“What? Oh…” Constance replied, glancing down at the running shoes that were laced onto her feet. Looking back up, she cocked her head to the side. “No offense, Skip, but you seem to have an odd preoccupation with my footwear.”
“I just notice things is all,” he told her with a shrug. He pulled out a key ring, then clucking his tongue, he waved it toward her like a pointer. “For instance, the fact that you also have a goose egg on the back of your head, probably from hitting it against the desk in your room last night when you were plugging in your laptop computer to the Internet. Plus you’re expecting a call from someone and it’s starting to bother you that he hasn’t called yet.”
She cocked an eyebrow and stared at him.
He answered the unspoken question, continuing to gesture with the keys. “You keep reaching up to touch a spot on the back of your head and then you wince. You probably don’t even realize you’re doing it. You’re a federal cop on a case, so I’m just about positive you’re dragging a laptop computer around. Greenleaf Motel doesn’t do Wi-Fi because Artie’s too cheap to buy the equipment, and the jack for the wired connection is under the desks in the rooms. Hell, the only reason he has wired connections is because his son’s an electronics guy and he did it for free with some surplus from other jobs. So if I had to guess I’d say you came up too soon and bang, there you go. Goose egg.”
He pointed toward her right coat pocket and continued. “As far as the call goes, you checked your cell phone four times on the way over here and at least twice while I was talking to Deputy Slozar. Either you have a fascination with clocks, or your waiting for a call, or maybe a text.”
“Okay. So how do you know it’s a he I’m waiting for?”
“Educated guess. I’ve told you, this isn’t my first rodeo. Every one of your predecessors called their predecessor about this case. And every one of ‘em was all antsy waitin’ for a call back. Last agent on this was Drew, and he’s a ‘he,’ best I could figure. My guess is that’s who you’re waitin’ on to call. Either that or a boyfriend. Maybe husband, but I doubt it because you don’t have a ring or show any signs of having worn one. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe you go the other way or somethin’, which is none of my business.”
“If I did, I have a feeling you probably would have already figured it out,” Constance said.
“Yeah, probably,” he returned.
She sighed. “Uncanny. That’s all I have to say.”
“Nope. I just pay attention is all.”
“Okay. Then I guess it would be uncanny if you could tell me what I ate for dinner last night,” she joked.
“Cobb salad with ranch dressing. In your room at the motel.”
She shot him an alarmed, wide-eyed stare and took a visible step back, tensing her posture.
“Keep it holstered, Constance,” the sheriff half snorted. “I’m not spying on you. Stella told me your to-go order this morning when I stopped in to get the thermos filled.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because you’re a stranger in town and she’s a damn gossip that won’t shut up to save her life, that’s why,” he explained.
“Ahh,” she nodded. “After her call to the retirement home yesterday I should have guessed that.”
“Yeah, you should’ve, but I wasn’t going to say it.”
She ignored the gibe. “Well, at least now I know you aren’t just a dirty old man with a shoe fetish.”
“Me, no, but since you brought it up, Ed Ruble over at the hardware store on Main? Now he has himself a pretty serious thing for ladies’ shoes.”
Constance shook her head and raised an eyebrow. “Stella again?”
“Nope. Figured that one out on my own. Easy enough to do.”
“I’m not sure I even want to know how.”
“Like I said, I notice things. It’s my job to.”
“It’s still uncanny.”
“Whatever. Anyhow, as far as Ed goes, honestly he’s harmless. But while you’re in town you might want to avoid him if that sorta thing makes you uncomfortable.”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll have any need for a trip to the hardware store, but it’s okay. I’ve got some experience with men who have shoe fetishes, so nothing to worry about.”
“Well I guess we’re even then.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not sure I want to know about how you’ve got experience with that,” he replied.
Without further comment, Carmichael turned and shoved a key into the lock. After giving it a twist, he depressed the latch beneath the deadbolt and pushed the now unsecured door inward. Stepping back, he gestured toward the opening. “Ladies first.”
Constance looked past him and trained her eyes on the gaping maw that was pretending to be a doorway. The bizarre conversation had momentarily taken her mind off the chill in her spine, but the sensation had never actually left. Now her thoughts returned to it, and she could feel the gooseflesh rippling at the base of her neck. Ben had told her to trust her gut, but she wasn’t so sure this was her gut talking. Of course, she also couldn’t say that it wasn’t. All she knew for certain was that she was operating on even less sleep now than she had been before, so exhaustion could still be playing a role.
At least this time she wasn’t letting it spook her-well, not completely, anyway.
She nodded then stepped across the threshold and into the dark front room. Outside it was overcast, just as it had been the day before, but at least the sun was climbing behind the clouds instead of falling below the horizon. Even so, only a dim, gray light spilled in, and it brought an eerie illumination to the interior.
Sheriff Carmichael followed her through and left the door hanging wide open so that they could see. He pulled the five-cell flashlight from beneath his armpit and switched it on. The yellow-white beam formed a bright pool on the floor, casting an ever-softening glow out from the center as he twisted the lens to adjust it wider.
“A few years back there was talk of tearin’ this old place down,” he offered. “Sorta been wishin’ they had ever since.”
“I assume it has been vacant for a good while?” Constance asked, glancing around at the empty walls and scuffed hardwood floor.
“Coming up on about seven years, give or take,” he replied. “Like I said, it has been off and on. It was empty back in seventy-five, as you already know, and what happened didn’t exactly help its value. Someone did finally buy it around seventy-seven for next to nothin’, or so I heard. I was in KC by then. They fixed it up a bit.” He shone the light along the floor, then through an arched doorway and toward the back of the house. “Re-did the kitchen, tore off the old back porch. Normal stuff.” He played the beam around a bit so she could get the lay of the floor plan. “Those folks lived here awhile, then moved. Don’t know why. After that it changed hands a couple more times. Last owner was actually living here when the first body showed up seven years ago. Well, I guess in a couple of days it’ll be eight years…”
She turned toward the sheriff. “That wasn’t in the file. I assume that owner was investigated?”
“Much as need be,” he replied. “Ida Smith. She was eighty-nine, and when she found the…well…what she found… Anyway, it didn’t do her heart much good, as you can imagine. She never was the same after that. Kinda went downhill fast, then she passed away about eight months later. Place has been empty ever since.”
“Well, that definitely rules her out.”
“Yeah, I’d say so.”
“Who owns it now?”
“Hulis, pretty much. Ida didn’t have any family left to speak of. Town took it over. Tried to sell it, but after the second body showed up, there wasn’t much interest, as you can guess. So, they just boarded it up.”
“Why haven’t they just torn it down?”
He snorted. “Beats the hell outta me. But I’ve got nothin’ to say about it. That’s all the town council.”
“Well, it actually looks like it’s in decent shape for sitting vacant as long as it has,” Constance observed.
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he sighed. “Could use some work, but it’s still standin’. Sometimes when I drive by here it seems like the place is just mocking all of us. I know that sounds kinda crazy. It’s just a damned old house.”
“With a seriously damned history,” she offered.
“Yeah…it’s got one of those all right. But it’s still an inanimate object.”
