Murder in the Keys Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

 

            A couple days had gone by and she had all but forgotten about Hillary’s disappearance when she saw the police pull up next door.  She quickly pulled on her shoes and sprinted out the door.  She had barely gotten a full knock out when a wan-faced Bernie pulled it open, tears welling in his blue eyes as he saw it was her. 

She wrapped her arms around his middle and he lowered his lips to her ear.  “They found her car” he whispered, his grip on her shoulders tightening.  “She was in the trunk.  They think she was raped.”

“Oh my God!  Bernie, I am so sorry.”  She squeezed him tightly, her head on his chest.  She could hear his heart lumbering and felt him start to shake as the sobs tore from him. She led him to a chair and he collapsed into it, oblivious to the fact that the police were still there.  Margaret looked up and caught the eye of the detective as he passively watched the scene before him.  It was something one never got used to watching and he turned his head away, embarrassed.

“Ma’am”, he said softly and cleared his throat.  “Would you mind stepping into the kitchen with me for a moment?”  He didn’t wait for her to answer but slowly walked past the island into the brightly lit kitchen.

Margaret watched him walk away, taking in the scuffed brown loafers, navy rumpled Docker’s pants and green polo shirt with the name of some marina on it.  His sand colored hair fell into his eyes a little bit, and as he reached the kitchen she saw him run his hand through it, only messing it up more.  She eased herself away from Bernie, whispering that she would be right back as she patted his meaty shoulder.  “Poor guy” she murmured to herself, slowly shaking her head as she met the detective by the sink.

“And you are…?” she questioned, holding out her unadorned hand for him to shake.

“Oh, sorry, Detective Crandall; Alan.”  He shook her hand firmly but didn’t squeeze.  A good handshake.

Margaret brightened.  “I’m Margaret Regan.  I live next door.” 

Alan allowed himself a small smile as he flipped through his notes.  “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind?”  He raised his hazel eyes up to meet hers and she shook her head.

“Shoot.”

“When is the last time you saw Mrs. Boyd, Mrs. Regan?”

“There’s no Mrs., just Margie,” she said matter-of-factly.  “It was on Tuesday afternoon.  I had gotten up from the computer to get a drink and happened to look out the window and saw them.”

“Them?” Crandall questioned.  He started to add to that but she held up her hand to stop him and moved closer.

“See, that’s the funny thing.  I’m sure Bernie didn’t know.”  She lowered her voice.  “I looked out the window and there was Hillary getting it on with some strange guy I’ve never seen before.  They were in plain view on their bedroom porch.  I couldn’t believe it.”  She shook her head and lowered it a little bit, her cheeks flushing at the memory.

“So she was alive and well when they were finished?” He smirked at her embarrassment, noticing her green eyes sparkling at the thought of her witnessing a neighbors’ indiscretion.

“As far as I could tell.  They were kind of slumped against the railing when I quit looking.  I felt I had seen enough.”  She busied herself smoothing the creases in her jeans, too apprehensive about his opinion of her to look him in the face.

“Did you notice anything unusual after that?”

“No.  I went back to work and tried to forget I had seen anything.  Silly, isn’t it?”  She looked up and found him staring seriously at her and felt guilty for thinking how cute he was in the face of someone’s death.

He flipped to a blank page in his notebook and raised his pen.  “Can you describe him?”

“Oh, sure”, she perked up a bit, “keep in mind this was from a few feet away though.”

“I’ll try and remember that, ma’am.”

“Margie, please.  He looked to be about 6’2” and had a muscular build.  He was darker than you are; probably spent a good deal of time outside.  He had dark brown or black hair, cut pretty short; almost military short.  He was probably mid-thirties, good looking.  I couldn’t see what color eyes or how much chest hair he had, but I’m sure I would recognize him if I saw him again.”  She studied his face discretely, noticing how his brow furrowed when he concentrated on his writing and how he absently chewed on the end of his pen as he decided what to put on paper.

“Well, maybe we can have you come in and work with our sketch artist to see if we can come up with a picture of this stud.  He only comes in on Tuesdays and Thursdays so, since today is Monday, do you think you could make it tomorrow?  After lunch?”  As he waited for her to answer, he took a quick look and sized her up.  She was wearing faded jean shorts, a t-shirt with a dolphin on it and canvas tennis shoes.  Her black hair was cut short and her eyes had a slight oriental slant to them.  He decided she was pretty cute.

“I think I can manage that, Detective.  Anything else?”  She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye and a slight smile as if she knew he found her attractive. 

“That will do for now.  Thank you for your time.”  He smiled and added, “Margie”.

She walked back to Bernie and sat beside him once again.  She silently took his hand and squeezed.  It was going to be a long night.