Three quick knocks on the Captain’s door, then he opened it without waiting for an invitation. This was the norm around here, of course, because of the Captain’s hang-up on being informal. Still, he hated being called ‘sir’ and ‘mister’. He preferred to be called Jim, but after much adjustment, he started to settle for Captain, or Captain Cole, or Cap. He was very peculiar in that regard, but most of the men admired that he wasn’t a Nazi for rank.
“Captain?” Gene entered the office slowly, half waiting for a wave or some kind of approval, but received none. Instead, without speaking, he simply looked up from his desk. Although, he did not give much effort. Instead of lifting his entire head to engage with Gene, he merely only raised his eyes enough to see him.
After waiting the appropriate amount of time for a response and receiving none, Gene continued. “Marco and I just got back from talking to Terry Edmund again. He’s damn near positive that the guy in the sketch is his business partner. He gave us this whole story, but long story short: the guy bought land and built a second house south of the city, and now he’s reclusive there. He doesn’t leave his house, ever. Not even to attend meetings. Mr. Edmund said the guy is nuts. He’s got a short temper and an obsession with Mr. Edmund’s ex-wife. And of course, the sketch looks a lot like him. Enough, at least. He showed me a picture of the guy and I compared the two photos. We’ve busted other guys who look less like their sketch than he does.”
By this time, Captain Cole had become intrigued enough to lift his entire head, and rest his chin on his folded hands.
“What’s his name?”
Gene was only somewhat surprised that was all he had to say, but then again, he has learned not to mistake the Captain’s lack of enthusiasm for disinterest.
“Alexander Hart. He’s the Hart in ‘Edmund & Hart’.”
“Okay. I’ll have an APB put out on that name in case someone happens to pull him over.” The Captain appeared to be finished talking, as he resumed filling out the paperwork on his desk, but then he lifted his head up once more and added, “And I’ll wait to go to the press about his ID. No point in that until we search his place. Plus, don’t wanna spook him too soon. Wait, you are getting a warrant to search his place, right?”
“Well yes and no. He lives at the new address, which we don’t have, but he still owns the old property. We’re getting a warrant to search the old place, and kind of hoping something turns up there.” Gene realized how it sounded as it came out. Like grasping at straws.
Captain Cole sighed as he signed a document and without looking back up, he said, “That sounds pretty thin, Gene. Keep me updated.”
Now Gene knew for sure that the Captain was done speaking, so he walked out without saying anything further. Interactions were pretty hit-or-miss with him. Sometimes he was in high spirits, and other times - the majority of the time, really - he was bogged down with paperwork and in an unpleasant mood. But he was an excellent leader, a great Captain, and was quite the detective before his promotion.
Gene went back to his own desk in his own office, while Marco compounded the notes from earlier into his file and printed them out. The case file that was once so thin and only consisted of a sheet of chicken-scratch handwriting and a photo, was now shaping up into a full-size file. It contained detailed notes and interviews, citing several quotes by several different people. There was even a daily log, noting everything that he and Gene had done from Day One on this case. From driving to Denton to interview Mrs. Bishop, to visiting a dozen different bars at random, to viewing the security footage, it was all written down in great detail. Marco did that more for himself than anything; he liked to be tidy and organized.
For the rest of the time until Gene received a call from Judge Mendez, the two men sat in their respective offices and did other work (no matter how half-heartedly). The only thing either of them could focus on was Zoey Edmund, Alexander Hart, and how the hell they were going to get this guy. But only time would tell.
---
Gene’s phone had yet to ring at 11:30 a.m. At this point, he had decided that he and Marco had better grab something to eat, because if they waited till after the warrant was issued, they may be forced to skip lunch altogether. Marco was driving this time, and his Mercedes pulled up into the parking lot of a family-owned restaurant that was not affiliated with any other chains or franchises. It was one of those places that had the home-cooked meal vibe, where the wait staff was friendly and the cooks were trustworthy.
They both would rather have been searching every crevice of what was probably a mostly abandoned home, but instead they begrudgingly stepped out onto the crumbling sidewalk of this burger joint.
They took a seat next to the window with the Mercedes in sight and ordered the usual. Marco ordered a hot tea and Gene a sweet iced tea. They both ordered the double cheeseburger.
“So, my birthday is two weeks from today.” Gene said it with a smile.
“Oh yeah? The big Six-Five?” Marco faked a smile, because he knew what that age meant for Gene. Marco had come to really respect Gene over the last year. And, despite Gene’s initial lack of work ethic, it seemed that this case really brought out a different side of him. Perhaps this was the old Gene, reborn.
“That’s right, and you know what that means. It’ll be my last day, and then it’ll just be you and Jeff with ol’ Captain Jim.” Gene laughed. “Think you can handle that?”
“Oh, you mean Short Stuff and Captain Beefcake? I’ll do okay.” The thought that the only detective more seasoned than him would be a man he had to look down at amused him, so this time the smiles and laughs were entirely authentic. “They’re not so bad.”
Marco had never been one to openly express how he felt, especially not directly to someone. But if he was keen on opening up, he would have told Gene that he was going to miss him, and that working with him was the best part of his new life in the States. And that he was his only real friend within five thousand miles. But instead of saying these things, he swallowed it and left it unsaid. He sipped his tea, which he noted tasted more like hot brown water than it did tea, and slid the cup across the table after choking it down. I think I’ll order a soda, he thought.
“Yeah, they’re good guys. Just be glad you don’t have to work with the crew I had to work with when I was starting out. Bunch of Nancies.” Gene took another sip, and then continued talking to the quiet and reserved Marco Moretti. “You know, I could have retired years ago. I started working in law enforcement at a young age, and I’ve had the required amount of time accumulated for years. I could retire right now and today if I wanted to and it wouldn’t make a lick o’ difference.” Gene crossed his arms and set them on the laminated wooden table.
This piqued Marco’s interest. “So, why didn’t you?”
“Well for one, I’m a working man. If I had retired at fifty, I wouldn’t know what to do with my life. Two, I thought sixty-five seemed like a good age to get to. Y’know, a milestone, sort of. It’s the typical age for others. So I held out for sixty-five. Three, my pension climbs with more years under my belt. And four, I met you.” He unfolded his arms, took another drink of his already half-empty cup of sweet tea, and started rubbing his knees under the table. “And I thought to myself, ‘wow, that’s a kid that’s going places’. I had to mentor you and bring you up, and show you how to do police work the right way. And you made the job fun again, like it hasn’t been in years. You’re a quiet kid, Marco, and you never say just a whole hell of a lot, but I know the man that’s inside of you is a brilliant, funny, gifted, and wonderful one. And I’m lucky to have met you before retirement. I’m lucky that even though I have a long career to look back on, I have you as my real legacy. Because I know whatever you go on to accomplish, I was the first guy to see it. And I’m damn proud of that.”
The kind words came as a surprise to Marco. Gene had never said anything like that; he had never been touchy-feely in the slightest. But regardless of how unforeseen it was, it was pleasant to hear.
Gene was like a mentor, friend, brother, and father all at the same time. It was a unique relationship, but it was one that Marco would always cherish.
“Geez, Gene. I dunno what to say. I appreciate that.” And again, Marco was unable to open up or let alone compose his thoughts to form a rational return.
But Gene had expected no more than that, and would have thought it to be strange to receive any more than that. He just smiled and chugged down the rest of his sweet tea, already ready for more.
“Sounds like you’re dying or something Gene. You okay?” Marco was only teasing his old friend, but a playful jab can reveal a great deal of information.
Gene laughed, shook his head, and said, “No, no, nothing like that. But I will be moving soon. I, uh, won’t be sticking around in Dallas anymore.” He cleared his throat and started rubbing his knees again, like some sort of nervous tick.
Marco cocked his head to the side like a dog while Gene went on to explain. “Yeah, I’ve been talking with Delilah lately. I’m already starting to set the house up for sale, and when it sells, I’m moving out to California to be closer to her.”
This was an uppercut to Marco’s gut, but he held onto his composure.
“Wow, Gene, that’s great news.” It wasn’t great news. “That’s all happening right after you retire?”
“Yeah, immediately. I think the house will sell quickly and when it does, I’m moving all of my stuff out there. I’ve already found a place to lease temporarily until I’ve found something to buy.” Gene cleared his throat again, suppressing that lump in his neck that was trying to conjure up and force out some tears. “Yeah, it’ll be sad leaving Dallas. Been here most all my life, and it’ll be weird to be anywhere else. I’m gonna miss work, my friends, and the familiarity. I’m gonna miss you. I consider you my best friend, Marco. I want you to know that. But on the bright side, I’ll be close with my girl again. Those occasional phone conversations will be a daily routine. And instead of visits every few months, I’ll have dinner with her frequently. And nothing will make me happier than to spend my remaining years on this Earth with my baby girl.”
It was incredibly touching, although hauntingly sad. Marco didn’t really know what work would be like without Gene. Probably more like his personal one: quiet and lonely. He could picture himself coming in, doing his work quietly, then going home alone to his apartment, as he always had. That’s the way it would be. Quiet, sad, lonely.
“Wow, that’s great man. You’re gonna come around though, right? And let me see your place out there sometime? You won’t be a stranger, will you?”
“Of course, I’ll be coming around. And you bet you’ll be coming out there, too.”
“Okay, I’ll take you up on that.”
He had a throat lump of his own that he was trying to suppress, and did so successfully right as the burgers arrived.
As he took the last bite of his cheeseburger, Gene’s cell phone rang. It was timed perfectly, and the thrill scurried up his stomach and into his chest, where his heart began thumping against his breast.
“Yeah? Hi, Judge Mendez!”
“Cut the shit, Gene. Don’t call me that! I’m Stephanie to you, and always will be.”
To Marco, the voice was somewhat muffled, but still loud enough to hear. Gene was old after all, and kept the volume as loud as it would go.
“You’re right. Sorry, Stephanie. Is this the call I’ve been waiting for?”
“It sure is. It’s signed and in the system. Just print it off and you’re good to go.”
“Thanks so much, Stephanie.” Gene was ecstatic, but he still had wished for it to be quicker. It took a couple hours longer than it should have, but maybe that was just bad luck.
Gene said his goodbyes and hung up the phone, then turned to Marco and said, “I’ll call the Lieutenant and have him send the warrant over with an officer. I just hope he doesn’t send that prick, Jacobs.”
---
The Lieutenant sent that prick, Jacobs.
Gene and Marco met him out front of the somewhat quaint and bland home. For someone who was no doubt a millionaire, this seemed a bit vanilla. It looked like it was cared for regularly, however. The yard was maintained, although that probably didn’t require much effort in the winter. The two trees on either side of the home were both still dead by the hand of the winter’s fatal cold.
Vanilla, indeed this home was. A small ranch-style house, with basic red shutters and a matching red door. The brick may have once been vibrant, but it was largely faded by this point, and paint was beginning to peel off of the edges of the front door. The paved walkway leading up to the front steps was starting to crumble as a sign of old age, and the house itself looked abandoned from the outside. Yet the yard was pristine.
“Did y’all have a fun date?” Jacobs intended to make a joke of their friendly bond, but it fell on unamused faces. He laughed, but no one joined him.
“Splendid,” said Marco. He figured civility was the best camouflage; no one pays too close attention to the polite, quiet man in the corner. And with Gene gone in a couple of weeks, perhaps camouflage would be best.
Gene took the lead, and made it to the top of the steps first, with Marco following directly behind, and then Officer Jacobs just a few paces behind him. Marco stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Gene in front of the red door, with Jacobs behind them.
Gene knocked, without announcing his business first. He figured if someone did happen to be home that may or may not be involved with the disappearance of a local wealthy woman, then they may or may not be too excited to talk with a couple of detectives and a police officer. The knocks were bare and unaccompanied by his voice. Instead, it was just three rhythmic, solid knocks - Gene’s trademark.
There (predictably) was no answer; the house was silent on the inside, without so much as a ceiling fan to make noise. No television, no barking dogs, or pacing cats; no background noise or walking around. Gene knocked three more times, this time announcing his name, along with Marco’s and Officer Jacobs’s. This time he had to, though, because they couldn’t rightfully enter the house without announcing their presence first, on the off chance that someone was inside and just didn’t feel like opening.
But there was still no answer, and so they were forced to enter the house with the Officer’s favorite method.
They didn’t even think to twist the knob; why would they, right? There’s no reason for it to be unlocked, right? Instead, Jacobs stepped in front of the two more professionally-dressed gentlemen, and kicked the door in. This was the first time Marco had seen this done in person and not on a box across the room from him. He couldn’t help but compare it to the movies he’d seen.
And they entered.
“Look, it was unlocked.” Marco noticed it first, and marveled at it. It was simply unheard of to leave doors unlocked like that. If you’ve got nothing to hide, I suppose, he thought. But he would have something to hide, right?
They proceeded through the threshold of the house - a barren one at that. The house had clearly remained empty for some time. There was no furniture left anywhere. No wall decorations, or plants; no tables or chairs, or televisions. At least, throughout most of the house that is.
Every room was cold and empty, except for the bedroom. The bedroom in the back of the house, to the right of the entrance and down the short hallway, was the only room that wasn’t completely void of life. In this room was a bed, curtains, a nightstand and table lamp, a chair and a television, and even a personal laptop.
But that’s it; bathroom was empty, too.
“So what, is this just an overnight place for this guy? Why would you move everything except the bedroom?” Officer Jacobs asked it, but the other men refused to acknowledge him as a legitimate presence in the investigation.
“Jacobs, you go into the rest of the house, and go through any cabinets or drawers, or anywhere that might have anything in it at all. We’re looking for something that can lead us to his current residence. We know
he recently had a house built somewhere south of Dallas, so if you can find a notebook that might have an address, or company information for the construction crew that may have built it. Anything, really.” Gene just wanted him out of the room. He really couldn’t stand being around him, even when he was being relatively pleasant.
“Sure thing, boss.” He walked out of the small bedroom and into the empty house. There wasn’t much to rummage through, but he opened every single drawer and counter anyway, while Gene and Marco stayed productive in the bedroom.
They pawed through the mess of papers that were shoved into the nightstand, but it revealed very little. It was mostly made up of dusty candy wrappers and old, expired coupons. Nothing about a new house or alternative address.
The pulled everything out from underneath the bed. Nothing. Just some old clothes that smelled like taco meat and sweat. Marco winced at the new smell, and shoved them back underneath where they belong.
The floor was completely spotless. There was nothing out of place on the floor, and the countertops were mostly clean as well. The mess only really existed in places out of sight, like under the bed and in the nightstand. It was kind of like a thirteen-year-old had been told to clean his room, but only did the bare minimum, and shoved the rest of the crap in places they don’t belong, to appear clean.
However, there was still a wardrobe, closet, and computer to snoop through. But it continued looking bleak. The computer was the best shot, provided there was no password on it.
“Marco, why don’t you take the computer? See what’s on there, and I’ll go through the rest of the crap.”
Marco obeyed without saying anything, and grabbed the laptop with his latex glove-covered hand. It was dead, though, and would not turn on.
“Is there a charger anywhere around here, Gene? You see one?” Marco was looking up and down all around the room, searching for any wall plug.
Decay Page 18
