by Dave Daren
“We had a call,” the detective replied. “Someone was poking around inside.”
“Really,” I said skeptically. “And the reason you’re poking around through Francie’s personal items?”
“Just making sure nothing was taken,” Archer replied.
“Because you would notice if anything was missing,” I snarked.
“I’ve memorized everything about this place,” Archer said in a cold voice. “Now it’s your turn, Mr. Morgan. What are you doing here?”
“I got a call,” I replied. “Just like the police. Only mine came from a real person, not some imaginary person.”
Archer’s eyes narrowed even more, and his hand drifted towards his holster for a moment.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the detective demanded.
“It means I’m pretty sure that if I asked for the call records to 9-1-1 or the precinct, I doubt I would find a phone call where the person claimed someone was in this apartment,” I explained.
“Who said it came through the precinct?” Archer asked with a sly smile. “I hand my card out to lots of people. It has my cell phone number on it.”
“Then who called you?” I asked.
Archer chuckled and wagged a finger at me.
“None of your business,” Archer replied.
“It still doesn’t explain why you’re still here, since you obviously didn’t find anyone, or why you’re going through the apartment,” I said.
“I found you,” Archer pointed out. “For all I know, you were hiding in here until just now.”
“That’s going to be very hard to prove,” I said as a jolt of fear ran up my spine. The last thing I needed after reading Ordman’s motion was to be arrested by an overeager detective on a trespass charge. The judge would never forgive me if I didn’t show up in court for the hearing, and the fact that I was sitting in a jail cell somewhere would only give him another reason to remove me from the case.
Something must have shown in my face because Archer gave me another mirthless laugh and followed that with his version of a smile. It looked more like a wolf baring its teeth, but I refused to be intimidated by a man I was certain was crooked.
“I hear there’s an important meeting with the judge tomorrow,” Archer purred.
“There’s a hearing,” I corrected.
“Uh-huh,” Archer said. “You ready for that?”
“I am,” I said calmly.
“That so?” Archer said nonchalantly.
“I’ll be countering with my own proof of evidence tampering,” I said just as nonchalantly. “You know, things added to the scene by the police, telling witnesses what to say. The usual.”
Archer’s eyes got even narrower, and I wondered how he could see anything.
“So I’ll ask you again,” I added. “Why are you here?”
Archer considered his options for several moments, and I knew he really wanted to place me under arrest. But even if he were able to keep me until the hearing was over, his own presence here would raise too many questions. It would be easy enough to prove there hadn’t been a call, and he knew that as well as I did.
“Where’s your partner, by the way?” I asked as I peered around the room. “Because if you had a call about a break-in at a crime scene, shouldn’t your partner be with you? That’s just standard police procedure, right?”
“Don’t be a fracking smartass,” Archer finally responded.
“Your partner,” I pushed.
And that was another problem for Archer. It wasn’t uncommon for detectives to do some work on their own, but if there had been a call about a break-in, then the department’s regs required Archer to have someone else with him. If, for some reason, he hadn’t been at the station and hadn’t been with his partner when the call came in, then he should have waited for backup to arrive before heading to the apartment. It wasn’t the kiss of death, exactly, but it would probably shine a light on the man when he really didn’t want it.
“I heard someone inside,” Archer offered. “So I came on in.”
“There wasn’t anyone in here,” I replied.
“Says you,” Archer snickered. “There’s no one else to say otherwise.”
“But there is,” I said with a smile of my own. “There’s a witness who knows you arrived first.”
“What? That nosey broad across the hall?” Archer nearly guffawed.
“She’s not the only one who keeps an eye on things,” I said mysteriously.
Archer studied the apartment for a moment as he worked through his options. He finally settled on tough but fair cop, and pointed another finger at me.
“You can’t be in here,” he announced. “This is still a crime scene and being the suspect’s attorney doesn’t give you access. But I’m going to ignore this breach because I’m too busy to waste time hauling your ass to the precinct.”
“How kind of you,” I remarked.
“So get your ass outta here,” Archer replied. “Before I change my mind.”
I moved towards the door, with one eye still on Archer. I wouldn’t have put it past him to shoot me in the back and then claim he’d found me prowling through the apartment. I opened the door but I didn’t step into the hall.
“Are you coming?” I asked. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your busy schedule.”
Archer’s nostrils actually flared, something I thought only horses could do. I expected him to start yelling invectives at me, but then we both heard the sound of another door closing. I risked a look around the door and saw a young man in faded jeans and a wrinkled tee walking towards the elevator. He had a pair of heavy duty headphones, so I doubted he could hear me, but it didn’t matter.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I said as I waved.
The man never turned around, but Archer had no idea what was going on. I nodded like someone had said something, then mentioned that I was there with a police officer.
“We’re just making sure everything is still here,” I added. “Got a call that someone was inside.”
I smiled and waved again, then turned to face Archer. The hand near his holster clenched and unclenched a few times, but he slowly started to walk towards the door. He brushed past me hard enough to pin me into the door jamb for a moment as he stepped into the hall. Fortunately, the man with the headphones was a slow walker and Archer was treated to the view of his back as the man walked away from us. Archer huffed in frustration, then pulled a key from one of his pockets. He locked the door to Francie’s apartment and then glared at me.
“I’m leaving,” Archer rumbled. “That means you’re leaving, too.”
I nodded, and we walked towards the elevator together. I was about to keep going when Archer joined the guy with the headphones in front of the elevator doors, but his hand snaked out and grabbed my elbow.
“Take the elevator,” he suggested.
“Hey, you’re the cop who came around a couple of weeks ago,” the headphone guy declared when he finally looked up.
Archer attempted another smile and nodded as politely as he could manage. Fortunately, the elevator arrived and we all piled inside without having to say anything else. We rode to the lobby with only the bass from the headphones as our source of music, and then the three of us walked to the front door together. Headphone guy waved before he strolled in the direction of the subway, which left me in front of the building with Archer and an endless parade of pedestrians on the sidewalk.
“You leaving?” I asked casually.
“I am,” he replied, “and so are you.”
“Sure,” I agreed as I studied a few more passersby.
With a wave, I strolled down the block towards my car. I climbed inside the Volvo, then spent some time adjusting the mirrors and checking my phone for messages. Archer watched all this, then finally moved towards his own car, a dented and dirty Ford that looked as old as its driver. The detective wrestled the door open, then slumped into the driver’s seat. He went through the same r
idiculous routine I did, then slowly eased out into traffic. He stopped just behind my Volvo and kindly waved me out ahead of him. I waved politely, then pulled out and drove away from the building.
The Ford followed me for several blocks, but then Archer switched on his lights and siren. I thought he was pulling me over for some imagined traffic violation, but he shot by me as soon as I was out of the way. Maybe real police business had actually occurred somewhere, or maybe he was just off on a donut run, but I didn’t care. I double backed to the building and found another parking spot, this time on the backside of the building.
“Geraldine, it’s Hunter Morgan,” I said when I had the older woman on the phone. “I’m just on the backside of the building but I wanted to let you know that I was coming back up. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Of course I do, dear,” she replied.
“Oh, good,” I said as I came around the corner, “Looks like someone’s just leaving.”
I darted towards the door with Geraldine still on the line and managed to grab the door before it closed all the way. The tenant looked at me suspiciously, and waved to Julio, who was walking across the lobby with a ladder and a box of lightbulbs.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” I told Geraldine as Julio wandered towards us. “Here, say hi to Julio.”
I handed the phone to Julio as he pushed the door open. Thankfully, Julio seemed to have accepted that I was now part of the scenery at the building. He set the ladder and accepted the phone while the tenant, an older guy in tight jeans and a messy ponytail that screamed midlife crisis, looked on in disbelief.
“Hello, Miss DiMarco,” Julio said politely. “The lawyer is here to visit you again, eh?... Oh, sure, I can come by later and check on that. We don’t want to waste water with dripping faucets.”
Julio handed the phone back to me and then picked up the ladder again. He let me slip by as he smiled at the tenant, and then returned to his mission to change lightbulbs. The tenant looked angry, but he was still outside the doors, and apparently not willing to do anything else at that moment. I figured he was probably more the angry letter type, and it was a good guess that the management company would soon receive a missive about non-tenants being allowed to wander the building.
I climbed back to the third floor and knocked on Geraldine’s door. She opened it so fast that I knew she had probably been standing just on the other side to wait for my return.
“Oh, it was that nasty detective,” Geraldine said instead of a hello. “What on earth was he doing in there? My goodness, he must have been in there nearly thirty minutes before you arrived.”
“I’m not sure,” I said as Geraldine led me into her apartment. “He claimed he received a call about someone in the apartment and came to investigate.”
“That seems unlikely,” Geraldine mused. “He was the only one who went in there today until you arrived.”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked as I took my usual seat in the armchair.
Geraldine sat down next to her gray cat, who shifted into a more comfortable position without ever opening his eyes.
“Quite sure,” Geraldine replied. “My morning water aerobics was cancelled today so I decided to just stay at home and get caught up on buying birthday gifts. There’s a whole string of them coming up, starting with one of the granddaughters in a week.”
“You wouldn’t have missed someone walking by?” I pressed. “You know, because you were so intent on finding gifts?”
“Gift shopping is fun, but it’s not that fun,” Geraldine retorted. “So no, I wouldn’t have missed someone else arriving.”
“I didn’t think you did, but I can guess what Archer will say,” I replied. “I just wish I knew what he was doing.”
“You should go back in and take a look around,” Geraldine suggested. “See if he took anything.”
“I’d love to,” I admitted. “But I don’t have permission and I don’t have a key.”
“Oh, posh,” Geraldine protested. “I can take care of both of those things.”
The key didn’t surprise me, but I wasn’t quite sure how she could give me permission.
“Ermm,” I hesitated as she moved into her kitchen and started to dig through one of the drawers.
“Francine borrowed a dutch oven and a serving platter from me,” Geraldine announced as she held up a key. “And I was told I could retrieve them.”
“You were?” I asked skeptically.
“Well, when the tape was removed,” Geraldine amended. “And that detective did take the tape down.”
“So he did,” I agreed with a grin.
We stepped across the hall together, and I kept a furtive watch for other tenants as Geraldine slipped the key into the lock. There was a snick and then Geraldine pushed the door open with a grin. She stepped inside first, and I followed after her.
“Oh, how sad,” Geraldine muttered as I closed the door as quietly as I could.
I turned and saw that she was staring at the bleached spot that still covered much of the living room floor. It had seeped into the area rug as well and small white trails crisscrossed the sofa and the TV stand. The police must have agreed to let Julio in finally to clean up what he could of the blood, no doubt because of the smell. I felt a twinge of guilt for letting Geraldine come into the apartment with me, but she said a quick prayer and then moved into the kitchen.
“Well, I’m assuming it’s in here, but I could be wrong,” she said as she pointed me towards the bedroom.
I nodded and walked into the room where Archer had been prowling around when I arrived. I couldn’t figure out what he had been doing if Geraldine was right about the amount of time he’d been in here. If he’d been planting evidence, he could have been in and out while Geraldine was still talking to me on the phone. That meant he was probably searching for something, but I couldn’t figure what that was. Unless Giorgio had left something behind that implicated him in the murder. But Geraldine seemed certain that Giorgio had been avoiding Francie, so I couldn’t imagine what he might have left behind.
I went through the closet and each drawer in the small chest of drawers. I looked under the mattress and every scrap of paper she had tossed onto the nightstand. I even checked the shoes, but I couldn’t find anything odd or out of place. I finally gave up and went to stand in the door, but I still couldn’t find anything off about the room.
“Well,” Geraldine said from behind me.
I half-turned to look at her and to give her a better view of the room. She studied it for a moment, and then frowned.
“Is there something different about the room?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I feel like there is, but I can’t place my finger on it.”
She scowled as her head slowly swiveled, but she finally gave up and tossed her hands in the air.
“I just can’t figure out what’s missing,” she said in a frustrated voice.
“It’s okay,” I replied. “It helps that you’ve noticed that something is wrong. Why don’t we go back to your apartment? Sometimes it helps if you don’t focus so much.”
Geraldine didn’t look like she really believed me, but she retreated from the bedroom without further comment. I noticed that she’d left a large pot and a sea blue platter on the counter, and she picked them up as she headed for the door.
“I wanted to ask the family first,” Geraldine said when she caught my glance towards the kitchenware. “But I haven’t seen any of them.”
“The Motts haven’t been by?” I asked in surprise.
“No, but I guess officially it’s still a crime scene,” Geraldine replied. “No visitors allowed.”
I thought about what I knew of the Motts and their relationship with their daughter. It wasn’t much, but there didn’t seem to be any real acrimony between parents and child. True, her parents had threatened to pull her from college, but that was after a semester of low grades and plenty of partying. It was a rite of passage for most kids.
And Francie was one of those who had worked hard to improve her grades and earn her parents’ trust once again. So why hadn’t they been by to collect her personal items? And why was the management company so willing to let the apartment sit empty?
“When did Julio get permission to clean it?” I asked.
“It wasn’t that long ago,” Geraldine mused as she handed me the pot and platter so she could fit her key in her door. “People were starting to complain about the smell, especially the couple who live in the apartment below.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t hire one of those professional cleaning companies,” I remarked.
“Julio’s cheaper,” Geraldine noted. “And I’m sure they’ll have him do the painting and the refinishing as soon as the company gets the all clear.”
“Shall I set these on the counter?” I asked as I stepped into the kitchen.
“That would be fine,” Geraldine replied from the living room.
I set the pot and platter on the counter then glanced up to see Geraldine turning slowly in a circle. I wasn’t sure what she was doing but she stopped and gave me a grin.
“Just looking at my own stuff, see if it reminds me what’s missing from Francie’s,” she explained.
“Too bad we don’t have any pictures,” I said as I thought about the online accounts we’d found for Francie. She wasn’t big on selfies and preferred to post pictures of her friends, mostly at parties or enjoying a night out. There had been a handful of pictures taken inside her apartment that I could remember, most either of the stove top, where she was trying out a new recipe, or the view out her window when she saw something funny.
“Now that’s an idea,” Geraldine mused. “I wonder if I could find some.”
“There weren’t any of the bedroom on her accounts,” I replied. “At least, not that I can remember.”
“No, she wouldn’t have anything like that,” Geraldine agreed. “She could be a bit shy about things like that. But I might know where else to check.”
“Can I help?” I offered.
“No, no,” Geraldine said quickly. “It’s just an idea and probably not a good one.”
I nodded though I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with the idea of Geraldine poking around in the case, even if it was online. So far, the police had opted to ignore her and had classified her as the nosey neighbor with no real information. But they might take a different view if she became more directly involved.
