Stocks & Blondes
10
Meeting the neighbors
I’VE SPENT MOST OF MY LIFE without adult supervision. So, now that I’m masquerading as a forty-nine-year-old, why does everyone need to take care of me?
Little old lady
It was twenty-seven degrees this morning and by eleven, it was snowing. I wanted to go back to sunny warm Savannah! I called Cinnamon in Seattle and damned if it wasn’t snowing there, too. I stopped at a Burlington Coat Factory store on the way to the airport and bought a coat. A good, heavy, long coat, gloves, a scarf, and a hat. And a new rollaboard suitcase and a purse big enough to put my normal carry-ons and my computer in. The salesman—Imagine a salesman at BCF! I didn’t know they had them!—kept going on and on about the quality of the coat and how I would need the warmth if the weather forecast held true and the temperatures started dipping into the sub-teens.
Then he wanted to make sure the suitcase I had was the right quality, that the hat and scarf matched, the gloves were thermal-lined, and to top it off, he insisted on carrying my packages to the car while I held his arm. Joan, sitting in the car and handling some kind of business at Sherwin-Williams on her cellphone, nearly split her gut laughing after the guy solicitously held my door and made sure the tails of my new coat were not caught in it. Wow!
Apparently, however, there was something stamped on my forehead that said “Little old lady in need of help.” I got to the airport in plenty of time for my one-thirty flight and when the Sky Cap saw Joan and me struggling to get my big suitcase out of the car, he came hopping out from his stand, grabbed the bag and gave me his arm as Joan waved and called “Bye Auntie! Have a good visit.”
“That girl of yours should have parked and helped you in, ma’am,” the Sky Cap said. “Weather like this, you could fall and break your hip. I’ve seen it happen, right there where you were standing. People just don’t realize.” He checked me through to Seattle via Chicago and looked around to see there was no one else in need of help. He escorted me all the way to security. I tipped him five dollars. I just couldn’t appear to be so flush that I could give him more.
The truth of the matter, of course, was that I transferred $28,000 into my Peg Chester bank account this morning by cashing out cash cards. I took a thousand cash and one card has a thousand left on it. I should probably replenish the cards if I make anything on this case. I can see burning through a hundred of these pretty easily. But it’s important that Peg have money she can draw on, and I wanted to start picking up more of the apartment rent. Joan’s doing fine, but I can see that I’m going to be using Peg in the future. I’d like to go out and visit her occasionally. I got my driver’s license renewed and Joan will forward it to me as soon as it arrives.
Once the Sky Cap let go of me, I had a minute to rest on a bench and remove my outdoor clothes and put them in my rollaboard. That left me with just my purse/computer bag and rollaboard. Everything was out of my pockets and neatly tucked into plastic sandwich bags in my purse. Apparently, the TSA agent noticed my careful preparations. He complimented me when I handed him my boarding pass and ID on being a well-prepared traveler. Then he motioned me over to a security lane that I thought was unmanned until an agent rerouted an entire line from a different scanner right behind me. It took a minute for the crew to switch stations, but when they had, I sailed through quickly. I noticed that two agents were still at the other station with a passenger who looked rather forlorn, and a security guard was moving in from the concourse side of the scanner. I guess I just showed up at the right time and everyone was too busy with a real suspect to notice a middle-aged lady.
That being said, I’m now on my layover in Chicago and about to board for Seattle. While I like being treated nicely, if this keeps up, I’m going to get suspicious.
Owners
I arrived in Seattle on time at five-thirty and headed straight for the rental car. Flying had been such a breeze that I expected renting a car to go just as smoothly. I’d made one mistake. Having my driver’s license renewed meant that they punched a hole in my old license and gave me a paper license. The rental agent didn’t know what to do with that and had to make several calls before she got clearance to rent a car to me. I helped calm her fears by accepting all the damage waiver insurance, prepaying for the tank of gas in the car, and asking for a map and directions. Once we got past the ‘can’t drive with an expired license’ dilemma, she was very helpful. She upgraded my car. Not a big upgrade, but a little.
I stopped at Southcenter Mall and got a pair of warm boots and dinner. I knew there would be nothing in the house I’d want to eat when I got there. It had been closed up since Christmas and I expected one of the first things I’d have to do was empty the fridge into garbage bags. I wasn’t positive what day garbage pickup was in Wallingford but I sincerely hoped I hadn’t missed it already. I called Cinnamon again and she sounded very formal when she answered the phone. I realized this was the first time I’d called her on my Cleveland cellphone. I’d picked up a pay-in-advance cellphone while I was there. My Deb Riley phone was buried in the bottom of my suitcase.
“Hey, Cinnamon. It’s me. Just wanted to let you know I’m back in town.”
“Oh!” she squealed. “When can I see you, Sugar?”
“Well, not tonight, but soon. What’s the status on the house?”
“The police have cleared it but there’s still tape. They’ll come by tomorrow morning to brief you—the executor of the estate. They’ll take the tape down then but you’re okay to enter now.”
“Well, I’d better get up there, then. I’m not looking forward to this and I really wish I could take you with me. I just need to show up the first time alone so I can see if anyone is watching for me.”
“Gotcha, baby. Call me anytime if you need something. You know. Like if you can’t sleep in the big spooky house.”
“Thanks for planting that image, Cinnamon. Talk to you in the morning.”
I started the car and headed for Wallingford and Georgia McFearin’s house.
I’m pretty sure North Seattle was laid out before anyone had imagined there would come a day when every house would have multiple cars parked on the street. With cars parked on both sides, there was just room to navigate between them. If you met an oncoming car, someone had to back up to the previous intersection. Snow on the ground makes matters much, much worse. It started snowing about the time I landed and didn’t show signs of stopping. I was sure there would be a ‘snow emergency’ tomorrow and my car would need to be off the street or get towed. I ended up stopping in the middle of the street in front of Georgia’s house, unloaded my gear and took it to the front porch, and then drove another two blocks before I found a spot wide enough to park. I’m not sure it’s a legal parking spot. Something about needing a permit. I’m pretty sure they won’t do anything about it tonight and I’ll go move it first thing in the morning. Can’t deal with it tonight. Guess I should be happy. There were still parts of town without electricity from the December storms. Fortunately, not here.
I unlocked the house and dragged my things inside, looking every bit the uncertain newcomer I am. The place gave me chills as soon as I walked through the door, and not just because the heat was turned down. It would be a wonder if all the pipes in the house hadn’t frozen. I checked the thermostat and it said it was keeping the house at about 55. I boosted the setting to 72 and heard the furnace kick in, much to my relief. The place might be pleasant enough it weren’t for chalk marks in the middle of the living room. It looked like Georgia must have hung herself from the ceiling fan. I suppose they had to mark the outline before they cut her down. It looks pretty weird.
After I talk to the cops tomorrow morning, I’m going to scrub this room first.
I did a quick survey of the little house. There were four rooms on the main floor: a living room, dining room, kitchen, and a little room that looks like it might have been a pantry under the stairs but Georgia used as an office. And, as Grover said, there is a computer in every room. The office pantry looked like the hub of her activity. I could see where the cable modem came in and the computer in that little room looked big, powerful, and shiny new. The kitchen computer is a laptop on the counter next to the sink. I’ve got to assume she moved it around to keep it from getting splashed from the dishwater. Or maybe she never did dishes. Quick check of the refrigerator told me she prepared a fair amount of food because there were a lot of leftovers of things I couldn’t recognize.
The living room computer looked like a media center hooked into the big flat screen TV. I’d have to check to see if she had Netflix or Hulu and what her taste in movies was. The dining room computer was a nice mini tower, major manufacturer. Looks like she bought most of it off the shelf. I’m guessing Fry’s or Best Buy.
I went upstairs, turning on lights as I went. At the top of the stairs were a door on the left, one on the right, and one straight ahead. The one straight ahead proved to be the bathroom, built into a dormer and overlooking the back of the house. I couldn’t tell what was out there in the dark and would have to look around in the morning. Left door opened to a small bedroom, sparsely furnished. Single bed with a metal frame, headboard, and footboard. It reminded me of something you’d see in an old movie about an orphanage or girls’ school. In one corner was a desk with a small computer and fifteen-inch monitor.
Opposite that room, the other door opened onto a bedroom as opulent as the left one was austere. The bed was big and unmade and there were clothes lying around on the floor. This must have been Georgia’s room and the other for any unfortunate guest she might have had. The closet doors were open and there were a dozen pairs of shoes on the floor. The computer in this room sat on a nice corner desk with a twenty-inch monitor. It had a joystick and headset. Looked like Georgia was a gamer.
I’d already decided I was going to sleep in the other bedroom. I wasn’t ready to sleep in Georgia’s bed, at least not until I’d cleaned things up. I was on my way downstairs to get my suitcase when the doorbell rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
When I answered the door, I found a man and woman, a little younger than Peg, standing on the porch. They didn’t have coats on and looked cold, but I wasn’t about to let them in.
“Hi! We’re neighbors next door and saw the lights come on in the house. We rushed over because the police have had this sealed up ever since the incident here and we wanted to make sure everything was all right.” The speaker through chattering teeth was the woman, a short redhead of an unnatural color. The taller man beside her was ready to take charge.
“We’ve called the police,” he said. “You’d better get out now.” Well, that was friendly. If he’d called the police, you’d think he’d want me to stay and get caught. Besides, they didn’t look like they were here to confront a burglar.
“I have police permission to be in the house,” I answered. “I’m sure they’ll check their records. The house was listed as unsealed this afternoon. They’ll be by in the morning to take down the tape.”
“Who are you?” the man pressed.
“I’m Peg Chester—Georgia’s cousin. Her father asked me to come and settle the estate and clean things up,” I answered.
“Oh, what a relief,” the woman said. “We were afraid at first that someone had broken in, but with all the lights on… I told Rick that a burglar wouldn’t turn on all the lights. But we thought maybe the police had come back and since we own the house, we felt that we should rush right over.”
“You are Georgia’s landlords?” I asked. I guess I hadn’t read the report Cinnamon prepared for me thoroughly enough. I didn’t recall anything that mentioned the landlord lived next door.
“Yes,” said the woman. “I’m Susan and this is Rick Thomas, my husband. I know he’s a hunk, but don’t get any ideas, he doesn’t come with the house.” The aforementioned Rick rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem to have much to say now that I’d established my credentials. “Are you planning to be here long?”
“I only intend to clear up the house and dispose of Georgia’s possessions,” I said. “As soon as I’ve got the estate banked, I’ll be heading back to Cleveland. I expect it will take me a few days, but I don’t plan to be here after the first of the month. You’ll be able to rent again soon.”
“We’ll need a 30-day notice to vacate from the first of the month,” Rick said. “And Georgia hadn’t paid the January rent when she uh… passed away.” He was getting right to the point. “We were going to come in and salvage what we could as soon as the police said we could.”
“I’ll set up an estate bank account tomorrow morning and get a check to you for two months’ rent. I’m here, so you won’t have to do any salvage work.”
“You just let us know if you need anything,” Susan said. “We were very close to Georgia. She was more a friend than a tenant. We did everything together. It was such a shock to lose her like that. I tell you what, tomorrow I’ll bring over some food and we’ll start things off right. Do you eat tuna noodle casserole?” I nodded. “I have a secret recipe, and there’s nothing like a little TNC on these cold days.”
“Thank you, Susan,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll get on fine. Just a few days and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Here’s my card in case you need anything,” Rick said. “Just give me a call. If you find any damage that needs to be repaired, I do the handywork myself. I don’t like to have other contractors come into the house.” What kind of help did he think I’d need? Then I thought of the chalk on the living room floor.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong that a little cleaning won’t take care of,” I said. “I’ll let you know if there is anything else.” I finally got rid of them, even after they stood there obviously expecting to be invited in. I looked at Rick’s card and it had “Rick Thomas Productions” with the name and address of a local bar with the word ‘owner’ printed under his name. Guy is apparently into owning things. I wondered if he had intended to give me one with the address of the house and the word ‘owner’ on it. Weird people.
So, the rest of the evening went okay but it’s still snowing outside. I don’t know if there will be any accumulation anyplace but on my car window. It’s already colder here than it was in Cleveland. WTF Seattle?
I’ve set up in the small bedroom and am ready for bed. The whole house creaks and it feels cold even though I’ve got the temperature up to seventy-four now. I thought I’d left the ghosts in Savannah.
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