The House on Broad Street

I'm dedicating this story to one of my two friends who help with technical details. Please, get well soon my friend. My family and I have been touched by both your and your wife's willingness to give over the years. You are our second family and live in my daughter's and my thoughts and hearts. Thank you for ALL the help you have both given over the years.

To my Beta reader, dustybin63 for his support and ability to always point and laugh. To my editor, thank you so much, for everything. You all take time out of your lives to help me, which I really appreciate. To those of you about to read this, please enjoy. We did our best.

Please note, this IS a story.

It came from my head and not from any history books.

*******

The House on Broad Street...

I had grown accustomed to open spaces but the park was a clinching feature as far as I was concerned when I came to view the house. The house was a little too expensive for my taste, however. A sleeping bag and the sky above have been known to be good rooms with a view in my opinion -- the opinion of a guy, I may add. I was already set to buy the house when I passed the park and it only added another half a mile until reaching the "for sale" sign at the curbside. As my car came to a stop, I took one look at the place and even though I still sat in the car, I was even more impressed.

Fiona Becton was waiting in her car when I pulled up behind her. The brochure under her arm was of the house. I knew it would be because I emailed her to bring it along with the confirmation of my appointment. The internet only tells you what gets typed into it. I had seen enough via the realtors' web page to bring me over four thousand miles to this very spot. My boss, of course, went nuts when he found out I intended to buy this house. It took some fast-talking on my part, but it was my assignment, so I was given a little leeway.

"Mister Harrison?"

I extended my hand, Fiona clasped it and her smile brightened her face. We shook and she handed me the more up-to-date house details. We stood by the curbside for a while as I looked over the brochure and asked a few questions. Her brows slowly rose as this time, she looked a little harder at me for my English accent surely must have been new to her.

The house was in foreclosure. We went from room to room and it was plain to see a family had once lived here, the various colored pen marks on one of the doorframes marking a child's growth through the years. The marks stopped at eight years of age, the age of growing an attitude and leaning towards, but not quite, teen angst.

Fiona kept me informed as we passed through room after room until finally we stood in the very American open-plan day room. I allowed my eyes to roam, marks on the walls of what would have been long hanging pictures and photos clear to see. The house was stuck in time but according to the brochure the heating, plumbing and electrics came with a pass mark but they were dated.

I knew it would be uninhabitable for weeks if not months to come, once I signed on the dotted line and I was going to. My gaze moved across the room one more time before I plucked up the courage to ask my question.

"Fiona, what happened to the last occupants?"

She was silent, so silent that I turned from the big sliding window that looked out over the garden to look at her fidgeting in the middle of the room. "I would prefer not to say Mister Harrison. I understand that statement may cost me a sale but I stand by it."

Pointing to the kitchen isle and the four stools pressed against it, Fiona nodded and walked towards it, I followed.

Looking through the cabinets with the slim hope of finding what I needed, however, luck was with me when I managed to find a glass, ran the cold tap for a few moments and then half-filled it and placed it on the island between us.

"Fiona, you already have the sale. I sent a confirmation of my interest to my lawyers while we were touring the garden and they are talking to your office as we speak. Confirmation of payment and new ownership should either come to you here or on the way back to your office."

Pulling my best poker face on I said, "Please, Fiona, failing you telling me, I will simply employ a private detective and get what I asked you for that way. I sense you knew the late owners. At least if you tell me, I will get the truth faster."

Her hand reached for the glass, sipped from it and then placed it back on the counter. It still took a few minutes of staring at the outlines of what would have been past pictures on the far wall before she said anything.

"Jodie was my best friend all through early school and right up to the day she left for college, we kept in touch but it became sporadic as she went through college. She married her college sweetheart a year after graduation, she brought him back here and they bought this house. Jodie was a very successful accountant, Frank did something in the city, but he didn't talk much about it. They had a daughter and named her Alison."

That was the name on the girl's bedroom door right next to the marks of her yearly height measurements.

I listened intently as Fiona talked about the love within the family. Frank's job lent to him being away, sometimes for months on end.

"It was my day off so we were out back sunbathing all afternoon. When we came back in here the doorbell rang. Jodie asked me to answer it because she was doing stuff in the kitchen. When I answered the door, a Police Officer stood there, a man in a suit stood next to him. Both thought I was Jodie since I had opened the door, though they didn't even ask me. The suit apologized and said he should have come sooner."

Fiona then looked up from her hands that were grasped tight to the glass of water.

"The officer took off his hat and the suit told me that my husband was dead and he was sorry for my loss."

Tears were now running freely down her face. "I'm gay Mister Harrison, my partner teaches at the same school Jodie and I were at when we were both young. With that one sentence from the suit, I looked back at Jodie who was now almost alongside me, she pulled me to her and slammed the door in both their faces."

I had read the report of what happened that day and even now, listening in silence as she spoke of that day, I just couldn't believe it.

"They had no right to do that Fiona. They should have asked to come in first."

By now, Fiona had composed herself.

"It was my impression they couldn't wait to say what they had come to say and leave Mister Harrison. They sure weren't there when Jodie had calmed me down and had opened the door five minutes later."

Again, I looked around the room, my mind wondering what picture and photo held what status among the marks on the walls. My own thoughts of that afternoon barely held in check. I had seethed when I read the file, hell I even asked my boss if this was all true.

Trying once again to keep her thoughts on topic, I said, "I gather it all went rapidly downhill from there on?"

She nodded her head, wiped her eyes once again and said, "Jodie was a woman possessed. Frank's company couldn't or wouldn't provide his body. That's when Jodie refused to believe he was dead. The people he worked for tried to arrange his funeral but Jodie refused to participate. When they sent his life insurance money, she screamed down the phone at her bank for allowing it into her account and ordered them to send it back. When the bank said they couldn't do that, she then withdrew the amount she had in the bank before the insurance money arrived and then opened another account at another bank, tossing her old check book on the manager's desk as she left."

Fiona went quiet as she looked around the day room from our seats.

"Without Frank's wages or his life insurance money the house fell behind. Jodie walked into the bank and handed them the keys. No one has seen or heard from either Jodie or Alison since."

I tried to keep my voice as neutral as possible when I asked, "Fiona, do you know where they are?"

A part of me thought she was expecting the question because her answer was very much to the point. "No, I don't Mister Harrison and if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

Nodding my head, I truly understood her last statement as this was her friend she had watched fall apart. Frank was dead, and the support network that the CIA should have had in place simply didn't emerge for some reason that I had yet to fathom out. We cleaned up after ourselves, and a few minutes later I watched from my car as she waved and drove past me and then turned right at the stop sign.

My hand went to my cell phone and dialed, it was picked up after the third ring.

"Anything?" came the questioning voice down the line.

With a sigh I answered, "Nothing, I didn't expect anything to be honest. Frank gave his wife fake documents in case she had to run and that's what she's doing. Knowing Frank as I did, those documents will be watertight. It's the long game now."

The voice came back after a moment's thought, "I'll inform those upstairs. We will keep our distance from you until this is resolved as per our agreement."

*******

Some Months Later...

The house was signed over really quickly, I suppose the bank just wanted their money back. It took a while to get the builder up to speed on what I wanted from him, we shook on it, and of course, my lawyer kept me informed on the progress of work. Today I pulled up outside. Hank walked over from his truck holding out his hand as he did, we shook and both turned our attention to the house. The walk around took almost an hour, Hank went into detail about a few things but most were self-explanatory.

"Damn fine job you folks did, Hank."

His chest expanded with pride. "Everything on your list and on budget, all good for another twenty to thirty plus years Mister Harrison."

I dropped a wad of cash into his hand and winked at him. "I won't tell the IRS if you don't Hank. You folks enjoy your bonus."

It took another few days going through the big stores to rent beds and furniture in and as I wanted it. As the last of the delivery guys left, I turned and looked across the day room and smiled to myself. All I needed now was the traditional cat, dog, wife and two point four children.

My fitness had taken a slight knock since I had spent much of the last couple of weeks going out looking for furniture from specific stores, then waiting for deliveries. That had to be addressed, so the next morning I warmed up, jogged to the park and ran the outside running/jogging track around the park a couple of times. Some of the people there waved and I waved back, the fitness frames strategically placed around the park came into play, as well.

So, for the next couple of weeks I seemed to slip from the weirdo who runs the track around the park on his own, to being ignored, to the point of almost not being seen anymore. Familiarity with your surroundings can have its advantages sometimes.

*******

A few weeks on...

A child's scream alerted me to possible trouble. There is something about a child's scream, even to a single man, you could tell a happy scream from one of terror. As I cleared the wooded area around the track, the park opened up into a clear, large field that the mothers used so they could sit on the grass, talk to each other and be able to watch their children at play. The child's name was Naomi. I had heard her mother call the little rug rat back from wandering off from time to time on my runs. The man carrying her away looked very similar to the now screaming child, either a close relative or father.

The mother clung to the man's arm begging him to let her baby go. He swung the child under one arm, and then used the other to punch the mother. When she hit the ground, he followed up with a kick to her stomach and the woman folded in half. The mothers started to form a ring around the man, trying to keep him from escaping with said terrified child under his arm.

Just before the ring closed around him, I made the gap still left. The punch to his kidneys would have made the Marquis of Queensbury's blush, but at least he let go of the child. I grabbed her before she hit the grass and tossed the child to one of the more athletic women I had seen on my rounds of the park. She caught her mid-flight and nodded her thanks and the women moved away from the inevitable. He was so pissed, even more so while he was still rubbing the area around the punch.

His breath smelled of alcohol as he snarled, "You picked the wrong man to fuck with mister. The whore has no right to my child."

I adjusted my footing slightly replying, "I figure that's for the courts to decide, not you."

The sneer grew on his lips as he spat, "Screw the courts, so I made a couple of mistakes, but she deserved every punch I gave the little whore."

The pause allowed us both to hear the sirens in the distance. He knew time was running out, his hand went into the trouser pocket and the gun now in his hand made the women still backing away scream. I used the time he was brandishing the gun at the women to move. His knee went first, I then grabbed the gun and twisted it in his hand so his aim wasn't directed at any of the women still backing away, but in so doing, it went off.

I had to keep my concentration on him. He was the main threat until the police arrived.

I shouted to the women that they needed to shut their eyes. I hoped they would. While he was still on his knees, I got behind him and snapped his neck. My vision started to blur and desperately tried to push it away, I knew what was coming. I just needed to make sure these folks were safe before it came. I took a knee to check he was gone, and that's when one of the women closest to me screamed again as the blood became more evident through my top. More joined in as I fell forward over the top of the now dead man.

*******

The pinging noise was familiar to me. The handcuffs that held my wrist to the bed was also interesting.

I heard a voice close to the bed. "He's awake. Go find Detective McKenna."

The man held some authority in his voice. That's when he turned it on me. He looked to be in the late thirties, his eyes held the look of a man who had seen much of life's underbelly and arrested an awful lot of it.

"You've been out for a couple of days Mister Harrison."

Damn, I hurt all over. "I assume I'm under arrest since I'm cuffed to the bed. I also think it's in my best interest to stay silent until my lawyer arrives."

I sensed another presence. I could only assume it was the Detective, since whomever it was, happened to be out of my field of vision.

"Take the cuffs off, everybody please leave."

A fair amount of mumbles and groans from the two others in the room followed though the cuffs did come off. The chair next to me groaned as it now became occupied, soon the door closed. I sensed only one person in the room now, other than me of course.

"You're a person of interest Mister Harrison. More so, since none of the women at the park saw anything, we even checked their cell phones. Not even a photo of you killing a man Mister Harrison, care to explain why?"

"I'd like to help detective, but all I can remember is running the track around the park and then waking up here," I moved my now free arm, before I added, "cuffed to the bed!"

The detective tried another angle. "So a man who has at least two inches and twenty plus pounds on you just happened to fall and break his neck when he landed?"

I managed a smile. "There you go detective, case solved, congratulations."

Just then, the door opened and another man came in, the detective recognized him instantly because he stood up. The man looked hard at the detective, then turned his attention to me and briefly nodded his head.

The man then looked again at the detective and tilted his head towards the corridor then left. Detective McKenna stood and glared at me for a moment, I shrugged my shoulders as he left, pulling the door closed with him as he did.

The other man returned a few minutes later closing the door behind him. He then sat on the seat the detective had just vacated. "I'm Frank McKenna's boss. He's pissed as hell that I've just told him to back off. Unofficially I can tell you that you did the world a service killing Harlan Bowden, at least now his ex-wife and child have a future in front of them without him spoiling it for her."

I felt silence and admitting to nothing was still my best play on all this, I didn't know this man.

The man then handed me his card. "I'll get my people to ease off on you. Just don't leave a swathe of bodies in your wake Mister Harrison. Call me if you need anything. Rest up and get well soon."

We shook on it. He stood and left the room, leaving me still wondering what the hell just happened. I was left alone for an hour before one of the nurses plucked up the courage to open the door slightly to see what the police had left behind.

*******

Almost a week later the cab pulled up alongside my house, it was still standing. Everything looked in its place and it didn't look like the police had a chance to pop in and have a look around. It still didn't stop me from checking the security system though. Paranoia lived a strong and healthy life within me.

I was standing in the middle of the room trying to figure out the list of things I needed to do and the order I needed to do them in. The first was going to be a full scan for anything I may come across that was not mine. Detective McKenna was pissed about being told to back off. He also had the time and a large dose of mistrust aimed at me to call in a favor, bug my place and conveniently forget to tell his boss what he had done.

Then the doorbell rang. My mental list went to the back of my head and I answered the door. It was the woman I had nicknamed athletic woman on the day of the child being taken from her mother. She was smiling when I opened the door.

I thought it best to hold onto the frame while I talked to her, "Can I help you?"

She was still smiling, her smile got even bigger a second before she held her arm up and pushed the door further open so she could walk around me. I would love to say that I held her back with the cane in my hand and my ninja skills, but the doctor only allowed me to come home if I rested. I couldn't employ my ninja skills on this woman without breaking my promise to the good doctor.

Not only that, she was faster than I was, and I still had the door to close and walk ever so slowly and just a tad gingerly after her. She was over by the kitchen area by the time I entered the day room.

Her hand was just switching on the kettle. "I assume since you're British you want tea. I hear everybody in England drinks tea."

I believe I hid my smirk rather well.

"The coffee is by your right hand and if you can find tea in this house please feel free to drop it into the trash on your way out."

I leaned against a seat and watched her, finding it fun to watch those hips of hers swaying as she went about making us both coffee. I had a good idea that she knew I was watching her as well.

"We never got to introduce ourselves at our last meeting. I'm Monica by the way, Monica Fredricks."

That's when she shooed me over to the couch and told me to rest up while she finished in the kitchen. Those hips once again swayed all the way over to the coffee table, her cleavage was as impressive as she bent at the waist to place the tray onto the coffee table that was now between us. Her cup never moved from the tray, even when she sat and looked across the coffee table at me.

"None of us have seen a wife or even children come in or out of this house since you moved in Mister Harrison. If you're agreeable, the local women would like to care for you until you're better."