Chapter 49: The Curse

MEL

A uniformed courier showed up at my office on Tuesday afternoon, just after I’d returned from a house showing. I had to sign for a mysterious envelope that the young man finally presented to me. I’d never had anything delivered to me in this manner.

I had two-dozen things pending for my real estate work, so I figured this was some important papers for one of them.

I opened the envelope to find only one thing. A cashier’s check payable to me for $40,000. The check was signed by Warren Prentiss. In the memo space on the face of the check, was handwritten ‘For Contract Services’.

Warren had honored the terms of his first indecent proposal. I laughed. I also thought that I definitely should not cash the thing.

No sooner had that thought gone through my head than our office secretary told me that I had a call. The call was Warren. I said, “Hello,” and the first words from him were, “Cash it. It’s a cashier’s check. The money is already gone from my account. It’s yours, and you’ve earned it in so many ways other than just showing up for the cruise.”

I whispered, “Warren, I’m not an expensive prostitute.”

“We all know that. Look at the past year. You forgave me my indiscreet invitation. You have invited me to your Sex Club, and helped me befriend a whole new group of people, all of whom I love, I might add. You did come on the cruise, and you brought eight people from your group to help make the cruise a remarkable and memorable experience for everyone. You also didn’t go bat-shit crazy when you saw Wendy with Paul or me. I pretty sure you even encouraged her. So, you were amazing and helped make everything perfect – P. E. R. F. E. C. T. Mel, cash the check. I’m hanging up now. I love you. Bye.”

The line went dead. I sighed. I also called Dave.

Dave suggested I split it down the middle and donate half to a charity and keep the rest. That’s what I did. My charity was the Prentiss Foundation. I knew that I’d get scolded by Warren, but so what.

The following Wednesday, I sold a house in the afternoon and so was busy with all the paperwork regarding the sale until late in the afternoon. I knew that Trish, Cindy, and Wendy were on campus with classes, and Dave was downtown in the Prentiss building where many of the conglomerate’s offices were.

I eventually left to drive home, and I got as far as the turn into our street, only to find it blocked off by a firetruck and police car, each with their lights madly blinking to signify that something really significant was taking place.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I worried about our house, which I could see from the corner. Fortunately for us, that wasn’t where the activity was focused.

I saw two firemen playing a hose onto our next-door neighbor’s house – the Hutchinson’s. After the debacle with my parents, I can’t say that I was sorry. I did wonder what had happened, however.

I parked and joined several others walking down the opposite side of the street to see what was going on. Other spectators were lined up watching the fire crew work on the house. Joe and Nancy, the owners, were standing in a corner of their front yard watching the action. Smoke was billowing out the front door, but the action of the firemen was in the rear around the kitchen. Smoke was also rising out from the back of the house.

Standing across the street from my own house, I found Willow, our afternoon babysitter, with Beth and Scott. They were all eyes and ears watching the whole scene unfold at the Hutchinson’s. They’d often ask Willow a question that she’d respond to. I joined them and got my mom hugs.

I noted that Tracy was a few feet away with Ken and Ashley’s kids. We formed a bigger cluster. All this drama had apparently just started fifteen minutes earlier.

My query to another onlooker informed me that they had no idea what was happening other than the obvious – a house fire. Trish and Cindy joined me, and I had no greater news than what we could take in with our own eyes.

I saw Dave’s car pause at the top of the street and then disappear. He appeared on foot about two minutes later. He’d parked one street over.

He looked odd. I asked, “What are you thinking?”

“I put a curse on them after that blow-up with your parents that they caused. I’m just wondering whether I really do have super-natural powers.” I realized he was serious and feeling some guilt.

The heavy smoke from inside the home started to dissipate, and the firemen seemed to be treading in and out of the house via the front door more than they had, and apparently out the back door, too. The neighborhood reeked of smoke and burning wood.

Dave ran across to our house, leaping over a couple of hoses that had been strung from a hydrant near the corner. He came back a few minutes later and said that we were fine, but the odor would be around for a while.

Joe, the burning home’s owner, surveyed the crowd that had gathered across the street from his home. He spied Dave coming back to where we stood, and strode over to him with his fists clenched.

Joe got ten-feet from Dave and yelled, “You bastard. You and your FUCKING curse. I lose my job and Nancy’s attempt at dinner catches fire and burns out the kitchen and part of our upstairs. YOU FUCKER. What did you do to us?” He turned sharply and went back to Nancy nearer to his house.

DAVE

The fire department was on the street and working next door for another four hours. We went home for dinner long before they left. The view of the Hutchinson’s house from our revealed the extent of the damage.

From what we could see, the kitchen was totally destroyed, and that probably extended into their dining area and living room area. This was one of the downsides of an open-plan home. Part of the rear wall of the home was lying smoldering in their backyard.

The two rear bedrooms upstairs in the two-story structure also appeared to be seriously damaged. All the windows on the rear of the house had been broken or punched out in order to work on the fire. The place must have been like dry kindling to have burned up so fast.

I set up fans in our house to pull in fresh air from the side of the house away from the fire, and push it out in that direction. That and a liberal application of Febreze just about rid our house of the smoke odor. We left it that way overnight. Fortunately, out bedroom was away from the activity that continued. Part of the house had to be shored up with new wood just to keep the upstairs from collapsing into the first floor.

The next morning, there was still a fire engine at the Hutchinson’s as well as a police car. I thought nothing about it until I backed out of my garage.

Just as my car got to the street, I was waved to the side by the cop. With him was a fireman in their civilian uniform, including badge.

I rolled my window down. The cop said, “Mr. Janson, would you please get out of your car.” I’m suddenly thinking that this is serious in some way. I exited the car and made sure to keep my hands in sight and away from my body.

The fireman spoke, “Mr. Hutchinson says that you caused the fire in his home.”

I frowned, “That is not true. I discovered the fire the same way the others in my house did. I came home from work about 5:45 p.m. and saw all the commotion last evening. I have dozens of witnesses that I was downtown all day.”

“Did you not threaten them about three weeks ago?”

“That’s a gray zone. They screwed up the relationship between my family and my wife’s parents while we were away on a trip. I tore into them for being gossips and for the ill-will when we got home and discovered what they’d been telling Mel’s parents. Actually, trying to avoid stating a threat, I put a curse on them. They’d acted in a vile manner, and I did in return. It was all words and no action.”

“Mr. Hutchinson also lost his job yesterday. He said that you’d stated that something like that would happen.”

“I did. I believe that I couched the curse by saying when things went wrong in their lives that they should remember what they did to shatter part of our family relations. Everyone has shit happen, and when it did, I wanted them to think about what they’d done to my family. Again, I emphasize it was all me venting my anger in a crazy manner and no action. I did nothing to result in his job loss or to start the fire. That’s all on them.”

“Mr. Janson, will you please come with us. We need you downtown to take a full statement.”

I pulled my cellphone out, “Let me call my lawyer and have him there.” I called Mandy London, who was one of my lovers and a paralegal for a firm downtown. I quickly explained that I was being questioned as a suspect for arson and who knows what else at the police station and needed a lawyer present ASAP. I gave her the address of the police station where I’d be and we ended the call.

The cop let me return my car to the garage rather than leave it halfway into the street. Wendy was still there, so I quickly told her what was happening before I voluntarily got into the back of the squad car and was driven downtown.

I was escorted to an interrogation room that had a wall of one-way glass. I sat and waited. The arson detective and the fire department arson captain came into the room with three more gentlemen dressed in pin stripes, rep ties, and black oxfords. Their suits alone probably cost five or ten grand.

One of the three men introduced himself as Morris Baker, a partner in the Baker, Manners, and Aspen law office. The three men were my attorneys. Morris turned to the police officials and said, “Proceed.”

The two arson cops looked intimidated, but they pulled out their pads to take notes. I was sure the whole thing was being recorded anyway. I waved and smiled broadly and yet sarcastically at the one-way glass panel.

“Mr. Janson, would you describe your relationship with the Hutchinsons?”

“They were or are next-door neighbors. They were standoffish, so we never had any kind of friendship with them. We knew each other on sight and to say hello to, but nothing further. Any conversations we had were very brief and mostly about the weather or something very neutral. There was no socialization between our families. I did not and do not know where they worked or how they spent their time.

“That relationship changed on the past Monday holiday. My wife and I had been away for a week down on St. Croix. My wife’s parents had been babysitting out two children. As I understand it, one or both Hutchinsons sought them out to inform them that we had gatherings with other friends and neighbors that were openly sexual. From what we could tell, they provided exceptionally detailed descriptions of what had gone on. Based on what my wife’s parents said, they had spied on us repeatedly and intentionally.