by Albert Simon
Chapter 3
While Wayne walked up to the register to pay for breakfast, Henry dug into his pocket for a couple of bills to leave as a tip. His daughter, Claire, worked as a restaurant hostess and waitress while she was in college and ever since then Henry always left a larger gratuity for the people who waited on him. He knew that Millie didn’t really need the money, but it was the principle that was important. He caught up with Wayne at the cash register as he was helping himself to several of the free toothpicks from the dispenser on the counter.
“I take it you’ll want to see the crime scene first?” Wayne asked as he jammed one of the toothpicks in his mouth while carefully putting the remainder in his shirt pocket.
“Yep, if you have the time, I’d like to go now.” Henry said, pulling the Mercury’s key fob out of his pocket.
“I figured as much and didn’t schedule anything else this morning.” Wayne replied pushing open the door to the restaurant.
As Wayne and Henry walked out the door of the restaurant to their cars, the temperature was already well into 90’s even though it was not even nine-thirty.
“Looks like it’s going to be another hot one,” Wayne said as he reached for his car keys.
“Aren’t they all?” Henry replied, “That’s why I’m here and not in Wisconsin!” he grinned pushing the unlock button on the little key fob. “It’s a lot easier to cool off then to get warm.” Henry continued, getting into his car.
“Can I follow you to the house?” He asked Wayne before starting the car and its air conditioner.
“Yeah, just follow me over; I won’t drive too fast this time.”
The tan city owned Ford Crown Victoria that Wayne was driving headed back down Tahquitz Canyon Way for the house on Granvia Valmonte, as Henry swung in behind. He rolled up the window as the air conditioner kicked in, he had the car’s climate control system set for 82 degrees. Long ago he discovered that this setting was comfortable for him. Henry was enjoying the heat of Palms Springs in late April as opposed to the cold of Eagle River, Wisconsin where this time of year it would barely be thawing.
Wayne came to a stop at the curb of the house on Granvia Valmonte and Henry pulled in right behind. The lawn needed mowing, and there were several throwaway newspapers on the driveway. Ironically, Rex Thornbird’s face was still smiling at Henry from the prominent for sale sign that had been planted in the lawn.
“Good looking guy!” Henry said, as he and Wayne walked up to the front door that was sealed off with crime tape. “Oh, you mean the sign?” Wayne replied, removing the tape and pushing the door open while tearing the crime scene crew’s “Do Not Enter” sticker. “Yeah, he didn’t look like that when I saw him.” Wayne replied as he stepped into the house. “He was a little more bloated and a lot paler when he was in a drawer at the Riverside County morgue over in Perris.”
They stepped inside the house and Henry got his first look around.
“Pretty bare, nothing in here but dust.” He said as he walked over to the patio doors. “It looks like your crime scene fingerprint crew has been here.” He said, noting the smudges of powder left on the glass doors. “Find anything significant?”
“No, it looks as though Thornbird walked through the house opening doors and turning on lights.” Wayne replied as he stepped into the kitchen where a giant blood stain on the floor showed where Rex Thornbird had spent his last few minutes. “Here’s where the murder weapon hung on the wall.” Wayne pointed to the blank telephone outlet on the wall with his ballpoint pen. Even though the crew had already dusted for prints, Wayne and Henry from force of habit made sure that they didn’t touch anything.
Henry looked at the collection of business cards on the kitchen counter and raised an eyebrow at Wayne. “When other realtors come over to show a house to a potential buyer, they use the lockbox at the front of the house to let themselves in. The lockbox contains the keys to the house. When they leave, they usually toss their business card somewhere on a counter or table as a courtesy to the listing agent.” Wayne explained.
“What is a listing agent?” Henry asked looking through the pile of cards.
“A listing agent is the real estate agent representing the seller of the house, they are the agent that “takes the listing.” Wayne said, not paying much attention to Henry’s examination of the cards.
“Can I have these? They may lead to something interesting. Of course I’ll return them.” Henry said.
“Sure, we’ve made an inventory of all the agents that were here – I don’t think you’ll find anything other than a bunch of agents parading through the same set of houses.”
“Have a look at where the phone was pulled off the wall and tell me what you think.” Wayne said, motioning his friend closer to the blood stain.
“It looks like a standard wall telephone outlet.” Henry said, reaching into his pocket for his reading glasses.
“It’s one of those modular kind, not the plastic ones, but one of the older metal types, probably installed in the seventies.” Wayne pointed out.
“I thought you said we had to look for someone strong that could rip an old fashioned telephone right off the wall.” Henry asked Wayne, looking at the wall mount closely with his reading glasses perched at the end of his nose.
“Actually my friend, you said that we needed to look for someone strong when I told you that the phone had been pulled off the wall, I figured you’d change your mind once you saw it.”
“Heck, my Irma could have pulled this phone out.” Said Henry. “Not that she ever would need to do that of course.” He added quickly, taking his glasses off and carefully putting them back in their case and into his pocket.
“So he got hit by the phone, fell down on the floor and bled to death?” Henry asked looking at the huge rusty red blood stain that showed that something obviously traumatic had happened in this kitchen.
“Basically, that’s it, though if you look at the counter right here, we think he hit his head on the way down.” Wayne said.
“And he didn’t call anyone from the phone – did you dust it for prints?” Henry looked at the counter and around the rest of the empty kitchen.
“The only prints on the telephone were on the handset, and those were Thornbird’s.” Wayne replied. “Nothing else was on the phone itself, though it might have been wiped.”
“Hmmm, wiped eh?” Henry said, furrowing his brow. “What makes you think it “might” have been wiped?” Henry asked.
“Well, everything around here is pretty dusty as you can see, and the phone didn’t have any dust on it.” Wayne said. “Besides, the phone wasn’t on; service was cut off several months ago according to the phone company.”
“All these real estate agents carry cell phones don’t they?” Henry asked. “Did you check his phone, did he make any calls before he died, and was it in his pocket?” Henry asked his mind working quickly and asking the questions as fast as he thought of them.
“Slow down a second, apparently Thornbird didn’t carry a cell phone on him.” Wayne said, fishing another toothpick out of his pocket. “I know realtors stay in touch with cell phones so I specifically looked for it on his body when I first came here, no phone, no empty belt clip – we finally found his phone in the glove compartment of his car, it was turned off.”
“Ok, so I don’t need to bother getting records from the wireless company then.” Henry said.
“We’ve already requested them, but I don’t think we’ll find anything significant.” Wayne said putting the fresh toothpick in his mouth and pulling the chewed up one out. “Excuse me a second, will you?” He asked heading for the front door to toss the tooth marked piece of wood into the house’s landscape.
“Give me a couple of minutes to look around the house.” Henry said as he headed for the back bedrooms. Henry walked slowly through the house, looking around at the non-descript hallway with its fingerprint powdered thermostat as he went into the back bedroom. It was larger than the others and obviously the master bed
room with a small adjoining bathroom. The bathroom had an ugly pink tile that was obviously popular and modern when the house was built but now looked garish and dated. The pink even extended to the sink and toilet and was a shocking contrast to the fresh white paint.
The bedroom was brightly lit with two casement windows in what was obviously the back corner of the house. Henry tried the windows, but either they were locked tight or painted shut. Probably painted shut, Henry thought, it looks like a blow and go paint crew went through here right before the house went up for sale.
The second bedroom was smaller, but had a very spacious closet that stretched the length of one wall. It too had a large window, it too was painted shut. The third bedroom was about the same size as the second; its closet was a bit smaller but still very spacious in comparison to a lot of houses that were currently being built. Henry knew what he would find at the window, but he checked it anyway. Of course it had been painted shut as well.
Henry fished into his pocket for his handkerchief to wipe the dust off his hands. Since it had been a while since anyone did any housekeeping, in addition to the fingerprint dust that was around an accumulation of regular dust was all over the window sills. He opened the last door in the hallway it was a utility closet that was pretty small; it only contained the home’s forced air heater and an old broom. He walked back into the living room to look for anything that the crime scene crew or one of Wayne’s detectives might have overlooked. The empty room didn’t show anything obvious.
“Duke, did your guys check out the chimney flu?” He asked Wayne who had stepped back through the door.
“You mean for hidden weapons or tools?” Wayne replied, pulling the toothpick out of his mouth and waving it around to imitate someone hiding something up the chimney. “We looked, the flu was open, but a lot of people do that for a little extra air circulation in the summer time. There was nothing there, and it looked as though it was cleaned earlier this year.”
“They probably cleaned it whenever the house was painted.” Henry said as he got on his knees to have a look up the chimney anyway. “Looks clean.” Henry said, brushing off his pants as he got up.
“But what left the clean mark here in the dust on the mantle?” Henry asked standing up in front of the fireplace. “Hmmm, I didn’t notice that before.” Wayne replied studying the mark that had been left in the dust. Henry put his reading glasses back on and looked at the mark closely
“It looks like it was here quite a while, notice it left a clean spot in the dust all around it. It’s about the size of a picture frame, or a small easel of some type.” Henry observed.
“You know, I bet it is one of those frames that realtors use to put the sheets of paper in that describe the house, you know, the flyers with the description of how many bedrooms and bathrooms a place has, how much it costs and what not.” Wayne said. “On the mantle is an obvious spot for it, everyone coming through the front door would notice it right away.”
“Hmmm, you’re probably right. I want to go to Thornbird’s office to find out a little more about how these realtors operate and perhaps I can pick up one of these frames to check it out.” Henry said, wiping his hands on his handkerchief one more time. “Meanwhile, do you think you could have one of your crew come out here and take measurements of this imprint in the dust?”
Wayne reached for his cell phone as he replied, “Sure, I’ll call right now and have them take some picture of it as well. I’ll be damned, I don’t know how we overlooked that, but I’m sure it will amount to nothing after you check in at Thornbird’s office about those flyers.”
Henry raised an eyebrow and said, “I don’t know Duke, your “amount to nothings” are adding up.”
“Yeah, they are,” Wayne chuckled, “But that’s why I’m counting on you to help me with my math.”
They stepped back out into the sunshine and Wayne pulled the door shut behind them.
“Phew, I didn’t realize how stuffy it was in there.” Henry said, pulling out his handkerchief once again, this time to blow his nose.
“Really, you’d think an empty house with all the doors and windows closed would keep the dust out.” Wayne replied pulling a new crime scene tag out of his inside coat pocket. He sealed the tag over the crack in the door and said, “Did you want to see anything else?”
Henry noticed the realtor’s lockbox still around the hose bib near the entry and said, “You know, since there were no signs of doors being jimmied or forced, I think I need to learn a little bit more about this lockbox system, I’m going to go over to the Coachella Real Estate office right now to see if they can fill me in.”
“I knew that you’d want to talk with them, I called them this morning and gave the office manager a heads up.” Wayne said walking down the path towards his car. “I’m going to head back to the station, give me a call if you need anything and let me know as soon as you find something.”
“I’ll do that!” Henry replied, “Are we still on tomorrow morning at the range for our weekly practice?”
“Wouldn’t miss it!” Wayne replied getting into his car and starting the engine and it’s all important air conditioner while leaving the door open to let the hot air out. “See you tomorrow” he said closing the door and slowly making a U-turn to head back down Granvia and towards the Palm Springs police station.
Henry turned back at his car to take one more look at the house as he thought about his weekly practice matches with Wayne at the Palm Springs Gun Club’s pistol range out in the desert. For years he’d carried a big heavy Colt revolver as a police officer in Eagle River, but when he became police chief the weapon was mostly in his desk drawer.
He did enjoy shooting the weapons at the range and shortly after he moved to Palm Springs he bought a new Glock 17 which was the choice of most police officers these days. He still had the Colt, the city of Eagle River had presented it to him when he retired, and usually brought it to the range, but he decided that now that he was a bit older, he enjoyed shooting the lighter Glock much more.
Rex Thornbird’s smiling face was on the For Sale sign in the lawn as Henry looked over the property one last time. The house wasn’t much to look at from the outside, he thought, nearly flat roof, neutral paint job that made it blend in with the other houses on the block, and very non-descript landscaping that looked like it needed mowing. It was a shame that a wealthy real estate agent was found in something that he probably wouldn’t have been caught dead in while he was alive. He got in his car and made the same U-turn as Wayne had moments earlier and headed for Thornbird’s office.
