by J A Whiting
Courtney made herself a cup of tea and returned to her seat. “That visit to bomb house number three was really disturbing. I can’t stop thinking about it. That living room was a disaster. I keep picturing it in my mind.”
“That’s why Angie is making the cake,” Jenna said. “We were all stunned by what we saw.”
“I’m glad I didn’t go. I don’t have the stomach for it. I can’t fathom cruelty.” Ellie put her book down and went to get the platter of sliced apple cake which she carried to the island. She placed the slices on small white plates and served the family members who wanted some. “That’s a beautiful picture,” she told Finch.
Finch had sketched a few scenes of families outside their homes working or playing in the yards. Vivid colors were used to depict idyllic portraits of summer life in a small town with children playing, fathers mowing the lawn or performing other outside chores, mothers planting or tending flowers and vegetables, families eating lunch at picnic tables or playing games together on the lawns.
“The scenes are so pretty.” Courtney leaned over to have a look. “I’d like to live in one of them.”
Angie wiped her hands on her apron and came over to see the pictures as Finch turned the pages in his sketchbook. The third picture she looked at caused a cold chill to run over her skin and when she inspected it more closely, she was unable to find the cause of her odd feeling. Scrutinizing the drawing, she couldn’t say why it bothered her, so she decided to keep her thoughts about it to herself.
“You’re a very talented artist,” Jenna told the older man. Finch had recently been invited by an art gallery in town to display some of his artwork, and he’d already sold two of his paintings.
“I love getting lost in a creation.” Finch put down his drawings in order to eat his slice of apple cake. “It rests my mind and I’m able to make the world as I’d like it to be.”
Angie smiled. “Baking does the same for me and I love making tasty things for people to enjoy. It makes me feel content and happy.”
“It’s a good thing we all have things we like to do so it takes our minds off of crimes,” Courtney said. “I like watching the crime shows to try to solve the puzzles, but it’s not the same as seeing the awful things people do to each other in real life. I got angry when we were at the bomb house … it’s all so stupid and senseless. Rufus and I are going for a long bike ride in the morning so it can help me clear my head. We need to buckle down and put our thinking caps on. We have to figure out who is making and placing these bombs.”
“We will.” Mr. Finch gave a nod. “The perp doesn’t stand a chance with the Roseland and Finch gang on the case.”
“I hope that’s right,” Jenna sighed.
“We haven’t had a case beat us yet,” Finch told them.
“And this one won’t either.” Courtney high-fived the man just as Tom came into the kitchen from the back door.
“Hello, all.” Tom made a beeline for Jenna and wrapped her in a hug. “How’s my wonderful wife?” He gently placed a hand on her stomach. “And how’s our little baby doing?”
Jenna beamed at Tom. “We’re both doing just fine.”
“Sure smells good in here.” Tom sniffed the air.
“Angie’s making a Black Forest cake and we’re eating an apple cake she made a little while ago.” Courtney put a slice on a plate for him.
Tom made a cup of coffee and sat at the island next to Jenna to eat his cake. “It was a long day. There’s a new problem almost every day with that antique house we’re renovating.” Tom owned and ran a construction and renovation business. “Costs are adding up to more than what the owners hoped, but it can’t be avoided.” He went on to explain some of the issues and the plans to fix them.
“They’re lucky they hired such a knowledgeable and experienced person.” Jenna squeezed Tom’s arm.
“A guy on my crew knows one of the bomb victims,” he said. “Dennis Leeds.”
“Really? What did he say?” Jenna asked.
“He told me Dennis is grateful he and his wife weren’t hurt, but he’s having trouble sleeping, his appetite is off, he isn’t able to concentrate like he could before. He has nightmares about bombs and holding one as it explodes.”
“Is he going to counseling?” Courtney asked.
“He hasn’t yet. He will though.” Tom took a swallow of his coffee. “Just the act of being targeted by the bomber is enough to throw people into a dark pit of anxiety. Leeds was lucky he didn’t pick up that package, but I can see how the incident would terrorize you even if you weren’t hurt.”
Euclid and Circe stood up and hissed.
“Did Leeds share any ideas about who might have done it?” Jenna asked.
“He’s suspicious of the guy who lives across the street.”
“We heard about him,” Angie said. “His name is Dave Hanes. He’s unfriendly and gruff, doesn’t interact with the neighbors and goes inside if anyone speaks to him or approaches him.”
Finch spoke up. “Mr. Hanes might have social anxiety or some other reason he wants to be alone. I realize the behavior makes Mr. Leeds uncomfortable, but it isn’t a reason to point a finger at the man without cause.”
“That’s very true,” Tom agreed. “Chief Martin and his officers must be looking into any potential suspects in order to eliminate the ones who have alibis.”
Ellie refreshed Tom’s coffee. “I bet the chief will ask some of you to speak with Dave Hanes. The man might open up to people who aren’t members of law enforcement. He might also feel more comfortable talking to people who don’t live in the neighborhood.”
“That’s good thinking,” Courtney praised her sister. “If the chief doesn’t ask us to talk to Dave Hanes, maybe we should bring it up with him.”
As Angie was removing the cake from the oven, her phone dinged with a text message and she asked Jenna to see who it was.
Jenna read the message and then slowly looked over at Ellie. “You did it again.”
Ellie gave her sister a questioning look. “Did what?”
Putting a hand on her hip, Jenna explained. “The text is from Chief Martin. He wants two or three of us to meet with Dave Hanes. You knew he was going to ask us.”
“I did not,” Ellie protested. “I only thought it was a logical idea.”
Courtney rolled her eyes. “Think what you want. You have this other skill whether you like it or not. Telekinesis and seeing the future. How come you get all the cool skills?”
Ellie’s cheeks turned pink. “I cannot see the future.”
“Maybe you can’t see it,” Courtney clarified with a smile, “but you sure know about it.”
“It does happen fairly often, Miss Ellie,” Finch said with a gentle tone. “I think it may be more than just logical thinking. You sometimes know when Chief Martin is coming here to the house.”
Ellie became flustered. “You’re all making more of this than it is. I don’t know the future.”
Courtney patted her sister’s shoulder and kidded. “Maybe you don’t know the future, but the future seems to know you.”
“I’m going upstairs to take a shower.” Ellie left the room in a hurry.
“Why can’t I have her skills?” Courtney groaned. “I’d take them in a minute. They’re just wasted on Ellie.”
“When does the chief want us to talk to Mr. Hanes?” Angie asked.
Jenna reported the date and time.
“Can you come, Mr. Finch?” Angie asked. “I think your kind and easy-going manner might help to put the man at ease.”
“I’d be happy to accompany you if Miss Courtney will handle the candy store.”
“I’ll handle the store. I think Angie’s idea that you go to the interview is a good one.”
Jenna offered to go as well. “Shall I reply to the chief?”
“Yes, please. Tell him my hands are a mess from baking and we’ll meet him at Mr. Hanes’s house tomorrow.”
“Anyone want to watch a movie?” Courtney poured
some tortilla chips into a bowl and reached for the salsa.
Jenna, Tom, and Finch headed to the family room at the back of the house to relax on the sofas. The cats jumped down from the fridge and ran ahead of them.
“Let’s choose a comedy,” Jenna said. “I’ve had enough of crime for the evening.”
Courtney carried the snacks on a tray. “You coming, Angie?”
“I’ll be right there.”
When everyone had left the kitchen, Angie took a seat at the island and gingerly reached for Mr. Finch’s sketchbook. Opening it to the drawing he’d made that she’d looked at earlier, she peered at the picture trying to understand what there was about it that made her feel so uneasy.
A cold hard pit formed in Angie’s stomach, her heart began to race, and a few drops of sweat trickled down her back as she slammed the sketchbook closed and hurried from the kitchen to join the others.
11
When Dave Hanes opened the door, his expression was one of surprise even though he was well aware that Chief Martin and three consultants were coming to see him.
The man was in his mid to late thirties, had sandy blond hair that could use a cut, was around five feet ten inches tall, and had a medium build. He awkwardly led the way to the living room without introducing himself and moved away from the front door so quickly, no one had a chance to shake his hand or tell him their names.
Dave sat down first. He was wearing old, worn jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt. His fingernails looked dirty from oil or grease and Angie thought he might have been working on a car.
The guests took seats and the chief spoke.
“Thanks for talking with us.” When he introduced Jenna, Angie, and Finch, Dave didn’t seem to care what their credentials were or why they were sitting in on the discussion.
Dave looked expectantly from one to other, shifting a little in his seat so that he leaned forward with his hands folded between his legs.
“You were at home on the day your neighbor received a package bomb in his mailbox?” Chief Martin asked.
Dave nodded.
“Were you home all day?”
Dave nodded again.
“Were you outside when Dennis went to his mailbox?”
“I don’t think so.”
The chief tried to jog his memory. “Dennis Leeds thought he saw you in your driveway.”
“He did? Maybe I was outside.”
“Can you tell us what you were doing?” Chief Martin questioned.
“I don’t remember. I don’t remember seeing the neighbor.” Dave’s bottom lip twitched a little.
“Do you work, Mr. Hanes?” Finch’s voice was light and easy.
“I’m starting back to work in a couple of days.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Finch looked kindly at the man.
“I paint, I do some landscaping, some handyman kinds of things.” Dave ran a hand over the top of his head.
“Do you work for yourself?”
“Sometimes, I do. I’m going back to work for a guy who owns a painting business.”
“Have you worked for him before?”
Dave nodded.
“Were you unable to work for a while? Do you have an injury?”
“I was taking a break.”
Finch nodded as if he understood perfectly.
Something about the man’s answer picked at Angie. “How do you spend your day when you’re not working?”
Dave straightened up. “I get up around 6am and eat breakfast. I watch the morning news. I clean the house or do some work in the yard. I’ve been working on my car. Then I eat lunch and watch the news. I exercise in the basement. I have some weights and a treadmill down there. Sometimes I take a nap in the afternoon. I like to read so I usually read some in the afternoon. In the summer, I work in the garden, then I make dinner and watch television.”
“What kinds of books do you like to read?” Jenna asked.
“Murder mysteries and thrillers.”
Jenna’s breath caught in her throat.
“Do you have a favorite author?” Finch asked.
Dave listed a few popular writers.
Finch asked the man if he’d read a particular author hoping to chat a little about that writer in order to put Dave at ease, but he wasn’t familiar with the name.
“Maybe I’ll try one of his books sometime.”
“Do you know the other people who live on this street?” Chief Martin asked.
“Not many. I know Dave Leeds because he was on the news about the bomb in his mailbox. I know some people from seeing them around.”
“Do you talk with your neighbors when you run into them.” Chief Martin held his stubby little pencil over his notebook.
Dave shook his head. “I don’t like to talk to people I don’t know.”
Angie asked, “Do you have family in the area?”
“This was my parent’s house. They’re dead now. I inherited the house,” Dave said. “I don’t have anyone else.”
Angie was beginning to feel sorry for Dave for his seemingly solitary existence when a white cat came into the room and jumped onto the man’s lap. “What’s your cat’s name?”
“Snowball.” Dave ran his hand over the cat’s smooth fur.
“We have cats.” With a smile, Angie told Dave about the family’s two cats and he listened intently.
“Cats have strong personalities,” the man said. “They’re very smart.”
Chief Martin guided the conversation back to the topic of the bombs. “Did you see anyone different on the street the day Mr. Leeds received the package?”
Dave blinked a few times considering the question. “You mean someone who doesn’t live on the street?”
“That’s right,” the chief said. “Did you see anyone walking by that you didn’t recognize? Did you notice a delivery person you’ve never seen before? Did someone drive around looking at the neighborhood?”
“I don’t really remember the day. I’m not sure if I noticed anyone new.” Snowball had his eyes closed and was purring loudly, and Dave gave the cat a sweet look. “What a minute. Maybe I did see someone that day.”
Chief Martin, Angie, Jenna, and Finch held their breaths for a moment.
“Did you?” the chief tried to encourage Dave.
“I was outside in the backyard with Snowball. I take him out in the garden. He stays in the yard. I was weeding the garden and I noticed Snowball wasn’t in back with me. I don’t like him to be out of my sight in case a dog comes by.” Dave rubbed at his forehead. “I went around to the front and Snowball was sitting in the driveway looking across the street. A car was parked in front of Dennis Leeds’s house and a man got out. I scooped up the cat and we went back to the gardens.”
“What did the man look like?” Mr. Finch asked.
“He had on a hat and sunglasses. He was wearing dark pants. They could have been dark jeans. He was wearing a white shirt ... a golf kind of shirt. He wasn’t tall, he was like regular height. Not fat.”
“How old was he?” Jenna questioned.
“My age, maybe? Thirties? I’m not sure. I only saw him for a few seconds.”
“What did he do when he got out of the car?” the chief asked.
“I don’t know. I went to the backyard.” Dave gave a shrug.
“Was he carrying anything?”
“I didn’t see. I didn’t pay attention. He got out of the car as I was turning away from him.”
“Okay. This is good information,” Chief Martin praised the man. “Can you recall the time? What time was it when you saw him?”
“I work in the garden after lunch, but it’s been hot out lately so I’ve been reading after I eat. So I guess it might have been around 2pm or so?”
“What kind of a car was it?” Angie leaned forward.
When Dave told them the color, make, and model, Angie’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know the year. It was maybe two or three years old.”
“How do you know what
kind of a car it was?” Jenna asked.
“I like cars.”
“Did you notice any of the license plate numbers?”
Dave shook his head. “I notice cars, not license plates.”
“Do you think the man in the car was a delivery person?” Chief Martin asked.
“Who knows?”
“A couple of officers have been here to talk to you,” the chief pointed out. “You didn’t mention the man or the car when they were here.”
Dave narrowed his eyes and looked down at Snowball. “I didn’t remember this when they were here.”
“You just remembered today?” Angie leaned her head to the side.
Dave looked up. “The officers were rude.”
“Were they?” Chief Martin’s eyes hardened.
“They acted like I was dumb.” Dave bit his lower lip.
“I’m sorry about that. I’ll speak to them.”
Angie brought up something they’d asked earlier in the interview. “Did you say you’ve been injured? Is that why you haven’t been working?”
Dave looked her right in the eye. “I wasn’t injured. The boss told me I had to take a few weeks off.”
“Not enough work?” she asked.
Dave turned his head and looked out the window. “Me and another guy got into an argument.”
“Did the other guy have to take time off, too?”
“No. He said it was my fault.” Dave’s jaw muscles tightened.
“Did you get into a physical fight?” Angie asked.
Dave moved around in his seat. “A little.”
“What was the fight about?”
“I don’t remember.”
What’s the name of the painting company you’re going back to work for?” Angie asked.
“Blue Sky Painting.” Dave looked up. “Do you want to see the gardens?”
Mr. Finch was the one who replied with a kind smile, understanding that Dave probably didn’t have anyone to show his work to. “We’d love to.”
With Snowball next to him, Dave led the small group down the hall and into the kitchen to the back door and into the yard.
The four people stepped outside and stood still, amazed at what they saw. Raised bed gardens full of vegetables and flowers covered the yard making it look like a garden store or a professionally-tended landscape. Tomatoes, peppers, carrots, lettuce, beans, and pumpkins grew in some of the beds and dahlias, impatiens, gladiolus, allium, asters, bee balm, black-eyed Susans, and tall sunflowers filled the other beds and some clay pots.
