The Nosy Neighbor (25 page)

Nellie Ebersole was a neat, tidy person, he would give her that. Everything appeared to be geometrically aligned. The hall closet held an array of winter clothing, two long coats, three short coats, a lined raincoat, four umbrellas hanging on special hooks. On the floor, next to a rack holding clogs and rubber boots, was a basket that held neatly folded scarves, wool hats, leather gloves, and wool gloves. He could wear the hat and scarf, but the gloves and boots were too small for him. The top shelf held boxes of catalogs for her popcorn ball business. He took a minute to admire the bright colors before he shut the door. He moved on to the guest bedroom and struck pay dirt. The scent of mothballs was strong. It became overpowering when he opened the closet door to see what he surmised was Nellie’s deceased husband’s clothes. He tried to breathe through his mouth while he rummaged. The man must have been big, tall like himself but with a huge waist.
Okay, that’s why leather makers manufactured belts.
Lucky for him Nellie hadn’t been able to part with her husband’s belongings. Maybe knowing they were there gave her comfort.
Now, where in the hell did that thought come from?
he wondered.

There were shoes, ankle-high boots, sneakers, sandals, slippers, and a pair of dark green knee-high Wellingtons. He knew just by looking at them that they would fit. He smacked his hands together in glee.

The dresser drawers gave up everything he needed, warm, wool socks, underwear, and tee shirts. One drawer held nothing but thermal underwear. Jonathan’s fist shot into the air.

A smaller drawer held a box of cigars and three packs of cigarettes, one pack opened. Obviously, the faceless, nameless Mr. Ebersole had been a smoker. He wondered when the man had died. How stale was the tobacco? Like he cared? When he made his next pot of coffee he’d either smoke the cigarettes or the cigars. Whatever he was in the mood for at the time. Not that that mattered either.

Because he was a thorough person, Jonathan kept opening and closing drawers. He poked and prodded at the deceased man’s belongings. He couldn’t believe his luck when he moved a thick argyle-patterned sweater to see a gun along with the paperwork that meant Nellie’s husband came by the gun legally. A box of clips sat next to the gun.
Everybody has guns these days,
he thought smugly.
What is this world coming to?
The gun felt comfortable in his hand. Familiar and comfortable.

Jonathan kept searching but found nothing else that interested him. He looked around at the house he was inhabiting. It was all so…so
middle-class.

Jonathan took a full minute to wonder if it would bother him to wear a dead man’s clothes. He decided it wasn’t going to bother him at all, just as it wasn’t going to bother him to use the man’s gun to kill someone. It wouldn’t bother him to use his smokes either.

He continued rummaging through the small house for other things that might benefit him. He walked back down the steps to a small room off the dining room that Nellie obviously used as an office for her popcorn ball business. Everything in the room was neat and tidy, as well as colorful. The deep wine-colored chair was ergonomic as well as comfortable. The file cabinets lining the room were every color of the rainbow. Above the file cabinets hung framed pictures of popcorn balls wrapped in brilliant-colored cellophane. Cheerful, he decided.
Old people must like bright colors.
He himself was a beige/navy blue kind of person. Conservative.

Because he had nothing else to do at the moment, Jonathan riffled through Nellie’s files. His eyebrows shot upward a few times when he saw what a lucrative little business the old lady ran from her home. No overhead. She contracted out the making of the popcorn, contracted out the wrapping and shipping, paid Lucy a small salary, and still banked—after taxes—over a hundred thousand a year. He looked at her income tax records and saw that she also collected $1400 a month in social security benefits plus six hundred a month from her husband’s pension and another $1600 a month from her own pension fund.

Nellie Ebersole was solvent.

Jonathan was about to pick up the phone to dial Lucy’s number when the cell phone in the breast pocket of the pajamas started to vibrate. He opted not to answer it. Instead, he followed through with his intention to dial Lucy’s number. He let it ring seven times before he hung up. He then dialed her cell phone number and listened when a metallic voice said the person he was trying to call was either out of roaming range or the phone was turned off. “You can’t avoid me forever, darling Lucy,” he said softly as he turned on Nellie’s computer.

•   •   •

A Mickey Mouse clock on the wall over the computer said it was eight-thirty. No time for fun and games. He had to get down to business. He bustled then, going upstairs to change into Nellie’s husband’s clothes. He was back downstairs in minutes, fully clothed, and out in the garage.

Goddamn snow! Was it ever going to stop?

Even though he had tucked the heavy corduroy trousers down over the Wellies, he could feel snow inside them. Snow stung and beat at him as he struggled to cross the yard to the house that sat between Nellie’s and Lucy’s houses. He tried to remember if Lucy had ever told him who lived in the middle house. When he couldn’t remember, he decided she had never told him.

As he forced his body to move, he felt like he was swimming against the tide, caught in a pool of Jell-O. His already tired body started to protest again. He was at the edge of Nellie’s property. He knew it was the edge because he was prevented from going farther by a chain-link fence as high as his waist. If he wanted to get on the other side of the fence, he had to lean over and fall into the snow. With the height and weight of the snow, it was the same as stepping over a log, or so he thought. He ordered his mind to comply and did his best to step over the fence. He fell facedown, snow going up the arms of the heavy jacket and down under its collar. He was exhausted when he finally managed to get to his feet. He froze in his tracks when he heard fierce barking from the dark house looming ahead of him. He didn’t like dogs because he didn’t trust them. What he was hearing was a deep, belly bark that made his nerves tingle.

The night was dark, and yet it was light, with the sea of white snow. For a moment he thought that he might be seen if someone looked out through the windows. He retreated and fell back over the fence.
Big mistake.

Never panic. He needed to keep going, barking dog or not. When it dawned on him that he could barely see the nearest house through the swirling snow, he realized that he couldn’t be seen. Why had he panicked? When no answer surfaced, he went back over the fence and moved on, taking care to stay far enough away from the house so he wouldn’t be seen. Now he could hear a chorus of barking dogs. More than one? Two? Maybe three? Would the owner let the dogs outside? Unlikely. He kept going, but he was trembling. He didn’t like the feeling. He still kept going.

Along time later, he knew he had crossed the yard and was standing next to Lucy’s wooden fence. All he had to do was lean over it, and he would be on the other side. Just like the chain-link fence. He bellied over, picked himself up, and crossed the yard to Lucy’s deck. There were no tracks anywhere other than his own. That meant Lucy wasn’t home. Sadie, her big dog, would have made a path of some kind. He was looking at virgin snow. He eyed the mountain of snow on top of the hot tub. He struggled with the door, but it was locked. He squinted to see if he could see between the slats of the vertical blinds. The house was pitch-black, with nothing to be seen except the glowing red dot on the alarm system. Wherever Lucy had gone, she’d armed the system before she left. So, he wasn’t going to be able to get his hands on her gun. If there was one thing he didn’t need right then, it was a nervous female with a gun. The thought infuriated him as he turned around and headed back the way he came.

The trip back was easier because he could walk in his tracks. He could still hear the barking dogs. Plural. Maybe Lucy was in that house. Her and Sadie. She’d said something about watching a neighbor’s dog. One dog, not plural. Her dog and the neighbor’s dog made for plural. That would certainly account for the loud barking. The really odd thing was, whoever lived in the house hadn’t turned on the outside light to see if anything was out there to cause the dogs to bark. Strange.

Numb with cold, Jonathan stood perfectly still to see if any other lights would come on in the house. None did. Maybe whoever was inside
was
hiding. From him. Lucy and the neighbor. It wasn’t a farfetched thought. In fact, it made so much sense he started to tremble again. This time with rage.

Back in Nellie’s house, Jonathan shed his wet clothes and boots, leaving a trail as he made his way to the bathroom for a hot shower. He stopped once, half-naked, to pick up his encrypted cell phone. He needed to charge it. Thank God he’d had the presence of mind to stick the small charger in his pocket before he left the Hilton. It still had enough juice to make a few short phone calls. Namely Lucy.

Under the steaming spray, a thought came to Jonathan. It was so simple he didn’t know why it took a sojourn in the snow to think of it. Nellie kept files. Nellie, according to what Lucy had told him, was the matriarch of the street. That had to mean she would probably have all the homeowners along with their telephone numbers in a file someplace on her computer. All he had to do was find the file, and he could start calling on the neighbors, asking for Lucy. Damn, maybe he wasn’t losing his edge after all. He knew he wouldn’t have one bit of trouble accessing Nellie’s files since he’d accessed them earlier. Lucy had laughed when she told him how computer illiterate Nellie was. They’d laughed again over Nellie’s choice of password, which was popcorn.

Simple minds, simple solutions. He thought about all the firewalls and security he had on his own system. Understanding high tech was the only way to go, especially in his line of work.

Jonathan padded down to the guest room, stepping over the wet clothes he’d left behind to help himself to more of Mr. Ebersole’s warm, dry clothing. As before, the smell of mothballs was overpowering.

Then he was in the kitchen making fresh coffee and heating the apple pie in the microwave oven. He ate all of the pie except for one slice that he saved for later. He carried his third cup of coffee into Nellie’s small office. He leaned back on the ergonomic chair, propped his feet up on the desk like he belonged. He fired up one of the cigars he’d confiscated. A cloud of blue-gray smoke sailed upward as he puffed on the cigar to make it draw. It was no Havana, but it would do.

Jonathan puffed contentedly as the tenseness left his body, and he became more relaxed. The Mickey Mouse clock told him it was shortly after ten. The whole night loomed ahead of him.

A half hour later, Jonathan’s feet hit the floor. It was time to meet the neighbors on David Court.

It was so easy it was almost laughable. The file was named simply, Neighborhood. Every person was listed, along with their address and phone number, and cell phone number if they had one. Thoughtful Nellie had even added a brief summary of each person, age and size. He surmised Nellie was a gift giver.

Within seconds, Jonathan whittled the list to Lucy’s neighbor. One Wylie Wilson, attorney-at-law. Age thirty-nine, divorced, six-foot-three. Dog’s name is Clueless Cooper. A golden Lab. Ninety-five pounds of animal, he read. He copied down the phone number and turned off the computer. Then a terrible thought struck him.

His fingerprints were all over Nellie Ebersole’s house.

The pier glass said she looked beautiful. More important, she felt beautiful. The women, Nellie, Rachel, Wylie’s sisters and mother, oohed and aahed as Nellie positioned the white veil on Lucy’s head. The best part was, she felt like a bride. And she would be, in thirty minutes. Maybe thirty-five minutes if the minister was slow. Happiness sparkled in Lucy’s eyes as she twirled around one last time for the benefit of everyone.

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. You have all those things, don’t you?” Rachel Muller asked fretfully.

“I have everything, Rachel. A blue garter, my mother’s pearl earrings, the diamond pendant, Wylie’s wedding gift to me, and I borrowed an ankle bracelet from Wylie’s sister. I’m good to go.”

Wylie’s mother, who wore a perpetual smile, cupped Lucy’s face in both her tiny hands. “I know it’s a little early, but I wanted to be the first to welcome you into our family.” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper that only Lucy could hear. “My son loves you so much he aches with the feeling. A mother knows these things. Be as good to him as I know he will be to you.”

Lucy choked up. Not trusting herself to speak, she bobbed her head up and down. She looked deep into her almost-mother-in-law’s eyes. Esther Wilson smiled from ear to ear; so did Lucy. She was going to love belonging to this large, lusty family. She was already friends with the six sisters. She’d never been happier.

“Time to go,” Nellie said. “The limo is here. The girls will hold your train until you get down the steps, then we’ll pin it up. The judge got here a few minutes ago.” The judge Nellie was referring to was Judge Logan Applebaum, and he was giving away the bride. It seemed fitting since Lucy’s first job out of law school was clerking for him. Steven was the best man, and Wylie’s sister Iris was her maid of honor.

It was going to be a small church wedding at St. Helena’s on Grove Avenue, the reception a little larger. Family, neighbors, and a host of good friends. After the ceremony, the bride and groom would come back to the house, as the reception was in the backyard. Wylie had taken the fence down between his house, her house, and Nellie’s house to accommodate the tents and assorted tables and chairs. Nellie and Wylie’s sisters and mother had prepared all the food. Wylie’s father and brothers had seen to the rainbow of flowers that were everywhere. They had also installed a portable dance floor and hired a DJ for later. After the reception, Lucy and Wylie were going to honeymoon in Hawaii for two full weeks.

The ride to the church was short. Lucy had to take deep breaths three different times to calm her jittery nerves. She had one foot out of the limo when she heard the bell. She didn’t know they rang the church bells for weddings. How nice, she thought as she made her way across the concrete apron that led to the front door.

Inside, Lucy took a deep breath, the sound of the bells louder there. She reached for the judge’s arm and took another deep breath. The moment the organist struck the first chord, she would walk through the door. The bells were louder now. The organist was right on cue. The doors opened just as the bell gave one last, loud peal. She gaped as she stared at the two people blocking the doorway.

Angie Motolo and Jonathan St. Clair!

Lucy woke, struggled with the quilt that was covering her. Half-asleep, her fist lashed out. “Your phone’s ringing! How dare you invite Angie Motolo to our wedding! How dare you, Wylie! Didn’t you hear me, your phone’s ringing.”

Wylie struggled to come out of his deep sleep, befuddled at why Lucy was shouting. “What the hell…”

“When a phone rings in the middle of the night it’s usually bad news. Aren’t you going to answer it? We can talk about Angie Motolo later, and don’t think for one minute I’m going to forget about it either,” Lucy babbled sleepily.

“Huh?” Wylie mumbled and growled under his breath as he struggled to reach the portable phone on the coffee table where he’d left it before they fell asleep. The room was dark except for the red, glowing embers of the dying fire. He groped for the phone in the darkness and finally found it.

Lucy scrunched herself into a tight ball to keep warm. She tried not to listen to Wylie’s end of the conversation which was really nothing more than a few grunts of surprise. She was startled when he held out the phone to her. Without thinking, she reached for it, her eyes full of questions. “I think it’s the feds,” Wylie hissed.

“In the middle of the night?” She knew before she heard the voice on the other end of the phone that it wasn’t the federal agents on the other end of the line. “This is Lucy Baker,” she said in her sleep-filled voice.

“Darling, how are you? I’ve been listening and watching the news of your storm. You must be overwhelmed. I had a devil of a time getting through to you. Your home phone and cell don’t seem to be working. So, I put my own agile brain to work and asked myself what I would do if I was in your position, and I decided I would probably gather all the neighbors under one roof, pool resources, and food for safety reasons. Tell me I guessed right, darling?”

There was no time for finesse, this was Jonathan on the phone. In the middle of the night. Raging anger raced through her. “Where are you calling me from, Jonathan? How did you know I was here and where did you get this number?” Wylie bounded up off their nest of quilts. Under other circumstances, Lucy might have laughed. Instead, fire and anger spewed from her eyes.

“I’m in Cairo. I told you where I was going, don’t you remember? Even halfway around the world, we still get stateside news. I became so alarmed at the storm news, I started calling the weather bureaus. As I understand it, there is no transportation, there are eight to nine feet of snow up the East Coast, snow is to the rooftops and the National Guard is being called in. The different bureaus used the word
paralyzed
repeatedly. I think that’s what scared me. That’s why I became so alarmed. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Jonathan. How considerate of you to worry about me. In a few hours I’ll be preparing a Thanksgiving dinner with a little help from my neighbors. You didn’t tell me how you got this number. It’s the middle of the night, Jonathan.”

“I called Information, and explained the reasons I needed everyone’s number on the street. The young lady was most helpful. People do tend to pull together when disasters like this occur. You sound terribly grumpy, darling, so I’m going to hang up and let you get back to sleep now that I know you are with friends and neighbors. I just wanted you to know even though I’m half a world away, I’m checking on you because I love you. Take good care of yourself and all your neighbors. I’ll see you soon, darling.”

“How soon is soon, Jonathan?” Lucy asked flatly.

Lucy heard the chuckle and cringed. “Sooner than you think, my darling. Sweet dreams.”

Lucy stared at the pinging phone. She was stunned to see that her hand was steady when she handed the phone back to Wylie. “He said he was in Cairo. He sounded like he was in the next room. He knows I’m here in your house. That call was a warning. He wants me to sweat. I’m telling you, Wylie, he thinks I betrayed him, and he’s coming after me. He knows more about this storm than you and I know. He said the National Guard is being called in, and he said we had four or five feet of snow. How in the hell could he know that?”

Wylie shivered as he reached for his clothes. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’m done sleeping for the night. I’ll make us some coffee and turn the heat up. I want to hear the news, too. I want you to think about every single word that man said to you and I want you to repeat it. Then we’re calling those agents. No more
futzing
around.”

Lucy reached for her own clothes and pulled them on. Minutes later, she joined Wylie in the kitchen. The coffee was already dripping into the pot when Wylie held out his arms to her. She stepped into them. He cradled her head against his chest as he stroked her hair. “It’s going to be okay, Lucy. There’s no way he can get to you. The man is playing with your head.”

“He’s here, Wylie, I know it. The rest was all lies. I know he’s here. The dogs know he’s here. I don’t know exactly where he is, but he’s somewhere close by. And, you’re right, he’s trying to mess with my head. I’m going to call the agents now. I don’t care if I do wake them up. What did I do with that number, do you know?”

Wylie trotted into the den to return with a slip of paper in his hand. Lucy drew a deep breath before she picked up the phone to dial the number from the slip of paper. She was stunned to hear Agent Lawrence say, “Our battery is low, please call the Hyatt in New Brunswick if you want to talk to Agents Lawrence, Connors, or Mason. Ask for extension 1702.”

Lucy blinked and held out the phone to Wylie. “The agent said their battery is low. They’re at the Hyatt in New Brunswick, extension 1702. Where’s your phone book, Wylie?”

Wylie opened one of the kitchen cabinets and pulled out the thick book. Lucy flipped pages until she found the hotel listings. She punched in the numbers and was not surprised to hear a busy signal. She held out the phone so Wylie could hear the busy signal.

“Just keep hitting the redial. Sooner or later you’ll get through. I hope,” he muttered. “Damn, it’s still snowing. It’s up past the kitchen window now. I’m starting to feel like I’m sealed in a tomb.”

Lucy raked her already messy hair with her left hand as her right hand kept hitting the redial. “Please don’t say that.”

“Okay, I won’t say that. Let’s get the weather.” He turned on the television set and sat down with his coffee. He stared at the small screen, his heart pumping furiously. Instead of things getting better, they appeared to be getting worse. Now, the anchor was comparing this storm to the Blizzard of ’77, which hit Buffalo, New York, killing twenty-nine people over a three-day period. His heart gave a little jump of fear when the television station started showing footage from that particular storm and making comparisons. “It’s the drifts,” he said inanely.

Lucy nodded as her thumb kept hitting the redial. “At least they’re still saying the snow will stop by midmorning. That’s only six or seven hours away. Thank God, your heat is still on. If it goes out, then we will have to burn your furniture. Those starter logs of yours aren’t going to help us one little bit.”

Wylie stretched out his legs. “If I had my choice of picking someone to be marooned with, I’d pick you, Lucy.” He leaned across the table, and whispered, “I guess you know I’ve fallen in love with you.” He waited, not realizing he was holding his breath. Wasn’t she going to say anything? Had he just made a fool of himself?

Lucy licked at her dry lips. “I was having this…wonderful dream when the phone rang. In my dream I thought the sound was the sound of church bells. I was marrying you in my dream. Nellie and Rachel helped me with my wedding gown. Your mother and your sisters were there. Your mother wanted me to assure her that I would be as good to you as you would be to me. She told me in my dream that you loved me so much you ached with the feeling. She said a mother knows these things. I told her yes, I would be good to you.”

Wylie just stared at her.

“Then we went inside the church and the bells were still ringing. When the organist started ‘The Wedding March,’ the doors opened and…and…”

“And, what? What, Lucy?”

Lucy doubled over laughing. “There was Angie Motolo and Jonathan blocking my way into the church. I slugged them both!”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. Then I stepped over them,” she fibbed. “Then I woke up. I guess the bell I was hearing in my dream was the phone ringing. Oh, my God, the phone is actually ringing. Extension 1702. This is FBI business, put me through immediately,” Lucy said in her best courtroom voice, a voice that clearly said, I’m in charge.

“Special Agent Connors speaking.”

“This is Lucy Baker, Special Agent Connors. I’m sorry for calling you at this hour but you did say I could get in touch with you at any hour of the night or day. Jonathan St. Clair just called me. He
said
he was in Cairo, but I think that’s a lie. Earlier in the evening, the dogs went wild trying to get outside. I think it’s safe to say no animal was lurking out there. Possibly a two-legged animal, but not a four-legged one. Then, a few hours later they were sniffing and snorting again, but they didn’t bark and howl. I think he’s close by, and the dogs are picking up his scent. I want you to know right now, right up front, that I have a gun.”

“Can you see any footprints outside?” Connors asked.

“Visibility is zero. The snow is three-quarters of the way up the sliding doors. We can’t see beyond. It’s just a wall of snow. The point I’m trying to make here is, he’s playing with my head. He found out I’m here at Wylie Wilson’s house. He was warning me that he could get to me.”

“That’s exactly what he’s doing, Miss Baker.”

“Is there anything we can do or should do?”

“Not right now. What’s the closest motel or hotel to your house?”

“There’s nothing that’s right around the corner if that’s what you mean. The closest would be five miles in any direction. It’s a guess, but I don’t think it’s more than that.”

“There are no available vehicles to be found,” Connors said, “and the authorities are arresting anyone stupid enough to venture outdoors. We’re hoping to commandeer one of the snowplows or possibly a snowmobile as soon as the snow stops. We will do everything in our power to get to you. Sit tight. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”