With His Dying Breath by Nancy Hogue Page B

and silence, dead silence. The phone line had stayed open for ten additional seconds. Silence.
    There was evidence of fingerprints everywhere. It was obvious a multitude of people had been in and out of the house. There was no dust on the furniture. Hilda did find this interesting. Was there a full-time maid? When was the last time she dusted?
    “Did you talk to a maid?” she asked Jasper.
    “No, don’t remember it,” checking his notes.
    “Does it seem odd there’s no dust but two of the bedrooms are messed up?”
    After reviewing the notes she made earlier that day, she didn’t see a maid listed either. She had nothing else to go on.
    Jasper told Hilda about talking to some of the neighbors. One of them said there was a big party here Sunday night. He said big cars were dropping people off. You know big SUVs and stretch limousines. One neighbor who was not invited said they could hear some music from the back and party type noise, “no, not rowdy, exactly.” Mr. Brockton liked having cookouts and parties and an entertainment lifestyle.
    “He even had a block party three or four mon ths ago that we were invited to. No wait, it was before Thanksgiving. I haven’t been over there since Thanksgiving,” one neighbor said. “I didn’t know our block was so big, though. I met neighbors I hadn’t even seen in the six years I’ve lived here,” he said laughing almost hilariously.
    Another neighbor said the Brocktons were very nice. Every now and then, they would walk a little ways around the neighborhood. Mr. Brockton liked to meet the neighbors, especially new ones, and welcome them to the area. He was very friendly. Remembered everybody’s name. “That man had some kind of memory,” the man said. “I went to their house when they first moved in about three years ago, I guess. One day I was out walking my Sheltie and I just stopped by to say hello, to see if they needed anything. I mean Mr. Brockton has lived in River Town most of his life, but he was new to the neighborhood. Just thought I’d ask, you know. ”
    Jasper nodding while made notes.
    “ He was very appreciative. Said he’s looking forward to getting to know the neighbors. Wanted to have a cookout and invite everybody over. You know just the neighborly stuff. And he did. Invited about ten, maybe twelve, families over. Grilled out steaks. We all helped him open up the pool. He didn’t quite know what to do it seemed. But it was very nice. Had a good time. But what I was starting to tell you, I saw them out walking one day about a year later, and he remembered my name but what was really impressive, he remembered Becky’s name, you know my Sheltie.”
                  Neither Hilda nor Jasper talked at length to the man who found the body. Checking her notes, Hilda read the name as Jonas Attaway.
    “Jasper, this Mr. Attaway who found the body is the man who can help the most,” Hilda said. “He’s got the timeline , and it’s very possible if he passed by the house just a few minutes before, he saw or heard something, that maybe he hasn’t remembered yet.”
    “Yeah, you see what you expect to see. Could’ve seen a different car in the street, or other neighbors out walking, working in the yard, children playing, dogs barking, noises—anything that wasn’t right?
    “Exactly, we need to ask him a few questions some more in-depth questions.”
    Detective Nelson went back to Blake’s office returning a few minutes later. “Hilda, come in here for a second. I gotta show you something.”
    Hilda followed the short, round detective back into Blake Brockt on’s office. “What is it, Jaz?”
    “Look at them books, those on that top shelf.”
    Hilda smiled. “Jasper, you’re a doll. How in the world did the techs miss that?”
    “ I got something else. You ever heard of this rag before?” He held up several editions of “Saga,” a true crime magazine. It was a small magazine found at the checkout line of the grocery