Murder on the Hoof: A Mystery (Colleen McCabe Series) (10 page)

She moved to leave and noticed a computer power cord dangling from the edge of the counter. Given the neatness of the rest of the room, it seemed odd to her that Rich would have left the cord hanging and still plugged into the outlet. Rich didn’t seem like the type who would grab his laptop and not unplug the cord. She wondered if whoever had broken in had taken it.

Colleen left the kitchen, entered a combined dining and living room area, and stopped in her tracks. In complete contrast to the kitchen, this room’s belongings were end over end—the obvious result of someone’s frantic, angry search. Even the dining room chairs had been tossed.

“Wow,” she uttered.

“You can say that again,” Bill said from the other side of the room.

They locked eyes. It was the first time they had seen each other since she had told him she had plans for the evening. She’d never intended for him to see her in her current attire.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence. “Someone ransacked the place pretty good.”

“So it would seem,” he replied, recovering from the sight of her.

She noticed that a television with its accompanying electronics and an iPod on its docking station hadn’t been taken. “Any idea what they were after?”

“I checked the bedroom. Same condition. Whoever did this left jewelry and valuables behind.”

Colleen stepped past an overturned chair to move closer to Bill. She didn’t want to chance being overheard. “You think this had anything to do with Rich’s murder?”

“The evidence doesn’t indicate any connection.”

“But…” she said, sensing he had a theory.

“But the timing so close to his death seems like more than coincidence.”

That was exactly what she had been thinking. Rich was murdered because he either knew something or had something he shouldn’t. Her gut told her that once she learned what it was, she’d know the identity of his killer.

“A laptop seems to be missing from the kitchen,” she said. “Don’t you think it’s strange that all of the other electronics were left behind except for that one?”

“I noticed that, too. Since Rich lived alone, Rodney is checking with his brother about what might be missing and to be sure the laptop isn’t at his office.” He ran his hands through his hair. “But why ransack the entire place if you’d already found what you were looking for?” he asked, addressing the question more to himself than to Colleen.

“Because you hadn’t.”

Her words hung heavily in the air. No. The killer hadn’t found what he was looking for. If he had, he would have stopped with the laptop in the kitchen and left. There was something else, something that a person might hide in a drawer or desk. Documents? An object? Incriminating photographs? Her mind was full of questions and not a single clue as to an answer. Better focus on questions she could get answered.

“I didn’t see any evidence of a gas leak. Did you call that in?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, and averted her gaze.

Her eyes narrowed. “Where, exactly, did you think you smelled the leak?” she asked, now suspicious of his motivations for the call. She found it hard to believe that he’d waste her time and the county’s money by calling her crew out to break up her date, but lately a lot of things about Bill were surprising her.

“I smelled it. Couldn’t tell where it was coming from, though.”

Okay. I’ll play along, she thought, and left the living room in search of the laundry room and furnace. She returned to the kitchen, opened a slatted panel door, and found the laundry machines. Both were electric, not gas. Only thing left to check was the furnace. She was surprised not to see it located near the kitchen. She opened another door and discovered Rich’s pantry. She remembered that some homes had the hot-water heater placed in a closet off of a bedroom, so she headed in that direction.

She crept down the hall and peeked into the first room. It was a tidy space with a single bed and dresser. The fact that it didn’t look lived-in made her wonder if it was Rich’s guest room. She crossed to the closet, where the door hung open. Clothes lay on the floor nearby. She considered what people stored in closets besides shoes and clothing. She had seen everything from Christmas ornaments to family photographs to craft supplies. She had even found a collection of dental molds in clear plastic tubs once. She never did find out what that had been about. One thing was clear, though: The water heater wasn’t in this room.

“Can I help you with anything?” Bill asked from the doorway.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the hot-water heater is?” she asked, not really wanting him tagging behind her as she did her investigation.

“Sure,” he said, and disappeared down the hall.

Great, she thought. If Bill had sent her and her guys on a fool’s errand, she’d want a moment to think about how to address it with him. Now he’d be right there watching her. She found him standing at the entrance to the bathroom. She eyed him as she squeezed past him and into the small room. Like the kitchen, the room was clean and tidy. She crossed to a closet next to the toilet and found the hot-water heater.

“Thanks, I’m good,” she said, hoping her tone would dismiss him. It didn’t.

She leaned toward the heater and used her hand to waft air toward her nose. It was something she had learned in her college chemistry lab. Never, ever put your nose straight over a substance until you know exactly what it is. After several waves, she still didn’t smell gas. She felt the tank. It was cool. She shifted to lie on the ground to get a look at the pilot light and had a renewed appreciation of her usual firefighter attire of tucked-in T-shirt and pants. She smiled awkwardly at Bill, then tugged on her skirt and gingerly lay on her side with her back to him. She peered into the hole at the bottom of the heater.

“The pilot light is out,” she said from her reclining position.

“Hmm,” she heard him say from behind her. “That must have been it.”

She examined the ignition box. “I don’t know,” she said, rising in as ladylike a fashion as she could. “That’s why there’s an emergency cutoff. From what I can tell, the hot-water heater worked as it’s supposed to. I don’t smell gas.”

“I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry. Don’t need any more explosions this summer.”

She could understand why he was more cautious than usual after Myrtle’s house explosion, but had he really been concerned, or was the call the ruse of a jealous man? If he had called in the leak merely to interrupt her date, then she didn’t know him at all. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’ll give the guys the all clear,” she said, and moved to leave.

“Before you do that, I’d like you to take a look at something.”

“Okay,” she said, unsure of what to make of the request. She trailed him down the hall to the back of the house.

“What do you think?” he asked, and gestured into a room.

Colleen peered in and discovered what looked to be an anatomy study of sorts. Plaster molds of hands and faces covered the desk and some of the bookcase shelves. Books about the human body sat in piles on the floor. The room had the feeling of organized chaos, and it struck her how different it was from the rest of the house. But what got her attention and gave her pause were the dozens and dozens of images of human ears that covered several bulletin boards lining the walls. She stepped tentatively into the room and squinted at the ear pictures. Some photos had lines drawn to various ear parts, with notes scratched at the end of the line indicating a “helix rim” or “lobule” or “antihelix.”

“I’ve heard of a foot fetish but never an ear fetish,” he said. “What do you make of it?”

“Reminds me of biology lab in a weird way,” she said, scanning a second set of photos. “Some of these even look like pictures of the same ears.”

“Guess you never can tell about a person.”

Colleen stole a glance at him. “No, I guess not. Maybe this had to do with his job. I imagine you get pretty good at knowing all the details of the human body, particularly the face.”

“I don’t know. Seems more like a hobby to me.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, the room’s nothing like the funeral home or his kitchen. It’s a bit of a mess.”

She had to admit that the room was not up to Rich’s usual meticulousnesss. Aside from the unusual photographs and molds, the room was actually cozy, with an overstuffed chair in one corner and local artists’ paintings of the beach on the walls. It reminded her of how some people had rooms in their houses that were for show but lived in other rooms, which were less formal and homier. She didn’t know whether it was true, but she had a sense that this was the room where Rich had spent most of his time. She noticed the clock on Rich’s desk. She had been inside the house for some time. As fascinating as the room’s contents were, now that there wasn’t any evidence of an emergency situation, she needed to get back to her men and the station.

“I should be getting back,” she said.

They left the room and made their way to the front entrance.

“You got a ride?” he asked.

“I’ll catch one with the guys.”

They lingered. How could she ask Bill if he had really detected a gas smell or whether it had been a ploy to break up her meeting with Pinky? The question would undoubtedly put him on the defensive. And what about his relationship with Hayley? There was no way she could bring that up.

“Hey, Chief. We all clear?” Jimmy called from the road.

She signaled him to start up the engine.

“Sorry to haul you out here and ruin your…” Bill’s voice trailed off and he gestured to her dress.

“It was only a meeting,” she said, suddenly feeling silly for misleading him.

“Pretty fancy meeting.”

“I had to wear a dress, and this is the only one I had.” She glanced down at her outfit. “Pretty crazy, right?”

A grin crept over his face. “I didn’t want to say anything.”

“Thank you for that. Can you believe there were eight of us wearing this at a wedding?” Jimmy honked the horn. “I gotta go.”

“Hey,” he said as she marched away. She paused. “You look nice.”

She smiled, turned, and joined her men for the ride back to the station.

As she and her crew made their way to the firehouse, Colleen gazed absently out the windshield, lost in thought about Rich Bailey’s apparent ear fetish. She barely noticed that a few of the guys had started humming until, one by one, they began singing. She turned in her seat to listen, amused by their lighthearted mood. But her amusement was swiftly replaced by one of embarrassment as they joined together in singing Randy Houser’s “Boots On” and finished with a rousing chorus of “Hey y’all, I’m going out with my boots on.” Her face flushed as pink as her dress and the men erupted into laughter. It had been foolish of her to think that she had escaped their razzing.

“Very funny” was all she could manage, to which several of the guys added, “Yeehaw!”

Jimmy snickered from the driver’s seat, and she threw him a disapproving look. “You’re supposed to be supervising these hooligans,” she said, feigning a reprimand.

He grinned and steered the engine into the station lot. Once they were parked, there were more chuckles and offers to help “the lady” down from the engine—something that had never happened before. She growled and shooed the guys away. She wasn’t really mad. In fact, moments like this were often useful for bonding a crew together and easing tension after a call. She hopped from the vehicle, yanking on her clothes so as not to flash anyone. Boy did she hate dresses. She couldn’t wait to change back into a comfortable T-shirt and slacks.

“So, that’s the best you could come up with,” Jimmy said, glancing at the dress. “I’ve got to hand it to you.… It’s eye-catching.”

“You should have seen my other choice,” she said, grateful she wasn’t wearing the clinging polyester tangerine number.

“The boots are kinda rockin’.”

“You think?” she asked, glancing down.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“So my outfit isn’t a total disaster. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get out of it pronto.”

She marched up the steps, eager to slip into the clothes she had stored in her office.

“Hey,” he called after her. “How’d it go with Salvatore?”

“Fine,” she said as she disappeared into her office with a wave. She could tell Jimmy about all of that later.

She stripped out of the dress and boots and threw on a T-shirt with the station logo and khakis. She eyed the boots, thought, What the heck, and put them back on. Now that she was in more comfortable clothes, her mood brightened. She glanced at the dress in a pile on the floor and retrieved the corsage. The flower was pretty, after all, and she’d appreciate it sitting in a glass of water. Maybe she’d think about getting some freesia the next time she was at Island Blooms florist. She scooped the dress into a bag, put the corsage on top, switched off her light, and went in search of someone to give her a lift home. She found the guys hanging out in the rec room.

“Aw, you changed,” Jimmy teased.

“I thought you looked nice,” Chip said, and a few guys threw pillows at him for “sucking up.”

“Thanks, Chip. I’m promoting you to first lieutenant,” she said with a wink.

“Hello?” came a voice from the bay. “Chief McCabe?”

All eyes turned expectantly toward the entrance. Hayley Thorpe peered into the room. “There you are,” she said, spotting Colleen.

The guys scrambled to their feet. Great. Just what I need, Colleen thought. “What can I do for you, Ms. Thorpe?” she asked, adopting a professional tone.

“Please, call me Hayley.”

The guys muttered “Hi, Ms. Thorpe” and “Nice to see you, Ms. Thorpe.” Colleen resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Nice boots,” Hayley said.

“Thanks.” She wished she could click the heels of the sequined footwear and instantly transport herself home.

“And you’ve done something different with your hair,” the actress added. The guys snickered. “Did I say something funny?”

“No,” Colleen said, shooting a look that instantly silenced the room. “So what brings you by?”

“I was hoping I could shadow you tomorrow. We’ve had a delay in filming and I figured I’d use the time to do research.”