“Jennifer Craymar?” he asked.
“The one and only,” she batted her eyes. “Make yourself comfortable,” she patted the stool next to her and he sat.
“Morning, Detective,” Betty, the iron-haired and iron-willed owner appeared and set a paper placemat in front of him, along with a large mug, which she promptly filled with coffee. “It’s early, so I know you need this.”
“You read my mind, Betty,” Chas thanked her by raising his mug in a toast.
“You need to fatten up, want the special?” Betty held the coffeepot in one hand and put the other on her ample hip.
“It’s possible, what is it?”
“Biscuits and gravy, eggs, bacon, and a side of pancakes. Are you man enough to tackle it?” she demanded.
“I’ll try my best
,” Chas chuckled.
“I always admire a man who can put away some food,” Jennifer remarked, eyeing the detective. “So, you said you wanted to talk about Blake the Snake…what do you want to know?” she asked, drenching a bite of English muffin in butter and marmalade and popping it in her mouth.
Glad that she wanted to get right down to business, Chas took a slug of coffee and nodded.
“You have a restraining order against him. Tell me why.”
“Cuz he don’t take no for an answer. I mean, I’m no delicate flower, I can take care of myself, you know? But Blake wouldn’t leave me alone. He followed me everywhere I went. If I went on a date, he’d call and text me non-stop, until I had to leave. If I shut off my phone, he’d come to wherever I was and just stare at me. It was creepy.”
“Did he ever get physical with you?”
“Big time. I had bruises, scrapes, all kinds of stuff. I figured it was only a matter of time before he killed me, if I didn’t put a stop to it legally.”
“What made you think that?” Chas asked, thanking Betty when she put huge platters of food in front of him.
“He’d say things like, “if I can’t have you, nobody can,” stuff like that,” Jennifer shrugged.
“And are you still worried that might be the case?”
“Hopefully not. He went quiet on me, I think he may have another chick or something. I hope so.”
“When you met him, what was he like?” the detective probed.
“He seemed really nice. A little too focused on me, maybe, but I enjoyed the attention. At first.”
“When did his behavior become uncomfortable?”
“After the first few dates. He got really controlling and we weren’t even in a relationship at that point.”
“Did he ever talk about other women?”
Jennifer rolled her eyes.
“Oh yeah. He tried to impress me with his dates, so he’d brag about it every time he met somebody new. His latest was some school teacher at the Junior College I think.”
“What did he say about her?”
Jennifer squinted, trying to remember. “It was something about money. Like, he finally met a woman who’d be able to take care of him for a change, or something like that.”
“Did he say she was wealthy?”
“No, just like…I don’t know, generous or something.”
“Anything else?”
“Not that I can remember…oh wait! Yeah, there was something. He said that he might go away for a while.”
Chas hid his reaction well. Putting his fork down, he looked at the woman next to him.
“Do you remember when that was?”
“Hmm…lemme look. I should still have the text,” she dug in her pink, plastic purse for her phone and began scrolling through it. “Here it is,” she handed the phone over. “See, he said that he wasn’t feeling good and that he might go away for a while. That was on the…” she peered over at the phone.
“The 18th,” Chas nodded.
“Listen, hon…I’ve got places to go and I’m done with my food, are we good now?” she looked at her watch.
“Yes, I believe we are,” he handed her his card. “If you think of anything else, let me know.”
“You got it. So, are the boys in blue picking up my tab?” she held up her bill.
“Sure thing. Have a nice day,” Chas took it.
“You too, Detective. If you weren’t wearing that wedding ring, I’d be staying a bit longer,” she gave him one last smoky look before heading to the door.
Chas didn’t reply, turning back to his food.
“What in the world are you doing hanging out with the likes of that one?” Betty muttered, clearing Jennifer’s dishes.
“All in a day’s work,” Chas sighed. “You know her?”
“I’ve seen her a few times. Always hanging all over a different fella every time,” she pursed her lips. “Looked like she paid the price for it, too.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean she looked like she got knocked around pretty bad sometimes,” Betty shook her head.
So, Jennifer hadn’t been lying about being treated badly.
“I’m about ready for the check,” Chas said, his mind miles away.
“You did some work on that platter,” Betty nodded her approval. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks. A man’s gotta have a skill,” Chas smiled.
**
Spencer Bengal had read through the police reports filed by Solinsky on behalf of Maureen Gatling so many times that he had them practically memorized, and something wasn’t adding up. There was one in particular that had him stumped. The victim had called and said that someone was watching her from the space between the garage and the tall hedge in the back yard, but from what he remembered, that might not have been possible. The thought jangled in the back of his mind so much that he decided to just go check it out for himself. He’d remembered the hedge meeting up with the garage, which would make it impossible to hide between the two.
Spencer parked in the alley behind Maureen’s former residence, where his car wouldn’t be seen, and when he passed by the garage, he saw that Bart Chalfie’s little truck was inside. Moving so that he looked casual to anyone who might be passing by, and so that he wouldn’t be seen by the ultra-paranoid landlord’s son, he slipped past the garage and around the side. He’d been partially right. The hedge nearly met up with the garage, but there actually was a small space between them. A space so small that the bulk of a man like Blake Mauzey couldn’t possibly have passed through it. There were no broken branches in the hedge to indicate that anyone had pushed through, but there were footprints between the hedge and the garage that were difficult to make out because of the mulch under the hedge. Spencer took a tiny tape measure out of his pocket, measured one of the footprints and took a photo while the tape was still on the ground beside one of the footprints.
After taking the photo, he slipped the tape and his phone back into his pocket, and listened carefully, having thought that he’d heard something. Yep, there it was again. Taking his phone out, he recorded the sound, then went back around the garage toward his car. He’d seen the glow of the television on inside the house, so he figured that he wouldn’t encounter Bart Chalfie, the current occupant, and he slipped inside the worn structure.
Keeping it at a level that couldn’t be seen through the garage windows, Spencer shone a penlight around inside the garage, and inside of Bart’s truck, just out of curiosity. Seeing something that caught his interest, he snapped another picture on his phone. The paranoid young man was a strange character, to be sure. Spencer felt sorry for him. He’d fought alongside young men like Bart more than once. Men who’d seen so much horror in their young lives that they came back fundamentally changed. Clicking off his light, he headed back to his car and drove to the office.
CHAPTER TWELVE
* * *
Missy breathed a sigh of relief. She was exhausted, but her house was finally decorated for the holidays. There was a huge, twelve-foot tree in the foyer, which was aglow in white lights and was decorated with coordinating ribbons and ornaments, all in silver and white. The banisters on either side of it, which led to the upper level, were wrapped in matching garland, ribbon and lights. There was a more modest seven-foot tree in the living room, which was adorned with the many ornaments that Missy had collected over her lifetime. Her mother had made it a tradition to give Missy and her sister an ornament every year, and when Missy’s sister passed, she’d inherited all of the ornaments.
The tree in the living room was much more personal. It was the one that she wanted to just sit and stare at, while she sipped her coffee. It was the one that brought tears to her eyes. It was the one that made her stop and remember just how blessed her life is, and it was the one that nudged her to be more thankful and less stressed.
She had so many wonderful people who were a part of her life, and lately she hadn’t been very kind to some of them. A
s she sat, thoroughly spent, on the couch, gazing at the twinkling lights and ornaments from her childhood, faces flashed through her mind. Chas, Echo, Kel, Spencer, Kaylee. She loved them all so much, and felt ashamed that she’d been distant lately. Her heart ached to adopt Kaylee and hold the sweet girl in her arms forever, but if her darling husband felt that they weren’t ready, she’d trust in his loving opinion and let her go. The decision made slow tears run freely down her cheeks, but at the same time she felt a bit relieved from just having accepted whatever outcome might occur. What would be, would be, and she and Chas would stand in the face of it together.
Missy’s face flushed with regret and shame as she recalled her last meeting with Echo. Her best friend was clearly hurt, and hadn’t shown up for coffee and cupcakes for three days in a row. Tonight, she was exhausted, but tomorrow morning, the first thing that she was going to do was to march right over to Echo’s house with a box of cupcakes and make things right. As stressed as she was right now, she couldn’t survive without the love and support of her best friend. She only hoped that she hadn’t pushed the relationship beyond repair.
Her stomach churning with guilt, Missy sat on the couch, wiping her tears in front of her beautiful, special tree, and was surprised when the doorbell rang. She knew that Chas and Spencer were working late tonight on the Gatling case, and she hadn’t been expecting anyone. Her heart thumping with adrenalin, she slowly rose from the couch and made her way to the big double doors which both had wreaths on them, inside and out. She had yet to put the Christmas storage boxes away, but aside from that, the house glowed with a holiday cheer which seemed far from what she felt inside.
Missy looked out of the peephole and immediately flung open the door, to receive a very teary Echo.
“I missed you,” her best friend said simply, enveloping her in a hug.
“Oh Echo, I’m so sorry. I’ve been such a grouch lately, and I don’t even know why. Can you forgive me?” Missy sobbed in her friend’s arms.
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