CHAPTER ELEVEN (WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS.. )
Jim Brass was impatient. He usually rang the doorbell and took the time to observe his surroundings. In this case, it would have been time well spent, for the landscaping and curb appeal of the house was pleasant.
A profusion of flowers, every variety and color, lined the neatly kept driveway. The house, itself..was a two-story Cape Cod which reminded the man of the ones in San Diego, where he and Grissom went down for their fishing trips.
Freshly painted a nondescript cream, with updated efficiency windows, the wrap around porch was home to two forest green adirondack chairs, a small round table which held a brass bowl overflowing with blue flowers to welcome the visitor.
The door had etched glass panels, affording a glimpse into the interior of the foyer. An old grandfather clock hugged the left wall, a long table opposite, with a decorative silver bowl filled with round balls consisting of organic material.
Brass guessed that was the latest home decor essential these days.
The floor was large tiles done in earth tones which lead to a step down front living area.
A pretty woman, in her late forties, greying hair that was originally a dark brown chestnut opened the door. She wore short khaki pants, cut to the knee, a blue polo shirt and brown leather sandals. A set smile was in place on her face.
"Yes? May I help you?"
It always bothered the 'cop' in him that women flew open their doors so freely to any person that knocked or ring the bell, without thought to what intentions that person could have.
"Ma'am." Jim nodded a polite 'hello', showing his badge which he had held in his hand while he waited. "I'm Jim Brass..LVPD. I need to ask you some questions concerning the rental car you picked up from Avis yesterday, if you have a moment?" He put his credentials away.
"Ohh, my!" Her hand went to her heart, showing well manicured nails and a ring on the third finger of her left hand. "It hasn't been in an accident, has it?"
"No, Ma'am. Nothing like that." His smile was kept in place. "So..you did rent a .." Jim consulted his notebook, flipping the small pad open to the correct page. "Silver grey, 2009 Explorer from the Airport rental?"
"Yes, my husband.." She sighed lightly. "Oh please, come in, Officer. Where are my manners!"
Brass followed the woman into the cool air-conditioned living area, stepping down the one step into slightly worn carpet. The grandfather clock had shown two-thirty seven as he had passed.
"May I offer you refreshments?" She indicated he was to sit on the floral sofa with it's splash of red roses and green vine design.
Jim hitched up the grey material of his right slack leg, taking a seat. Whether he was gaining weight or muscle mass, he didn't know, but his pants were tighter these days and sitting always presented a problem of sorts.
Easing the material up a tad loosened the tightness he felt.
He hoped it was muscle tone for he had worked out more of late. He had also ate out more of late. So..maybe not.
"No, thank you, Ma'am." The man smiled to lessen the refusal . "You were saying?"
"Oh, yes..my husband's colleague from Argentina, is in town for a visit. He and Vernon will take the car down to Cal Poly Tech for a seminar. Vernon dislikes putting miles on our family vehicles."
"Your husband is Vernon Gossemer, author of the book, 'Midnight Madness'..correct?" Brass' instincts had been on 'high alert' ever since he had noted the name of the person who had rented the SUV that matched the description of the one they were looking for in connection to Haley Meadow's disappearance. He wanted some answers to some pressing questions suddenly.
"What?! Oh, Heavens, NO!" She had chuckled at such an assumption. "Vernon is a professor at the University. He teaches 'Antiquities' and while he is rather well-read, I would hardly credit him with the ability to actually author a novel. I believe that book was written by Alexander Davies."
"Yes, I know." Brass stated. "It's ok..I've spoken with the publisher and your husband. His identity is safe with me. Davies is a pseudonym, I believe."
The woman sat..her expression troubled. "I am not following, I'm afraid." She shook her head negatively. "There seems to be some mix-up here."
"Perhaps if I could speak to your husband? If you have a contact number?" He fished openly, spreading his hands out from his body expressively. "Of course, I've spoken to the University and stopped by the other house first, before coming here."
The woman's brow furrowed even moreso at the news.
"The Administration Office said Mr. Gossemer was taking a short absence from his workload. They did not know his itinerary."
She..arose, her hands gripping together, her expression more than troubled. "What do you mean..the other house? There must be some error here, Officer. This is our home. The only one we own."
Brass digested all that had been said and the woman's manner.
"..My office must have given me the wrong details. We get our wires crossed occasionally." He lied easily. "I'm sure the mistake is on our end." He fished in his pocket for his card, handing it forward. "I would like to speak to your husband as soon as possible, however. If you could have him give me a call, I would appreciate it."
"But, I don't understand what's going on here. Is Vernon in some kind of trouble?"
"Just routine." He smiled sincerely. "Really. Your home is nice. The flowers are a nice touch."
"Ohh..well." She glanced out the large bay window to his meaning. "I..I do love my flora. Thank you."
"It shows. I'll show myself out." He made to take his leave. "I'll look forward to that call, then?"
"Vernon will call to let me know he arrived safely. I will relay your message then." She still was unsettled, clearly. "I've tried his cell..I assumed he was in a 'no coverage' area." She scribbled the number on a near by note pad set beside the phone on the end table. "You are welcome to it..if it will help?"
"Thank you for your time, Ma'am." He tucked the number into his inside pocket. "That's good of you. I'll see if we can find some answers for you." And myself. He added mentally.
Jim Brass got into his car. It was damned hot today. The seats were uncomfortably warm. He fired up the air conditioner, his thoughts running a mile a minute.
What the hell was going on here?
The woman had no clue, of that fact, he was certain. He saw no reason to upset her at this point.
If Gossemer was deliberating a separation, he certainly had not indicated it when last they spoke.
Brass even recalled the man saying..an anniversary was coming up. He had noted all the photographs on the mantel and piano inside.
He glanced at the two-story home as he pulled down the drive and out into the street in front. Those pictures were of Vernon Gossemer, AKA Alexander Davis and his wife. Was the bastard living a double life?
He had witnessed stranger things, after all. Nothing surprised or shocked him any longer. Still..this didn't feel like one of those things. This felt..wrong.
Something was terribly wrong here.
The sooner he figured it out, the sooner he would feel more at ease.
He drove mechanically, heading back to the precinct. He wasn't even aware he was speeding. He gunned the car, wanting to get to his computer. Time was running out. He sensed as much.
A woman's life hung in the balance and the thought made him sick to his stomach. He had to figure this creep out. He had to get inside his head.
Jim Brass was good at his job. He knew what he had to do and he knew how to do it.
There was a puzzle piece missing but, he was good at seeing the larger picture. He had to tap into that inner ability now. He used the time he had to...think..to analyze..
Was Alicia Gossemer lying to him? Did she know more than she was letting on? Her confusion seemed real enough on the surface. Brass had learned not to trust anything or any one.
Why two addresses? One, in a high class neighborhood, the other..not so much so. What connected them? Gossemer seemed 'at home' in the three story mansion..and yet, the decor had not really 'fit' the man.
His own wife was unaware of the man's having written one of the year's best selling novels? How could anyone be so..disconnected to another person's reality. Especially if that person was one's own husband.
Nothing added up. Nothing made sense.
It was Jim Brass' job to see that it did. Eventually..he would piece it together. Time was not on his side in this case, however. He needed help.
He knew where to find it.