A Deadly Homecoming

Chapter 1-2

“Mr. Harden. Mr. Mills. It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Mrs. Brown, the realtor, said, practically gushing. “I’m a huge fan of your books.”

“Thank you,” Spence replied.

“How may I help you?” she asked.

“I’m interested in one of the houses I saw on your website.” Spence gave her the address. “Would it be possible to see it today?”

“If you don’t mind waiting until later this morning. I have to show someone another home in a half an hour. I can meet you there at, say, eleven?”

“That would be fine. We’ll see you then.”

Spence and Jeff killed the time until they were due at the house taking a driving tour of the city. Jeff agreed that it could make a good backdrop for their next book. They arrived at the house a few minutes before eleven to find Mrs. Brown waiting.

“It’s a very nice place,” she said as she unlocked the front door to let them inside. “The previous owners did a great deal of remodeling.”

“Indeed they did,” Spence murmured as he looked around the living room that spanned the width of the house. The short wall at one end, that had once held built-in bookshelves, was now barren—in his opinion—and painted to match the off-white of the rest of the walls. The fireplace was still there, at the other end of the room, with the doors on either side that opened onto the screened-in porch.

Mrs. Brown looked at him. “That sounds as if you’ve been here before.”

Spence smiled. “I grew up in this house.”

“Oh my.” She looked at him in dismay. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t connect your name to that of the people who owned the house before the present owners. They were…” She didn’t seem to want to say the word.

“They were murdered,” Spence said succinctly as he walked through the arch into the dining room. “At least this hasn’t changed.” He continued to what, he told Jeff, had been his parents reading room. The long wall between it and the dining room was empty, the bookshelves it had held were gone now. The new owners must not have been readers. That idea appalled him. Two of the three remaining walls had windows looking out on the back yard and the path. On the fourth was a door that opened onto a small lavatory.

“The present owners completely redid the kitchen,” Mrs. Brown told him.

“So I see,” Spence replied. The appliances were all brand new, and the built-in benches and kitchen table from his childhood had been replaced by a center island with a granite top that matched those of the counters.

“Would you like to see the upstairs?” Mrs. Brown asked.

“Of course.”

It hadn’t changed as much as the ground floor, other than the wall colors in the three bedrooms. The bathroom had a glassed-in tub now, and the sink and toilet were new as well. “A vast improvement,” Spence told Mrs. Brown, remembering the rather old-fashioned ones he’d grown up with.

“Did they do anything to the attic?” he asked, opening the door to the stairs leading up to it.

“They turned one end into a playroom for the kids,” she replied. “The other end was used for storage. Everything is gone now, of course.”

He took her word for it, then they went down to the basement. Other than a new furnace, and the washbasins under the windows on one wall, it was empty.

“What are those for?” Jeff asked, gesturing toward a wall that was brick for the first three feet up from the floor before opening onto two large spaces that went back five feet to the exterior wall.

“According to Dad, the bins that used to be there were for storing coal in. He changed out to a gas furnace right after they bought the house, then had concrete poured to fill the bins. After that, he used the space for storage.”

“Weird.”

Spence laughed. “The house was built in 1925, if I remember correctly. Back then, it was coal or nothing. The people Dad bought it from kept the old furnace and had coal delivered every week, I think he said.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to see?” Mrs. Brown asked when they were upstairs again.

“I don’t think so. We looked at the yard last night. Thank you for showing us around.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Are you interested in buying the house or was this merely a trip down memory lane?” She smiled at Spence.

“Definitely the latter at the moment. I haven’t decided anything yet, when it comes to purchasing the place.”

“But he has thought about it,” Jeff put in, winking at him.

“If you are considering it,” Mrs. Brown said, “I should tell you there’s someone else who’s very interested in it.”

“I’m not surprised. Have they made an offer?”

“No. I expect they will very soon. Of the three homes I showed him, this is the only one that really caught his fancy.”

“Let me think about it. I’ll call you one way or the other within the next few days.”

“Excellent. I’ll wait for your call before accepting the other man’s offer, or rejecting it if it’s too low. The present owners don’t want to take a loss on the sale.”

“Not at all surprising,” Spence replied.

When they were back in the car, Jeff suggested they get lunch. Spence had no problem with that. “I wonder if the restaurant we used to go to, to celebrate birthdays, is still around.”

“Only one way to find out,” Jeff replied with a grin.

It was, and not too crowded since it was past the lunch hour by then. They were seated at a table along one wall and after ordering a couple of beers, they perused the menus. By the time the waitress returned with their drinks, they’d decided to split a large, deluxe pizza.

“Are you seriously considering buying the house?” Jeff asked after taking a drink. “I know you were sort of thinking about it, but…”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Spence replied. “It holds a lot of memories. Good ones. It would be a big change from living in a condo in the middle of a busy city.”

“It would definitely be that,” Jeff agreed.

Tapping his lip, Spence looked at his friend and writing partner. “It would be easier if you were willing to move, too.”

“As in…” Jeff looked at him in shock. “Are you serious?”

“It’s big enough. Three bedrooms.” Spence grinned. “That would make conjugal visits, as you called them, much easier.”

“No s**t. Still, it would be a big step for both of us. Not that I’m against the idea. We can work anywhere.”

“Exactly. The reading room could be our office. No more IM-ing when we have to talk about what we’re doing with the plot.”

Jeff nodded. “That would speed things up.”

“Would you consider it?” Spence asked.

“Perhaps. I’ll have to think about it. We both will.”

“We can’t take too long, if Mrs. Brown was telling the truth about having another buyer.”

“Now why would she lie?” Jeff retorted with a laugh.

“Umm, to get me to make an offer?” Spence replied with some amusement.

“A tried and true trick.” Jeff eyed Spence. “And it’s working.”

“Maybe?”

They stopped talking about it then, as their pizza had arrived.

“I can’t believe we ate it all,” Jeff said a while later, leaning back, patting his stomach.

“Believe,” Spence replied. “So we’d better work it off.” He held up his hand before Jeff could reply. “By walking.”

“Three guesses where,” Jeff muttered.

Ten minutes later they were parked across the street from the house, again.

“We can go around the block and then I’ll show you where I went to grade school,” Spence said. “It’s only another block or so.”

“These aren’t blocks,” Jeff grumbled when they got to the school. “They’re country miles. Damn.”

Spence laughed. “Wimp. I bet, if I remember right, we’ve only gone half a mile.”

“And a half a mile more back to the car.”

“Well…” They walked to the cross street, then three, shorter blocks west to the street behind the house and took the path from there to return to their starting place.

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” Jeff said, leaning against the car.

“It is. It’s hardly changed since I was a kid. Some of the houses are different colors, now, and I’d be willing to bet I’ll only know a few to the immediate neighbors, after being gone since I went away to college, but that’s okay.”

Jeff counted on his fingers. “Fifteen years. Yeah, probably.”

“A few of them came to the funeral, but that was ten years ago.” Spence smiled, pointing to the house across the street. “The lady who lived there had a huge Newfoundland. The sweetest dog you’ll ever meet. And my two best friends lived over there,” he said, gesturing to a blue house five doors down from his old home.

Jeff began humming “Memories,” which earned him a swat on the ass. “Well, you are having them,” he protested.

“I am.” Spence took one more look around then suggested they get back to the motel. “Before I get all maudlin. We can walk around downtown, find somewhere to eat supper, and…whatever.”

Jeff groaned at the idea of walking anymore, but they did it anyway and then returned to the motel for the night.