It was weird walking into my parent’s house, with them being dead and all. There was no smell of dinner cooking and no sound of a NASCAR race echoing down the hall from the living room. There was nothing. All of the books and the knickknacks on the shelves seemed to be staring wide-eyed at me as I walked around, disturbing the solace of an empty house. I felt like an intruder in the house where I grew up.
Losing your parents is something everyone should plan for, but this was sudden. It wasn’t as if they were in bad health or even that old. They had recently retired, and they were having the time of their lives.
I was still recovering from the shock of the call I received yesterday. Although I don’t usually answer unknown numbers, something told me answer this one. It was the Evergreen police department informing me that my parents had died in a car accident. They missed a hairpin curve outside of town.
I remembered the adrenaline coursing through my veins when I used to ride with my father in his modified Porsche. Any bit of gravel or frost would have sent us careening off the edge. His luck finally ran out with my mother at his side. She enjoyed the adrenaline rush too. It was how they would have wanted to die — doing what they loved. I couldn’t believe they were gone.
Instead of seeing my mother standing in front of the stove, I saw clean pots stacked next to the sink, patiently waiting to be stored in the cabinets. The smell of old books reminded me of my father as I entered the study. The lockbox was on a high shelf. I brought it over to the desk. The key was in the top drawer of the desk, right where my father had shown my brother and me a few years back. He seemed so strong and dominant at the time — so alive. It seemed ridiculous to be discussing estate planning, wills, powers of attorney, and burial plans
“Hello, Mark?”
The voice of my older brother startled me. “Hey Keith. I’m in the study.”
He walked in carrying an armload of flattened cardboard boxes and packing tape. Dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, he must have thought to change before driving up. I came straight from work in my khakis and pinpoint shirt.
“You made it here quickly.” He brushed his sandy blond hair from his forehead with his free hand.
How could Keith pull off his “aw shucks” good looks while I, with similar features, could only manage the clueless country bumkin look?
“Denver’s only an hour away,” I said.
Keith pointed with his chin at the lockbox. “The dreaded box.”
“Yeah, I thought I’d start with the will.”
“We already know what’s in there. I think we should start packing things up and get the house ready to put on the market.”
“Isn’t it too soon for that?” I held the key in one hand and the box in the other. “They aren’t even buried yet.”
“They don’t want to be buried, remember? Not even a service. They just want to be cremated and spread around the mountains.”
“I remember. That’s what it said then. Maybe they changed their minds.”
“They would have told us. Come on, this will give us something physical to do while we get our heads around everything. How about if we start at the top and work our way down?”
“Okay.” I put the box back on the shelf and slipped the key back into the drawer. My brother always knew best.
Our parents used the huge room on the top floor as storage. As we entered, we were happy to see that most of the items were already in boxes.
“Let’s move everything downstairs,” Keith said. “Then we can put them into piles of garbage, donate, keep.”
Keith picked up a box of trophies. The bottom of the box began to sag and tear. “This box is toast. Hang on.” He unfolded one of his flattened boxes and taped the bottom. “Put them into this box.”
“What’s the hurry? Let’s take our time going through all of this.”
“Look how much there is.” He waved his arms at the clutter in the room. “I need to get back to work at some point. How about you?”
I began transferring the trophies to the new box. “Are we going to keep these?”
“Do you just want to argue with me all day? Let’s get everything boxed up and moved downstairs. Then we can decide.”
His phone rang. He answered and listened for a short while before saying, “We’re at the house now. We’ll be here all day. Okay, see you soon. Bye.” He hung up with a puzzled look on his face. “That was a detective. He wants to talk to us. He’s coming over.”
“Why would a detective want to talk to us?”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Let’s keep working.”
~
Detective Warner arrived an hour later. He was a short, stocky man with a bushy mustache and a weathered face. After offering his condolences, he was all business as he sat opposite us in the living room and placed a recording device on the coffee table.
“Do you mind if I record this?”
Keith and I glanced at each other and shrugged.
“Go ahead,” Keith said.
“Can I ask of your whereabouts over the last couple of days?”
“Why are you asking?” I said.
“The accident was suspicious. The car was tampered with.” The detective assessed our shocked expressions with a stare.
“How did you find out so quickly?” Keith asked. “The accident was yesterday.”
“There were pieces of brake pads on the road where the car went over. They had some unusual wear marks, to say the least.”
We sat quietly, contemplating that information.
“About your whereabouts?” The detective prodded.
“You start.” Keith waved his hand toward me.
“The last couple of days? Let’s see, this is Friday. Wednesday, I was at work all day, and then I went out later to shoot pool with some friends. Yesterday, I also worked, but I stayed home that night to watch TV. This morning I got the call about our parents and drove up here.”
Detective Warner opened a new window on his tablet computer. He placed the stylus on top and pushed it toward me. “Can you please list the names and numbers of the friends you were with Wednesday night?”
“Of course.” I began jotting down the names as my brother told of his whereabouts for the last couple of days. He was only three years older than I was, but he had his life in order. He had a wife and a young child and was already moving up in his company. The urge to settle down or to move up hadn’t hit me yet.
“Is there anybody who would wish your parents harm?” the detective asked. “Anybody they didn’t get along with? Anybody with a gripe?”
My brother and I looked at each other. The thought of somebody not liking our parents was alien. They got along with everybody. “I can’t think of anybody,” I said.
“I understand your father was a car enthusiast,” the detective said.
“He raced in a weekend league,” Keith said.
“Did you spend time with him working on cars?”
“Yeah, both of us did,” Keith said.
“But Keith was the real gear head,” I added.
“Used to be. I don’t even change the oil in my own car now.” Keith narrowed his eyes at me.
“Okay, thanks for your time. If I have any other questions, can I reach you here?”
“I’ll be staying at the house for a few days,” Keith said. “Until we get everything taken care of.”
“And you?” Detective Warner asked.
“I hadn’t thought about it. I guess I’ll stay here too. I have some things in my room.” Leave it to my brother to plan ahead. He always thought of everything.
After escorting the detective to the front door, I returned to the living room. Keith was standing with his hands on his hips.
“That was unpleasant,” Keith said.
“He was treating us like suspects.”
“Don’t be naïve. We are suspects. We stand to inherit a small fortune.”
After hauling boxes all day, I was happy to climb into my old bed. I slept fitfully and woke up early. I went to the study, opened up the lockbox, and reviewed the will. It was just as it had been when our father discussed it with us years ago. Next, I began going through the papers on the desk.
I became lost in memories, but Keith’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs brought me back to the present.
“Hey Keith, come here. I need to show you something.” I pulled a folder from a stack of papers I had set aside.
He entered the study and came to stand beside me as I sat at the desk.
“Look at this. There’s a lawsuit against Dad’s old investment firm.”
Keith studied the document. “It’s a motion to dismiss.”
“Dad’s lawyer is arguing that it is frivolous. There’s no guarantee that an investment will make money.”
“So this guy’s mad that an investment he made through Dad’s company didn’t pay out?”
“There’s a motive,” I said. “We’ve found one suspect.”
“Besides the two of us.”
“Exactly. Here’s something else.” I pulled another piece of paper from the stack. “Look at this invoice. Dad had his car serviced a few days ago.”
“At Earl’s place. Oh, it’s just a tire rotation and balance.”
“But Earl had access to the car. Maybe he messed with the brakes.”
“Why would Earl want to kill Dad?”
“They raced against each other,” I said.
“It’s a gentleman’s league. They race for fun.”
“Still, it’s something. We should take both of these to the detective.”
Keith looked at his watch. “I’m meeting the real estate agent here at nine. Why don’t you run that stuff over to the detectives?”
Detective Warner’s mustache did a poor job of concealing his frown. He wasn’t very impressed with my findings.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” he said. “I wanted to ask you about something.”
“Sure. Glad to help.”
“Not here. Let’s grab a room.”
“Sounds ominous.” I gave a nervous laugh.
“Naw, just easier to talk in there.”
He glanced toward another detective and gave a brief nod. The other detective pushed back his chair and headed out of the room. That really did seem ominous, in spite of the smile Detective Warner threw in my direction.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Just a few questions. Right this way.”
He led me down a hallway and into an interrogation room. As we entered, I saw the other detective take a position at the end of the hallway behind us.
“Have a seat.”
The steel chair screeched as I pulled it out and sat down. Detective Warner took the chair across from me and placed his recording device on the dull metal table. He didn’t even ask before turning it on.
“You said earlier that you helped your father work on his cars,” he began.
“Sometimes.” I wiped my hands on my pants. I felt clammy, and there was a ringing in my ears.
“Did you help him at the track?”
“Once in a while. I was mostly there just to watch though.” I could feel my heart pounding.
“Was your father a good racer?”
“Yes, he was.”
“And he won some races?”
“I said he was good.”
Detective Warner stood up and opened a locker. He removed an evidence bag and brought it back to the table. “Is this one of your father’s trophies?”
He placed it in front of me so that I could inspect it through the clear plastic.
“Yes. That was from a race in the Springs.”
He went back to the locker and pulled out several more evidence bags.
“What do you know about these trophies?” He placed them in a semi-circle in front of me.
There was a softball trophy, a soccer trophy, a tennis trophy, and more. I shook my head. “I don’t know anything about these.”
“Do you recognize any of the names? Karen Steadman? Casey Holland? Lynne Oliver? Lori Melville?”
“They sound familiar.”
“They should.” Detective Warner leaned on the table with his face inches from mine. “They were all murdered. Do you know what all of these trophies have in common?”
I leaned back in my chair, trying to put more space between us. “No.”
“All of these trophies belong to dead people. Do you know what else they have in common?”
“What?” I was almost afraid to ask.
“They all have your fingerprints on them. Only yours and the victims’. Care to explain that?”
“There was a box of trophies at the house. I moved them all to a new box. Ask my brother, he saw me do it.”
“Your brother is the one who brought these to us. He thought they looked suspicious.”
“My brother? When did he do that?”
“Yesterday.”
“I saw him this morning. He didn’t say anything.”
“We instructed him to remain silent until we could check them out. You may want to call a lawyer. Do you have anyone in mind?”
“A lawyer?”
“We’re holding you on fourteen counts of first degree murder, all of the victims on these trophies including your parents. Do you have a lawyer in mind? We can provide one for you.”
“My dad had a lawyer, the one on that paperwork.”
“Okay. We’ll stop by my desk and you can give him a call.”
Keith stopped by the jail to see me that evening. We sat on opposite sides of a bulletproof glass partition and picked up the phones to speak.
“What the fuck was with those trophies, Keith?”
“You realize that by killing our parents, you forfeited your share of the inheritance.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. I didn’t kill anybody.”
“Hey, I want to show you something.” He pulled out a small trophy and set in on the desk in front of him. “Do you know what this is?”
“Another goddamn trophy.”
“It’s your little league trophy. Third place, but I’m sure you did the best you could.”
“Where’d you get that?”
“I went by your apartment. I used the spare key in the flowerpot.” He began to spin the trophy on the desk.
“Why?”
“It’s to commemorate my accomplishments.”
“What accomplishments?”
“They think I’ll be a good witness for the prosecution.” He gave me a lopsided smile.
“The prosecution?”
“I’ll tell them we never could have a pet because you were cruel to animals.”
“You’re the one who always hurt animals.” I wanted to smash the phone through that glass and wipe that smirk off his face.
“And you had violent spells.”
“I never…”
“I’ll inherit everything. Everything except for that Porsche. I did love that car, but we have to make sacrifices.” He tipped the trophy on its side and left it there.
“You killed Mom and Dad, didn’t you?”
Keith shrugged and laughed.
“And all of those girls?”
“It’s kind of addictive,” he said.
“You’re addicted to murder?”
“It isn’t as strange as you think.”
“You’re a monster. I’ll stop you.”
“It will be fun to watch you try. While I was at your apartment, I dropped off a few incriminating items, including a laptop with some very interesting material on it.”
“If you’re addicted, you won’t stop. As soon as you kill again, they’ll know they arrested the wrong person. If I’m not out of here already, I’ll come looking for you.”
“You’re right. I’ll have to change my MO. I can’t have them letting you go.”
He gave me one of his big disarming smiles and brushed the hair out of his eyes. “I’ve got to get going. Stay strong, okay champ?” He plucked the trophy off the desk, winked at me, and walked out.
If you enjoyed this, please check out some of my other writing:
