In a perfect world, the FBI would have showed up at my rental property. But the blood had gone dry by the time two experts showed up to process the scene, and let’s face it: the FBI doesn’t give a damn about people in Northfolk.
I waited outside next to Officer James’ police car, smoking a Camel. I’d gone all night without a cigarette, but this incident gave me the perfect excuse to fire one up. Smoke filled my lungs, sending little shocks of warmth to my head and my toes.
Officer Ellie James had asked me to stay. After all, I owned the cabin that was now the scene of a crime.
Leaning against the hood of my tenant’s car, I puffed while watching the chaos around me unfold.
Two policemen I recognized, Roland Anderson and Michael Boyd, were standing less than two feet away, looking at something on one of their cell phones. Hard workers, those two, I thought, rolling my eyes.
The Sergeant was there too. I knew Sam DelGrande well. He and Andy used to go fishing together sometimes. The sergeant and Officer James stood near the back of the cabin, chatting with one of the forensic guys, who was wearing a white, space-like suit.
The astronaut lookalike turned around and went back inside the cabin, and then Officer James and Sam came walking toward me. Damn. I don’t want to deal with police, I thought, reluctantly stubbing out my cig on the ground beside me. Now that the cancer stick was gone, the lump was back. I swallowed it down and cleared my throat.
I didn’t see the blood pool inside, but Officer James told me there was reason to believe that my new tenant or her child had been victims of foul play. How much blood is there? I’d asked her, horrified when she came to my door. A lot, that was all she said, over and over. Maybe it was just me, but Officer James looked stricken with fear, her face pale as the moon on a cold winter’s night.
I’d been relatively calm. I’d even offered to make coffee for everyone. But Officer James had been insistent that I stay put. I couldn’t help feeling like a suspect at this point, just standing around.
“Hi, Ms. Appleton. This is Sergeant DelGrande. I’d like you to repeat what you told me, please,” Officer James said. Her face was tight and strained, her right cheek bulging in and out as she mashed her teeth together. Nervous like her mother, Barb, I realized.
Sam was old enough to be my father, but I considered him a friend. He was one of the few people in this town who remembered the farm when it was up and running.
Sam smiled and said, “Clara and I know each other, Ellie. How’s Andy doing? I sure do miss the guy.” Wrinkles branched out from the corners of his mouth and his once jet-black hair was stippled with silver now. He was a quiet man, but he had this seriousness about him that always commanded attention.
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask his mistress, you know? Last I heard they were renting out a house on the beach. That damn fool can’t even swim,” I told him.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Clara.” Sam’s eyes softened.
Officer James’ eyes flicked back and forth between us, then she nodded for me to tell him what I’d already told her twice.
Closing my eyes, I tried to recall the exact details again.
“I was up late watching the telly. Don’t sleep well, never have. I saw a light come on from across the field right around three in the morning. Now I’m not usually a nosy person, you know? But I haven’t had a tenant over here in years, so at first, that light startled me a bit.” My cheeks flushed crimson. For some reason, it was more nerve-racking re-telling this to Sergeant Sam.
“What did you see?” Sam’s eyes were narrowed, his face grim.
“Nothing, honest. There was a light on in the room that she was probably using as a bedroom. I heard about the ex-husband taking the girl, so I wondered what she was up to. I went to the window and looked out. And that’s when—”
Sam’s face leaned in closer to mine, expectantly. I could smell his aftershave and the faint hint of last night’s Scotch on his breath. Andy was a Scotch man, too. I wondered if all those years ago, they weren’t out fishing but instead were tying a few off at the bar…
“That’s it. That’s all I saw.” My fingers itched, aware of the pack of smokes in my front jeans pocket. Could they tell I was holding back? Truth was, I just wanted them off my property.
“When did the light go off in her bedroom?” Sam asked, his face crumpled with disappointment that that was all I saw.
“Not sure. Stood there at the window, watching for a few minutes, and then I went to bed. It wasn’t until around five or so, that I heard the truck pull in.”
“What truck? Did you see what color it was?”
“Nah, it was still dark, and I was half asleep. I sleep on the couch now, ever since Andy moved out, and it was the headlights casting shadows on the wall that stirred me. I got up, thinking about the child again, and I squinted through the same window. The truck parked behind the Celica. Might have been the same one I saw when they were moving in…and I heard the truck door open and close. I tried to get a look—I assumed it was the husband, you know? But I couldn’t see a darn thing.”
“Did she let him inside? Did you hear them fighting?” These questions came from Officer James now. She’d already asked them earlier.
“She must have cause the truck stayed put. Stood at the window for at least a half hour, waiting to see if I’d hear them fighting. Wondered if I might have to call the cops. I hate to say this, but I was a little worried about property damage, you know? On second thought, I probably should have gone and called the police anyway…I could have stopped him, or whoever it was, from hurting them.” I held my hand up to my mouth in horror, then turned my face away so they couldn’t see my tears.
“This is not your fault, Clara. Not your fault at all.” Sam rested his hand on my shoulder.
“Did you see what time the truck left? Did you hear anything else, anything at all?” Officer James kept pushing.
I shook my head, wrestling with the tears. “I never heard a thing after that. Never saw anything either. My eyes got heavy…so I just laid back down on the couch, and next time I woke up was when Officer James was banging at my front door.”
“Thank you. You can go on home now. We’ll finish up here and then let you know when the cabin is safe to enter again. Promise me you won’t go near it until it’s been cleared?” Sam squeezed my shoulder and again, I thought about my husband, Andy.
“Oh, of course not. Wouldn’t want to interfere. I just wish…will you let me know if there’s anything else I can do?”
“Will do. But in the meantime, we have more officers and help on the way. We’re going to comb this entire property and the woods,” Officer James said, giving me a soft, worried smile. I could tell she was shaken from the incident, too. When she turned up at my door this morning, her eyes had looked wild and strange.
I thanked the officers again, then cast one last look at the cabin that had been in my family for years. It used to be a place for housing staff, migrant workers who helped on the farm and such, when it was large and thriving. When my mom was sick but didn’t want to live with us, she stayed here until it was time for her to move into a nursing home. The cabin had always held good memories for me, even though it was a little dreary and run down. Now that had all changed.
Now it would be known as the place where a murder occurred.