at the caller ID, assuming it was Izzy with some sort of update or change in plans. But it wasn’t, and that X-Files music turned out to be prophetic.
Chapter 6
“H ello?”
All I heard was static.
“Hello?” I said again. I realized everyone in the room was staring at me, and after listening to the crackling silence for a few more seconds, I disconnected the call. “Must have been a wrong number, or a dropped call,” I said with a shrug and a smile. My tone was light-hearted and dismissive, but the truth was the call spooked me. I chalked it up to the contagious paranoia triggered by the discussion about Arnie’s conspiracy theories and tried to put it out of my mind.
As I slipped my phone back into my pocket, a thought occurred to me. “Why did Derrick Ames go out into the street for help?” I said to no one in particular.
“What do you mean?” Bob said.
“Why didn’t he just call 911?”
Everyone in the room exchanged looks for a few seconds, and then Richmond said, “A phone. He must have had a phone.” We looked around the kitchen and then ventured into the living room, and from there through the rest of the first floor. On the second floor, which had three bedrooms—two with twin beds that were clearly set up for Derrick’s boys when they stayed with him, and a master bedroom—we found a phone charger on the bedside stand beside Derrick’s double bed. But there was no phone. “No landline, and no cell,” Richmond said.
“Maybe it was with his personal belongings at the hospital,” I suggested. “They gave Izzy a bag with his clothes and shoes in it. Maybe the phone was in there, too.”
Richmond took out his own cell and placed a call to Izzy, who said he would look and call him back.
In the meantime, we headed downstairs to join the others. When we were back in the kitchen, Jonas pointed toward the knives in the holder on the counter. “I’m guessing that’s where the murder weapon came from. And I’m betting the barbecue fork was in that silverware drawer that’s been spilled all over the floor.”
Richmond nodded, frowning. “That makes it harder for us since we can’t connect the weapons to someone from outside the house. Looks to me like whatever happened here was an unplanned, heat-of-the-moment thing, and the killer just grabbed whatever was handy.”
I started snapping photos of the room and its contents, including the blood spatter and several closeups of the knife before Jonas bagged and tagged it. A few minutes later, Richmond’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and said, “It’s Izzy.”
We all watched as he listened to what Izzy had to say, curious about the phone thing. When Richmond’s look of hope faded to one of curious disappointment, I knew what the answer would be.
“There was no phone with Derrick’s personal belongings,” he said once he disconnected the call. “Where the hell is it?”
“Maybe the killer took it?” I posed.
“Why?” Richmond said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe not now,” I said, “but if the killer took it, I’m sure they had a reason. And if they still have it, maybe it will help us find whoever it was.”
That made Richmond brighten a little, and as the rest of us went back to our separate duties, he gave Junior a list of tasks that included digging up a cell phone account and number for Derrick, seeing if the phone could be tracked with GPS, and looking into the man’s bank accounts. “Look for any unusual transactions,” Richmond said. “Since the last thing Ames said was the word payday , maybe there’s money involved somehow.”
I was taking pictures of some blood smears on a low cabinet by the refrigerator when something in the crack between the cabinet and the fridge caught my eye. The space was about four inches wide, and something with a shiny circle on it was wedged a few inches in. I stuck my gloved hand in sideways, and after a bit of maneuvering, I was able to push
Chapter 6
“H ello?”
All I heard was static.
“Hello?” I said again. I realized everyone in the room was staring at me, and after listening to the crackling silence for a few more seconds, I disconnected the call. “Must have been a wrong number, or a dropped call,” I said with a shrug and a smile. My tone was light-hearted and dismissive, but the truth was the call spooked me. I chalked it up to the contagious paranoia triggered by the discussion about Arnie’s conspiracy theories and tried to put it out of my mind.
As I slipped my phone back into my pocket, a thought occurred to me. “Why did Derrick Ames go out into the street for help?” I said to no one in particular.
“What do you mean?” Bob said.
“Why didn’t he just call 911?”
Everyone in the room exchanged looks for a few seconds, and then Richmond said, “A phone. He must have had a phone.” We looked around the kitchen and then ventured into the living room, and from there through the rest of the first floor. On the second floor, which had three bedrooms—two with twin beds that were clearly set up for Derrick’s boys when they stayed with him, and a master bedroom—we found a phone charger on the bedside stand beside Derrick’s double bed. But there was no phone. “No landline, and no cell,” Richmond said.
“Maybe it was with his personal belongings at the hospital,” I suggested. “They gave Izzy a bag with his clothes and shoes in it. Maybe the phone was in there, too.”
Richmond took out his own cell and placed a call to Izzy, who said he would look and call him back.
In the meantime, we headed downstairs to join the others. When we were back in the kitchen, Jonas pointed toward the knives in the holder on the counter. “I’m guessing that’s where the murder weapon came from. And I’m betting the barbecue fork was in that silverware drawer that’s been spilled all over the floor.”
Richmond nodded, frowning. “That makes it harder for us since we can’t connect the weapons to someone from outside the house. Looks to me like whatever happened here was an unplanned, heat-of-the-moment thing, and the killer just grabbed whatever was handy.”
I started snapping photos of the room and its contents, including the blood spatter and several closeups of the knife before Jonas bagged and tagged it. A few minutes later, Richmond’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and said, “It’s Izzy.”
We all watched as he listened to what Izzy had to say, curious about the phone thing. When Richmond’s look of hope faded to one of curious disappointment, I knew what the answer would be.
“There was no phone with Derrick’s personal belongings,” he said once he disconnected the call. “Where the hell is it?”
“Maybe the killer took it?” I posed.
“Why?” Richmond said, shaking his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe not now,” I said, “but if the killer took it, I’m sure they had a reason. And if they still have it, maybe it will help us find whoever it was.”
That made Richmond brighten a little, and as the rest of us went back to our separate duties, he gave Junior a list of tasks that included digging up a cell phone account and number for Derrick, seeing if the phone could be tracked with GPS, and looking into the man’s bank accounts. “Look for any unusual transactions,” Richmond said. “Since the last thing Ames said was the word payday , maybe there’s money involved somehow.”
I was taking pictures of some blood smears on a low cabinet by the refrigerator when something in the crack between the cabinet and the fridge caught my eye. The space was about four inches wide, and something with a shiny circle on it was wedged a few inches in. I stuck my gloved hand in sideways, and after a bit of maneuvering, I was able to push
Similar Books
