Copyright @ shuttlepilot
All rights reserved, 2011
If life gives you lemons...
He put his half-eaten hot dog down and called his sister-in-law's house at 8 o'clock that evening. "Hi, Karen, let me speak to Terri, please. She's not answering her phone."
"Doug, she's not here right now. She left with Peter to go to the store. Her phone battery's dead, that's all. I'll have you call her as soon as I can, OK?"
"I was just worried, that's all. She didn't call, you know? If she's all right, then just tell her I love her and I'll see her Sunday evening. Thanks."
"Goodbye, Doug. I'll let her know."
The doorbell rang and he found Mrs. Kittrell standing on the dark porch. "Don't you believe in lights, Doug? A person could get hurt out here."
"What can I do for you? I'm a little busy."
"I need some help with the house. It shouldn't take too long." She stood there, waiting for him as he sighed, locked up his house and followed her across the street. "My window won't close and it's getting cold. Would you like some cake? I just baked a chocolate cake and I know you'd like a big piece."
Doug looked at the woman and then back at his own empty house. "Sure, why not? I'd like that very much."
**********
Saturday morning arrived with a shrill beep-beep-beep and he reached to turn off the forgotten alarm, knocking it off the nightstand and onto the floor. Every part of his body was sore. Mrs. Kittrell's window turned into a leaky toilet which turned into a dripping faucet which turned into a squeaky door. It was close to midnight before he got back home and for a moment, there, he suspiciously thought the woman needed something else fixed, too. She seemed to hang on his every word and hovered nearby while he did the work.
"Damn it!" He tried to reach for it without getting out of bed but it had bounced beneath the bedframe and out of reach. He pulled the covers back and went onto the floor, reaching into the dusty cavern beneath the bed. As the dust-covered clock came out, he sneezed. How many times, he wondered, had he asked Terri to vacuum under the bed. He was sure his allergies had started when she had stopped caring for the house like she used to.
Doug went into the bathroom and pulled out his Astepro. Inhaling deeply, he could feel the mist surge through his nose as he depressed it.
He got back into the empty bed, looking at her side of the bed. The pillow lay there, untouched. Her twice-a-month weekends to her sister's house had become standard practice two years earlier. There never was any explanation from her why her sudden interest in staying the weekend was so important and he had just believed it was her longing for sisterly companionship. It had, though, gotten out of hand and something needed to be done about it.
Doug spent the morning working next door with Pierce on his old car and then watched a couple of football games and USC destroyed Notre Dame, again, even though it was closer this time than in years. He sat there then and realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He remembered Mrs. Kittrell's chocolate cake and wished he had another piece. That woman sure knew her way around the kitchen.
Walking into his own kitchen, he opened the pantry and took out a box of pasta shells and started boiling water. Eventually, he was back in the den watching the end of another one-sided game.
He looked at the clock on his cell and called Karen again. "Well, put her on, then." Sometimes, Doug thought his sister-in-law was dense.
"She's really sick, Doug. She might even be late coming home. If she doesn't get better we'll take her to the ER."
"Well, just put the phone to her ear so I can talk a little, will you?" He was getting angry with his sister-in-law. "Karen, put her on the damn phone."
"Doug, she's dead asleep. Really..."
"Do I have to drive up there?"
"Oh, no... we'll take care of it. Really... don't worry; it's probably just a case of food poisoning or something. You'll see."
"Call me, then, when she wakes up. Is her phone charged, now?"
"Uh... the battery's dead. It won't take a charge and you'll have to get a new one. Look, my little one is crying and I've got to go. OK?"
Doug hung up; his sister-in-law was short with him, certainly not like her usual silly self, but then neither was he.
*********
Sunday evening arrived without his wife and Doug called Karen one last time.
"What do you mean, 'she's not there'? When did she leave?"
"I don't really remember... sometime this morning."
"She's not here, yet. I'm calling the police." He dialed 911 and reported his wife missing but was given the expected delay. It wasn't enough time, they said; she's not a child, they said.
Late Monday night, there was a call from them, saying they found his wife's car by chance in a chop-shop raid just before it was going to disappear into a crusher. Then came the apologies and recriminations and promises. Now, that she was officially gone. Two detectives promised to come by Tuesday morning and he took the day off from work.
**********
Alfred Jones, the lead detective, looked at Susan Phillips, his partner and then, Doug.
"When did you notice your wife was missing?" The tall, dark-haired detective had his notebook out, pen at the ready. His partner was a slightly shorter, willowy red-haired beauty and she pulled out a small, digital recorder and set it down on her laptop case.
"I called Friday night, her sister's house and Karen, that's her sister, said that she was out with Peter, that's the brother-in-law, to the store and so I said, you know, OK, tell her I love her and then I called the next day and they told me she was sick." Doug sat on the sofa, his hands held tightly together.
"Why didn't you call your wife's cell phone?" The pen was rapidly writing but Jones was watching the man's face.
"I did but there was no answer. Karen said the battery had died and they were trying to charge it up and then she said it was dead and had to be replaced."
"Does your wife visit her sister often?" The willowy red-head finally spoke, looking up from her laptop's screen.
"Why are you asking all these questions? You should be out there looking for her." Doug stood up and paced the floor. He walked to the front windows and looked out onto the street and then to Mrs. Kittrell's house.
"Mr. Portelli, please sit down. We're looking for her. We're just trying to get a handle on your wife's usual conduct, that's all." She watched the man's face, hoping for some sign, some signal, something.
"All right, I guess," Doug sighed. "She'd go about twice a month, usually; once in a while, more even though I told her I didn't like it... being gone all the time. She'd always call me, you know, letting me know she was there and we'd say goodnight. This is the first time this has ever happened. And, now... you tell me you found her car?"
"Mr. Portelli, we found your wife's car in East L.A. It was in a chop shop." The redhead seemed too eager to share that bit of information and Jones looked at her, a mixture of amusement and gentle admonishment on his face.
"Jesus Christ! I knew it... I called you guys to look for her and got the run-around. Now her car has been stolen and she's missing. What the fuck more do you want? Shit, I've got to change the locks. God knows who's got the keys." Doug sat back down, heavily sinking into the cushion.
"We'll need your sister-in-law's information so we can go see her." Jones seemed all right with Phillips asking most of the questions. He had been her only partner ever since she made detective last year and he was pleased with the progress she was making, learning what and how.
"Sure, here, I'll write it all down for you. Will you need directions to the house?" He went to find a pen.
"No, that's OK, we can find it." Phillips looked intently at something on her screen.
"Am I going to need a lawyer on this? Every cop show, the husband's always the suspect."
"I'll be honest, Mr. Portelli, right now, you're our only suspect but we'll clear you as soon as we can. OK? Since you mention it, where were you over the weekend?
"Friday night, I was with Mrs. Kittrell... she lives across the street. She needed a window fixed before it got dark but it kept going. She needed this and then that and then the other thing. I didn't get out of there until way late. I couldn't get out of there; she kept coming up with something else for me to do. Saturday, I spent most of the morning with Jack Pierce, he lives next door. We're fooling around with his old car. I think it's a piece of junk but he likes it and then I watched football games. Sunday, I just spent the day here, watching football and wondering where the hell my wife was and why hadn't she called."
"Mrs. Kittrell, you say?"
"Yes... just, find my wife. Please..."
Jones and Phillips walked across the street and disappeared into Mrs. Kittrell's house. Shortly, they left, crossed the street and knocked on Pierce's door but there was no one home. Jones left his card in the doorjamb, asking the man to call.
The two detectives drove away as Doug stood on his porch, watching them leave. He went back inside the house, closed the drapes in the living room and went to lie down. What a horrible weekend, he thought through his tears. He knew he'd never see his wife again.
"What do you think, Susan?" asked Jones as they sped up the onramp onto the 405 and headed north to Ventura.
"I don't know. Whatever's going on, he definitely is sad and upset. She backs up his story for Friday night but he doesn't have much of an alibi for earlier in the day since he only worked a half-day. Pierce will probably be the same thing. Besides, he says his in-laws kept giving him the run-around, so let's see what the sister has to say. I think there's more going on than Portelli is saying or knows."
Traffic slowed to a crawl and Jones decided to take the Coast Highway to Ventura rather than fight their way to the 101. An hour and a half later, give or take a few minutes, they finally found the Hancocks' house.
"This should be interesting," Phillips said, never trusting anyone except her partner. "You know, we're way out of our jurisdiction."
"We go where the case takes us, you know that."
'Ding-dong' went the front bell and the door was opened by a child about six. She looked at them, eyes wide open in surprise. "Mommy! There's people here!"
