Murder Beyond the Window

By Marie Thompson

Janet Crawford a recently widowed women, has moved to a small town in Missouri, where she observed a brutal murder. The police investigate but cant find a body. She isnt believed. So she decides to look around. After searching three or four likely spots, she comes upon a body. She is chased by the killer but is saved by workmen. Both she and the body are taken to the hospital, where she meets a young man that later is reveled to be the son of the deceased. The suspected murderer is found in the next county, in his submerged van, murdered. The real murderer is still alive and looking for Janet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483626857

Marie Thompson

Marie Thompson is a transplanted Londoner living in California. Her interests are eclectic, ranging from quantum physics to gardening. Marie has been writing since a young teen, when she won a London school districts essay competition. Selected short stories, poetry and essays were published in two book collections, and her first novel, Clipton Secrets, received Editors Choice distinction. Storm Sparrows is her second novel. She is currently working on a new collection of poetry and essays which will be published by Xlibris shortly.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Moving day, and Janet was exhausted before the day began. She had arrived at the motel late last night, it had been a long drive from San Antonio. Her decision to move into her new home early had been a spur of the moment thing. This move was something she needed desperately and was critical to her well being. A new beginning to her life. The old life, beautiful as it had been, ended abruptly on a mountain top in Bosnia. She had shared a partnership of sorts in her husband’s career; she had been the lady at his side, the hostess of his parties. His success had been her career. It had been, as far as she was concerned, a wonderful life. They had been looking forward to his retirement, as soon as their only son Jim finished school.

Janet picked up her toothbrush. The moving van is due this morning at nine o’clock, she spoke to herself. I had better be at the house when they arrive, It’s going to be a long hardday. No time for breakfast. Why didn’t I eat a real dinner last night? Life goes on! she thought. She picked up her purse and walked out the door it was going to be a long hard day filled with painful memories. Perhaps then my life will return to normal. She laughed bitterly, Life will be just one wonderful day after another. She spit out the water, wiped her mouth, and applied lipstick.

"On with my new life! Ok, if that’s all I need to do?—All I want is a life where I don’t live on the edge of hysteria, and where my nights are filled with peaceful dreams. She glanced at her watch, and hoped to grab a cup of coffee on her way through the lobby.

It had rained all morning, and the movers had been over three hours late, and when they finally arrived they were three burley men with an attitude, and no inspector. They shoved things into the house with little regard to her instructions, and when they finally left, Janet was exhausted.

Janet Crawford set the silver ice bucket, on the edge of her Ivory streaked, ebony bathtub, and tested the temperature with her toes, before dropping her terry robe and slippng into the bubbling water. She stretched her slender body to its full length, and laid back resting her head on the padded end of the wide pool, directly in front of the picture window. And closed her eyes allowing the silky liquid to massage her tired body. It had been a bad day, as bad as they come, and she knew that from experience.

The scenery from her window was beautiful, glistening green brush, blending into the rain soaked forest that lay just beyond her own two acres. She sighed, and said This is bliss.

After a few minutes she reached for the delicate champagne glass that rested on the neck of the tall green bottle, and held it to the light before she lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and removed the loose cork. She slowely filled her glass with the imported champagne, and admired, as she always did, the exquisite crystal with its beautiful etching of tiny flowers falling through the looped double rings that encircling the initials JDC, and the date, January One, Nineteen Seventy. The glasses had been a wedding gift from Derk.

Sitting upright, she lifted her glass to the empty room: To a life that was, and can never be again! and To my new life, whatever it may hold. Janet brought the glass to her lips. Her throat closed. She choked. When at last she could swallow, it went down in noisy gulps, as she fought back her tears. An over powering rage consumed her. She wanted to slam the goblet through the picture window in front of her, but considered the cost. She laughed bitterly at the comic twist her life had taken, she refilled the glass through her tears and toasted her new home, her new job, and the life she intended to build for herself.

She slipped deep into the tub and sipped her champagne, and looked about the room. Derk would have loved this room with a bathtub for two. She laughed bitterly, and looked up at the ceiling. What no Mirrors! She could hear him saying it, and laughed again. The mirrors had always been a joke between them, but something they had never owned.

But that was in her other life, and in this life, she was the only player. She was pretty sure this life would not include mirrors on the ceiling. What would her new life be like? Would she ever be happy again? She had come a long way towards getting back on her feet.

She had found a job as a computer operator with A and R Investments, in Texas. It had worked out far better than she’d ever imagined. And in less than six months she’d become an investment broker. When the company decided to open the new office in Claytonville, Janet had been given the opportunity to manage it. It seemed the answer to all of her problems. Claytonville was ninety miles west of St. Louis in the heart of the of the Ozarks. She came immediately to look the place over, and to find an apartment. Here she had met Martha Biggs, co-owner of Biggs Real Estate, and the developers of ‘Tanglewood Estates’, a subdivision, that was wholly financed by A and R Investments of Texas. She would manage their account.

Janet fell in love with the beauty of the country, and this contemporary house. The garden bathroom was the ‘coup de cream’, with a window that allowed you see out, but reflected prying eyes from seeing in—Derk would have loved it., and for that reason she had bought it. That, and because it was her dream house. The idea that this was the only house completed in the whole subdivision was symbolic of her new life. A new beginning in a new unsullied world.

She and Martha had become instant friends, and they had discussed in great length, and with wild unbridled humor, the virtues, and the not so virtuous complications of bathing nude in front of an uncovered window. One of the questions Janet had asked was "What about the fog? Won’t it fog up with the hot water running?

No, no, no! This glass is especially treated not to fog, and you can sit here look out, but no one can see you. Isn’t modern technology wonderful?

Janet smiled, inched herself upright, and set her empty glass on the edge of the tub, and continued to enjoy her view of the forest, so close. Then mundane problems penetrated her thoughts, such as the landscaping and the space between the two houses.

Funny, I never noticed that ‘English Tudor’ before? It’s almost completely hidden in the trees. Oh well! Janet shrugged, and refilled her glass from the green bottle, and pressed her back against the side of the tub, allowing herself the luxury of total relaxation. Conscious only of the movement of the slowly rolling water, and the soft hum of the spa tub. The steam was a warm cloud that folded her in arms of contentment, and her conscious mind was set free to dream.

The rain had stopped, the air was still. A green haze hung over a world charged with excitement. She waited for the veil of mist to rise, and the next act of her life to begin.

She was bathing in a scented pool in the midst of a magical forest. Rays of golden sun filtered through the thick green grotto touching the birds in flight. They danced through the sky, wings spread, soaring, dipping, as they sang in concert. Janet saw herself at nineteen. Running out of the woods drifting like the mist, moving away from him. She Looked back over her shoulder laughing, her hair floating in copper waves around her head. She ran through the beautiful garden; he was chasing her calling her name, Reaching for her.

Suddenly, Janet jumped to her feet, her hand over her mouth to force back a scream. Her goblet dropped and crashed against the side of the tub. She watched the woman running from the trees. Her long dark hair flowing behind her, as she tried to escape. A man was chasing her, and was about to catch her. Janet’s soundless screams tore through her throat leaving it raw, stripped. The magic had disappeared. The woman with long dark hair was running away from something fearful. The man chasing her was about to catch her. It was not Derk!

Janet jumped to her knees, screaming! No! Stop! Don’t! She pushed at the window, wanting to push it away. Yelling, Please stop!" little sound came. She was unable to stop, or to help the other woman, only to watch in helpless panic.

The woman stopped, and for a moment seemed to hang suspended in mid-air, then to twist, and crumple, sinking to the earth, and she was hidden by the mist and underbrush.

Janet watched horrified, as the man in a large straw hat, stepped into full view. He knelt where the woman had fallen, his straw hat bobbing crazily above the brush. Then he stood, and for a brief moment he looked directly at Janet. His face hidden by the wide brim of the straw hat. He knelt again, the hat still bobbed, as he lifted the lifeless woman, hefting her over his shoulder. Turning, he made his way towards the house next door, and disappeared into the brush and trees.

A tiny ray of sun spilled through the clouds, and all was silent, save Janet’s whimpering.

CHAPTER TWO

Still screaming Janet jumped out of the tub, and pulled on Derk’s old terry robe as she ran through the bedroom. She subbed her little toe on a stack of unpacked books, and limped into kitchen swearing. Soapy water trickled down her legs, and puddled on her new kitchen tiles. She searched through a pile of discarded packing material for her only telephone. And prayed they had nine-one-one here.

At the sound of the dispatcher’s voice she blurted, I want to report a murder, here, in my back yard. Almost! Calm down, she told herself.

Stay calm, the disciplined voice said. "Tell me your name, and where you live. Our system is not enriched, so I must get the information from you. Address?

My name is Janet Crawford, I live just outside of Claytonville on highway nineteen. She caught her breath, and forced herself to slow down. I live in The TangleWood Subdivision, number seven, Wild Grape Court. It’s new, and it’s the only house that’s finished out here. It was a murder. I am sure of that. I saw it committed—between my house, and the house next door, and I can’t remember my new telephone number, but the body was carried toward the house next door. It’s an English tutor, not finished, she said in one long breathless speech.

Are you in danger, Is the murderer still there?

I don’t know! He carried the body off.

Did you recognize him?

No, I just moved here. I don’t know anyone around here!

It’s the only finished house here. You come in at the stone entrance, and follow the street, until you come to Wild Grape Court. It’s a circle. Mine is the contemporary, cedar, and stone, the first one on the right. It’s the only house that’s finished!

You said that

I’m sorry, I’m nervous!

The Sheriff is on his way, stay inside. The murderer could still be lurking around. I can stay on the line with you if you like.

No thank you, that isn’t necessary. She hung up the receiver, trembling, she paced the floor, waiting was hard. Stooping she took out a bottle still swaddled in packing material, turned, picked up a heavy crystal glass, and carried both into the kitchen. She filled the old fashion glass with ice cubes, added a shot of scotch and a splash of water, then gulped it down. What made me do that? She thought in astonishment. Scotch had been Derk’s drink. I have never liked the stuff. And on top of that champagne. O hell, she said, looking at the glass, These are desperate times. and she splashed a bit more scotch into her glass. Then laughed. This is it. No more! I could be sick. I am a bit tipsy.

She took her drink into the bedroom, and slipped into a pair of soft blue jeans, and matching powder blue knit shirt, with a red ‘J’ embroidered on the pocket. Pulled a brush through her short, copper colored hair, giving it a last fluff in front of the mirror. At age forty seven she was still an attractive woman. This new job had to work for her. It had too.

The problem is what to do now? There had always been someone to turn to when I needed them. Now there is no one she thought, Not Derk he’s dead. Funny it took me over a year to say that word, and now I can admit It without a twinge. I’ve moved away from the Air Force. Our home for more years than I care to remember. I have no one at all here. Her husband of twenty seven years had crashed his F15 into the side of a mountain in the wilds of Bosnia. He was on a regular patrol. It had been a hard thing to accept. But harder still, was the fact that they hadn’t been able to recover his body for almost seven months, because of weather and the ground fire. Another fact even harder to accept, was that there was no war. No reason. His was part of a peace keeping mission. Janet remembered her husband saying to her once, Baby if you got’ta go, what better way for an aviator to go than in a blaze of glory. It was a tired Air Force joke, and she wondered, if peace keeping could be counted as glory. Derk took his flying seriously, and often told young pilots to never take unnecessary chances. He liked to tell her that he was the best damn pilot in the whole damned Air Force, she laughed remembering the joking way he made that boast.

Well, where is that Sheriff! she said. Janet had been talking to herself a lot lately. Ever since they notified her that his plane was down, and there was no sign of life. There were other times, when she talked directly to Derk. Stress the doctors called it. Hell! what was she supposed to do, pretend to be the same person she had always been. She had tried calm, it hadn’t work, and no one wanted to listen to her bitch.

Oh Crap! Forget it, she said.

Janet looked around her new home. Martha Biggs, the sales lady, had called this a Great Room. Perhaps someday, but it was a mess right now. It had rained all day, and she had allowed the movers get away with murder. Oh God, I didn’t mean to say murder.

The point being, she had told them to leave. Well, she should have insisted they finish the job, unpack it all, and take their boxes away with them. They did place most of the furniture in the proper rooms, and assembled some things. But frankly, she just couldn’t take it anymore. It had been an emotional day watching, the remnants of their life, being carried into her unknown future.

This had been her first move alone. Their furniture had been collected from all over the world. Each piece told a story. Not that it was expensive furniture, it wasn’t. Most of it was old, and chipped from more moves than she cared to remember, but each item was special. Each piece was a memory, and at this moment that was all she had.

Janet took the bottle back into the living room, sat it down on top of the small cabinet, and stroked its smooth surface, for instance she had found this birds maple comode, at a flea market in London, and had carried it home on a train. It had been her birthday gift to Derk on his forty first. He’d been delighted to discover it contained racks for bottles. That had been six years ago.

She stooped to replace the bottle. It was then, she realized she really was very dizzy.

Oh My! Janet pulled herself back up, and left the bottle sitting on top of the cabinet, and returned to the kitchen, picked up the heavy glass to pour out her drink. Then stopped too admire spears of color that sparkled in the glass even on this dreary day. These had been his gift to her on their twenth anniversary, something he’d picked up on a flight to Austria. They had collected beautiful things their whole married life. Their happiness, however had nothing to do with possessions. The collecting, searching, for just the right piece always added just a little extra spark to their life, and were some of her best memories. She rinsed the glass and returned it the breakfront. That’s enough of that stuff.

Come on Sheriff! She said, scrounging around the kitchen for food. Wishing that she had shopped to eat before leaving the motel. Fig bars and scotch! Yuck. Luckily these had been left in the car, or there would have been nothing to eat at all. She laughed and opened the bag. Can I convince myself that these are cheese and crackers? Of course I can, and took a couple of the cookies. Picked up her glass filled it with water, and walked out side to wait for the Sheriff.

In the street, she nibbled on a cookie, and thought about the crime, and what kind of evidence she might find, a weapon, a button, a snag from clothes, or blood, that was the total of everything she had gleaned from television over the years.

Janet had no intention of going farther than the street—Just In case, God forbid she stumble upon the body—or worse meet the murderer face to face. But she could do a little ‘rubber necking’’ attempting to pin point just where she had seen the woman fall. But from the street all she could see was tall weeds, and sprouts weighted down, with moisture from the rain. But she had learned some things. The tutor house was further away than it appeared from her bathroom, and the world smelled spicy clean after the rain. She got a case of the giggles just thinking about how she would explain to the Sheriff what she was doing when she saw the murder committed.

"Well Janet, you wanted to move away from those screaming planes, and blue uniforms, and make your own life. Well, you certainly jumped in full throttle, just remember guard your backside, or you might find yourself in a whole lot of trouble. You’re a stranger here. And the only asset you have is a twenty thousand dollar a year job, with a one year contract and a chance for a bonus at the end of the year. And that doesn’t include the possibility that the murderer might come back to rid himself of an eye witness.

Janet reentered the house, and locked her doors. There was no one to protect her now. To bad she had sold his guns. All except his favorite target pistol. She was saving that for their only son. It was hidden away in the liquor cabinet, a special compartment. She’d forgotten all about it. Their son James, was in collage, back in Texas. He would finish his engineering degree next year at Texas Tech. He no longer needed her, not now that he had found Betsy.

Young Love! ho-ho.I hope I’m sober enough to handle the interrogation, she laughed, and considered pouring herself another drink. No No. God knows how long since I drank this much. Instead she fixed herself