Bouncer (12 page)

“That’s a valid point. One side of the house borders the empty field, and the other has a good thirty feet before the side fence begins at the Crawford’s’.”

Lea punched their findings into the F & H before summarizing, “So, it’s obvious this garden is doted on and serviced often, perhaps even yesterday. That means someone likely
was
here when Philemon Jenkins found the body. And,” stated Lea, “remember how Philemon insisted a child played ball with him?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the red rubber ball. “This was under some bushes along the outer fence in the Crawford’s yard.”

Thayne returned to her side and removed the ball from her thin hand. His face became shadowed, and he rubbed his forehead before handing back the ball. “Philemon was telling the truth. Let’s check out the backyard, then. The child has to be there.”

Two large Mexican pots of incredible circumference held enormous cycads near the entryway. Thayne knocked loudly upon the door, which echoed hollowly. Not a peep from the huge house.

“Just what I expected,” reflected Nick.

Officer Phelps and Fox followed his determined figure around the side of the house. The driveway curved abruptly, revealing a two-car garage angled discreetly along the side of the house. A narrow pathway, once again edged in red brick, led to a low gate separating the backyard from the front. A huge silver padlock hung from the black wrought iron gate. Nick wasted no time.

“Randy, I need you to head around the other side of the house and see if there’s another route into the backyard without us having to bust this lock.”

Randy returned in less than two minutes. “No. The other side is padlocked as well. I guess this means I’ve got to fetch my kit.” He grinned and trotted down the driveway.

Lea once again surveyed the yard as they waited, noting the well-trimmed eucalyptuses, which remain an on-going challenge since the huge trees are known to be rapid growers and constantly shed limbs and bark. Nothing crowded the house or the high, white fence. The fact somehow bothered her.

“I don’t like this house,” stated Thayne, suddenly lifting his head and sniffing. Once again, the putrid smell of sewage assaulted his nose.

“I know,” said Lea, “how could so beautiful a place seem so . . .”

“Vile?” Nick finished for her.

“Indeed.” She stood a long while in thought, rubbing her aching hip absently.

“A penny for your thoughts?” he asked finally.

“I visited a prison once with my father when he had to interview an inmate. They had trees centered inside the prison yard and far removed from any structures. Somehow, this house and yard reminds me of that prison with its steep slant of roof and low hedges making the wall inaccessible. And nothing,
nothing
grows close this house except for the rose bushes armed with
thorns
.” The lift of the wind brought the awful smell of the sewer back again, and she scrunched up her unattractive face.

Randy arrived at a dead run. Using heavy-duty metal cutters he hacked through the expensive padlock, and the now-useless pieces fell to the ground with a clang. The passageway down the south side of the house was narrow and the high wall felt too close. Between the house and this fence, only a mere four feet separated the prison-like wall from the dusty red brick of the colonial house. The stench gradually increased until Nick finally halted and grabbed his nose, his stomach churning.

The passage way widened out to open into a huge back yard and while the smell remained overwhelming, the backyard revealed a child’s paradise with a massive wooden play set equipped with slides, swing, and sandbox. A small hut had been built into the side of the swing set and opened onto an enormous sandbox, big enough for any school playground. Two large eucalyptus trees shaded the massive garden, but once again, were centered directly away from the house and surrounding fence.

Lea followed her nose with Nick and Officer Phelps reluctantly following. A long distance away from the play set and near the back fence bordering the length of the vacant field, a huge pile of leaves lay undisturbed except for copious amount of dung drying in the shade. This area had clearly been used as an outdoor toilet, but by whom or what?

Chapter 11

Saturday Afternoon

“Jeez,” said Randy Phelps holding his nose and trying not to look disgusted. “You would think that a mansion like this could afford indoor plumbing.”

“Yes, you would,” agreed Nick softly. He backed away from the offensive pile and moved toward the well-built playground.

“No money has been spared here,” he observed.

He stooped to allow the small doorframe to accommodate his height and entered the child-sized hut. Lea didn’t follow, leaving Officer Phelps to examine the play area. She moved towards a large, round stake situated a distance away from the play set. Lea squatted and studied it. A rusty metal loop had been welded onto the top of the stake and the entire area around the driven wood, some ten feet in circumference, was trampled down.

No grass grew within the circular limits as if some animal had been tied to the stake and had run countless circles around it. The dung pile distantly bordered the beaten area, and nearby, a discarded ceramic water bowl, the kind used for a dog, sat empty, clumps of dirt clinging to its side. What kind of animal had paced impatiently here; perhaps a tame pig, or even a chimp or baboon? The latter would explain the humanlike feces.

“Officer Phelps,” called Lea rising. “Would you take a photo of this stake, the playground, and the dung pile? Also collect a sample of the feces. While a large dog makes sense, I suspect a more exotic type of animal was chained here; perhaps something rare or endangered.”

Randy grimaced. One thing remained certain about being the junior officer on the squad; you were always assigned the most disgusting jobs. He headed sourly to his baking squad car for some plastic bags. Lea moved to the hut, and unlike Nick, did not have to stoop to survey the inside. The simple square structure had a plank floor upon which rested a brimming wooden box piled high with rusty play cars and dump trucks. Tiny damaged miniature cars spread across the rough flooring as if the child had suddenly been jerked away in the midst of his game. Very few plants lined the back wall. In fact, except for an abundance of some reddish-orange bamboo cut low, the dichondra grass ran right up to the back fence.

“The entire plot must cover at least an acre,” stated Lea. “I wonder if all the houses on the block have such huge yards? What’s on the other side of this back wall?”

Nick leaned out of the hut and shaded his eyes against the sun. “Just the fields of the Agrit-Empire. I believe someone mentioned lettuce, potato, and spinach plots. Would you and Officer Phelps like to check out the other side?”

“I would,” said Lea. “Ashley Peebles was supposedly killed by two farm workers, isn’t that correct?”

“It is, indeed,” returned Nick.

“If this is the furthermost edge of the suburbs with nothing in between except for vacant land and the fields where farm workers toil, who knows what sort of characters may have traipsed over to the cul-de-sac. The fence around the vacant lot isn’t very high, at least compared to this: perhaps three feet max. Any child could scale over it. Shall we enter the house?”

Randy had returned and rapidly shot several photos of the huge yard before screwing up his face as he picked up some of the dung. Nick stifled a grin. The trio headed to the back door.

Nick rapped. “Is anyone home? We’re the Monroe City Police Department. Please open up. We have a search warrant for the facilities.”

Though they waited several minutes before heading around the huge house again and lifting the heavy brass knocker of the front door, he rapped several times before turning to Randy Phelps, “I believe that covers our civic duty to knock. The keypad is located on the left wall of the foyer. You’ll only have around twenty seconds until all hell breaks loose. It’s all yours, Randy. Have fun.”

It took him less than thirty seconds to pry open the door. Lea gasped and gazed into the mischievous eyes of the rookie.

“If you’re free sometime, Randy, I’d like you to come and check the locks on my house. What you just did makes me extremely nervous.”

Randy punched in the code before leading them into the lovely portico. Beautifully tiled in the softest cream, it opened into an elegant foyer. A towering staircase fronted them, separating an expansive library on one side and a formal living room on the other. Nick moved directly into the living room, shouting out their identity once again.

Randy whistled appreciatively at the impressive design. The sunken room eventually opened into a Chinese-partitioned formal dining room with an octagonal trace ceiling. Sprawling, hand-knotted wool and silk rugs were strewn across the floor as if they cost no more than a K-Mart blue-light special. The dark and expensive built-in wood was polished to a dull luster. Nick pointed to some of the artwork.

“There’s a bunch of Gothic-American stuff. That painting alone is probably worth a police officer’s entire month’s salary, and the furniture is all heavy mahogany. This setup must have cost a mint.”

An incredibly beautiful wall unit with recessed lighting illuminating adjustable glass cells had been filled with tiny brass and glass figurines. A huge mahogany table decorated with a creamy, knotted table covering dominated the dining room, and upon it sat a vase bursting with roses from the garden. Lea moved close and sniffed. They’d been cut recently.

The living room delighted with a mass of two-toned leather couches, large Persian rugs, and bronze light fixtures. The massive brick fireplace had been laid with logs, though the season was still too hot for such luxuries. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in ample light and revealed the large backyard.

The trio wandered into the stainless steel kitchen, noting the granite countertops and gigantic stainless steel refrigerator, the dual oven, and large dishwasher; all were spotless and incredibly expensive, but barely made a dent in the kitchen’s spaciousness.

“No one’s used this kitchen for a while,” said Lea.

“Maybe. But look at that.”

Thayne pointed to a small pile of dirt near the pantry.

Lea knelt down painfully. “Possible the maid tracked in some dirt on her shoes. She’d get fired in Trish Fisher’s house for this kind of negligence. Officer Phelps, bag some of the soil please.”

That proved the only blemish upon the entire house, yet the elegant structure just didn’t feel right. The long countertops were too vacant, the appliances too new. The center island, while containing a food processor, blender, and an incredible array of kitchen knives, had been designed for looks, not convenience. Nick and Lea visited the library with its full bookshelves surrounded by comfortable leather couches and reading chairs. Dainty Victorian lights strategically illuminated the room, but once again, this room appeared unused, the impressive collection unread.

Nick made his way upstairs and observed the spacious rooms. The masculine master bedroom on the right came equipped with its own fireplace and spacious en-suite bathroom. The vaulted ceilings towered twelve feet high, and the room was supplied with a luxurious gray-tiled bathing area, which included a separate tub and shower as well as a Jacuzzi.

The next two rooms were also equipped with en-suite bathrooms, and while lighter in color, had obviously been decorated by the same hand. Pale silk flowers broke up the monotony of the house’s white walls, and fresh yellow throw pillows livened up the beige bedspreads.

Officer Phelps had trotted up the stairs and now peeked into the second of the two guest bedrooms.

“What are your perceptions about this home, Officer?” asked Nick, once again avoiding Lea’s gaze.

“I don’t like it,” said Randy shortly. “Not only does it stink outside but this house seems sterile; like some expensive hotel nobody but the snooty can afford. It may be nicely decorated with all these high ceilings and expensive furniture and stuff, but it’s the kind of house you’d be afraid to sit down on the couch and have a coke or something because you might spill it. It’s just like my grandma’s house—she’s got plastic on the couches and only removes it on Sundays when we come to dinner. Me, I like houses where you can go put your feet on the furniture and spill some popcorn on the floor knowing your dog will clean it up.”

Nick smiled. “My perceptions exactly. Seems like there’s only a couple more rooms.”

The next room served as the office. It housed a miniature library full of engineering and bio-tech books, an elaborate computer station including an adding machine and fax and what appeared to be a drafting table. Still, the well-equipped desk seemed little utilized.

The final room proved a different story altogether. Nick stopped short, his heart in his throat. Bathed in light with pale blue walls, its creamy curtains were dotted with rising red, blue, and yellow balloons. A bright wallpaper border hugged the ceiling, and made the chamber appear merry and cheerful. On one side, an enormous crib was situated below an enormous hot air balloon headed for a distant snow-capped mountain. A low table, with a caddy crammed full of crayons and markers centered on it red surface, was scratched and marked with mindless doodles. Lea flung startled eyes at Nick as he let out his breath slowly. Randy opened the empty closet. Like the other three bedrooms, it held only the memory of occupation. Lea covertly took out her own small camera and snapped a shot.

A sharp pain just behind his Nick’s eyes momentarily blinded him. This was not the right place.

Lea crossed her arms and thought hard. “I would say that this house is kept in waiting, unused until the owner decides to visit.”

“Makes sense,” said Nick awkwardly. “That would explain the sterile feel. They probably employ a maid and gardener to keep the place in readiness.”

“Think this house could have a basement?” asked Lea abruptly.

“Maybe,” said Officer Phelps, “but most houses in this region don’t bother. It’s not like we get tornadoes or anything, and from the size of this place, they’re sure not lacking for space.”

“I know,” said Lea, “but it would be interesting to see if we could find a cellar where the owners store their personal belongings.”

The trio spent the next twenty minutes searching the downstairs, but every door they opened led either into a pantry, closet, or ample storage space, but little in regards to personal items.

“There’s just something about this place that strikes me all wrong, Fox. If little Katie’s correct and there was a big party here last week, there must have been some mighty fine cleanup. I suggest we let Randy and the team loose to scour this place with a fine-toothed comb. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“Perhaps,” said Lea. “Let’s check out Steven’s report and find out what Chief Rollins was so merry about.”