Page 18 of Witness To Murder
While he located the fairy statue and the key hidden beneath it, she took in more of that amazing view. After a moment, she started helping with his search. It took a minute. The shrubs next to the less-than-two-feet-tall statue had grown so that it was very nearly concealed. A good thing, Leah supposed, to prevent anyone from noticing it and looking under it.
On the stoop, Owen knocked several times, but there was no answer. Finally, he inserted the key and unlocked the door. Leah held her breath as they dared to cross the threshold. Inside was bright, even though the lights were off. The abundance of windows across the lake side of the house ensured good lighting. The air was stuffy and a little too warm. The air-conditioning was either off or set high enough that it hadn’t kicked on. Leah’s nose wrinkled. There was an underlying unpleasant odor. Maybe from being closed up for a while.
As with many homes on the water, the front of the house faced the lake. With that in mind, the entrance door, which was actually at the back of the house next to the small parking area, led into a little mudroom and then the kitchen. The kitchen was the usual cottage-style and wide open to the rest of the central part of the one-story house. Without the interruption of walls, it flowed straight into the living area, where several conversation groupings were scattered around those large front windows. One grouping included a television while the rest came with only the view—which was more than sufficiently inspiring. A bookcase stuffed with books and comfortable seating made the space even more inviting.
“Isla?” It seemed obvious enough that she wasn’t in the house, but Leah felt compelled to call out her name.
The house was strangely quiet. And so still—eerily so, like the water beyond all those windows.
Leah turned to the professional in matters such as this one. “Should we search the rest of the house?” She wasn’t sure of the protocol in these situations. Her instinct was to tear through the house calling her friend’s name.
“We’re here,” he said. “The owner gave us permission to be here. We might as well see if there are any indications Isla or anyone else has been in the house at some point during the last three or four days.”
A perfectly logical analysis. “I’ll take the bedrooms.”
Leah turned down a short hall to the left. There were four doors: two on her right—the lake side—one at the end and one on the left. The door on the left was a bathroom. Neat and airy, very beachy looking. Typical vintage tile and fixtures. A surprisingly large shower for a house of this age. The inside of the toilet bowl had a dark line of old mold or mineral deposits circling it, suggesting it hadn’t been flushed in a while.
The two doors across the hall led to smallish bedrooms furnished with double beds and a single dresser each. The focal point in both rooms was the window looking out over the lake. No indications that anyone had been in either of the two rooms in the past few weeks. Nothing unexpected in the tiny closets. Each of the dressers sported a fine layer of undisturbed dust.
The more Leah looked, the more worried she grew.Where are you, Isla?
The door at the end of the short hall would likely lead to the larger bedroom. So far, the trip all this way had been a waste of time. But at least it got her out of the city and away from the horrors of the past few days.
Leah drew her hand back when she would have opened the final door. On some level, she suddenly wished she had worn gloves. She had never been to this house, no matter what Islahad told her mother. Today was her first time here. Now her prints would be all over the place as if Isla had been telling the truth.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. This whole thing was making her paranoid.
Whatever Isla’s reason for telling her mother that story, it was not related to the missing Raymond Douglas or anything else untoward.
With renewed determination, Leah grasped the knob and gave it a twist. The door opened. Instantly, an overwhelming, sickening metallic odor hit her in the face. The space was nearly pitch black. A frown tugged at her lips. Why so dark?
She felt along the wall next to the doorframe and flipped the switch. Then her hand went over her nose and mouth to ward off the stench. Directly in front of her was the bed, larger than the others. But unlike the others, the covers were tousled. There were handcuffs on the headboard and footboard. Also unlike the others, the windows were covered, blocking that fabulous view of the lake.
“What the…?” She stepped fully into the room, surveyed more closely the windows that extended half the width of the room and then stretched around the corner and ran down half the length of the other side of the room as well. The interior shutters were all closed.
She shivered. But it was the smell that unsettled her the most. What was that unbearable odor?
A step, then another took her beyond the bed that stood in the center of the room. On the other side was a large circle of something rusty and thick-looking.
Blood.
Leah’s first thought was to scream, but the sound wouldn’t emerge from her throat.
She backed out of the room and turned, bumping square into Owen.
“Nothing anywhere in the main living area or in the laundry room,” he told her. “That smell—” He took in her expression, then frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“The bedroom,” she said, her voice scarcely a whisper. Then she hitched her thumb toward the room behind her. “There’s blood. A lot of blood.”
“Stay here.” He ushered her aside and disappeared through the door Leah had left standing open.
She pressed her hands to her face and struggled to hold back tears. That couldn’t be Isla’s blood. No. Her friend could not be hurt…or dead. Images of Raymond being dragged across that kitchen floor…blood trickling down the side of his head…flashed erratically in her head.
What if the blood belonged to Raymond? What if he had been brought here from the restaurant? But why here? Did he and Isla know each other that well? Why hadn’t she told Leah? It made no sense.
Was he the one who would come here with Isla? That would explain the visits she’d claimed to her mother were with Leah.
But why? It just didn’t feel reasonable.
