Sidney Becker Murder Mystery 05-The Sting Of Death by Berry Linda

Author:Berry, Linda [Berry, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: American Suspense, Oregon, Suspense, USA, Police, Police Procedural, Murder, Murder Investigation
Published: 2022-08-13T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“THAT’S ANNA MAY’S FORMER HOME,” Detective Peters told Amanda as he drove slowly by a ranch style house on a leafy street in Jackson.

She observed that no yard work had been done in some time. The lawn was carpeted in autumn leaves and all the shrubs were overgrown. “Looks abandoned.”

“Yeah, the parents haven’t kept it up. Mr. Corbin had the alarm system turned back on, fortunately. It’s going on the market here soon. They’re finally ready to wash their hands of the place.”

She saw his jaw tighten. She knew he considered it a personal failure that he never gave Anna May’s parents confirmation of her whereabouts—dead or alive.

“Next stop, Joe Birtwistle,” he said.

The rain had turned to mist and was hissing on the hood of the Tahoe when he pulled into the driveway of the house next door. It was a mirror image of the Corbin house except for the immaculate landscaping and fresh-looking paint.

“So, this is wacadoodle’s place? Not what I was expecting. Looks like Ozzie and Harriet could live here.”

“Look closer,” he said as they walked up the sidewalk. “Try to find a weed or a fallen leaf.”

He was right. No leaves on the lush green lawn. No weeds. Amanda noted that every bush was groomed into a perfect sphere. Precisely edged borders separated the flower beds. Each blossoming plant was an equal distance from the other, and not a single flower needed to be deadheaded. Birtwistle was an absolute slave to landscape care. “Immaculate. He must rake up leaves ten times a day. So, he’s majorly compulsive.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said, knocking on the door.

Even with the warning, Amanda was not prepared for the eccentricity of the man who opened the door. Joe Birtwistle was tall and gangly, perhaps six foot four, one hundred and seventy pounds, with a prominent Adam’s apple, wearing only a white loin cloth. If that wasn’t strange enough, a copper pyramid covered his head like a hat, the bottom edge meeting the top of his round wire-rimmed glasses. His face was gaunt and weathered. He looked about fifty.

“Hello Mr. Birtwistle, I’m Detective Peters, and this is Officer Cruz. Perhaps you remember me?”

Birtwistle smiled shyly, adjusting his glasses, which blinked for a moment as they caught the light. His voice cracked when he spoke, “Yes, I do remember you. We spoke right after Anna May was abducted …”

His voice trailed away but Amanda silently filled in the blanks: by aliens.

He caught Amanda giving him the once over, and his face flushed crimson. “Sorry for my lack of clothing, but you caught me doing my afternoon meditation.”

“It’s your home, Mr. Birtwistle. You don’t need to apologize,” Detective Peters said amiably. “Perhaps we could come in and talk to you for a minute.”

“Is this about Anna May?”

“Yes.”

“I have noticed some activity next door.”

The detective and Amanda exchanged a hopeful glance.

Joe smiled, one of those odd grins that let Amanda know he was not an altogether normal person. “My home is my temple. A sacred place.

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