One Shot @ Retirement: A Macy Cooper Mystery, page 5
“There is no case, Ms. Cooper. I’m merely here to pay my respects.”
“Esther’s family and friends are over there, Detective,” Macy said pointing to the group of mourners standing under a large green canopy. “You can’t very well pay your respects from here.”
“You’re a most interesting woman, Ms. Cooper,” he declared with a slight grin as he took his place next to her leaning up against her SUV. “You handle yourself quite differently from most women, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“And how do most women handle themselves, sir?”
“More questions, I see. Well, if you must know, most women are social creatures. They enjoy talking and spending time with others. You, on the other hand, remain aloof, reserved. You stay back from the crowd and observe. Even now you are studying each person in the crowd over there… and me. If I didn’t know better, I would say you’ve been involved in law enforcement.”
Macy chuckled. “The background check you did on me should demonstrate that my only ‘involvement’ with the police has been nothing but a few speeding tickets.”
Crow was momentarily taken aback but recovered quickly. “And how did you know I did a background check?” he asked.
Macy turned to face the detective. “Because a detective who doesn’t ask questions seeks other means of finding information. You did a background check, found out I am who I said I was, a retired security consultant. But you still have your doubts, so you decided to come to the funeral where you knew I would be.”
Crow looked down at the ground, apparently not wanting to meet Macy’s gaze. Finally, he asked, “Then why do you tell these people you were a history teacher?”
Macy laughed. “Self-preservation! If they knew the truth, I would have the entire neighborhood at my doorstep asking me questions about their security systems or their computers. And besides, I was a history teacher many years ago.” A bit of a stretch, Macy knew, but one of her redeeming qualities was the ability to spin a tale, or exaggerate the truth, as Aaron would say.
Crow nodded in agreement. “Yes, I understand. As soon as people find out I’m a detective they’re asking me legal questions or can I help with a family member.” Pausing, he looked around, then stared at Macy. “So, now what Ms. Cooper?”
Macy turned and opened the door to her vehicle. She stood there for a moment, staring through the open window glaring at the detective. “Now, sir, I find out who killed Esther Grant.”
Chapter Twelve
As she walked to Esther’s house, Macy quietly navigated the heavy layer of pine needles and leaves that had covered Landen throughout October. It was early morning and cloudy and she knew it would be another hour before the light of day would reveal her activities. She didn’t feel she needed more time than that.
Pulling out her lock pick kit she began maneuvering the small stainless-steel toothpicks to unlock the back door of Esther’s house. Once she heard the clicking of the tumblers, she entered, gently shutting the door behind her. A stale odor hit her as she moved through the kitchen, a hint of death, she thought.
Macy looked around. Everything was as she last saw it when she met with Crow a few weeks earlier. Her first goal was to check out the gun cabinet, so she walked to the laundry room. She had previously made a mental note of the guns the cabinet contained but something didn’t seem right when she had been with the detective. At the time, she’d silently chastised herself for having let emotions get in the way of surveillance, but now she was calm and her mind clear.
The overhead light flickered as she turned it on. Walking over to the gun cabinet, she inspected its contents, leaving the key in the door lock. All the guns were there with the exception of the M40. Six slots, five guns – the Civil War musket, a .22 rifle, the Blaser, a Weatherby Vanguard .30/06, and a .338 Winchester Magnum. Interesting combination of rifles Macy thought, but what was different? Then she realized the Weatherby and Winchester had been switched from when she first saw them. Did the person who took the M40 also look at the other guns? Possibly, or perhaps more than one person had been looking at them. Or was she reading more into this than was there? Esther could have easily removed them and put them back in a different order. But why would she leave the key in the lock? She had stressed to Macy her intent to keep the key separate from the cabinet so no one could remove a gun and accidently get hurt.
Pulling a small camera from her pocket, Macy took a few photos of the gun case and its contents. She turned off the light and made her way to the living room. Everything was as it should be. Knowing the desk had held the gun cabinet key, she decided to search the drawers for anything unusual. But how could one tell if something was out of place when everything was such a mess? She looked through the stacks of bills, advertisements, and papers — nothing unusual there. The second drawer on the left was full of receipts. Macy shook her head knowing it would take several hours to sift through them. Esther seemed to have kept every single piece of paper she had received for the past several years. Macy smiled, remembering how Esther had told her she didn’t trust the federal government and didn’t want to take a chance the IRS would come after her.
Macy moved to Esther’s bedroom and looked around. The bed was disheveled, but it always had been when she’d glanced into the room. The dresser had several brooches, bracelets and necklaces on it, a brush and comb, mirror, and several framed photos of Sam and Allison. Propped up against one of the pictures was an unframed photo of Sam, a woman, a younger Allison, and a fourth person, a man, who Macy didn’t recognize. She picked it up and studied it, then turned it over. According to the writing on the back, the woman was Louise, Allison’s mother, and the unidentified man was Pete, who Macy knew as Sam’s spotter and childhood friend. They were all standing in front of a building that looked like one of the federal buildings in Washington, DC. Macy took a picture of it as well as two more recent pictures of Sam, one in uniform and the other in civilian clothes.
She couldn’t help but stare at Sam. He was quite handsome with deep penetrating eyes and looked to be in his late forties. His military haircut showed gray at the temples. Allison had his large eyes, but her skin tone was much lighter. She found another picture of Sam, his daughter as a child, and a woman who resembled Allison — her mother she wondered. The woman had auburn hair cut short and a beautiful smile.
Macy sifted through the drawers feeling a bit embarrassed at viewing someone else’s private effects. She felt as though she was trespassing on Esther’s life, but reminded herself Esther was no longer of this earth. Still, it was somewhat unsettling. She looked briefly upwards and whispered a quiet, “Sorry, Esther,” and then continued to search through the dresser. Nothing.
She peeked into the small bathroom between the kitchen and the former dining room, noting the safety rails for the tub and toilet. The small vanity contained an assortment of jars, tubes and creams, a toothbrush, and a dish of bobby pins and clips. The red and white towels and rugs matched the brightly colored wallpaper of large red roses against a green and white-checkered background. Macy smiled as her thoughts drifted towards Esther’s decorating style, beautiful vibrant colors and everything coordinated.
Turning her focus to the second floor, Macy walked back through the hallway to the front of the house. In the foyer, she stared at the floor where Esther had fallen, imagining her frail crumbled body losing life. Taking a deep breath, Macy climbed the stairs. At the top of the landing, she looked downward and understood why Esther would avoid the steps. Many of the older homes had steep stairways and this one was no exception. The slightest slip could and did end in disaster.
The banister finials were solid as were the railings and all were covered with a layer of dust. Why did Esther not hold onto the railing as she ascended or in her descent? And why didn’t Crow catch that?
Three bedrooms and a bath comprised the upper floor. Macy worked her way through each, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. One of the bedrooms was empty of furniture and only outlines of what had once formed Esther’s bedroom furniture remained. Several dusty boxes were stacked up against the far wall and Macy pulled open the lids to view the contents, mostly clothes, blankets, and books.
Next to Esther’s old bedroom was a large bathroom with an antique clawfoot tub, probably the original, Macy figured. The sink and its cabinetry were 1950s, but the toilet was more recent. A large linen closet behind the bathroom door had stacks of towels and toiletries but nothing unusual.
Macy peered into what seemed to have been Sam’s room as a child but continued to the bedroom located in the front of the house, possibly used for guests. It was a step back in time with a white chenille spread, linen curtains and flowered wallpaper also characteristic of the 1950’s. This room was devoid of any pictures, clothes, books, or jewelry. It only contained dusty furniture, thus giving no semblance of having been used for some time.
Returning to Sam’s room, Macy stood in the doorway for several minutes. She had the same feeling of trespassing as she had with Esther’s downstairs. These feelings were unfamiliar to her, and it took her a moment to shake them off. This room had experienced happiness and life. It was laden with model airplanes, baseball paraphernalia, and tons of books stacked neatly on the floor next to the closet and on the lid of a large toy chest. Macy began looking through the titles, finding classics, textbooks, and several books on sports and airplanes. Next to the toy chest was a desk situated in front of a window. Peering out at the early dawn, she could see what Sam must have seen when he sat in the chair as a child, a wonderful view of the backyard. Approximately 10 meters behind the house was a large oak tree and nestled amongst its branches was an outline of what appeared to be an old treehouse.
Macy pulled a small pair of binoculars from her pocket and peered at the structure for several minutes. The old wooden planks were fastened in a crisscross fashion to form the roof and sides. It must have been abandoned many years prior and appeared to be held together only by the branches of the tree which had grown around it providing the necessary support. Macy knew she should check it out, but it would have to be at a later date for her time was almost up and she knew not to stay in one place too long. She had learned long ago to stick to her timetable and follow her instincts.
The closet revealed some old military fatigues and a pair of boots, but nothing else. She peeked under the twin bed with its blue and brown plaid bedspread and found an old baseball bat, a toy gun in its holster, and the dust bunnies Esther had mentioned. Surveying the room once more, Macy made a mental note of its arrangement. Nothing was out of alignment or showed any evidence of having been searched.
She returned to the first floor and made one more pass through the rooms and realized it would take at least a week to go through everything in the house.
Exiting the house the way she had come in, Macy looked upwards. The cloudy sky had begun to give up an icy rain, turning the remainder of the ground into a slippery mush. She quickly covered her head with her hoodie, looked towards the oak tree once more and began her trek back home.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m coming,” Macy yelled as the phone continued to ring. “Why do people always call when I’m cleaning,” she mumbled to herself rushing to the vintage black Bakelite phone perched on the hallway table. “Hello?”
“Hi, Macy, this is Ally, I mean Allison Grant,” came the sweet voice on the other end. “You sound out of breath, are you alright? Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, no, I’m fine. I was cleaning the oven and had my head stuck in it when you called. It took me a while to get here.”
“The phone must have rung at least a dozen times. Don’t you have an answering machine?”
“Nope, don’t believe in them,” Macy replied, having caught her breath. She looked at her phone with its rotary dial, knowing full well that an answering machine was out of the question anyway. “How are you doing?”
“Okay, I guess. Mother’s been keeping me busy, and I finally got a part-time job at a local coffee shop.”
“That sounds great as long as you don’t consume all your earnings.”
Allison laughed. “How did you know I liked coffee… oh, Grammy told you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she told me all about you and your dad. I feel like I’ve known you all your life.”
“Well, that’s good, because I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I have to come up for the reading of Grammy’s will next week, and, well, I really can’t afford a hotel and I don’t, I mean, I can’t stay at Grammy’s house, at least not yet… and I was wondering….”
“Yes, you can stay with me,” Macy said excitedly.
“Oh, goody!” Allison exclaimed. “I was so hoping you would say yes.”
“It’s the least I can do,” she replied.
Allison quieted, murmuring, “Thanks.”
“Will your mother be coming too? I have room.”
“No, Mother didn’t much care for my dad’s side of the family although I have no earthly idea as to why. You know as well as I how great Grammy is… I mean was.”
“I do indeed.”
“Can I email you my itinerary?”
“Sorry, but you’ll have to give me the information over the phone. I don’t have a computer.”
“No computer… how do you function without a computer?” Allison paused then continued, “no computer, no answering machine… oh, please tell me you have a cell phone, pleeeze. I don’t want my newest best friend to be totally technology illiterate.”
Macy laughed. “Well, the good news is that I’m not technology illiterate. I know how to use a computer and other technologies; I just choose not to. The bad news is I don’t have a cell phone.”
“How do you survive?” Allison stated, incredulously. “That was a rhetorical question by the way.”
Macy shook her head. “Call me any evening once you get the information. I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
“You mean you have a car? You actually drive?”
“That’s enough Miss Smarty Pants. Yes, I drive. I have a Honda Pilot.”
“You know they have computers in them, don’t you?”
Macy grinned. “Call me.”
After they hung up, Macy returned to the kitchen to continue her cleaning, but opted for a cup of tea first. Sitting on one of the stools, she slowly sipped the Earl Grey blend, and began thinking about Allison’s comments on using technology. She couldn’t tell her she didn’t use it so people couldn’t track her, a holdover from her days as a quiet unassuming assassin. What could she tell her? Macy had been able to convince neighbors that she was a retired history teacher, but could she do the same with an 18-year-old? Young people were so much more curious. And suspicious.
Chapter Fourteen
The airport was nearly two hours from Landen and Macy flew down the Interstate with her passenger in tow. If anyone at the airport had seen them greet, they would have thought they had known each other forever.
As they approached the town, Macy explained, “I have to stop at the post office to pick up a package. I can take you home first if you’d rather.”
“No, that’ll be fine.”
Macy pulled into the parking lot of the post office. “It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, depending on how long the lines are.”
“Not a problem,” said Allison. “I’ll wait in the car and people-watch.”
“People-watch?”
“Yeah, it’s a game Dad and I played when I was a kid. I glance at a person for a second or two, close my eyes and list as many characteristics about them as I can, you know, hair color, clothing, facial features… then I open my eyes to see how much I got right.”
Macy smiled as she visualized Sam teaching the game to his daughter. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Fifteen minutes later, Macy returned with a small package and tossed it into the back seat of her SUV. “How did you do?”
“Do what?”
“Your game. How did you do with your recon?”
“What’s recon?” Allison asked.
Macy sighed and tried to cover her blunder. “Reconnaissance, you were going to observe people.”
“Oh yeah, I did okay. A bunch of people went in and out, but most had on heavy brown or black jackets, blue jeans, and hats. They all looked alike, and it was pretty hard to see any features.”
“There are other things you can look for that will tell you about them,” Macy offered.
“Like what?”
“Their behaviors. Were they looking downward or checking out their surroundings? Did they seem confident in their walk or were they dragging their feet? That sort of thing.”
“Gee, I never thought of that. That’s pretty good. Have you played this game too?”
Macy smiled. “On occasion. I like to people-watch too.” She returned to the highway for the short trip back to the house.
“Macy,” Allison began, “I have to make a confession.”
“You do? What is it you want to confess?”
“Well, I… I got bored while you were in the post office, and I started looking through your glove compartment.”
“And….”
“You have a gun in there!”
“Uh-huh. So?”
“Why do you have a gun in your glove compartment?”
Macy laughed. “Because I don’t carry a cell phone.”
At seven that evening Macy and Allison sat down to dinner and Macy was able to do some observing of her own. Allison was tall and slim and when she smiled her lips went a little to the right. She had multiple freckles, which she apparently tried to hide with make-up, but they somehow peeked through anyway. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, making this one of her best features and Macy was certain boys were drawn to her because of it. She sported several piercings in each ear but currently only had two pairs of earrings in them.
