Tom Becker says nothing, just looks at her. He then says, “And the white car?”
“Well, it drove away and I haven’t seen it since.”
“Did you notice what type of car or registration?”
“Not the registration, but it was a small Japanese car like my youngest daughter had once. A Toyota or Nissan maybe.”
“Did you see the driver?”
“I did on the second time. It was a strange thing too. As the car was about to drive away, the driver lent over into the passenger side and looked to my window. The driver was wearing a cap and had short clumpy hair.”
‘Man or woman?” asks Tom.
“I couldn’t tell. However, the driver was staring straight at me! It made me queasy and unsettled.”
‘So, what made you really call us?”
“Well, it was that look I got. It was very disturbing. I didn’t like it at all. Creepy. Something really weird,” Mary looks out her window then turns to Becker.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Nope, that’s about it. I feel sorry for Mrs. Garner and her grandson. I hadn’t spoken to her for many months as she never ventured out and I couldn’t be bothered to visit. We weren’t that close.”
2.
Sargent Becker contacts Bobby, the grandson, that afternoon and asks him to drop into the Police Station on his way home from work.
Bobby works at a local body shop and had the faint smell of noxious duco-paint about him. His hands are ingrained with automotive grime from his years repairing cars and trucks. Becker didn’t know Bobby that well, but as is in a small town, he has heard rumors of drugs and booze surrounding him following the death of Johnny. One definite thing he knew about Bobby was that his older brother Johnny, who served in Afghanistan as a Grunt, was captured and eventually executed by the Taliban. He had been offered up for ransom. US$750,000 they wanted. Bobby’s father did not have that money even if he sold everything he had. The U.S. Government wouldn’t help because they don’t deal with these types, except to hurt or kill them. Bobby’s grandmother had enough to help out, but she stubbornly refused.
“Hi Sargent. What’s up?” he asks as he sits down in a small interview room.
“Bobby, I want to ask you a few questions about your grandmother and the day before her death.”
Bobby shifts nervously in his chair, “Fire away Sir.”
“Did you visit your grandmother the day before she was found dead?”
Bobby shot back, “Yup, I did. My usual checkup on Gran to make sure she was OK. She can’t be bothered to answer her phone much, so I visit, check her mail and have a chat. She gets her groceries delivered every Friday.” He looks annoyed, “Oh shoot, I must cancel that now.”
“And do you remember anything different when you entered the house?”
Bobby smiles as if he was waiting for the question, “Yes there was a mangy cat sleeping on the front door mat.”
“Go on, what happened to the cat?”
Bobby straightens up, “I hadn’t seen it before. I say, ‘shoo cat’, to it and it ran off under the house. That’s the last I saw of it.”
“So when you left your grandmother’s place you never saw it outside or even inside?”
“Nope,” replies Bobby. “I gave all this information to one of your officers last week. I went back the next day because I left my sunglasses behind and Gran was dead. I called emergency. You can check if you want.”
Becker had checked and the statements agreed.
“OK Bobby, thanks very much for your cooperation. You can go now. Oh, one more thing, did you get on well with your grandmother?”
“Yeah, sure I do, or I did.”
“Any hard feelings from your brother’s misfortune?”
Bobby’s face becomes sad with a slight drooping of his mouth. “It was a hard time for us all Officer, but I’m over it now. As they say, life must go on.”
Tom wasn’t convinced.
Bobby gets up from the table, shakes the Sargent’s hand and leaves.
Mrs. Elizabeth Garner was declared dead on the day after Bobby’s visit (and the cat’s). The coroner signed off on the death certificate, as heart attack from short breath. Mrs. Garner was eighty-six. The only discerning marks found on Mrs. Garner’s body were a few cat hairs in her throat and scratches at the rear of her head and down her neck. Causes undetermined
‘A real cat killer’, Tom muses to himself. All too bizarre. This will go nowhere.
One last thing he might do is to check on Mrs. Elizabeth Garner’s beneficiaries.
LONG ISLAND
1.
Saffron, now safely back from San Francisco, is driving her near-new Maserati GranTurismoon Interstate 495 E into the heartland of Long Island. The sat-nav computer informed her that the drive would be about ninety minutes from JFK Airport, New York City to her home.
Living in Port Jefferson, on the North-West Shore of Long Island is a treat. Not as snobbish as the Hamptons where she and her parents once lived and not that ribald as to make downtown evenings unsavory. Port Jeff is a charming, yet calm place to live. Her father and mother, deceased when she was twenty-three, were rich. Very rich. Millions in the bank, due to their combined efforts operating an exclusive real estate business in Long Island for over two decades. Saffron had inherited the lot.
Following the death of her parents, which occurred while she was living away studying a Masters in Biological Science at M.I.T. Boston, she soon sold their home and purchased a stunning four bedroom Victorian original 19thCentury old world charmer with all the modern amenities of today. Situated on upmarket Oakes Street and about five minutes drive to picturesque Port Jefferson Harbor, shopping centers and restaurants. A nice spot to be. In the heart of the village.
She had furnished her two-story home with exquisite antique furniture in every room. The previous owners had done a remarkable job in renovating the home, whilst keeping all the beautiful wood adornments. The magnificent original oak staircase, bannister, doors, yellow pine floors, hand carved gas fireplace and rounded ten-foot tray ceilings were maintained in place.
The Maserati drove up her driveway towards the detached matching double garage that sat alongside the white painted weatherboard home with its light grey shingle roof. She pressed the remote and the double door opened up and glided back into the ceiling area of the garage roof. She drove her car in and got out.
Within minutes she was at the front door, unlocked it and walked in with her luggage rolling behind her.
‘Phew’, she thinks to herself, time for a quick gin and tonic before I pick up Caviar.
Saffron is pleased with her assignment in San Francisco and now looked forward to a few weeks of relaxing around her home with her menagerie.
Later she drives into the Village to pick up her Birman. She thought of her mother’s love of Birman’s and that is why she bought one. Whenever she thought of her parents she got sad, but always smiled, as she knew she had done them proud. In many ways, actually. Completing her Masters degree at M.I.T. was a challenge following their death, however she had persevered and reached her goal.
2.
Her