When the Dead Speak

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Jake and Frank stood on the front steps of Sam's house looking back at the three-hundred-foot-long brick drive.

The home, nestled in a partially wooded area near Lake Michigan, was surrounded by a black wrought iron fence with a remote control gate, which Abby rarely closed.

A variety of colors welcomed them in the shape of peonies, potentillas, roses, and spireas. Flowering magnolias and red buds hugged the fence along the brick drive.

Frank let out a long whistle and said, "Shit, I never knew Sam lived in a mansion."

The house had been constructed with flagstone and a concrete mixture that gave it a stucco appearance. A large overhang by the front door protected them from the noon sun.

"It certainly didn't look this huge last night."

Frank gave him a puzzled look. "You were here last night?"

Suddenly, the door pulled open and Jake found himself staring into the mysterious eyes he had met on the patio.

"Jacob." Abby greeted him warmly.

"Frank Travis, Abby. My partner."

Abby reached out and shook Frank's hand.

"Nice to meet you," Frank said.

She turned and led them into the house. Her patterned skirt hung to within inches of her moccasins and her printed blouse was accented by some of the most eye-catching turquoise jewelry they had ever seen.

"I'm sorry, Abby. I probably should have called first," Jake said.

"No problem," she replied. "I was expecting you."

Frank gave Jake another puzzled look. He then inhaled deeply. "Damn, somethin' smells good."

"I've been baking."

"This REALLY isn't a good time," Jake apologized.

Abby patted his arm. "I just finished. And besides, I prepared lunch for you."

Jake could feel Frank's quizzical eyes on him. And Jake had no way to explain how Abby knew they would be by for lunch.

The two detectives gave a quick glance up a slightly curved staircase which led from the quarry tile foyer to the second floor.

"I'll just make it a quick nickel tour." Abby led them through four-thousand square feet of pottery, sand paintings, area rugs, Navajo-style upholstered furniture, and windows with remote control blinds. She moved gracefully, as reserved as a First Lady giving a tour of the White House, yet had a casual air about her that made them feel comfortable.

The house had been built thirty years earlier when solid oak flooring and trim were standard. All four fireplaces had been recently converted from wood-burning to gas.

The men marveled at the intricate hand-carved designs on the fifteen-foot-long dining room table, the huge bay windows in the dining room, the restful ambiance of the Florida room.

A fragrant breeze swept through the kitchen from the opened patio door. Jake slid open the screen and walked out onto the massive flagstone patio surrounded by a three-foot high brick wall.

"So this is where I was last night."

"How much land do you have here?" Frank gasped.

"I'm not sure. Maybe seventy-five, one hundred acres. Alex knows the exact figure. There's a pond out back which Alex has surrounded with a variety of wild flowers and natural settings. It's also nice that we are bordered on two sides by forest preserves and one side by the lake, so we have maximum privacy."

Jake turned and faced the house, wondering just why they needed so much privacy. He gazed up at the long balcony which shaded part of the patio.

Frank whistled. "It certainly isn't a house you could buy on a sergeant's salary."

Abby led them back into the kitchen as she explained. "Melinda Casey's father built this house as a wedding gift. When Samuel and Melinda died, Sam inherited the house. The only expenses are insurance, upkeep and taxes."

It took a great deal of effort on Abby's part to pull Frank from the full-sized gym with whirlpool and Jake from the study with its bar, entertainment center, and Sam's computer terminal which was hooked up to Headquarters.

The tour ended upstairs in the master bedroom. In all, five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and two fireplaces comprised the second floor.

Jake noticed the tape recorder on the coffee table. The red message light was blinking.

Abby checked her watch. "I really should put lunch out or you two will never get back to the office."

"You two go ahead," Jake said. "I'm just going to use the washroom here." He waited until they had left, then walked back to the recorder and pushed the PLAY button.

Abby stopped at the top of the stairs to catch her breath. She had a better look at Jake in the daylight. He was definitely the one she had seen in her vision. His eyes were the color of doeskin, the softest brown she had ever seen. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. She felt as giddy as a schoolgirl. Smiling, she started down the stairs, her skirt brushing softly against the carpeting.

Catching up with Frank she said, "Maybe some night I can have you and Jake and your wives over for dinner."

"My wife would just love to see this place," Frank replied. "We're planning on building a house and I'm sure this place could give her lots of ideas." His hand glided over the solid oak railing as he added, "Jake isn't married."

Abby stopped and looked at Frank. She tried to sound sincere as she said, "Well, he can certainly bring his girlfriend."

"Nope. Jake's kinda a loner these days."

She let Frank pass her on the stairs as she smiled broadly. Without realizing it, she started to whistle.

Jake listened to Preston's voice on the recorder. Preston had received a call from his wife informing him she wouldn't be home for another month.

The second call was from a Bill Simpson, who was looking for votes for a labor bill being introduced. Nothing out of the ordinary.

"My, my, we certainly are talented." Just as his finger touched the eject button he heard the cocking of a gun just above his right ear.

"Don't even think of taking that."

Slowly Jake straightened, leaving the tape sitting up in the chute of the recorder.

"Never crossed my mind." He turned and stared down the barrel of Sam's 9mm stainless steel Taurus. He clenched his jaw in anger. "Don't EVER point a gun unless you plan on using it."

She grabbed the gun with both hands. "What makes you think I won't?"

Abby entered smiling. "There you are. I thought I heard you come in. Lunch is ready," Abby announced, appearing unconcerned about Sam's armed threat. As Abby turned to leave she looked back at Jake and said, "Don't look so nervous, Jacob. She never keeps it loaded when she's in the house."

Sam dropped her arms and shot Abby an accusing look. Jake breathed a sigh of relief. With a soft laugh, Abby turned and left.