waited for the sound of dead bolts locking in place before proceeding.
Typing the license plate information into the laptop mounted in his vehicle he didn’t have to wait for long before a string of data popped up. He further refined the list to darker colored vehicles which reduced it down to one page.
With the results printed he headed back towards the house. Stepping onto Maggie’s walkway he noticed her neighbors standing in their front entrances or peering outside their windows, bringing the unwanted attention he’d hoped to avoid.
His eyes scoured the neighborhood looking for houses with any advantage to observe Maggie’s house. One in particular stood out. Its large front windows were similar to the ones on Maggie’s but positioned in such a way that the occupant would have to be blind to miss any of the activities in the neighborhood. A sudden movement caught his attention and the slightly bent figure moved away from the window.
Walking slowly towards the house he felt he was being watched. He rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. He rang again. Nothing. He gave the door a hard knock on its solid exterior. The sound of movement on the other side told him he was being ignored. He knocked again.
“Go away or I’m gonna call the police.” The scratchy voice of an older woman berated him through the thickness of the door.
“Excuse me ma’am, I am the police.”
“How do I know that! You don’t look like the police.”
“I can show you my badge, ma’am.” He didn’t mind the woman’s stubbornness. She was taking all the necessary precautions.
“You could have bought that in a store somewhere for all I know.”
She was definitely paying attention to details.
Morris reached for his cell phone and called Maggie. Maybe she could convince her elderly neighbor to talk to him.
In less than a minute he heard the telephone ring. Another minute then the door was opened, although cautiously. A worried and weathered face peered around its edge.
“Maggie says you’re a detective.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“I still want to see your badge.”
“Of course, ma’am.” He watched her closely as he extended his credentials for her review.
She took her time in scrutinizing the badge that he held close enough for her to see but not close enough to be caught in a suddenly slammed door – a lesson he learned the hard way, years ago, when a particularly difficult witness slammed the door on his wrist and broke it in three places. There were days it still hurt. Just thinking about it made it hurt.
“If Maggie says its okay, I guess I can talk to you.”
As the door closed he heard the safety chain slide off its track. A minute or so passed before the door reopened.
“Mrs. Rivers?” He wanted to establish a rapport before entering the house. That’s if she let him in. She didn’t.
“Yes, but I guess Maggie told you that, didn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am she did.”
“Well, what can I do for you, young man. I don’t have all day.”
He suspected that wasn’t quite true. She was establishing who was in control.
“I’m Detective Morris, and –”
“Yes, Maggie told me.”
“– and I’d like to ask you a few questions about this morning.”
“You mean the strange car in the neighborhood?” Terseness seemed to be her trademark.
“Yes, ma’am, that would be it. Did you see the vehicle?”
“Of course I did. I always notice what doesn’t belong.”
He was sure that she did.
“Can you describe the car?” His notebook out and pen ready, he expected a complete description.
“Yes, of course I can! It was one of those fancy import jobs. If you ask me people should be buying American made cars. I always do. Not good for this country for everybody to be buying all that overseas stuff.”
“Excuse me
Typing the license plate information into the laptop mounted in his vehicle he didn’t have to wait for long before a string of data popped up. He further refined the list to darker colored vehicles which reduced it down to one page.
With the results printed he headed back towards the house. Stepping onto Maggie’s walkway he noticed her neighbors standing in their front entrances or peering outside their windows, bringing the unwanted attention he’d hoped to avoid.
His eyes scoured the neighborhood looking for houses with any advantage to observe Maggie’s house. One in particular stood out. Its large front windows were similar to the ones on Maggie’s but positioned in such a way that the occupant would have to be blind to miss any of the activities in the neighborhood. A sudden movement caught his attention and the slightly bent figure moved away from the window.
Walking slowly towards the house he felt he was being watched. He rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. He rang again. Nothing. He gave the door a hard knock on its solid exterior. The sound of movement on the other side told him he was being ignored. He knocked again.
“Go away or I’m gonna call the police.” The scratchy voice of an older woman berated him through the thickness of the door.
“Excuse me ma’am, I am the police.”
“How do I know that! You don’t look like the police.”
“I can show you my badge, ma’am.” He didn’t mind the woman’s stubbornness. She was taking all the necessary precautions.
“You could have bought that in a store somewhere for all I know.”
She was definitely paying attention to details.
Morris reached for his cell phone and called Maggie. Maybe she could convince her elderly neighbor to talk to him.
In less than a minute he heard the telephone ring. Another minute then the door was opened, although cautiously. A worried and weathered face peered around its edge.
“Maggie says you’re a detective.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“I still want to see your badge.”
“Of course, ma’am.” He watched her closely as he extended his credentials for her review.
She took her time in scrutinizing the badge that he held close enough for her to see but not close enough to be caught in a suddenly slammed door – a lesson he learned the hard way, years ago, when a particularly difficult witness slammed the door on his wrist and broke it in three places. There were days it still hurt. Just thinking about it made it hurt.
“If Maggie says its okay, I guess I can talk to you.”
As the door closed he heard the safety chain slide off its track. A minute or so passed before the door reopened.
“Mrs. Rivers?” He wanted to establish a rapport before entering the house. That’s if she let him in. She didn’t.
“Yes, but I guess Maggie told you that, didn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am she did.”
“Well, what can I do for you, young man. I don’t have all day.”
He suspected that wasn’t quite true. She was establishing who was in control.
“I’m Detective Morris, and –”
“Yes, Maggie told me.”
“– and I’d like to ask you a few questions about this morning.”
“You mean the strange car in the neighborhood?” Terseness seemed to be her trademark.
“Yes, ma’am, that would be it. Did you see the vehicle?”
“Of course I did. I always notice what doesn’t belong.”
He was sure that she did.
“Can you describe the car?” His notebook out and pen ready, he expected a complete description.
“Yes, of course I can! It was one of those fancy import jobs. If you ask me people should be buying American made cars. I always do. Not good for this country for everybody to be buying all that overseas stuff.”
“Excuse me
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