Chapter 10: Meeting the Neighbors

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

Little old lady

It was twenty-seven degrees this morning and by eleven, it was snowing. I wanted to go back to sunny warm 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 rollaboard 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 the suitcase I had was the right quality, that the hat and scarf matched, 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 cellphone, nearly split her gut 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 one-thirty flight and when the Sky Cap saw Joan and 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 Joan 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 your hip. I’ve seen it happen, right there where you were standing. People just don’t realize.” He checked me through to Seattle via Chicago and looked around to see there was no one else in need of help. He escorted me all the way to security. I tipped him five dollars. I just couldn’t appear to be so flush that I could give him more.

The truth of the matter, of course, was that I transferred $28,000 into my Peg Chester bank account this morning by cashing out cash cards. I took a thousand 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 burning through a hundred of these pretty easily. But it’s important that Peg have money she can draw on, and I wanted to start picking up more of the apartment rent. 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 driver’s 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 rollaboard. That left me with just my purse/computer bag and rollaboard. Everything was out of my pockets and neatly tucked into plastic sandwich bags in my purse. Apparently, the TSA agent noticed my careful preparations. 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 rerouted 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 who looked rather forlorn, and a security guard was 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 now 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.

Owners

I arrived in Seattle on time at five-thirty 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 and gave me a paper license. The rental agent didn’t know what to do with that and 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, prepaying 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. Not a big upgrade, but a little.

I stopped at Southcenter Mall and got a pair of warm boots and dinner. I knew there would be nothing in the house I’d want to eat when I got there. It had been closed up since Christmas and I expected one of the first things I’d have to do was empty the fridge into garbage bags. I wasn’t positive what day garbage pickup was in Wallingford but I sincerely hoped I hadn’t missed it already. 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 cellphone. I’d picked up a pay-in-advance cellphone while I was there. My Deb Riley phone was buried in the bottom of my suitcase.

“Hey, Cinnamon. It’s me. Just wanted to let you know I’m back in town.”

“Oh!” she squealed. “When can I see you, Sugar?”

“Well, not tonight, but soon. What’s the status on the house?”

“The police have cleared it but there’s still tape. They’ll come by tomorrow morning to brief you—the executor of the estate. They’ll take the tape down then but you’re okay to enter now.”

“Well, I’d better get up there, then. I’m not looking forward to this and I really wish I could take you with me. I just need to show up the first time alone so I can see if anyone is watching for me.”

“Gotcha, baby. Call me anytime if you need something. You know. Like if you can’t sleep in the big spooky house.”

“Thanks for planting that image, Cinnamon. Talk to you in the morning.”

I started the car and headed for Wallingford and Georgia McFearin’s house.

I’m pretty sure North Seattle was laid out before anyone had imagined there would come a day when every house would have multiple cars parked on the street. With cars parked on both sides, there was just room to navigate between them. If you met an oncoming car, someone had to back up to the previous intersection. Snow on the ground makes matters much, much worse. It started snowing about the time I landed and didn’t show signs of stopping. I was sure there would be a ‘snow emergency’ tomorrow and my car would need to be off the street or get towed. I ended up stopping in the middle of the street in front of Georgia’s house, unloaded my gear and took it to the front porch, and then drove another two blocks before I found a spot wide enough to park. I’m not sure it’s a legal parking spot. Something about needing a permit. I’m pretty sure they won’t do anything about it tonight and I’ll go move it first thing in the morning. Can’t deal with it tonight. Guess I should be happy. There were still parts of town without electricity from the December storms. Fortunately, not here.

I unlocked the house and dragged my things inside, looking every bit the uncertain newcomer I am. The place gave me chills as soon as I walked through the door, and not just because the heat was turned down. It would be a wonder if all the pipes in the house hadn’t frozen. I checked the thermostat and it said it was keeping the house at about 55. I boosted the setting to 72 and heard the furnace kick in, much to my relief. The place might be pleasant enough it weren’t for chalk marks in the middle of the living room. It looked like Georgia must have hung herself from the ceiling fan. I suppose they had to mark the outline before they cut her down. It looks pretty weird.