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“HELLO?”
Traci sat up and looked in the direction of the voice. She had fallen asleep on the overstuffed recliner in her living room. From what she could make out through sticky eyelids, someone was standing in the open door of her house. She tried to make out their features, though her eyes were blurry, and head pounded
“Ms. Simmons?” the man said. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Traci said, climbing to her feet, “who is it?”
“It’s Officer Wells. May I come in?”
Traci vaguely remembered she and Milo had talked all night about growing up on the streets, about how they have to finish the season on Bent Willow for Miss Rowena’s sake. And how they had to find her killer. She glanced over at the sofa where she had last seen him sleeping soundly, mud covered shoes and socks on the floor. Now there was no trace of him.
“Ms. Simmons?”
“Yes, come in.” Traci glanced through the kitchen and noticed the back screen door was unlatched. Milo had taken off, and she hoped she would be able to find him again.
Officer Wells almost filled the entire frame of her front door. If you took away the uniform, he could be mistaken for the handsome soccer player from Trinidad on that dating show. “What was his name? she thought, “Andre? No, Eric? No, that’s not it.” She realized she was staring, shook her head, and walked over to greet him.
“Hello,” she said raking her fingers through her hair.
“When I didn’t get an answer, I tried your door. Did you know it’s not locked?”
“Yes, I know. I need to replace the locks.”
“You should do that right away.” He closed the door behind him and hooked his thumbs into his belt. “It’s not safe for you to live here alone with open access to your home.”
She nodded, trying to gather her thoughts.
“You do live here alone, correct?”
“Yes. I’m still working on it. Got a long list of repairs, Land Bank First-Time Buyers program, and all that. Just haven’t gotten to everything.”
“Ah,” he said and nodded, “Well, make those locks a priority, okay?” He was smiling at her. It made her uncomfortable.
“Is there something wrong?” she said, then cleared her throat. “I mean, why are you here?”
“I’m here about the incident at the neighboring property across the alley.”
“Rowena Garrett.”
“Yes, I just wanted to follow-up with you and ask a few questions. If you have time.”
“I have time,” she said, straightening her clothes and clearing a space for him to sit down on the sofa. “It’s a shame. I hope you find the killer.”
“Killer?” he said, taking off his sunglasses and stepping into the living room.
“Isn’t that...” she stuttered, “aren’t you searching for who did it?”
“Ms. Simmons, we’ve classified this an accident. A fall from an upstairs window, no apparent home intrusion.”
“Oh, I see,” she said backing into the kitchen, “I’m going to make some coffee. Do you mind? I mean, would you like some?”
“I would love some, but I’ll have to take a raincheck,” he said again with that smile.
Traci looked down at her trembling hands. She needed something to take the edge off. Instead, she fumbled through the package of filters, added one to the chamber and positioned the carafe. She turned on the coffeemaker, then realized she forgot to add the water and the coffee. She peeled back the strands of hair stuck to her forehead and started again. She waited in the kitchen alone while it brewed, piecing together her thoughts and calming her nerves.
“I’m sorry, what did you need to ask me?” she said after pouring a cup and returning to face the officer. He was still standing in the same spot.
“Well, a few simple questions. Did you see anything unusual at Rowena Garrett’s property?”
“No, I was at work.”
“Yes, I have that in my notes. You were at work,” he said, “but you were also on the premises. How was that?”
“Well, my job is with Dependable Flyers. And, I had a delivery run through the neighborhood.”
“Got it,” he said showing those dimples again. Traci walked back into the kitchen. The officer followed.
“Did you see anyone near the house,” he said, poising his pen over a notebook, “after you arrived?”
“Well, I saw you.”
“Anything odd,” he said, “besides me?” He grinned. She wished he wouldn’t do that.
“Just the crowd of people standing around,” she said and wiped away the coffee stains on the counter with a damp dish towel. “I don’t think I have any information that can help you. I really didn’t know Miss Rowena.”
“No?”
“Not really. I just met her less than a week ago. She seemed like a friendly person, I suppose.” She turned off the burner, dumped the grounds in the trash and the rest of the coffee down the drain.
Officer Wells made a few notes.
“But you think someone killed her.”
Traci almost dropped the carafe in the sink.
“Based on what you said earlier,” he said, twirling the pen slowly between his fingers, “you think she was killed. Why is that?”
“Oh, that’s just my imagination. I guess from movies, y’know.”
“You like movies?” he said, putting away the notebook and walking to the door.
“Yeah, everybody does, right? I guess.” She wiped the perspiration beads from the bridge of her nose and followed him to the front porch.
“Thank you, Ms. Simmons,” he said and walked down the steps. He turned at the sidewalk and pointed at her, “And, get those new door locks installed, ASAP.”
He smiled and slipped his sunglasses back on. Traci smiled back then quickly walked back into the house, rubbing her hands on her leggings. She wanted to go to bed and start the day over. But she had an uneasy feeling about what happened to Rowena Garrett and wondered if Milo would be okay without her.
