The Stairwell Read online

  Jeff and I exchanged pleasantries as I got up to give him a hug, and he jerked his head in Doob’s direction.

  “The computer dude?”

  I smiled. “The computer dude, yes. Sorry I didn’t introduce you, but he clearly smelled your roll and lost all sense of manners. He’s like a puppy that way. Hopefully he won’t relieve himself on the floor before we leave.”

  Jeff laughed. “Food first, I get it. You look great, Meagan. How are things?”

  “Thanks. You do, too. I’ve been good. Work and my social life keep me busy, and my parents are both still crazy in a good way, so I can’t complain. And what about you, Mr. Lottery Winner? I’ve got to imagine your life has changed quite a bit since hitting the big bucks.”

  Jeff nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. “That’s an understatement. The money is awesome, but a lot of freaks have come out of the woodwork. I get a couple of marriage proposals a week through the mail, and a whole bunch of long lost friends have managed to track me down. It’s bizarre.”

  I rolled my eyes in mock sympathy. “Poor baby.”

  Jeff gave me an exaggerated sigh. “I know. The tortured millionaire; it’s a burden.”

  Doob reentered the picture at just that moment and plopped a heavenly smelling cinnamon roll on a paper plate in front of me. I love my neighbor. Then he held out his hand to Jeff.

  “I’m Doobie, nice to meet you.” Doob was a bit awkward in most social situations but had clearly realized he’d been a little bit rude when Jeff had walked in. It was cute watching him try to make up for it by being all formal.

  “Likewise,” Jeff said and shook his hand. “I’ve heard from Meagan you’re her right-hand man when it comes to private investigating.”

  Doob bobbed his head from side-to-side but couldn’t respond because of a mouthful of pastry he’d instantly shoved in his mouth after releasing Jeff’s hand. Normally that wouldn’t stop him from talking, so I knew he was definitely trying to make a good impression. I also knew his good table manners might be very short-lived, so I jumped in before he could projectile something out of his mouth and across the table.

  “Doob is invaluable to me, and he’s cheap labor to boot. So tell us, Jeff, what the heck happened the other day?”

  Jeff blew out a big puff of air. “Just the usual dead body at the vacation home type-of-thing,” he said, trying to sound casual but not quite pulling it off.

  “I understand this might be hard to talk about, but if you two are all set with eats, I’d like to hear the story from the beginning. But take your time; we’ve got all day.”

  “And thank God we do, because she’ll interrupt you every five seconds,” Doob said as he swallowed another ridiculous-sized mouthful of cinnamon roll.

  I balled up and threw a napkin at him while Jeff started his story.

  CHAPTER 2

  “SO, ONE MINUTE I WAS ALL EXCITED AND PROUD, and I put the key in my new door, walked in, and the next minute I was looking at a dead man at the bottom of the stairwell. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “What did you do?” I gently prodded.

  “He was dead when you got there?” Doob asked, his face all scrunched up.

  “It’s going to sound awful, but I didn’t know if I should touch him or what. I was so freaked that I just wanted to bolt, but I also wanted to help him if I could. I checked his neck for a pulse but didn’t feel anything, so I turned and ran outside as fast as I could.”

  “That’s understandable,” I murmured.

  “I would have passed out,” Doob added.

  “So I got to the front yard and kind of started, I don’t know, hyperventilating or something. I just couldn’t catch my breath and was gasping like I’d just outrun the devil. But I knew I had to call 911. My hands were shaking as I dialed, and I was so flustered I couldn’t even remember my new address. I had to check the paperwork in the car to make sure I gave her the right information. Then it felt like forever before the police and ambulance arrived, and all I could see was the guy’s face in my mind. No matter how hard I shut my eyes, all I could see was his face.”

  Being haunted like that is something I’m completely familiar with, but this wasn’t about me. “I’m sure it was awful,” I said, patting Jeff’s hand.

  He shuddered. “It really was. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. The guy’s pallor was kind of a bluish-white, and his neck was twisted in a way that’s not natural for living, breathing people. It looked like he’d fallen down the stairwell.”

  All of a sudden he looked sheepish. I asked if something else was bothering him. As if the dead body wasn’t enough.

  His face reddened when he said, “I’m going to sound like a total ass, but I was kind of pissed. I mean, I walked in and I’m staring at a dead dude at the bottom of the stairs. In my new house! What the hell? But I think that little spark of anger kept me from going into shock. It was supposed to be a wonderful day with a wonderful beginning at this wonderful house by the wonderful Atlantic Ocean. I want generations of my family to enjoy this place, and it started off on a pretty crappy note, ya know?”

  “It’s okay to be upset,” I said and Doob nodded.

  “So there I was feeling all sorry for myself, but then my internal-asshole-radar went off, and I realized how selfish I was being. So I sat down on my front lawn and stared into the distance until I heard the sirens approaching. Knowing it was going to be a long night, I half-wondered if I was going to need a lawyer but figured I’d deal with that if the cops got accusatory.”

  “Did they?”

  Jeff shook his head. “No, not at all. They were cool. A few hours after they arrived, I was alone again in my front yard. The body was gone, the EMT’s were gone, the police were gone, and the sun was long gone. It was weird.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “The cops were great; they absolutely did their jobs and were very thorough with me and with the scene. But it’s just that, I dunno…I just got the sense they wanted to wrap it up all nice and tidy. They’re going to investigate to make sure it wasn’t a crime, but I absolutely know it’s going to be ruled an accident. I mean, he was an old guy at the bottom of the stairs, right? And the police don’t have the time or resources to follow-up on my silly theories, especially when I’ve given them nothing to go on. So I get it. I get that it’ll be deemed an accident, but…”

  “But what?”

  “All I know is I can’t stay in that house if there’s one millionth of a chance something bad was going on there. If they decide it was an accident, so be it. But I just can’t let it go that easily.”

  I considered the possibilities. “I can understand you feeling that way. But let me play devil’s advocate. If something bad was going on, it probably had everything to do with the dead guy and nothing to do with the house, right? I mean, what can a house do?”

  Jeff shook his head. “The guy was there for a reason. If he died of something other than natural causes, my worry is the house did have something to do with it. Because why else would he be there? Was he meeting someone there? Was he looking for something? I probably sound nuts, but until you find a dead body at your new home, you don’t know how freaked out you’ll get.”

  I sipped my coffee. “Okay, I’m with you. So let’s go back to the other night. The cops, the ambulance, the, uh, body was gone. What did you do then?”

  “I stayed outside the entire time, and I was freezing to death. But I couldn’t go back inside because it’s still an open investigation, and I sure as heck didn’t want to go back in there anyway.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “Started up the car, and headed back home. That’s when I left you the message, Meagan. The police told me it’d be a couple days before I could get back in the house, and I didn’t want to check into a hotel in Rhode Island when I’ve got a perfectly good place here. The cops said they’d be cleared out today.”

  “They’ve obviously got all your contact information?”

  “Yep.”

&n
bsp; “Did they tell you not to leave town, anything like that?”

  “They just asked that I be available. Like I said, they were pretty cool. But I don’t think they’re suspecting me—or anyone—of foul play. It appears so open-and-shut.

  “So that’s why I’m here with you two. If this whole thing is deemed an accident—and I guarantee it will be—then I need your help to either confirm or deny that. I want a second set of eyes that can focus completely on this case. Even if it really was an accident, there’s a reason the guy was in my house. At the very least, I want to know that reason.”

  I’d been thinking as he was describing the whole scene. “I know you were totally weirded out, but it may very well have been a horrible mishap. Suppose the man was simply a wanderer who’d gone into your home and then tripped and fell down the steps. Maybe he had a heart attack or an aneurysm. Maybe he had dementia and had lived there as a little kid or something. A dead body doesn’t necessarily mean a murderer is wandering around little Rhode Island.”

  Jeff glanced at his watch. “Sure, there are all kinds of things that could have happened. But I want to know exactly what did happen. As a matter of fact…” He fished a card out of his back pocket, held up a finger to let us know he needed a minute, and dialed a number on his cell. As I read the card upside down, it looked like the number to the precinct Jeff had been dealing with the other night. He muttered a lot of uh-hunhs and okays and scribbled notes on a napkin as he listened. When he hung up, Doob and I learned the dead man had been identified as Charlie O’Neill, a caretaker of sorts to Ava McGraw. Charlie’s wife had been a childhood friend of Ava’s, and Charlie tried to help Ava out with her nephew, Rusty, on occasion, as she’d been named custodian when his parents died. Rusty had gone bad, and Charlie and his wife, Eileen, had always kept an eye out for Ava. Why Charlie was found dead in Jeff’s home was still a mystery.

  “Well, that’s a start,” I said. “It sounds like he was a family friend; it’s sad what happened to him. Have they officially ruled the death an accident?”

  Jeff shook his head. “Not yet. It’s coming, though. First thing I’m gonna do is install a state-of-the-art security system in that place.”

  I winked at him. “Since you own the company, I’m sure you’ll get a nice discount. Hopefully that will make you feel a little safer until this whole thing is sorted out.”

  “Heck, I’d pay double if I could get that visual out of my head. Anyway…I think that’s it. You guys now know what I know. So if you’re up for it, I want to hire you. Hiring a pro will be well worth it if I can get my peace of mind back.”

  “See that Doob? I’m a pro.” Doob rolled his eyes as I turned my attention back to Jeff. “Given the circumstances, it’s going to be tough for you, but do you know when you’re going back to the house?”

  “I’ve got to leave here around eleven, actually. My furniture is going to be delivered down there between one and five o’clock, and I’m kind of glad I have to go. Otherwise I’m not sure when I’d be back. If ever.”

  I glanced at Doob, and he nodded.

  Jeff veered his focus from me to Doob and back again, his brow puckered. “What?”

  “We do this telepathy thing sometimes,” I explained. “Doob often knows what I’m thinking before I even think it. It’s kinda cool.”

  “It’s kinda scary,” Doob countered, breaking into a blueberry muffin he’d purchased with the cinnamon rolls.

  “Keep eating, muffin man, and your brain will be so full of starch it will stop working anyway,” I chirped and looked back to Jeff. “So, how many beds and/or couches are being delivered today?”

  “Quite a few. Why?”

  I shrugged. “Well, I want to help you with your case, and Doob is like a dog when it comes to a road trip. Put a blanket and food in the car, strap him in, and he’s ready to go.”

  Doob nodded eagerly.

  “We’d be happy to work on the case, and it sounds like you aren’t too excited about being at the house by yourself anyway. So what I’m saying is we’d be glad to stay with you until this thing is settled. That is, if you want some house guests.”

  Jeff eased back into his chair, his posture softening. “Serious? That would be great! I mean, I don’t want to sound like a sissy, but it’s just a little creepy—”

  “No need to explain,” I reassured him. “Anyone would feel like that, it’s only normal. So if you’re good with all of this, we can go over my fees, and you can give me your address; then Doob and I will head down to Rhode Island later today.”

  “What about Sampson?” Doob asked as he coughed out some crumbs.

  Oh boy. Sampson was the Springer Spaniel I shared with my sister. Moira works a lot, so Doob and I are generally on Sampson-duty throughout each day.

  “Who’s Sampson?” Jeff asked and then shrugged. “Actually, who cares? If he’s cool, he can come. The more, the merrier.”

  I held up my hands. “Whoa, slow down. Sampson is of the four-legged variety, and he’s a great pooch, but some people don’t like dogs, especially in a new house. So if you’d—”

  “Definitely bring him!” Jeff exclaimed. “I’ve been thinking about getting a puppy myself. This can be a test drive for me.”

  “Rock on,” Doob said before his next bite.

  We spent the next few minutes going over particulars before Jeff left for Jamestown. Doob and I hoofed it back to our apartment building to pack, and while we walked, I found myself pretty excited about doing some business in the lovely Ocean State.

  I called Norman’s cell phone and left a message about what was up. Then, against my better instinct, I called and left a message at the office for our intern, Becca. Becca was a new addition to our little firm, cute as a button, but an absolute ditz. Norman’s twenty-plus years on the Boston police force had made him a lot of friends, and one of his old cop comrades had a daughter in college who needed an internship. Before I knew it, we were Interns-Are-Us. Approved through her college in record time, we were “enjoying” a semester with Becca in our midst. She studied criminal law, but I couldn’t, for a second, imagine her passing the bar exam. I couldn’t imagine her spelling bar exam. Anyway, I’d let the dingbat know what I was up to because Norman would want me to. Plus, if I didn’t check in promptly on Monday morning, she might put out an APB on me and then blink heavily mascaraed eyes when we asked her to justify her actions. I would be the first to happily bid her farewell before the holiday break in December. God only knew what she’d screw up between now and then.

  “Meg, are you even licensed to work in Rhode Island?” Doob asked as we strolled along the tree-lined sidewalks.

  I smiled. “Are you thinking of my little mishap in California earlier this year?”

  “I am. You’re lucky that Officer Simonetta dude was nice enough to not bust your chops about being out of your jurisdiction.”

  “Well, you’ll be relieved to know that I’m officially licensed in several neighboring states, so we won’t have to worry about that.” My thoughts suddenly drifted back to California and the case that changed my life forever.

  Doob sensed my mood shift and added in a low tone, “Melanie or David?”

  He really can read my mind.

  “David,” I replied.

  Doob sighed as we continued walking, our steps matching each other’s stride for stride. “When’s the last time you talked to him?”

  I exhaled every bit of breath within me. “I’m going to sound pathetic, but can we talk about anything else?”

  “No problem.” My neighbor knows when to push and when not to push. And that’s part of what makes him wonderful.

  Back at the apartment, I’d been in my bedroom for less than five minutes when I heard the front door open. Doob has his own keys, and he comes and goes as he pleases.

  “Meg, does Sampson have a bag?” he yelled from the living room.

  Have a bag? What in the world? “What do you mean?”

  “Like, does he have a suitcase or so
mething? I know you’re going to take forever to get packed, so I thought I might run and buy him a bag somewhere.”

  I walked into the living room where Doob was perched on a couch. He had his laptop and a stuffed pillowcase perched by the door. The once-white-now-yellow pillowcase looked like it had been made sometime during the Lincoln Administration and had at least five holes I could see.

  “You’re ready to go?” I was incredulous.

  “Aye-aye Captain,” he said with a salute. “And you’ll be another hour or two, I presume?”

  “I’m not that bad; I’ll be ready in fifteen. And Sampson doesn’t need a suitcase, but thanks for the offer.” I glanced at his sorry excuse for a pillowcase. “Any chance you need a suitcase, Doob?”

  He looked puzzled. “No. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason at all,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway, if you want to take Sampson outside for pee-pees before we leave, that would be great.”

  “Can do,” Doob said and saluted again.

  “Hang on!” I exclaimed. “Watch what Sampson and I have worked out.” I put two fingers in my mouth and produced an extremely high-pitched weeaa-weet whistle. His dog tags tinkled a split second before Sampson came bounding out of Moira’s room, leash in his mouth and tail wagging furiously.

  “Whoa, that’s cool, Meg. I’m so gonna have to learn that.” Doob then put two fingers in his mouth and spit all over himself.

  Less than a half hour later, Doob, Sampson and I were on I-95 South, loaded up in Doob’s new Mercedes G63, aimed toward the tiniest state in the country. The drive to Rhode Island was beautiful, and time flew. My breath caught in my throat as we wound to the end of the lane leading to Jeff’s new home. It was stunning. The lawn was more like a meadow, with long, soft yellow grass swaying in the gentle breeze. Clumps of massive trees, centuries old, dotted various sections of the property. The stories those trees could tell…