CHAPTER XVIII

The neatly-dressed middle-aged couple hesitated at the front veranda before gingerly climbing the several steps to the front door. The long meandering drive in to the estate had been cleared of snow, as had the walkway areas, but ice was still a hazard. The man held the woman’s elbow firmly until they were safely under the protective portico. He checked the address on a card clipped to the front of the folder he held. Then he rang the bell. The deep-toned “bong” echoed throughout the lower floors of the house.

After a few moments, the door opened to reveal a fresh-faced young woman whose best features were her sparkling blue eyes.

“Yes? May I help you?” she said.

“Hello,” the man said politely. “We’re the Johnsons. We’re here representing the Neighborhood Watch Group for this area. I wonder if the gentleman and lady of the house are in and could give us a few moments of their time?”

Luanne Riley made a quick judgment. She was familiar with the organization mentioned and was a firm supporter. She knew for a fact that her employers had hosted several meetings of the group in the past. These people looked decent and seemed all right.

“Please come in,” she said, holding the door for them as they scuffed their feet on the thick welcoming mat and made their way in to the foyer. “May I take your coats? You can wait in the den while I see if they’re ready to receive visitors.”

“Thank you so much,” Mr. Johnson said, handing off his top coat to the maid and assisting his wife in removing hers. “This is very kind of you.”

Luanne settled the Johnsons in the den and after enquiring if they would take coffee, which they declined, scurried off to the nether parts of the house.

Ten minutes later the master of the house entered the den followed closely by his wife. Introductions were made and once everyone was seated, he fixed Johnson with a steady eye.

“I don’t seem to remember meeting you at previous meetings. You say you’re here representing the Watch Committee, but I’m wondering what this is all about.”

“Yes, of course. My wife and I haven’t been residents here very long, but one of the first things we did was join the group. We come from a much more urban area (he named an industrial community to the northeast of Cathcart) and we’ve had our share of battles with crime and things like graffiti and vandalism. We wanted to be sure we were part of the neighborhood and we’re committed to looking out for our neighbors—just as we hope they will do for us.”

“I see. Welcome to the neighborhood…and welcome to our group. We can always use dedicated members willing to help make a difference. But what is it we can do for you today?”

“Well,” Johnson began. “I’m sure you’ve heard the news about the…the horrible murder which took place a few days ago…and so close by, too.”

“Yes, yes…it’s terrible. We know the Watsons, of course. That was right down the road from us. So the Neighborhood Watch is involved in this?”

“We’re hoping to cooperate with the authorities by canvassing all the close-by neighbors to learn if anyone saw or heard anything that night which might be of assistance.”

“We’ll do what we can to help,” the homeowner replied, “but to be honest, these places are so far apart, noise doesn’t travel that far. We were out the evening the tragedy occurred, and didn’t hear of it until the next day. If we had known what was going on down there, of course, we would have called the authorities immediately. But, sad to say, we were as much in the dark as everyone else seems to be.”

“So you were away from home that evening. What about servants…or other family members?”

“We had given the servants the night off. We were attending a big gala at the Country Club that night, and there was no need for them to be on duty. Our daughter is away at school, so there was no one here at the time they say this all happened.”

“What about surveillance cameras? Do you have any kind of security system which might have captured movement of any kind?” Johnson’s pen paused above his note pad.

“The cameras? You know I didn’t think of that. Again, we’re pretty far apart from the other houses. Still…you know it’s possible the cameras might have caught Hal Watson’s car leaving the area. I understand he’s missing…I hope…I certainly hope he’ll be found soon.”

“So, do you still have the video tapes from that evening? Do you mean the police haven’t questioned you about this very thing?”

“The police haven’t questioned us about anything,” the mistress of the house put in. She had remained silent until this point. “And I don’t understand that. You’d think they’d be going through the whole area, asking people about this. I’m glad somebody is making the effort,” she said, with a nod toward the Johnsons.

Her husband stood up. “Come with me, Mr. Johnson. The ladies can wait here where it’s comfortable. Let’s go scare up those tapes. I don’t do anything with them until the first of each month. All the ones from November should still be intact.”

Half an hour later, the Johnsons waved goodbye to their new friends and made their way back down the slippery steps to their modest mid-size car parked in front of the house.

“Well?” asked Mrs. Johnson, as they climbed in and started back down the long driveway to the main street leading through Long Hills.

“Success,” responded Mr. Johnson. “Hugo’s going to be very happy with this one.”