The Flower Girl

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Now that she was had the identity and address for Charles Taylor, Marie held the first piece of the puzzle. She glanced at her watch. Five-thirty. Rick would be home soon and she’d promised him an evening together. If she stopped now, she’d have time to make a nice supper.

She debated, torn between curiosity about Charles Taylor, and her devotion to Rick. She shut down her computer. Charles would not be going anywhere. She could look up his background tomorrow. Tonight belonged to Rick.

His car was already in the garage when she arrived. She found him in the kitchen, rummaging in the refrigerator. He looked up as she entered from the garage.

“Hey, I didn’t think I’d see you for awhile.”

“I know. I meant to get away sooner, but I got caught up in something.”

“Did you finish it?”

She set her satchel on a chair and walked over to Rick.“No. I stopped because I wanted to spend the evening with a handsome and exciting man.”

He grinned and set the beer he’d been fishing for back inside the refrigerator. “What would you like for supper? Is chicken all right?” she asked.

“Supper can wait. All I want is you.”

Her hot-blooded Latin took her by the hand and led her down the hall.

As she switched gears, Marie wished she was more like Rick, prone to impulse instead of practicality. Yet, perhaps, these very differences were what had drawn them together.

When they sat together later, with all ideas of a home cooked dinner forgotten, Marie tried to ignore the fact that they’d just ordered yet another pizza. Mama Alvarez would have put a full course meal on the table. Yet Rick didn’t seem to mind.

“I got a new account today,” He told her as he enjoyed a cold beer. “Did you? What company?”

“An appliance repair shop. Just a little mom and pop operation, but they’re doing pretty well.”

“That’s great. With your expertise, their books will balance to the penny.”

“I think that’s the idea. The wife has been keeping the books and they’ve got a bit tangled. I’ll have to go back a few months to catch them up.”

“They couldn’t have come to a more competent guy.”

He kissed her. “Detective Alvarez, you’re going to give me a big head.”

The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the pizza.

They set the box on the coffee table and sat cross-legged on the carpet to eat directly from the box. When they finished, Marie suggested a stroll around the neighborhood. She loved to get ideas for fixing up their own small home. And though he pretended interest, she knew do- it-yourself projects held little appeal for Rick. That’s why she planned on spending her vacation hanging around the house this year, painting and gardening. They couldn’t afford any out-of- town trips, anyway.

Their neighborhood architecture varied from sturdy bungalows to two-story bricks with white pillars. It was an older area of homes, well kept, with long, generous yards that held blooming flowers and thick lawns that grew down to the sidewalk. Magnolias, flanked by round flower gardens, bloomed in nearly every yard, perfuming the air with a sweet southern scent.

Marie took Rick’s hand as they strolled. A romantic saunter through the neighborhood on a warm summer evening was one of Marie’s favorite things to do.

“Are you glad you married me?” Rick asked.

Marie was surprised by the question. Weren’t her feelings obvious to him? “More than glad.

I’m deliriously happy.”

He squeezed her fingers gently. “I’m glad. I worry that you’ll wake up some day and look at me and wonder why you married a boring accountant. And maybe some sharp good-looking detective will lure you away.”

She squeezed back. “Never. I get enough excitement at my job. The last thing I’d want is to be married to a detective. I’d never get any down-time.”

“I’ll remember that the next time I feel insecure. You’re my life, you know. I couldn’t live without you.”

His words touched her soul and penetrated her heart, making her feel undeserving. Since she struggled to express her feelings, she admired how he never held back. If anyone should be insecure, it should be her. “I’ll be with you until we’re old and gray,” she assured him. “Someday we’ll be creaking on rocking chairs on our porch,” he said.

“Exactly,” she said.

It would be a long time before either of them would do much sitting or creaking.

They rounded the corner and Marie took a mental picture of a backyard bordered by a trellis with morning glories. She stored the pictures in her mind until the time when she would bring them to life and incorporate them into her own landscaping.

The backyard should have a pond with water lilies, and tiny goldfish to swim in the water. And she would plant hibiscus in a garden along the fence. And maybe they’d screen in the patio so they could sit outside on warm evenings when the mosquitoes were bad.

Marie couldn’t imagine a landscape that wasn’t moist and green. Verdant grass, weeping willows, mimosa with sweet smelling, pink umbrella blooms and, of course, lots of honeysuckle to scent the air.

She’d been west once on a family vacation when she lived in Montgomery with her parents and sister. Her parents had decided to take the family on an educational trip to the Grand Canyon. It was a good trip. Yet she returned with no desire to further explore the southwest. Though the Grand Canyon took her breath away, the rocky landscape and sparse trees of Arizona were too rugged for her taste. She missed the blanket comfort of thick trees and of grass underfoot and remained content in the state where she was born.

They finished their walk as the sun blazed a crimson farewell before the curtain of darkness fell. Though the evening was pleasant, they would have to go inside. For, with darkness, came the mosquitoes.

They popped in a movie and Marie made popcorn. With Rick beside her, Marie sipped a soda and thoroughly enjoyed their evening together. She hardly thought about work until the next morning when the newspaper ran a photo of the missing man along with a reward for information about his whereabouts.

“Isn’t this one of your cases?” Rick asked.

He sipped a glass of orange juice while she skimmed the story. “Yeah. Maybe the photo will give us a lead.”

“I hope so. However, the guy could be anywhere. In another state, or even out of the country.

Or dead,” he added.

“I’d bet on the dead. If he was leaving, why didn’t he tell his roommate?”

“Maybe somebody was after him, the mafia or a gang. If he told his roommate, he’d be putting him in danger.”

Marie grinned at Rick. “You’ve been watching too much television.”

Rick’s smile revealed the cleft in his chin. “You’ll appreciate my advice when it turns out to be right. Just remember, I predicted he has to be somewhere.”

Marie rolled her eyes. “I’ll remember. Thanks for the help.”

She downed a bowl of cereal before heading to the station. The whereabouts of Charles Taylor had more leads than the missing roommate investigation. She would begin by checking with Taylor’s employer, and then, go by his house and ask the neighbors what they knew about him.

First, she had to check in at the station.

Miss Kent greeted her and gave her good news. Marie had no messages and could spend the day tracking down information about Mr. Taylor. She began by jotting directions to his job, house and the bar where he was last seen.

As she was leaving, she passed Mark. He’d made detective only the year before and was working as hard as she was to prove himself.

“What up for you today?” he asked.

“I’m on the Taylor case. How about you?”

“I got a new one. A little girl abducted. We think the father took her. I’ve got a few leads to check out.”

“I hope you find her.”

“Yeah. And good luck on your day.”

“Thanks.”

Marie had a strange feeling as she backed out of her parking space. A premonition warned her that she was about to get in over her head. No doubt, Rick’s talk about gangs and mafia had taken root in her subconscious.

She shook off the feeling. This case was likely to be no more complicated than a simple robbery and murder. She’d have it solved in no time and the murderer behind bars.

She drove first to the city water plant where Taylor had worked with computers to control water quality. The gum chewing girl behind the desk viewed her from a position of power until Marie showed her badge.

Her eyes went wide.“The police. Is this about Mr. Taylor? He was murdered, huh? How awful.”

“Yes, I know. Would you let the plant manager know I’m here?”

“Sure. Just a sec.”

The girl rang a number and said, “Mr. Janes, a detective is here.”

He responded right away and appeared a moment later in the doorway. She studied him briefly and noted he was tall, slight of build and wore a strained smile. Marie might have suspected him of the crime had she not known that her badge made most people nervous.

“Mr. Janes, I wonder if I might speak to you for a moment.”

“Of course. My office is right down the hall. Would you like some coffee?”

“No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

She followed him into a wood-paneled office with a single window to let in the light. The room had a claustrophobic feel and was too dark for her taste. Perhaps Janes liked it this way.

She took a chair on the other side of his polished oval desk and asked, “How well did you know Mr. Taylor?”

“Not well, I’m afraid. I mean, I knew him only at work. He didn’t talk much about his life.

He wasn’t married and he recently bought a house. I don’t believe he had family in town. He never mentioned any.”

“Did he mention friends or any activities he enjoyed outside of work?” Mr. Janes pulled his rather long face into a thoughtful frown.

“Not that I remember. He only worked part-time here. I didn’t see him that often. Once or twice, he talked about fixing up his house and yard. He wanted it to be something he was proud of.”

“Is there anyone else working here who might know him better?”

“Maybe Fox.”

“Fox?”

“Earl Fox. He used to hang out with Taylor.”

He placed a call.

A few minutes later, a man in a city work uniform showed up. He was short and square with a five o’clock shadow at nine o’clock in the morning.

Janes introduced them and Marie asked Fox what he knew about Taylor.

“We went out for drinks a couple of times. Never met any of his other friends. I know he liked to go to the Renaissance Club. That’s where I went with him. It’s too expensive for my taste, so I went only with him.”

“Were you with him on the night he was killed?”

“No. No way. I would have come forward if I knew anything.”

“I’m sure you would have. Did you notice anyone he spoke to when you went with him to the Club?”

“No, just the waitresses. He was always real nice to the girls.”

“Any waitress in particular?”

“Nope. He was just a nice guy. I don’t know why anyone would want to kill him.”

“What did you talk about at the Club?”

Fox brightened. “Cars. We’re both into fixing up and racing cars. He had an old Buick at his Mom’s place. He was gonna fix it up when he got the time.”

“Anything else?”

Fox wrinkled his brow. “We talked about work. And maybe about fishing. We planned to go fishing sometime, but we never made it.”

“Were either you or Mr. Janes ever at his home?”

They shook their heads.

“And he never talked about a girlfriend or ex-wife?” Marie asked.

Again they shook their heads.

“I don’t think he’d ever been married. He never mentioned dating, either,” Fox said.

“Okay. No girlfriends. How long had he worked here?”

“Part-time for almost a year,” Janes told her.

“Do you know what he did before that?” she asked.

“He went to college in Montgomery, but didn’t finish his degree,” Janes answered.

“Why not?”

They looked thoughtful.

“He got tired of school, I think,” said Fox.

“I see. Did he talk much about his family?” she asked.

“Just his mom,” Fox said. “She’s still in Montgomery. I think his dad died a long time ago. But he was crazy about his mom. He sent her flowers and called her a lot. I think they were pretty close. He had a brother but didn’t talk much about him. I think he was in prison.”

“In prison? For what?”

Fox shrugged. “Drug dealing, I think. Charles didn’t like to talk about him.”

“Okay. I think that’s all I need for now. If you think of anything else, please call me.”

She handed each of them her card with her cell phone and work number.

“Sure,” Janes said.

Fox nodded. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You, too.”

Marie passed the gum chewing girl on her way out of the building and nodded good-bye. The girl stared, wide-eyed as Marie left to drive to Taylor’s house. She’d gotten the okay to use the key found in his pocket to go inside. When she arrived, she found it wouldn’t be necessary.

The door stood ajar. Prickles rose on the back of Marie’s neck. Was someone inside? If so, going in alone might prove risky. Choosing caution, she called for back-up.

In less than five minutes, an unmarked car pulled up, sans sirens in order to retain the element of surprise. She followed as the two officers walked up to the house. Unlike Marie’s neighborhood, these houses were new and modern in design, if not overly large.

Proceeding cautiously, she followed the officers into the tiled entry and glanced left into the small unfurnished living room in which movies spilled from the entertainment center and lay scattered across the floor. Drawers were dumped from the computer desk in the corner and cushions lay strewn from the sofa.

The officers swept the house before leaving Marie to thoroughly check the three bedrooms, bathrooms and kitchen. Each room had suffered a similar upending. The contents of the kitchen drawers lay on counters and across the floor as did the freezer goods and refrigerated foods.

She found nothing in the furnished bedroom that raised her suspicions. Yet, it seemed obvious that someone had broken it to look for something. A burglar would have taken the computer, gold watch and coin collection on the dresser.

Since it didn’t make sense, Marie began to wonder if Mr. Taylor was more than a random murder victim. She stifled her premature thoughts. She was letting her imagination run away with her. Perhaps, a burglar was looking for one specific thing, jewelry, for example. The overturned drawers were far from proving that Mr. Taylor possessed something that was highly desired by a murderer.

She left everything as she’d found it and called for a team to take prints in the house. All they needed was a good set and they’d know who had been here. Whether this person was also the murderer was another question.

When the team arrived, she turned the scene over to them and walked next door to the neighbor’s lot. She rang the bell and waited.

A young woman with a baby in her arms and a toddler at her knees opened the door. She looked frazzled.

“I’m Detective Alvarez,” Marie said, holding up her badge. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, Charles Taylor.”

The woman frowned. “Who?”

“Charles Taylor. He lived in the house that was just built.”

“Oh, that guy. I’ve seen him drive past a few times. I don’t know him though.”

“Have you ever spoken to Mr. Taylor?”

“No. I’m usually busy with the kids.”

“Have you seen many cars come and go from his house?”

She shook her head. “Not that I can remember.”

Marie pulled out a card. “If you remember anything, please give me a call.”

“Sure.” The young woman took the card, keeping it out of the toddlers grasping hands.

Marie heard the baby begin to fuss as the woman shut the door. She sighed as she glanced across at the vacant lot. The neighborhood was still being built. There weren’t a lot of neighbors to question. However, there was a house down the block that she could try.

She rang the bell and waited. No one answered.

Their name was on the mailbox. STEPHENS. She looked up the phone number and put it on speed dial. She’d try to give them a call later.

Though this was a priority case, it would take a while to get information about any prints that were found. Perhaps she’d learn more by talking to Taylor’s mother.

She went back to the office and pulled up listings for all the Taylors. Comparing Charles phone records, she placed a call to Susan Taylor on Peabody Road. A woman answered on the second ring.

“Mrs. Taylor. This is Detective Alvarez.”

Marie hated this part of the job. She’d like to postpone giving Mrs. Taylor the bad news until she could see her in person. However, most folks insisted on knowing why she’d called.

“Do you have a son named Charles Taylor?” she continued.

“Yes. What about Charles?” The woman sounded hesitant.

“I wonder if I could drive up to talk to you. It will take me about two and a half hours. Will you be home?”

“Yes, of course. But is something wrong?”

“It would be better if we could meet in person.”

“All right. But is Charles okay? He’s not in trouble, is he?”

“He’s not in trouble with the law. I’ll be there soon and we’ll talk.”

Marie hung up before Mrs. Taylor could ask any more questions.

She told the boss where she was going before she set off for Montgomery. She didn’t relish telling a mother that her son was murdered. Yet, she felt sure Mrs. Taylor would want to provide any information that would help solve the crime. Telling herself it would be worth it, Marie set off for Montgomery.

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