Sweet Obsession

by J A Whiting

  Everett sighed. “I understand. Every part of this episode is so far out of our realm that it can be very jolting.”

  “I’m sorry some of the questions can be difficult,” Angie apologized. “But they have to be asked.”

  After a few more minutes of conversation, the sisters thanked Everett for his help and cooperation and rose to leave. The man walked them to the door and when he opened it, Jenna noticed the rude painter across the street walking towards his truck. When he spotted them standing on the Shields’ porch, the man gave them a look of disgust and got into his vehicle.

  Jenna felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside. She gestured across the street. “We parked in front of that house when we got here. That painter was so rude to us.”

  Everett nodded. “He was rude to Agnes, too. He yelled at her one day over something ridiculous. Agnes told him where to go. She isn’t someone who takes anyone’s guff.”

  Jenna was fuming, remembering the painter’s rudeness. “I should take a lesson from Agnes and tell that guy where to go.”

  14

  Lincoln Reynolds was forty-nine-years-old with the body shape of a marathon runner. With brown-eyes and light brown hair cut close to his head, he gave off a sense of intensity as if he was never quite able to relax. The shadow of beard stubble showed over his cheeks and chin. He had either started growing a beard or he hadn’t bothered to shave for a few days.

  The man’s wife, Roberta, and his seventeen-year-old daughter, Sally, were the ones injured in the fireplace bomb several days ago.

  Chief Martin, Angie, and Jenna sat in the sunroom off the kitchen. Lincoln avoided the family room where the bomb had gone off and was having it repaired and renovated.

  “How are they doing?” Chief Martin asked the man about his family.

  “They’re getting better. My wife suffered a concussion, some deep cuts that required stitches, a couple of broken ribs, and damage to her ear drums. The doctors are hoping the hearing loss will reverse itself over time. Our daughter is also suffering from hearing loss, she had to have surgery to her left eye due to flying glass, and she broke her left arm and leg from being thrown across the room from the blast.” Lincoln seemed to deflate while talking about the injuries. “Things can change in a second, can’t they?”

  The chief nodded empathetically. From his work in law enforcement, he’d seen plenty to back-up the man’s comment about how things could change in seconds. Not long ago, Chief Martin almost lost his life from being attacked with a syringe full of an opioid.

  “We’re assisting the Solana Village Police Department in investigating the package bombs,” the chief said, “along with other federal agencies. You’ll most likely be contacted to speak with several officers and detectives from those departments, if you haven’t already. I apologize in advance if our questions overlap. I hope you’ll bear with us.”

  “That’s fine. I want to do what I can to help.” Lincoln’s face was lined with worry and his eyes were bloodshot from sleepless nights since the accident.

  “Can you tell us where you were when the accident happened?” The chief took out his notebook. No matter how many times he was teased by the Roselands, he rejected their suggestions to use a tablet or a laptop to write his notes preferring the small, paper notebook and pen. “It helps me remember things better if I write them out.”

  “I was at work. I’m a senior vice president of information tech. I’m with a large firm over in Peabody.”

  “What about Roberta? Does she work?” the chief inquired.

  “She’s an optometrist. She owns her own practice.”

  “Your daughter, Sally, was still on summer break from school?”

  “Sally will be starting her senior year of high school next week.” Lincoln’s face dropped suddenly realizing Sally might need to postpone her return to school for a few weeks. “When she’s able,” he corrected himself.

  “Did anything unusual happen prior to the incident?” Chief Martin had a kind expression on his face.

  “Unusual?” Lincoln was confused.

  “Maybe an argument with someone? Maybe your daughter had a fight with a friend or a boyfriend? Did your wife tell you about anything unpleasant that happened at work with a patient or a colleague?”

  Lincoln rubbed at his face. “Nothing like that. Sally doesn’t have a boyfriend. She’s tight with her friends. Nothing upsetting was going on. Roberta gets along well with her staff and clients. She didn’t tell us anything was wrong. Everything seemed normal.”

  “Did anyone in the family get into a fender bender recently?” Angie asked.

  Lincoln shook his head. “Aren’t these bombs being placed at random? I’ve read the news, and as yet, no links have been found between the victims. Is that right?”

  “That’s correct,” Chief Martin told him. “But it doesn’t mean that links don’t exist. There may be connections that haven’t been uncovered yet.”

  “The bomb was placed in a hollowed out log in your wood pile,” Jenna pointed out. “Did you hire someone to cut and stack the firewood?”

  “We ordered firewood for the upcoming fall season,” Lincoln said. “We ordered from the same place we always do. They deliver and stack the wood. We’ve dealt with them for years.”

  Chief Martin asked for the name of the business. “Although it’s the same business you’ve used for years, there may be new employees working for them.”

  “What about landscapers?” Angie brought up the question to find out who else had access to the woodpile. “Do you employ a lawn service to cut the grass?”

  “Yes, and again, we’ve used them for years. They aren’t new to us.” Lincoln told the chief the name of the landscaping company.

  “Does anyone else enter your yard for any reason?” Jenna questioned.

  “The water guy comes to read the meter once in a while. The oil company comes when the oil for our burner is low. They only need to access the side yard for those things. No one needs to enter the backyard.”

  “Has anyone trespassed? Have you caught anyone lurking nearby? Does a car sometimes drive by with a driver who seems to look around?”

  Lincoln looked baffled by the questions. “I’m at work most of the time. After work, I go to the gym or go for a run. When I get home, I work a little more or we watch a movie after dinner. Sometimes we sit by the fire pit out back. I’m not peering out the windows watching for intruders. We’re relaxing after a long day.”

  “Have your neighbors noticed anyone hanging around with no reason? Have any of the neighbors had a run-in with anyone recently?” Angie asked.

  “I haven’t heard of such things. We’re all professionals, we’re all busy. We have an online neighborhood communication system though. No one has reported anything. There’s been nothing sent out to notify us of anything concerning.”

  “Who brought in the firewood that was in the family room?” Chief Martin asked.

  “I think Sally went out and filled the bucket. It was a cooler day than it had been and she wanted a fire going while they watched a movie. My wife took the afternoon off that day to spend with our daughter. This summer has flown by. Sally was going back to school soon. They wanted to have the afternoon together.” Lincoln sighed and looked out to the yard full of flowers and trees. “I should have stayed home that day.” He whispered and brushed at his eyes.

  “There wasn’t anything you could have done,” Chief Martin reassured the man. “You wouldn’t have been able to prevent what happened.”

  Lincoln turned to the chief. “Thank you for your kind words. I appreciate it. But, really? The whole thing makes me feel helpless. There was no way I could protect my family from this. Isn’t that awful? Are we all at the mercy of madmen?”

  There was no answer to that so everyone sat in silence for a few moments until the chief spoke. “We take precautions to keep ourselves safe. We lock the doors. We don’t walk alone at night or in deserted locations. We keep our phones handy. But yes, the hand of fa
te is fickle and can strike out when we least expect it. We can only do the best we can.”

  The words caused a cold shudder to run through Angie and she subconsciously put her hand over her abdomen to protect her unborn daughter.

  “Are there any clues as to who is doing this?” Lincoln asked.

  “The investigation is proceeding as expected. There are many people to talk with and many things to follow up on. We have an excellent team in place, but there are details we’re not able to share with the public.”

  Lincoln nodded and then shared an observation. “When something like this happens, people can behave oddly. Some of our friends haven’t called to ask about Roberta and Sally. Some people at work seem to be avoiding me. A few colleagues ask about my wife and daughter, but they’re stiff and uncomfortable and always seem like they want to rush away. It’s almost as though we’re tainted now, like there’s some primal instinct to keep away from someone who might pass their bad luck on to others.”

  “When tragedy strikes, some people don’t know how to behave,” Angie said knowing from the experience of her mother’s sudden death how difficult it could be for some people to deal with tragic or sad events. “They don’t know what to say, so they say nothing. They don’t want you to feel badly so they say as little as possible and then change the subject. I don’t think they’re being uncaring, it’s just that they don’t know what to say or do so they avoid the whole thing.”

  “That’s probably true,” Lincoln said. “Some of our friends have been terrific, sending over meals, sending flowers to the hospital, visiting Roberta and Sally, calling me to talk. There are others that, well, I thought I could count on them, but I’ve learned otherwise.”

  “Focus on the ones who are supportive,” Jenna said with a nod. “It sounds like you have some very good people around you.”

  “You’re right. I have too much hurt to deal with right now to allow any more hurt into my life.” A few tears gathered at the corners of Lincoln’s eyes, but he brushed them away and cleared his throat. “I’m grateful that my family survived and will be okay. Please find this person and lock him up. Then no one else will have to endure what my family and our little town is going through.”

  15

  A clear blue sky stretched overhead as the Roseland sisters rode their boogie boards on the waves. Josh, Tom, Rufus, and Jack stood on paddleboards sliding over the ocean further out from shore.

  Mr. Finch, wearing his Hawaiian print swim trunks and matching shirt, sat on a beach chair next to Betty. Circe rested on the man’s lap and Euclid squished in next to Finch on the chair. Euclid and Circe didn’t care to get their paws wet so they avoided the water unless they were aboard Josh’s sailboat, but the two felines enjoyed digging in the sand and watching the family members and friends frolicking in the sea.

  The sun was lower in the sky and soft violet and pink colors painted streaks below the clouds. The family considered the late afternoon and early evening the best time of day to come down to the beach. The air was still warm and the crowds had thinned out as people headed back to their homes, hotel rooms, and rented houses to clean up and get ready for dinner.

  Angie and Jenna emerged from the waves laughing.

  “We got dunked,” Jenna explained to Finch and Betty. “A wave flipped us off the boards.”

  Betty looked concerned. “Should you be riding the waves? Carrying the babies?”

  Angie picked up her towel from the blanket spread over the sand. “Our doctors gave us the all clear. We’re just at three months. Later on in the pregnancies, we’ll need to stick with yoga and light jogging, but for now, we’re allowed to do water sports.”

  “Later on in the pregnancies,” Jenna noted, “it will be winter and we won’t be swimming anyway.”

  Chief Martin’s wife, Lucille, lay on a blanket warming herself in the sun. “When I had my kids, my doctor discouraged exercise. Now we know that isn’t healthy or helpful to delivery. As long as the exercise isn’t too strenuous or could risk a fall, then I say go at it. Your muscles and cardiovascular system will be in better shape.”

  “We’re both very careful,” Jenna said. “We wouldn’t go in the ocean if the waves were big.”

  Chief Martin took a shovel they’d brought to the beach and started digging a hole for the logs. Their dinner of corn on the cob, burgers, and veggie burgers would be grilled on the beach and served with potato salad, green salad, and a bean salad from the cooler. Another cooler was full of drinks and there would be cut-up fruit, a variety of cookies, and marshmallows to toast for dessert.

  Dripping wet, the men carried their boards out of the ocean and made their way up the sand to help the chief with the grilling and set-up. A collapsible table was stowed in Ellie’s van and Tom went to get it so the food and drinks could be served from it.

  “I won the paddleboard race.” Rufus beamed with pride. “It’s the first time I beat Josh.”

  “He let you win,” Jack teased.

  “No, he didn’t.” Rufus was indignant, but checked with Josh. “Did you?”

  With a laugh, Josh shook his head. “I should say I let you win so everyone will think I’m still the champ of the races, but you beat me fair and square.”

  “There should be a prize,” Rufus said.

  Courtney and Ellie came racing out of the surf and when they reached the blankets, Courtney put her arms around Rufus and planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “That’s your real prize.” Finch winked. “But you’ve also won the admiration of your peers and that is all the prize you need.”

  “Well said, Mr. Finch.” Rufus opened the cooler and set drinks on the table Tom had just unfolded.

  After Ellie and Courtney had dried off and slipped on long t-shirts, they set out plates and glasses along with salad dressings and napkins.

  “I’m starving,” Ellie announced. “That food sure smells good.”

  Euclid and Circe trilled with their little noses up in the air taking in the smell of the grilling meat and veggies.

  “It will be ready in a few minutes,” Tom alerted them.

  Lucille, Betty, Jenna, and Angie removed the salads from the coolers, lit two jar candles, and poured drinks for everyone while five men stood around the grilling pit watching the food cook.

  Lucille chuckled. “Funny how men huddle around an outside grill together like they’re cavemen.”

  “Evolution takes time,” Courtney smiled. “They’re still subconsciously connected to their early ancestors’ behaviors.”

  “It’s fine with me,” Ellie said, “this way I don’t have to cook tonight.”

  Angie sat down next to Mr. Finch’s chair. “Have you been drawing lately?”

  Finch twirled his cane in the soft, white sand. “I have. It’s a pleasant way to spend some time.”

  “When we were all in the kitchen the other evening and you showed us some of the sketches, one of them made me feel funny.”

  Finch pushed his eyeglasses up his nose and gave Angie a look. “Funny how, Miss Angie?”

  “Something about it made me feel anxious, nervous, almost panicky.”

  “Which picture made you feel that way?”

  Angie described it. “All the drawings have the same theme though and they all gave me an odd sensation.”

  Finch stroked his mustache. “I’ve been almost obsessed with creating those pictures of people outside in their yards enjoying themselves. They seem innocent initially, but there’s something lurking underneath that causes me to feel unsettled.”

  Josh called out. “Dinner is served.”

  Finch leaned towards Angie and lowered his voice. “Shall we go through those drawings together some evening? Put our heads together and figure out why the pictures bother us?”

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Angie stood and brushed the sand from her butt. “Do you think this has something to do with the bomb case we’re working on?”

  “I have a strong feeling it does, Miss Angie.”
r />   After the meal was eaten and dessert was served and the sun had disappeared over the horizon, the cats, Angie, Jenna, Courtney, Mr. Finch, and Chief Martin sat in the beach chairs in a little circle while the others made mixed drinks and stood with marshmallows on sticks held over the fire. Tom and Josh had set the tiki torches around the gathering spot and the warm, yellow glow lit up their little part of the beach.

  “What did you think about the interview with Lincoln Reynolds?” the chief asked.

  Angie said, “At first, I considered him a suspect, but after talking with him, I’m convinced he had nothing to do with it.”

  “I felt the same way,” Jenna nodded and took a sip of from her glass of seltzer. “He seemed sincere in his feelings for his family and how the incident has upset him so much.”

  “I agree.” Chief Martin bit into a cookie. “What about the painter, Dave Hanes, the man who lives across from Dennis Leeds, the man who spotted the bomb package in his mailbox? The guy is a loner, won’t interact with the neighbors, was given a few weeks off from his job for fighting with a co-worker. I wonder if he bears some grudges and has allowed them to fester.”

  “The longer we talked to Dave, the more I liked the guy.” Jenna zipped up her sweatshirt to ward off a chill. “But when we learned Dave had fought with someone at work, it worried me.”

  Angie said, “I had the idea Dave might be lying about seeing the delivery man and the car near Dennis Leeds’s mailbox. Most of that information was in the news. He added the part about the car, but he could have made that up to seem important.”

  “The other thing I recall,” the chief said, “was Dennis Leeds told us he saw Dave Hanes watching from his driveway when Dennis went to his mailbox, but Dave told us he wasn’t outside at the time. One of them is mistaken.”

  “I forgot about that,” Courtney told them. “What kind of detective consultant am I?”

  “We all forget little details,” Chief Martin said. “That’s why I keep my notebook with me all the time. It helps to jog my memory.”