“Gellie said it was recently remodeled. The Realtor won’t have to do a thing. She could have an open house right this second and the place would probably sell quickly,” I said.
Sam’s eyebrows came together but he didn’t say anything as he turned and opened a linen closet in the hallway.
“You don’t suppose he not only had an office somewhere else, but another house, too?” I said as we both looked at the perfectly folded towels and washcloths.
“Let’s go find Gellie,” Sam said.
• • •
“Well, I haven’t been here all that long, but he was around most of the time,” Gellie said. She served us cookies, something she called gingerbread biscuits, and I was trying to figure out how to take the entire plate when she wasn’t looking. I’d already considered the idea of putting them down the front flap of my overalls. Maybe I could blame Batman.
“What did he do when he was here?” Sam asked.
Gellie shrugged. “Mostly he worked outside. I’m not here in the evenings. Well, I wasn’t; now I stay a little later to make sure Batman isn’t in trouble. What am I going to do with that goose?” She looked at Sam.
“I’d say call animal control. They might be able to find him a good home, but I bet that’s not what you want to do,” he said.
“No, I’m not ready to do that. I’ll just keep trying to figure it out.”
“Gellie, I saw a small shed outside, but I’m not sure how far back and over the hills the property extends. Is there any chance there’s another building somewhere?”
Gellie shook her head, the ball from the Santa hat bouncing off her cheek. “I’m not really sure, but I don’t think it goes far. Oh, wait, of course! I bet you didn’t look in the garage. I bet the other officers didn’t, either.”
“No.” Sam stood. I eyed the cookies first and then stood, too.
“I didn’t even think about it. He stored that big truck . . . the one he was . . . well, he stored it right around the side of the house, kind of behind the garage. He had an office of sorts . . . well a desk at least, set up in the garage. I’ve been so flustered, I didn’t even think to see if anyone looked out there. I’m so sorry.”
“No problem, we’ll look now.”
Gellie led the way. “I’m getting to be too old for my own good. I really should have said something earlier.”
“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t okay. Sam wasn’t happy that he hadn’t already thought to search the garage and that the other Monson officers might not have, either.
He followed Gellie and I followed him as we weaved down a back hallway behind the kitchen. It was the first hint I’d had that this house was old. I quietly tapped the wall and thought it was made of lath and plaster. And the old, wood floor was scratched and dull. This part of the house hadn’t been given a remodel.
“Reggie wasn’t secretive at all. A little odd and mumbly but not really secretive,” Gellie said from the front of our line. I’d already told Sam about his Ridgeway mumbles. “But a couple times he just appeared in the kitchen when I wasn’t expecting him. He showed me this back hallway and explained that this is the easiest way back into the house from the garage. I wondered why he needed to come in through the garage if he never went anywhere; that’s when he told me that he had tools and a desk back here. I never even came out to see what he was talking about. Maybe that’s why I didn’t remember.”
“Why do you suppose he did that? He had a great office in this great house.”
“Not sure, except that . . . well, this sounds stupid, but I think he liked to hang out with Batman and he couldn’t do that inside for long stretches of time. Oh, sometimes he could, but do you know how much a goose poops?”
“No,” I said.
“Lots. That creature gets into the house all the time, but I try to shoo it out before it causes too much damage.”
“I see,” I said.
Gellie pushed through a door that opened to a spacious garage. My second ex-husband, Scott, would have used the space to create a fully equipped car-shop garage, but Reggie must not have been into fixing things.
Except for the far wall, there wasn’t much to see. There was no vehicle, which Sam noted. Reggie did have a truck other than his large delivery truck registered in his name. Sam wanted to know where it had gone.
The shelves against the far wall were full, however—full of the things you might expect to find at a Christmas tree farm. There were boxes of sharp implements similar to what I’d seen in Reggie’s chest. I shivered when I saw the cold, casually stored spikes. Two axes made an X as they leaned against one of the bottom shelves.