A Deadly Homecoming

Chapter 3-2

“I found it,” Jeff called upstairs the next morning. He’d gone down to start breakfast while Spence put away the rest of their sheets and towels in the linen closet in the upstairs hallway.

“Where was it?” Spence asked, knowing Jeff meant the blender.

“In one of the boxes with my research books, which is real strange, since I packed them first.”

“Why were you looking in there?” Spence wanted to know as he came down to the kitchen.

“I needed it to make us smoothies so I figured…Like you said yesterday, maybe I stuck it in with something else. Still…” Jeff shook his head.

“You were in ditz mode when you were packing, knowing you.” Spence gave him a hug and then helped with breakfast. When they finished eating, they set to work putting things away in the office.

Spence’s desk was large enough to hold both their laptops plus all the peripherals. Their files went on top of the bookcases since the books they used for research filled the shelves.

“Add a file cabinet to our shopping list,” Jeff said, so Spence did, and then suggested they take the truck when they went looking for one, and a washer and dryer, before returning it to the local branch of the company they’d rented it from.

Spence did a quick check to make certain there were hook-ups for a washer and dryer in the basement. He found them where he expected, on the wall next to the washbasins and smiled, remembering his mother spending half the day down there, ironing shirts while everything else dried.

Coming back upstairs, he told Jeff, “We’re good,” so they went shopping. They found what they needed, hauled everything home, and wrestled them into the basement and office. With that done, they returned the truck, with Spence driving while Jeff followed in his car.

They pulled into the driveway a while later and saw Carol working in her garden. She looked over, waved, and by the time they parked she was crossing the path to join them.

“If you want to take a break,” she said, “I’ll take you around to meet the neighbors.”

Spence chuckled. “Not certain it would be a break, but sure.”

The first stop was the house next door. The woman who came to the door was probably in her early thirties. “Beth, these young men have moved into the Harden house,” Carol said before making the introductions.

“Nice meeting you,” Beth said. “Would you like to come in and have some coffee?”

Before they could reply, a boy who looked about eight appeared, grabbing Beth’s hand. “Mommy, Carl’s being a pain. Do something.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “The joys of sibling rivalry. I doubt you want to watch this, so maybe you can come by later. That way we can get to know each other without interruptions.”

“We’d love to,” Spence told her. He chuckled. “You have the same look on your face that my mother used to when she was dealing with me and my brother.”

“It comes with the territory,” Beth replied as her son kept tugging her hand. “Enough, Jake,” she admonished him. “I’m coming.” She apologized again then closed the door.

They continued down the street, meeting two more close neighbors. One of them remembered Spence. She was the mother of two of his best friends when he was growing up. They chatted for a while about old times and what her sons were doing now. She knew that Spence was an author and was elated when he told her Jeff was his writing partner.

“You two write wonderful books, or so I’ve been told,” she said. “I’ll admit they aren’t the kind I read. I’m more into fantasy and non-fiction.”

Jeff replied, “We’ll sign a copy of our latest one and give it to you. Then you’ll be obligated to read it.”

She laughed and admitted in that case she might.

After they left her house, they crossed to the other side. The house where the woman with the Newfoundland once lived now belonged to an older couple whom Carol introduced as Mark and Marge Wilson. They knew who Spence and Jeff were, having read their books, and the five of them spent the next half hour drinking iced tea in their back yard while the Wilson’s quizzed the younger men about writing and why they had decided to move into the neighborhood.

When Spence explained that the house had belonged to his parents, Marge snapped her fingers. “I should have figured that out by your last name. Despite the fact the last owners were Mr. and Mrs. James, everyone around here calls it the Harden house.” She glanced at her husband. “They were the ones who were murdered on the path.”

“I knew that,” Mark replied with a small smile. “I was polite enough not to mention it.”

“Oh.” She sighed. “I do tend to talk first and think later. I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” Spence assured her. “It happened ten years ago. I’ve gotten used to it by now. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have bought the house in the first place.”

“I for one am glad you did,” Mr. Wilson said. “The James were nice enough, but their kids…I shouldn’t speak ill of them but they were a handful and ran rampant through the neighborhood.”

Spence laughed. “Probably like my brother and I did at times, when we were growing up. I think that’s part of being children in a safe area. You have the freedom to play without your parents worrying.”

“True. But still…Oh, well, they’re gone now. You’re here. And we should let Carol continue taking you around to visit everyone. It was nice meeting both of you.”

“You as well,” Jeff said, with Spence echoing his sentiments.

They did meet two more neighbors, both housewives, which didn’t surprise Spence, since it was too early for their husbands to have returned home from work.

Then, at Carol’s suggestion, they called it quits. “You’re undoubtedly ready to collapse,” she said, grinning.

“Well…yeah,” Spence admitted. “Once we hook up the washer and dryer. Doing laundry is a definite necessity after all the sweating we’ve done in the last couple of days.”

“Then go. Do. I’ll talk to you later.” She hugged both of them and went home.

They did as Spence had said, putting the washer and dryer in place, checking to be certain everything worked the way it should, then doing a load of laundry while they ate supper.

“Let’s finish setting up the office and call it a day,” Spence suggested when they’d done the dishes and taken their laundry upstairs.

“Let’s call it a day and do that in the morning,” Jeff said. “We can play couch potatoes and watch some TV.”

“That sounds good,” Spence replied. The TV was on a low bookcase along the wall opposite the front windows. Since the sofa was set up under the windows of the long room that spanned the width of the house, they collapsed there, feet on the coffee table—after taking off their shoes.

“Crime show, dance show, talent show, movie?” Jeff asked, going through the available channels.

“Movie, since it’s a comedy.”

Watching it killed a couple of hours and then they went to bed—each in his own room as they were too tired to even think about s*x.