The Happy Housewife (Samantha Sherman Book 1) (5 page)

“Can I help you?” the detective looking guy said incredulously. “And where did you come from?” he added in an annoyed tone.

Sam realized that it must look kind of strange with her just appearing at a crime scene as though she belonged there. The people in the room stopped what they were doing and looked up at her. She glanced over at the only woman police officer who made no move to help her.
C’mon
, she thought, using ESP,
where’s the sisterhood?
The woman, clearly not understanding Sam’s ESP message, turned back to her work.

As Sam felt the situation slipping away from her and began to feel embarrassment and panic kick in, she willed her heartbeat to slow (an old flying trick) and she felt her military persona emerge. “From the kitchen, I came from the kitchen,” she said in a calm voice. She heard one of the officers by the door snicker softly and the male officer searching the room smiled.

The detective looked at her with confusion as if deciding if she was being sarcastic or if she was just not that bright. He obviously decided it was the later because his next comment came out in a voice usually reserved for a four-year-old. “Who are you, miss?”

“It’s Mrs.,” she said, as though he was hitting on her and she needed to make sure he knew she was married, “and I’m a friend of Mrs. Thomas. I just wanted to find out who was in charge and who I needed to check out with so I can bring her to my house.”

“Check out with?” The detective was starting to look amused at her attempts to take charge of a situation she obviously knew nothing about.

He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get out his next sentence, Sam hastily barreled on, “Mrs. Thomas is a senior citizen and is very shaken by this whole experience. She needs to be around friends and family. I’m going to need to pack some of her clothes and get her makeup bag.”

“Oh, is that all?” The detective’s expression had moved back from slightly amused to annoyed and … no, wait …
yup,
had lurched into seriously irritated. He arched his brows and said in a tight voice, “Is there anything
else
we can do for you?”

At least I tried
, Sam thought. Sometimes being pushy worked and sometimes … she willed herself to pay attention to the speech he had launched into … something about proper procedure, stepping on a crime scene, her lack of any authority whatsoever. She felt herself starting to get mad at his condescending tone—even if, perhaps, he had a point. She felt her temper, which she had learned to control so well since getting out of the Coast Guard and getting married, begin to rise. As she spoke, she knew in the back of her mind that she was blowing any chance of getting Mrs. Thomas released but she couldn’t stop herself.

“Look,” she broke in, “Mrs. Thomas is near collapsing. She is frightened and elderly and I think she’s a diabetic. Her friend was murdered in her house and she needs to get out of here.”
Diabetic, I have no idea if she’s diabetic
, thought Sam.
Where is this stuff coming from?

“Mrs. Thomas seemed to be holding up just fine when I checked on her five minutes ago and she didn’t say anything to me about being a diabetic. Now
who are you
?”

“Samantha Lee Sherman,” the voice was not her own but came from the direction of the closest bedroom. Sam looked over and saw,
thank God, why didn’t I think of him?
Don Vitriola was grinning at her from the hallway. Don was a friend of her family. He was an Army veteran, like Sam’s dad, who had retired to Fairfax and had a second career as a Fairfax police officer. Don had written a recommendation for Sam to get into Officer Candidate School and was always interested in what she was doing in the Coast Guard.

“Mr. Vitriola! My goodness it’s so great to see you. What a nice surprise.” Sam grinned at him …
ahhh
saved. So what if he had used her whole ridiculous name. People, particularly those south of the Mason-Dixon Line, found it
so
funny the pairing of her maiden name Lee and her last name of Sherman. If she heard one more joke about ‘the Civil War that must rage in her marriage’ … She could see out of the corner of her eye that the sour looking detective found her name funny too. Figured.

Don continued grinning, “Lee Sherman, get it Nathan, isn’t that cute? I still get a charge out of that, Sam.”

Sam could see that Nathan, the abrasive detective, did indeed ‘get it.’ He gave Don a closed mouth smile, nodded and said, “I got it.”

Don continued on, “Sam, you’ll have to excuse Nathan. Detective Barrett is a big time city cop who’s still getting used to the suburbs. He’s with us on an exchange program with the Washington, DC, police. He doesn’t get that around here we’re a little more friendly and relaxed.” Don said this with a smile and Sam responded.

She could see that Nathan didn’t find what Don said to be quite as amusing. His smile went away and his shoulders stiffened. He nodded to Don and said, “Yeah, in the big city we don’t usually let random
citizens
in to trample a crime scene.” He paused and his lips twitched as he finished, “But I’ll let you handle this one, Sheriff Taylor.” With that, he turned and sauntered into the bedroom with Don laughing to his back.

Sam bit her lip to keep quiet, dying to point out that Don being Sheriff Taylor would make Nathan Barney Fife.
Why am I suddenly getting so lippy?
Sam knew that sarcasm would not help her now with Don. Her best bet was to remember her manners. Don would help her. She turned to Don and, keeping her best southern charm smile on her face, said, “Well, this isn’t the best time to catch up, but how are you? How is Mrs. Vitriola?”

“We’re doing well. I’ve reached the point where I could retire but then what would I do for fun?” They both laughed and chatted for a few minutes. Then Don brought things back to the current situation by asking, “So you’re a friend of Mrs. Thomas?”

“Yes, I’ve gotten to know her from church. She had hip surgery about two months ago and I’ve been bringing her Communion on Sundays. I didn’t mean to start any trouble with the other detective. I’m just worried about Mrs. Thomas.”

“Don’t worry about Nathan. He’s worked in the District his whole police career, has seen a lot, and is kind of hard and by the book as a result. He’s a good cop though. I’ve been telling him over and over that the suburbs are different, calmer, and more Mayberryish, but you know, after this weekend …”

“Yeah, first the fire and now this. The two kids who were involved lived on my street. I know Evelyn’s family from Lindsey’s school and Dwayne from the neighborhood and church. It’s a tragedy. Will you guys be involved since they lived in Fairfax?”

“Wow,” said Don, “bad news sure travels fast. I’m surprised you already know. Yeah, we’ll be working in cooperation with the guys in Loudoun. It’s amazing this is all happening here. Anyway, did I hear you say Mrs. Thomas is going to stay with you?”

“Yes. She doesn’t have a family. Her husband and child died a long time ago, so I told her she could stay with us. Would it be all right to take her now? She’d be at my place if you had any more questions.”

“That sounds fine. I actually would feel better knowing she was with you until we can get all this sorted out.”

Sam nodded, “She’ll stay for the next couple of days, until you’re done here and the place can be professionally cleaned. Would it be possible to grab at least a change of clothes for her?”

“Well …” Don paused and looked down the hallway towards the first bedroom. Sam would have to go by the guest bedroom, which presumably still had a body in it, to get to Mrs. Thomas’s bedroom.

Sensing his uncertainty, and knowing of his fatherly desire to protect her, Sam gently reminded him, “Mr. Vitriola, I’m sure you’re concerned about what I might see but don’t worry, I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies from my time in the Coast Guard. It really would be nice to have a change of clothes for her.”

Don shrugged, “Right, of course you have. Do you miss flying?”

Sam relaxed … victory! “On gorgeous days like yesterday, heck yes I miss it, but I’m really happy being at home with Lindsey.”

“It’s always good to leave when you still like what you do and I’ll bet being at home with your daughter is wonderful. We miss having our kids around. Anyway, let me walk you back.”

Don and Sam moved towards the hallway. As they approached the guest bedroom, the female police officer called out to Don, from her place by the writing desk, to ask a question. Sam stopped to wait for him at just about the guest bedroom door. By taking one step forward she could see into the room where Dan had been killed. She looked in and saw a person she assumed was part of the forensics team standing at the head of the bed working on the window above it with his back to her. The window was closed with the blue and white curtains pushed neatly to the sides.

Dan lay stretched out before Sam on the bed dressed in a pajama bottom and white T-shirt. The sheets had obviously been pulled back by the forensics people. Dan was lying on his stomach, his face turned right towards the wall. She could see his profile clearly. Dried blood on his head had matted his hair so that it almost looked plastic, like a Ken doll. It was odd but except for his bloody head he could have been sleeping. His T-shirt was pulled up a couple of inches in the back but that was it in terms of anything else being out of place. He was probably still in the position he had been in when the intruder came into his room.

Sam was amazed gazing at Dan’s body at how fake it looked. In fact, every time she had seen a dead body in the Coast Guard she was always surprised at how phony it seemed. She thought dead bodies in movies looked more “real.”

Sam wondered then, was there any sign of a struggle in the room or had Dan been sleeping as she suspected? The walls were free of any blood and the bedding was in place. She glanced at the carpet and jerked her head back slightly. On the floor to the left side of the bed close to the door she had spotted a blood covered fire poker. Murder weapons were
not
something she was used to seeing in the Coast Guard and she immediately felt uncomfortable. She struggled against the shiver she felt welling up inside her.
Focus Sam
, she told herself.

The poker had dark red blood spots on it. There were also spots of blood on the carpet around the poker. It must have been dropped after the intruder killed Dan by hitting him on the head.

Sam took half a step more away from Don and could make out more of the room to her left. She caught a flash of Nathan’s shirt and froze. She did not think Nathan would take too kindly to her staring at the crime scene. He was talking to someone, maybe another forensics person? They were discussing a time of death, about midnight, she could hear them say.

Sam’s eyes drifted over to a dresser which stood to the left of the bed. What appeared to be Dan’s bathroom bag sat on it with some items spilled out: a comb, a brush, Listermint, some Q-tips, dental floss, a razor, and a watch. His keys were also on the dresser. She didn’t see a wallet so she leaned her head towards the room just a small amount more. She spotted the wallet in the corner of the room, opposite the bed. It looked open, as though the money was taken out rapidly, and then it had been tossed aside.

She realized one second too late that she had leaned over a bit too far. She looked up and right into the eyes of Detective “Fife.”
Darn it.
She snapped back up and looked for Don who was still chatting with the female police officer. Why couldn’t she have just gotten her quick peek and stopped
?
Nathan moved to the doorway, blocking her view of the room with his body. Okay. Last resort. She gave him a big smile which he did not return. Not even close.

“Mrs. Lee Sherman,” he said it slowly savoring the silliness of her Civil War name, “what are you doing?”

“Well Detective Fi … um Nathan,”
darn what was his last name
… she couldn’t think of it now so she stumbled on, “I am waiting for Don who is going with me to get a couple of things for Mrs. Thomas.” C’mon kid, she thought to herself, remember your confidence. You dealt with more difficult people than this in the Coast Guard.

“Mrs. Lee Sherman,” oh he was enjoying her name now, “perhaps you wouldn’t mind waiting for Don in the living room. This is a crime scene.” Again with that voice usually reserved for a four-year-old …

She gave him her best sweet smile and said, “Of course, Detective. Oh, and no need to be so formal. You can call me Mrs. Sherman.” That was really weak she thought as she tried to turn defiantly, not really even knowing how one ‘turns defiantly,’ toward Don. She ignored Nathan, who remained in the door watching her, and stepped back to Don who looked up and broke off his conversation.

“Sorry Sam. I’ll get you out of here.”

Don told the female police officer he would be right back and escorted Sam past the bedroom. They went by a bathroom on the right, another bedroom which had been turned into a sewing room and study on the left, and finally to Mrs. Thomas’s bedroom on the right.

The room was perfectly neat and looked like it was decorated in the Victorian style. The furniture was ornate, dark wood, almost too big for the small master bedroom. The flowered wallpapered matched the flowered bedspread. Flowered pillows that looked hand stitched were at the head of the bed. The end table was covered in a lacy cloth as was the dresser. On one side of the dresser an antique silver comb and brush were laid out. On the other side of the dresser was a picture of a man and a little girl. Sam assumed they were Mrs. Thomas’s husband and daughter. Sam headed to the closet and quickly found a small overnight bag.

With Don chatting about the last time he had seen her father, she went to the dresser and grabbed two changes of clothes that looked similar to what she usually saw Mrs. Thomas wearing. She then went to the night stand, pulled open the drawer and saw the scrapbook on top with the nightgown underneath. She grabbed both. She didn’t ask Don if she could take the scrapbook but he could see what she was doing so she didn’t worry about it.

She then went to the bathroom where she found the small makeup kit and toothbrush right on the counter. She pulled open one of the cabinet drawers under the sink and saw what looked like cleaning supplies: Scott’s Liquid Gold, Windex, 401 spray, Clairol Glorious, Tide stain sticks, Clorox, and several scrub brushes.
Oh, the shampoo
, she remembered. She stood up and turned to the shower. She found Mrs. Thomas’s Suave shampoo and conditioner quickly.
Mrs. Thomas and I use the same shampoo
, she noted to herself. She stuffed the two bottles into the overnight bag and smiled as she said to Don, “I think I’ve got enough. I’m so glad you were here today.”