Meeting the Neighbors

I’ve spent most of my life without adult supervision. So now that I’m masquerading as a 49-year-old why does everyone need to take care of me?

2:30 p.m.

It was 27 degrees this morning and by 11:00 it was snowing. I want to go back to Savannah! I called Cinnamon in Seattle and damned if it wasn’t snowing there, too. I stopped at a Burlington Coat Factory store on the way to the airport and bought a coat. A good, heavy, long coat, gloves, a scarf, and a hat. And a new roll-aboard suitcase and a purse big enough to put my normal carry-ons and my computer in. The salesman (Imagine a salesman at BCF! I didn’t know they had them.) kept going on and on about the quality of the coat and how I would need the warmth if the weather forecast held true and the temperatures started dipping into the sub-teens. Then he wanted to make sure that the suitcase I had was the right quality, that the hat and scarf matched, that the gloves were thermal-lined, and to top it off, he insisted on carrying my packages to the car while I held his arm. Joan, sitting in the car and handling some kind of business at Sherwin-Williams on her cell phone, nearly split laughing after the guy solicitously held my door and made sure the tails of my new coat were not caught in it. Wow!

Apparently, however, there was something stamped on my forehead that said “Little old lady in need of help.” I got to the airport in plenty of time for my 1:30 flight and when the Sky Cap saw Joanand me struggling to get my big suitcase out of the car he came hopping out from his stand, grabbed the bag and gave me his arm as Claire waved and called “Bye Auntie. Have a good visit.” “That girl of yours should have parked and helped you in, ma’am,” the Sky Cap said. “Weather like this, you could fall and break something. I’ve seen it happen, right there were you were standing. People just don’t realize.” He checked me through to Seattle via Chicago, then looked around to see that there was no one else in need of help and escorted me all the way to security. I tipped him $5. I just couldn’t appear to be so flush that I could give him more.

The truth of the matter, of course, is that I transferred $28,000 into my Peg Chester bank account this morning by cashing out cash cards. I took a thousand in cash and one card has a thousand left on it. I should probably replenish the cards if I make anything on this case. I can see that I could burn through a hundred of these pretty easily. But it’s important that Peg have money she can draw on, and I want to start picking up more of the tab for the new apartment. Joan’s doing fine, but I can see that I’m going to be using Peg in the future. I’d like to go out and visit her occasionally. I got my drivers license renewed and Joan will forward it to me as soon as it arrives.

Once the Sky Cap let go of me, I had a minute to rest on a bench and remove my outdoor clothes and put them in my roll-aboard. That left me with just my purse/computer bag, and roll-aboard. Everything was out of my pockets and neatly tucked into plastic sandwich bags in my purse. Apparently the TSA agent noticed my careful preparations because he complimented me when I handed him my boarding pass and ID on being a well-prepared traveler. Then he motioned me over to a security lane that I thought was unmanned until an agent re-routed an entire line from a different scanner right behind me. It took a minute for the crew to switch stations, but when they had, I sailed through quickly. I noticed that two agents were still at the other station with a passenger that was looking rather forlorn and a security guard moving in from the concourse side of the scanner. I guess I just showed up at the right time and everyone was too busy with a real suspect to notice a middle-aged lady.

That being said, I’m on my layover in Chicago and about to board for Seattle. While I like being treated nicely, if this keeps up I’m going to get suspicious.

10:30 p.m.

I arrived in Seattle on time at 5:30 and headed straight for the rental car. Flying had been such a breeze that I expected renting a car to go just as smoothly. I’d made one mistake. Having my driver’s license renewed meant that they punched a hole in my old license. That was a flag for the rental agent and she had to make several calls before she got clearance to rent a car to me. I helped calm her fears by accepting all the damage waiver insurance, pre-paying for the tank of gas in the car, and asking for a map and directions. Once we got past the “can’t drive with an expired license” dilemma, she was very helpful. She upgraded my car from a Chevrolet Aveo to a Cobalt. Okay. Not a big upgrade, but a little.

I stopped at South Center Mall and got a pair of warm boots and dinner. I knew that there would be nothing in the house that I’d want to eat when I got there. It had been closed up since Christmas and I expected that one of the first things I’d have to do was empty the fridge into big garbage bags. I wasn’t positive what day was garbage pick-up in North Seattle, but I sincerely hoped I hadn’t missed it. I called Cinnamon again and she sounded very formal when she answered the phone. I realized this was the first time I’d called her on my Cleveland cell phone. I picked up a pay-in-advance cell phone while I was there. My Deb Riley phone was buried in the bottom of my suitcase.

Cinnamon confirmed that the house was now cleared for occupancy and that the police would stop by tomorrow morning to brief the executor of the estate. The tape would be removed then, but I was free to cross the police line tonight. Well, there was no way to avoid this any longer. I got in my car and headed for North Seattle and Georgia McFearin’s house.

North Seattle was invented before cars. At least that’s the way it seems. The streets in this neighborhood are very narrow and people park on both sides, so there is room for one car to go one way or the other, but two cars going in opposite directions are a problem. One of them has to back up to the previous intersection to let the other go around. Snow on the ground makes matters much, much worse. The snow started in about the time I got here and doesn’t show signs of stopping. On top of the three inches we’ve already had in Seattle since the 1st, the streets in this part of town are nearly impassable. I had to stop in the middle of the street, unload my gear and take it to the front porch, then drive two blocks away before I found a place I could park. And I don’t think it’s a legal spot. Something about needing a permit, but I’ll have to go out and move it first thing in the morning. Can’t deal with it tonight. I guess I should be happy. There are parts of town that are still out of electricity from the December storms. Fortunately, not here.

I unlocked the house and dragged my things inside, looking every bit the uncertain newcomer that I am. The place gave me chills as soon as I walked through the door, and not just because the heat was off. It will be a wonder if all the pipes in the house haven’t frozen. I checked the thermostat, and it was keeping the house at about 55. I boosted the setting to 72 and the head kicked in immediately, much to my relief. The place would be pleasant enough if it weren’t for the chalk marks in the middle of the living room. It looks like Georgia must have hung herself from the ceiling fan. I suppose they must have marked out where she was when they cut her down. It looks pretty weird. After I talk to the cops tomorrow morning, I’m going to scrub this room first. There are four rooms on this level—a living room, dining room, kitchen, and little room that looks like it might have been a pantry under the stairs, but which Georgia apparently used as an office. And, yes, there is a computer in each room. The office looks like the hub. This is where the modem comes in and the computer here looks big, powerful, and new. The kitchen computer is a laptop on the counter next to the sink. I’ve got to assume she moved it around to keep it from getting splashed from the dish water. Or maybe she never did dishes. Quick check of the refrigerator told me she prepared a fair amount of food because there were a lot of leftovers of things I couldn’t recognize.

The living room computer looks like a media center that is hooked into the nice flat screen TV. The dining room computer has a nice mini tower, major manufacturer. Looks like she bought these all off the shelf. I’m guessing Fry’s or Circuit City. I went up the stairs and turned on lights as I went. At the top of the stairs were a door on the left, one on the right, and one straight ahead. The one straight ahead proved to be the bathroom, built into a dormer and overlooking the back of the house. I can’t tell what’s out there in the dark. I’ll have a look around in the morning. Left door is a small bedroom, sparsely furnished. Single bed with a metal frame, headboard, and footboard. It reminds me of something you’d see in an old movie about an orphanage or girls’ school. A desk with a computer and modest 15 inch monitor. Right door opens onto a bedroom as opulent as the left one is plain. The bed is big and unmade and there are clothes lying around on the floor. I’m guessing this is the one Georgia used and the other was for any unfortunate guest she might have had. Closet doors are open and there are a dozen pairs of shoes on the floor. The computer is on a nice corner desk and is a pretty good looking piece of equipment. 20 inch monitor with a joystick in addition to the mouse and keyboard. Looks like Georgia was a gamer. There’s a nice headset on the desk as well.

I’d already decided I was going to sleep in the other bedroom. I wasn’t ready to sleep in Georgia’s bed, at least not until I’d cleaned things up. I was on my way downstairs to get my suitcase when the doorbell rang. I about jumped out of my skin.

When I answered the door, I found a man and woman, a little younger than Peg, standing on the porch. They didn’t have coats on and looked cold, but I wasn’t about to let them in.

“Hi! We’re neighbors next door and saw the lights come on in the house. We rushed over because the police have had this sealed up ever since the incident here and we wanted to make sure everything was all right.” The speaker through chattering teeth was the woman, a short red-head of an unnatural color. The taller man beside her was ready to take charge.

“We’ve called the police,” he said. “You’d better get out now.” Well that was friendly. If he’d called the police, you’d think he’d want me to stay and get caught. Besides, they didn’t look like they were here to confront a burglar.

“I have police permission to be in the house,” I answered. “I’m sure they’ll check their records. The house was listed as unsealed this afternoon. They’ll be by in the morning to take down the tape.”

“Who are you?” the man pressed.

“I’m Peg Chester—Georgia’s cousin. Her father asked me to come and settle the estate and clean things up,” I answered.

“Oh, what a relief.” the woman said. “We were afraid at first that someone had broken in, but with all the lights on, I told Rick that a burglar wouldn’t turn on all the lights. But we thought maybe the police had come back, and since we own the house we felt that we should rush right over.”

“You are Georgia’s landlords?” I asked. I guess I hadn’t read the report Cinnamon prepared for me thoroughly enough. I didn’t recall anything that mentioned that the landlord lived next door.

“Yes,” said the woman. “I’m Susan and this is Rick Thomas, my husband. I know he’s a hunk, but don’t get any ideas, he doesn’t come with the house.” The aforementioned Rick rolled his eyes, but didn’t seem to have much to say now that I’d established my credentials. “Are you planning to be here long?”

“I only intend to clear up the house and dispose of Georgia’s possessions,” I said. “As soon as I’ve got the estate banked, I’ll be heading back to Cleveland. I expect it will take me a few days, but I don’t plan to be here after the first of the month. You’ll be able to rent again soon.”

“We’ll need a 30-day notice to vacate from the first of the month,” Rick said. “And Georgia hadn’t paid the January rent when she uh… passed away.” He was getting right to the point. “We were going to come in and salvage what we could as soon as the police said we could.”

“Well, I’ll set up an estate bank account tomorrow morning and get a check to you for two months’ rent. I’m here so you won’t have to do any salvage work.”

“You just let us know if you need anything,” Susan said. “We were very close to Georgia. She was more a friend than a tenant. We did everything together. It was such a shock to lose her like that. I tell you what, tomorrow I’ll bring over some food and we’ll start things off right. Do you eat tuna noodle casserole?” I nodded. “I have a secret recipe, and there’s nothing like a little TNC on these cold days.”

“Thank you Susan,” I said. “I’m sure we’ll get on fine. Just a few days and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Here’s my card in case you need anything,” Rick said. “Just give me a call. If you find any damage that needs to be repaired, I do the handywork myself. I don’t like to have other contractors come into the house.” What kind of help did he think I’d need? Then I thought of the chalk on the living room floor.

“I don’t think there is anything wrong that a little cleaning won’t take care of,” I said. “I’ll let you know if there is anything else.” I finally got rid of them, even after they stood there obviously expecting to be invited in. I looked at Rick’s card and it had the name and address of a local bar with the word “owner” printed under his name. Guy is apparently into owning things. I wondered if he had intended to give me one with the address of the house and the word “owner” on it. Weird people.

So, the rest of the evening went okay, but it’s still snowing lightly outside. I don’t know if there will be any accumulation anyplace but on my car window, it’s already colder here than it was in Cleveland. WTF Seattle?

I’ve set up in the small bedroom and am ready for bed. The whole house creaks and it feels cold even though I’ve got the temperature up to 74 now. I thought I left the ghosts in Savannah.