Chapter 8

It was quarter to eleven when I arrived at ‘the late’ Lee Green’s residence on Lakewood Estates, a search warrant in hand.

The Super, Chuck Riley—well, Homeowner’s Association President, as he put it—was in tow. His beady eyes, small chin, and cropped brown hair reminded me of a chipmunk. He seemed harmless enough but talked non-stop on the ten-minute drive from the gatehouse. I took him for a sales representative. Actually, if he lived out here on a golf course, maybe he owned a car lot. I didn’t ask, not because I didn't want to know, but I didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire…so to speak.

“Did you know Mr. Green?” I asked in between one of his breaths.

He scratched the small patch of stubble on his chin. “How well does anyone really know somebody?”

When I didn’t answer, he yammered on.

“Mr. Green moved in about a year ago.” He removed a set of keys from the pocket of his red and yellow checkerboard slacks as we walked along the sidewalk to the front door. Insects swarmed the porch light. Several buzzed by my ear. I shooed them away.

“We don’t just let anyone move into Lakewood Estates, Detective. There’s a rigorous background check. And that’s one of many obstacles you must pass to move in.” His smile revealed large white teeth. I didn’t know if they were real or dentures. Didn’t care.

“Do you know if he’s married?” Normally we get this information beforehand, but being after normal working hours, I would have to wait until morning. Time I didn’t want to waste. Although my partner was canvassing the neighbors, I didn’t want to call and interrupt him during an interview that might be fruitful.

He turned the key, unlocking the deadbolt. “Mr. Green’s divorced. Not sure where she lives, but I’m sure you can get that information.”

I nodded. “Did they have any children?”

He shrugged.

A real wealth of information.

Headlights reflected off the windows of the large house as a sedan pulled onto the cobblestone driveway. The driver side door opened.

“Who’s that?” Riley asked.

“My partner. You can leave now. We’ll take it from here.”

He opened the door. “I need to stay and lock up.”

“All right, but you need to stay on the porch.”

He sighed. Guess it wasn’t the response he wanted.

“This may be a crime scene and we don’t need you getting in the way.” Although true, I didn’t need Mister Nosey Britches gossiping to the neighbors or possibly the media.

He sighed again.

“What’s up?” Francisco asked.

“This is Chuck Riley, the Super.”

“Homeowners Association President,” Riley corrected.

“Nice pants, man,” Francisco said with a hint of sarcasm that Riley missed. They shook hands.

We stepped inside, leaving the Super to play with the insects.

As we walked down the foyer, a yellow light illuminated the kitchen. When we reached the end of the hall, we split up. This isn’t unusual for us. It comes down to checks and balances. Four eyes are better than two when searching for potential evidence.

I looked at the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall in the living room. “Did the neighbors provide anything useful?”

Francisco yelled from another area of the house. “His background check revealed he recently retired from the Navy as a Captain in the JAG corps, whatever that means.”

“That’s because you never served in the military. JAG is an acronym for Judge Advocate General. Basically, our guy was a lawyer.”

“That makes sense. He works for a law firm downtown. Sheldon, Patterson, and Levine.” He paused. “I almost forgot that you work for the Navy part-time, Rebecca.”

Part-time. That made me smile.

“Navy Reserves. I’m a weekend warrior.”

I searched the kitchen. Nothing on any surface indicating a crime took place here. The sink was spotless. “We’ll need to speak to them. Maybe a current or prior client killed him.”

“I also learned his wife of twenty-three years divorced him six months ago.”

I ran a finger across the marble countertops. No dust or grime. “Think she might have something to do with the murder?”

“Doubtful. According to several neighbors, she packed up her shit and moved to Hawaii with her new lover, another woman.” I heard a chuckle. “But we need to contact her.”

“Good work. I’ll let you call her.”

He grunted. As partners for the past three years I knew his mannerisms. This meant he didn’t really want to be the bearer of bad news. But it didn’t take a genius to figure this out. Death notification never came easy.

I walked down the hallway and entered the master bedroom. Two walls were decorated with various pictures of artwork I didn’t recognize. A Persian rug hung from a fourth. The bed rested under a large rectangular window that ran along most of the west wall. The full moon illuminated the fairway of the golf course. I moved to the nightstand and picked up a picture of the deceased and a woman with shoulder-length amber hair. Her skin was pale and covered with freckles. He wore a white choker naval uniform with matching gloves. She had on a forest green gown. They stood on a beach holding hands, blue water in the background.

Footsteps echoed off the wood floor in the hallway.

“Do you think it could be a murder for revenge?” Francisco asked from the doorway.

“We’ll need to consider the possibility. After all, the carved message in Green’s chest has a meaning.”

“But what?”

I raised a brow. “Who knows, but the killer is definitely trying to tell us something.”

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the photo in my hand.

I handed it to him. “Old picture of the victim and his wife I presume.”

“How do you know it’s not recent, man?”

“You said he retired a Captain.”

He nodded.

I tapped a finger on the glass. “His shoulder boards on the uniform are the rank of a Commander, not Captain.”

“So this was taken before he retired?”

“Yup.”

My nose scrunched when I opened the bathroom door. There was blood spatter along the bathtub. Crimson smeared the white tiled floor. Dried vomit stained the sink. Water pooled along the base of the edge of the toilet. Two large empty water jugs lay on their sides in the middle of the floor.

Francisco peered over my shoulder. “Looks like we found the crime scene.”

I removed the cell from the clip on my hip. “I’ll call CSU.”