Raven: A political thriller (2 page)

Chapter 3

Don feared it was going to be one of those all-nighters through no fault
of his own. He should never have taken Fred up on going out drinking for the
night. Granted, he only drank non-alcoholic beers, but his body still required
a few hours of shut-eye to regenerate from a busy day fighting crime. Fred was
fortunate and took the opportunity to catch a little shut-eye during the
forty-five minute drive it took to get to Hillier Street in Falls Church,
Virginia.

As Don pulled onto the dead-end street he was struck by the houses in
the neighborhood, certainly not something he could afford on his cop’s salary.
The street was dark and deserted. The house lights were all off, as everyone
was hunkered down for the night. The storm had long since gone and was a
distant memory, but the streets were still wet from the torrential rain that
fell.

Don pulled up to the nicely maintained two-story house with an
attached three-car garage, more than what a single, working girl needed. It was
dark inside, but that was to be expected at that time of night, and if she were
indeed their victim, that would explain her absence. Don poked Fred and, when
he got no response, he slapped him on the side of the head. At that hour of the
night he was beyond being nice to someone who’d kept him out longer than he
ever wanted.

“Wake up, we’re here,” Don snapped.

Fred slowly opened his eyes and then stretched. It wasn’t enough to
rejuvenate his body, but it would have to do for now. Fred found it difficult
not to yawn and was having a hard time shaking away the urge to crawl in a
corner and continue sleeping.

“I was hoping it was all a bad dream,” Fred said, looking over at Don
with helpless eyes. But it was a look that got no sympathy from his partner.

“Come on, duty calls,” Don said as he got out of the car and walked up
the path to the front door.

“Can’t I just sit here and wait for you?”

Don just turned to Fred with one of his looks that implied it was a
stupid question and didn’t require an answer. Don motioned with his hand for
Fred to get moving.

Fred hadn’t been with Don long, but it was long enough to understand
what the look meant. He quickly opened the door and followed Don up the path to
the front of the house.

“Nice place for a single working girl,” Don said as he looked up. Even
in the dark of night he still could make out the structure and know it looked
even nicer in the daylight.

Fred took a deep breath. “Maybe the rent is cheap,” he said, knowing
full well it was a dumb remark.

“You can bet they don’t rent in this neighborhood. This house must go
for half a million easy,” Don snapped and then quickly added, “I wonder what
line of work our girl was into.”

“Certainly not a shoe clerk,” Fred laughed.

Don just looked at him and wondered what was wrong with him, and then
he figured it must be lack of sleep that was making him slap-happy.

“She wasn’t a cop either, not with a nest like this.”

Don walked up to the porch and peeked through the side window. It was
too dark to make out anything.

Fred turned to Don. “You sure this is her address?” he asked with
raised eyebrows.

Don glanced at Fred with one of his scowls, a little irritated with
him that he would question him on the address. But the fact remained he really
wasn’t sure, and he trusted O’Reilly to get it right. He didn’t need a home
invasion on his record right now. Don hesitated for a moment and then turned to
the mailbox. He opened the lid and was thankful for mail. He took out the stack
of mail in the box, reached in his pocket for a penlight and shined it on the
envelope, and then turned to Fred.

“Raven O.M. VanBuren, we got the right place,” was all he said, with a
smirk that meant “I told you so.”

“I wonder what the OM stands for, maybe old money,” Fred said, and was
about to laugh, but the look on Don’s face told him not to.

“Now, this is the kind of broad I need to find for myself,” Don whispered
to himself without thinking, but he said it loud enough for Fred to hear.

“Think she’d take a second look at you?” Fred asked.

Don handed Fred the stack of mail while he just shook his head. He had
only known his new partner for less than a month, but Fred seemed to know Don
better than Don knew himself. It was scary at times, but Don never let Fred
know how close he came to having him pegged right.

“And what’s wrong with me?” Don asked, curious what Fred would have to
say, and then quickly added in his own defense, “I haven’t been written up once
this month.

Fred glanced over at Don and shook his head. “My point exactly.”

Don looked around and seemed to think for a moment. Then he bent down
and flipped the mat up. “Bingo,” he said. Don looked up at Fred with a smile on
his face as he picked up the key that was hidden there. People never learned
that under the mat was the first place a burglar looked, that and a pot nearby.

“You
are
good,” is all
Fred could muster up to say. “It beats breaking down the door.”

“Who said anything about breaking the door down?”

Fred laughed. “You had that look in your eye again.”

Don unlocked the door and then slowly walked through without a
comeback for Fred. He quickly reached in his pocket and put on latex gloves and
then handed Fred a pair.

Fred followed Don in and set the stack of mail on the table next to
another stack sitting there. He then turned and reached for the light switch.
Don whistled when the light went on.

He stepped onto the royal-blue carpeting. Don could feel the carpet
give with his weight as he sank in with every step he took. He detected the
faint scent of cinnamon as he entered the room and looked around. It was then
he saw the reed diffusers placed strategically around the room. The pale-cream
couch and chair were beautifully accented with throw pillows that matched the
carpeting. The vases of silk flowers in hues of yellow, blue, and green
accented the pillows on the couch. The brass bird ornaments set around the room
added a touch of class so as not to appear too ornate.

Don walked into the center of the room and stood in front of the
mantel. His breath stalled in his throat as he stared up at the portrait above
the fireplace. His forehead perspired and for some reason he had goose bumps
running up his arms as the image of the woman stared back at him. The woman’s
hair was jet black and her green eyes stared back at him with all the intensity
of a real breathing person. Chills went down Don’s spine. The olive complexion
was flawless. Don was taken aback at the sight, and for the longest time he
couldn’t take his eyes off the vision.

“What a waste, if that is Ms. VanBuren,” was all he could muster up to
say.

Fred walked up behind Don. He, too, was impressed by the image of the
woman staring back at them. He glanced at the signature in the bottom
right-hand corner.

“Paulo,” Fred said with an impressive grin. “You’re talking big bucks
here. He doesn’t paint just anybody.”

Don turned to Fred and frowned. “What do you know about art?”

“Don’t you read the paper?”

Don shrugged. “Sports section.”

Fred shook his head. He liked Don, but he really
was
a narrow-minded, old school cop
who didn’t venture out of his comfort zone much. Fred had always liked the
finer things in life. Even though he was a cop, he went to museums, he liked
the Met on a Saturday night when he used to live in the Big Apple, and he read
the society page of the
Washington
Post
. Fred finally turned back to Don.

“You have to be somebody for him to even put you on a waiting list,”
he said and then paused for a moment before continuing. “And that doesn’t even
guarantee you a sitting.”

Don didn’t even turn to look at Fred, just stared up at the portrait
that had mesmerized him. “Then our girl
was
somebody,” he said. He finally turned to look at Fred and quickly added, “But
who?”

“Sure didn’t help her in the end.”

Don walked over to the pile of mail on the table near the door. He
picked up the stack and flipped through it quickly.

“Federal offense to open any,” Fred quickly added.

“Does it look like I’m opening any?”

Fred shrugged. “Just saying.”

“Looks like almost a week’s worth here,” Don said and then glanced
over at Fred.

“Maybe she didn’t like being bothered.”

Don was busy reading a note that was stuck between two envelopes. He
held it up and then quickly read it. “If you don’t leave him alone, you’re
dead.”

Fred raised his eyebrows, realizing they had a motive now.

“Someone wasn’t a happy camper. Looks like we found our first suspect
as soon as we figure out who her love interest was.”

Fred walked over to a breakfront that filled the better part of the
one wall. He looked at the display of figurines along with porcelain cups and
saucers. The woman had good taste, and everything was displayed meticulously.
Fred pulled open a few drawers. He looked through the neatly arranged table
linens and then closed it and opened up another. Everything was neat and
orderly, but there was nothing incriminating to identify a suitor. There were
no pictures around the room giving any hint, and there were no pile of love
letters hidden in the back of crevices of any of the drawers in the breakfront.

“In the world of technology do you honestly think you’ll find anything
in writing?” Don said, looking at Fred while shaking his head.

Fred looked over at Don. “You never know.”

Don turned and walked down the hall to the kitchen. He turned on the
light and was impressed by what he saw. The butcher block-island cabinet near
the sink and stove broke up the spacious room. The large table with benches on
either side gave a homey feel to the room, unlike the elegant arrangement of
the formal living room. Don walked over to the fridge and opened the door. He
reached in and took out the carton of milk. It was already outdated by a week.

Fred walked in and glanced at Don, who just glanced over at him and
pointed to the date. Fred shrugged as he walked over to the sink and reached
for the glass that was sitting there. He picked it up and looked at the bright
red lipstick on the rim.

Don walked over and sniffed the contents and then turned to the bottle
sitting near the sink.

“Looks like our girl likes to tip a few,” he said and then continued,
“Looks fresh, too.”

“It almost seemed like she’s been gone.” Fred commented.

“Maybe someone was watching the place, bringing in the mail.”

Fred nodded. “Explains the pile of mail on the table by the door.”

Don glanced around the room and then bent down and opened the doors
under the sink. He pulled out the garbage bucket and looked inside. It was
empty. Then he turned and walked over to the back door. He unlocked it and
walked out. He saw the cans near the gate. He quickly walked off the small
porch and hurried down the path to where the cans sat and opened the lid. They
too, were empty. He turned to Fred, who’d followed him outside and stood on the
back porch.

“Check when garbage pickup is in this neighborhood.”

Fred took out his little notebook and quickly made a notation. It was
a habit of his to write things down, as he was fearful of forgetting. And the
fact was, he was getting tired, and being sleep-deprived was not going to be
helpful in the morning. Fred wondered how Don did it. Keep going after all
these years of long hours. But then, given his history at the station house,
Fred knew Don was never married. He also knew he now lived with his mother, and
it was a fact that Don’s personal life had definitely suffered because of his
career choice.

Fred glanced up at Don. “What time is it?”

Don glanced at his watch. “Three.”

Don walked past Fred on the porch. He quickly walked through the
kitchen back into the living room and over to the phone near the front door.
There was an answering machine that was hooked up to it. Don punched the
answering machine. It showed there were new messages there. Don ejected the
little tape and put it in his pocket. He opened the drawer of the table the
machine was sitting on and took the tape out that was there. He looked at it to
make sure it was rewound and put it in the machine.

Fred turned to him. “How did you know there would be one there?”

Don just shrugged. “I didn’t, it just made sense if she had one of
these old machines, she would have an extra tape, and the drawer seemed like
the logical place for it.” Don then turned and walked up the stairs, followed
closely behind by Fred. At the head of the stairs to his left was a bathroom.
Don looked in but then just walked down the hall. There was a bedroom to his
left that was a nice size. It had double beds with a chest of drawers and a
dresser near the window. There was a desk with a computer and a bunch of papers
scattered on the desk. It looked like this was where she did her work. Straight
ahead was another bedroom. This one had a trundle bed with a small dresser. It
was the one to his right that he was most interested in.