I stood on the front porch of my sanctuary, my escape from the outside world. Out there on the streets could be complete and utter chaos, for example all of these police riling up the neighborhood. All I wanted was for this house to be ordered. For things to be in their right place and for Carla to be the perfect wife. I could be myself here, do whatever I wanted, recharge, rest, and prepare myself for the next day. It’s the reason I won’t let them enter my house to search. Leave the chaos out there, in my home there will be peace.
And then she had to ruin it by disappearing. No note, no warning, nothing. When I find her she would be sorry she left. One of her few jobs was setting the alarm so that I woke up on time, instead of having to wake myself. Was that asking too much? I don’t think so.
But now is not the time to think about that. I was actually pretty calm, all things considered. Being a police detective meant you saw all of the things they don’t show you on television, or even mention. This particular scene was a case in point. And as I was the chief witness, or only witness, I couldn’t walk around and ask questions of the folks in the neighborhood. I’m not even a good witness because I didn’t see anything. Too busy looking for Carla.
My chief, when I called in, told me to do what I could and he would check on me later. He sounded a little off when he said that, usually yelling at me about cases I needed to work on. If the case load wasn’t so huge maybe he wouldn’t yell so much. Or maybe he would; he seems like the kind of guy that can only get his point across through yelling. Either way, it did’t help with the stress level at the precinct. But his calm demeanor did help me keep my calm this morning, which was strange. You would think that with Carla gone and a mass murder next door, I’d be well past irritated. But for some reason I felt like a giant weight was lifted off of my shoulders. So amongst side glances from the police, I walked my unburdened self back into my house. The coffee I was drinking was almost done anyway, good time for a refill.
I stepped into our immaculate kitchen and topped off my mug, feeling like something was off. Looking at how neat and organized it was really drove home the point of Carla’s disappearance. This is her room, where the best meals come from, and a good hot cup of coffee. Instead I’m in here getting my own. Where could she be? If she were here I wouldn’t have to get my own refill. As man of the house I’m owed that. So where is she?
I mulled on this as I called the office to get the number of the woman across the street. If anyone saw anything, it would be her. She has a pretty direct line of sight down the space between my home and the crime scene, so seeing someone running through my yard shouldn’t be hard, almost obvious. Also, she’s nosy, something I noticed on my way to work. I’v seen enough curtains falling back into place to know she was watching.
I just didn’t know her name. All I knew was her address and the plate number of her blue car, she lived alone, and had a few cats. The phrase “crazy cat lady” comes to mind. I don’t bother getting to know the neighbors for that and other reasons. I mean, what’s the point? They just came and went, doing their puppet dance of going to work and getting home. Where I would and could be gone for the day, they had a strict policy of being where they’re supposed to be at a given time, no excuses. And when they get together it’s all mindless, endless, chatter. I’ve heard all of the stories, all of the plans, all of the excuses and all of the goings on, mostly because I’m a cop. But what can you do? Puppets don’t get to chose what part of the play they want to be in. But not knowing them put me in a bind at the moment. Hopefully all I needed was the address. I gave it to the officer on duty and hoped for the best.
Carla was friendly with her, and even the murdered family, the wife at least. The few times I would come home early I would see her talking to that woman. Our homes are bordered with hedges up to the driveways, then they’re side by side which is where I would catch them. Carla would take one look at me and then say her goodbyes, getting me as I got out the car. Then we would climb the steps of the porch arm in arm, her cooing in my ear, asking how my day went, the perfect picture of wedded life, like she thought she was getting away with something. I never learned the names of that family either. It was a waste of my time. And I didn’t like Carla talking to them. Neighbors tend to want to get in your business, not something I liked. I would discourage Carla from talking to them, but every here and there I would catch them. Then I would offer a few tweaks.
Her not being home was how I discovered the crime scene in the first place. When I realized she wasn’t around they were the first people I thought of. That’s also how I became a chief witness. I was about to knock on their back door when the first cop car showed up. They were there when no one answered. We opened the door and found them. I tried to walk inside, my first instinct as a cop, and then was bounced out by the cops. This was their job and not mine, they told me, and insisted I stay near in case they had questions, but to stay out. Seemed like they just wanted to be in charge to me. Nothing exciting happens around here, so this was not only a first for them, it was a war story they could brag about later when they’re at the bar trying to impress some chick. Good luck with that.
I got the number, thanked the officer, hung up, then picked up the phone again and dialed her number, a Miss Rachel Greene. It rang a few times, then she picked up.
A slightly nasal voice answered. “Hello”.
“Hi, Miss Greene. I don’t know if you know me, I’m your neighbor from across the street, Detective Brown. I was hoping to ask you about what happened earlier today and if you saw anything. Do you have a moment?”
There was a slight gasp that seemed to have been cut short. That sounds like potential.
“I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Is that alright?”
She seemed nervous when she replied. “Um, ok. You’re a police officer? Is that how you got my number?”
“Yes it is”, I said. “I was just wondering if you happened to see anything this morning. Across the street. If you did I would like to come over and talk with you.”
“No no, I didn’t see anything” she rushed out. “I swear, I was in the kitchen at the time, I didn’t see anything!”
“Easy now, easy. You’re not in trouble or anything.” A scared witness. The trick is to get them to open up and trust you. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just want to know if you saw anyone running down my or the next door neighbor’s driveway. Anyone suspicious looking, someone you’ve never seen before.”
There was a long pause before she answered. Then, “N..no, I didn’t see anyone suspicious, I think.” She sounded confused, dragging the words out slowly.
“Well did you see anyone at all?” I asked, beginning to think I was getting nowhere with her.
“The only person I saw was…was you.” It came out meekly, like a child admitting she was guilty of something. I was losing my patience with this woman, who clearly only saw me as I left the house next door.
“Ok, I just have one more question” I said. “Did you happen to see my wife? I’m not sure when she left the house and I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“No, I haven’t seen her” was the reply. Great, I said to myself. This whole situation would be a lot easier to tolerate if Carla was here, and this woman was no help. So I said thanks and hung up the phone. I needed to start thinking of who else I could call. In this entire neighborhood someone had to see something.
