Buried Under Clutter (Tina Tales Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  BURIED UNDER CLUTTER

  By

  Jan Christensen

  Copyright 2014

  LEGAL STUFF

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any printed, audio, electronic or any other form without permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  WEBSITE

  www.janchristensen.com

  CHAPTER 1

  The scream pierced the cold winter air. Tina whirled around in her driveway and stared at the old, decaying Queen Anne next door, then began running toward it. Fumbling in her bag for her cell phone, she stumbled on the cracked sidewalk leading to the house.

  Another scream.

  Tina dashed up the steps to the porch, then hesitated at the front door. Common sense told her not to go in. She dialed nine-one-one and waited. The silence from inside the house seemed more ominous than the screams.

  Dispatch answered on the second ring. “What is your emergency?”

  “Someone screaming next door to my house.”

  “Address?”

  Tina told her. “I’m standing outside. Should I go in?”

  Before the dispatcher could answer, a distraught-looking woman burst out of the front door and banged into Tina, making her drop her cell. Tina bumped against the rotten railing, which gave way behind her. She caught herself by grabbing onto the also-decaying post. At least it saved her from flying into the dead bushes in front.

  “Sorry. Sorry,” the woman mumbled. Her eyes were wide, her face pale as death. She ran her hand through her brown hair and plopped herself down on the faded green metal chair in front of the bay window. Tina shuddered. The paint was peeling. What would it do to the woman’s clothes? Nice clothes; expensive clothes, she noticed.

  “What’s wrong?” Tina began to search for her phone. A stench from the open front door made her hesitate, but she couldn’t place the smell, so she continued the hunt.

  “My aunt. It’s my aunt. She’s… she’s dead.”

  “Mrs. Blackwell’s dead?” Tina stopped looking for her cell and stared at the woman.

  A tinny voice from under the glider helped Tina find her phone.

  “Hello? You there? Hello?”

  “Yes.” Tina grabbed the phone and looked for a place to sit down because her legs were shaking. Nothing appealed to her—the other metal chairs were rusting and the glider looked dangerous. “Apparently there’s a dead woman in the house. Her niece found her just now.”

  Mrs. Blackwell’s niece nodded. And nodded. Couldn’t seem to stop. Tina asked her, “You the one who was screaming? Is anyone else in there?”

  More nodding. Then a shake of the head.

  Tina made an effort to loosen her cramping hand on the cell. “She was screaming, but she’s not hurt. There’s no one else here. That we know of.”

  A lone siren sounded, coming closer. The patrol car stopped in front, and two officers jumped out and ran toward the house. Another siren wailed, and an ambulance parked behind the police car.

  Tina saw her mother and great-uncle come through their front door and approach the yard. Her mother’s eyes were wide and a little frightened. Uncle Bob had his service dog on her leash and had a determined set to his jaw. Here comes trouble. Tina said goodbye to the dispatcher and faced the two officers.

  “Who called? And why?” the one who had been driving asked.

  Mrs. Blackwell’s niece didn’t answer, so Tina said, pointing to her, “I called. She found her aunt inside. Dead.”

  The officers dashed inside, the EMTs close behind.

  “What’s going on?” Tina’s mother asked. “Olivia’s dead?” She gave the niece a sharp look. “Jenny, you all right?”

  So, her mother knew the niece. Why wasn’t Tina surprised? Tina didn’t remember ever seeing her before. Must not have been a frequent visitor.

  Jenny nodded. Tina noticed she wasn’t tearful. Just shocked.

  The smell coming from the house was getting to her. She approached the doorway and peeked inside. Recoiled. The place was crammed with junk, piled to the ceiling in the hallway. It smelled like a dumpster in there. Tina backed away and caught her mother’s eye. Laura frowned at her and raised her eyes heavenward. So, she knew Mrs. Blackwell had been a hoarder.

  Why hadn’t Laura told her about that? Tina had come back to Newport just a few months ago and started a professional organizing business. Laura should have known Tina would be interested in a hoarder living right next door. Oh, right, Mom didn’t approve of my new profession. She certainly wouldn’t want me anywhere near this awful mess. Tina had no enthusiasm for mucking around in there, either.

  One of the officers, the cuter one with the spikey blond hair, stepped onto the porch. He held a white handkerchief over his nose, and his eyes were watering. But he wasn’t crying. Tina realized the stench caused the tears.

  He talked to the radio on his shoulder as he moved down the steps and onto the cracked sidewalk. “We need the M.E. Yes, looks like a homicide.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Tina met her mother’s shocked eyes, then looked at Uncle Bob. Obviously, he hadn’t heard the officer. He had that blank look that he had when he couldn’t hear what was going on. His hearing aids only helped in a good environment—quiet, bright light, and where he could read lips. Princess stood alertly by his side, watching everyone and anything that moved.

  Looking back at the niece, Tina saw no reaction. Something about how Jenny’s aunt had looked must have made her realize she’d been murdered. Tina took a deep breath to steady herself. It hadn’t been so long ago when she had found a murdered person in a cluttered house. She’d moved back to Newport for this?

  An unmarked car drew up to the curb, and Tina saw the two officers who’d been in charge of the other homicide climb out. Lisbeth Dotson looked as trim and in charge as ever. John Smith, with his weak chin and belligerent stance, seemed the same, too. Tina sighed. She so did not want to deal with the police again.

  If they were surprised to see Tina, her mother, and Uncle Bob, plus Princess, they didn’t show it. They went inside without a word to anyone, but came back out quicker than Tina thought they would.

  The front porch felt like a crowded subway car. Lisbeth talked quietly to the other two police officers, directing one to secure the front, the other the back.

  When they left to get the crime scene tape from their patrol car, Lisbeth turned her attention to Jenny. Tina realized Jenny’s name didn’t fit. Maybe when she was younger, but now middle-aged, “Jenny” sounded, well, young.

  The shock seemed to be leaving her, because now Jenny’s hands trembled. She gripped them together and looked up at Lisbeth from the rusty chair as if she were about to be slapped.

  “You found your aunt?” Lisbeth’s tone was soft and soothing.

  Jenny nodded.

  John took a notebook out of his pocket, leaned against the post, and quickly stood up straight as it groaned in protest. Tina couldn’t help smiling, and when he caught her eye, he scowled at her.

  “We need to go someplace and talk.” Lisbeth turned to Laura. “Could we go to your place for a few minutes?”

  Because the door had been left open for so long, the stench from inside was now making everyone’s noses twitch. Tina was halfway between dying to cover her nose and gagging.

  “Of course.” Laura turned and led the way back to her house. Uncle Bob, looking at first startled, caught up with her, and everyone trooped over to the Shaws’ Victorian. They entered the perfectly kept, potpourri
- and flower-scented hallway. Tina drew in several deep breaths with relief.

  Laura gestured toward the living room and offered coffee or tea. No one accepted, and everyone settled onto the velvet-covered chairs, red loveseat, and couch.

  Lisbeth sat across from Jenny. “Tell us what happened. You came to see your aunt?”

  Jenny nodded jerkily. “We hadn’t heard from her in two days.”

  “We?”

  “My mom and I. Mom sent me to check on her.”

  “You have a key to her house?”

  “Yes. When she didn’t answer the door, I thought something must be wrong. So I went in. But I never thought—I never thought I’d find her murdered.”

  “Of course not.” Lisbeth shifted in her chair. “When was the last time you spoke to Mrs. Blackwell?”

  “The day before yesterday.” Jenny closed her hand into a fist and put it to her mouth. Her face screwed up as if she was going to cry. “I mean, my mother spoke to her then. They talked on the phone every day at ten. In the morning.”

  “I see. You live where?”

  “Quincy.”

  “Massachusetts.” Lisbeth turned toward John who was taking notes. It seemed she thought he might not know which state Quincy was in. “What’s your address there?” she asked Jenny.

  Jenny told her.

  “You live with your mother?”

  “Yes. Since my divorce.” Her mouth turned down, and again she looked as if she was going to cry. But she didn’t.

  “Why didn’t your mother come to Newport with you?”

  “She doesn’t leave the house.”

  “She’s disabled?”

  “You could say that. Severely agoraphobic.”

  Lisbeth glanced at John again. Tina wondered if Lisbeth thought maybe John didn’t know what agoraphobia was. Her voice softened, Lisbeth asked Jenny, “Is your mother also a hoarder?”

  Jenny’s laugh sounded hollow. “No, the opposite. Neat to a fault.”

  Tina’s psychological training made her thoughts spin with the possibilities of this family’s background.

  Lisbeth asked Jenny questions about her trip down from Quincy, how long it took, what she did when she arrived. Tina’s mind wandered. She realized she had tensed up, so she took some deep breaths and made herself relax.

  Then Lisbeth asked, “Who had any reason to murder your aunt, Ms. Tinsdale?”

  Jenny jerked her fist to her mouth again. “No one. It had to be a stranger, a robber. Or some drug addict.”

  Lisbeth looked skeptical. “Did you notice anything missing?”

  “In that mess? No.”

  “How often did you come to Newport to see your aunt?”

  “About every six months. Frankly, that was all I could stand. It had to be a nice day so we could sit outside, out back. I haven’t been inside for a long time until today.”

  “When was the last time you were inside?”

  Jenny thought for a moment. “Probably five or six years ago.”

  “I know you weren’t in there long this time, but did things seem the same or different?”

  Jenny shuddered. “I couldn’t imagine it worse, but it was. Things were piled higher. How did she pile them so high? And the spaces to walk around—not so many as before. And, oh, the smell. It was always bad, but this time was just awful.”

  Lisbeth glanced at Princess who had decided to lie down beside Uncle Bob. But her sharp gaze quickly turned back to Jenny. “How well off was your aunt, financially? Do you know?”

  Jenny gave that hollow laugh again. “She had millions. I have no idea how many, but a lot.” She looked down at her lap while everyone stared at her.

  CHAPTER 3

  John looked up from his notebook. Uncle Bob leaned forward in his chair as if he hadn’t heard right. Laura stopped fingering her necklace, and Lisbeth’s eyes widened. Tina felt her mouth fall open and quickly closed it. Even Princess perked up her ears as if to hear better.

  Lisbeth cleared her throat. “Tell me about the other members of your family.”

  Jenny took her time. Tina wasn’t sure she was going to answer.

  “Am I a suspect?”

  “No. If you were, we’d read you your rights and take you to the station. Right now we’re just gathering information.”

  “So, I shouldn’t call my lawyer?”

  Lisbeth shook her head. “Just tell us about anyone who might inherit from your aunt.”

  “Well, my mother, of course. And their brother, Uncle Harold. He has a son, my cousin Colin. Then there’s Cousin Tabitha. Her parents are both dead. She seemed to be Aunt Olivia’s favorite.” Jenny’s tone didn’t give anything away about any of her relatives.

  “Where do they all live?” Lisbeth asked.

  “Everyone’s either here in Newport or in Quincy.”

  Tina’s mind wandered again. As a trained psychologist, she knew that depression or anxiety were often problems for hoarders, along with a family history of hoarding and perfectionism. She tried to remember the times she’d seen Mrs. Blackwell when she lived at home until she left for college in Virginia. She remembered four or five times specifically, but she was sure there were more than that.

  Lisbeth turned her attention to Tina’s mother. “When was the last time you saw Mrs. Blackwell, Mrs. Shaw?”

  Laura glanced at Uncle Bob. “It’s been a long time. Two years?”

  Uncle Bob nodded. “Right after New Year’s a couple of years ago. She was upset at the noise from the party.”

  “That’s right. I’m sure she only heard anything when we opened the front door to say goodbye to people. We don’t have loud parties.”

  “So, you weren’t friends?”

  Laura laughed while Uncle Bob shook his head. He said, “The only time we saw her was when she wanted to complain about something.”

  “Which used to be often.” Laura raised her eyes heavenward. “Before the party, I had to have some branches from one of her trees cut back from my property. They were shading the grass and my flower beds. I asked her to trim it, but she refused. So, I had it done myself. She was furious.”

  Uncle Bob nodded. “I actually thought she was going to take a swing at Laura. She was that mad.”

  “She couldn’t let anything go,” Jenny murmured. “She’d hate the thought of someone cutting her tree. It was as if everything she owned was a part of her.”

  “That’s common with hoarders,” Tina said. “Often, they even personalize objects. She may have given the tree a name and a personality. So her reaction to anything happening to it would be extreme.”

  Uncle Bob grinned. “If she’d punched Laura, she would have learned a new definition of the word extreme.”

  Laura sat up straighter in the ladder-back chair. “I wouldn’t have hit her back.”

  “No,” Uncle Bob said, “you would find another way to get even.”

  “Well, of course.”

  Tina noticed Lisbeth was following this exchange with interest. It dawned on Tina that what her mother and uncle were revealing to the police might not be good. But certainly they wouldn’t think her mother had a motive for killing Olivia Blackwell?

  Unexpectedly, Lisbeth turned her attention to Tina. “Did you know about the hoarding next door? As a professional organizer, I’d think you would have.”

  “But I didn’t. I left Newport right after high school and haven’t been inside that house since grade school. When I came back here to live, it wasn’t mentioned.” She glanced at her mother. It did seem odd that Laura hadn’t said anything when Tina announced she was going to change from being a psychologist to a personal organizer. But Laura hadn’t encouraged her, and certainly would not have wanted her involved with what was going on in the old Queen Anne.

  “All right.” Lisbeth stood up, and John did the same, snapping his notebook closed and putting it in his pocket. “That’s all the questions we have for now. Ms. Tinsdale, we’ll get in touch with you by phone if need be. Thank all of your for your he
lp. Mrs. Shaw, special thanks for letting us use your beautiful home. Much more pleasant than having everyone go to the station.”

  As Lisbeth and John strode down the front walk, the Shaws’ neighbor who lived behind the Blackwell house rushed up and hailed the two officers. Tina noticed that more police cars were parked along the street with the medical cxaminer’s van. A crowd had formed along the yellow police tape. Someone from the newspaper had showed up along with the local woman TV announcer who tugged on her short skirt and shivered in the cold air.

  “I need to talk to you.” the neighbor shouted. Old Mrs. McEllen’s jowls shook as she came to an abrupt stop in front of Lisbeth and John. Maybe five feet tall and about eighty pounds overweight, Mrs. McEllen made sure she was never ignored. “I saw something.”

  Lisbeth led her over to the Blackwell residence. Disappointed she wouldn’t be able to hear what Mrs. McEllen said, Tina turned to glance at Jenny. Did she look worried?

  Laura took Jenny’s arm. “Can I get you something to eat, or at least a drink? You’ve had a hard time.”

  “I couldn’t eat anything.” Jenny clutched her stomach. “But I could use a drink.”

  “Wine? A cocktail? Uncle Bob can make about anything you’d like. How about his special chocolate martini?”

  “Sounds wonderful. Thanks. Although it’s a bit early.” Jenny looked at her watch. “Oh, it’s one o’clock. I didn’t realize it was that late.”

  Laura turned to Uncle Bob and asked him to make drinks for all of them. He smiled, nodded, and he and Princess went off to the kitchen at the back of the house.

  Tina, Laura and Jenny walked to the living room and sat down. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Laura asked.

  “The shock is wearing off. I’m afraid there wasn’t a lot of affection between me and my aunt the last few years. I’ll be fine. For me, it was a duty to be sure she was okay. Not much more than that. My mother will take it hard, though.” She put her hand to her mouth. “I didn’t think. I need to call her. Or maybe I should wait until I get home and tell her in person. I wonder if the police will notify her. I don’t know what to do.”