FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 36

 Chapter 36

As I left West Portal station, I saw Rollins and Amy Feingold running together, she in track shorts, he in baggy hiking shorts. They were running toward me, but neither saw me. Rollins stopped at his driveway and huffed and puffed and waved good-bye.

         “Later!” he called.

         “Later.”

Amy continued, gliding along for another half block before jogging into her own driveway and disappearing from view.

Rollins let me in. Still sweaty, he had a towel around his neck. 

“I should jump into the shower,” he said.

“Don’t do it on my account. How long have you and Amy been running partners?”
         He hesitated.

“Then you saw us. For a while now. I haven’t kept track. It helps both of us. I think.”

“I ‘d like to see Katherine’s room,” I said.

He sighed. 

“Right.”

“After we talk. Okay?”

A quick nod.

“Let’s talk in the kitchen.”

 I followed him through the entry hall, then past the living room. Nothing seemed out of place there. No newspapers or magazines anywhere, no oversized art books on the coffee table. Nothing but furniture.  It was clear to me that no one “lived” in the living room. I guessed that it had always been like that.

         “How did it go with Zack Tyler?” he asked.

         “He pulled a knife and stuck me in the ribs. Other than that, we got along fine.”

         “He’s a punk,” said Rollins.

         “I’m afraid he’s more than that. He’s clearly on something, and that makes him dangerous.”

After coffee I asked to see Katherine’s room. Again.

         “What for?  It’s exactly as she left it.”

         “Perfect.”

         “I intend to keep it that way. Call me sentimental, but…”

         “I understand,” I said.

         “I don’t think you do.”

         “Look, I can’t feel as much as you. I haven’t lost a daughter. I’ll put things back where they were when I’m done. Promise.”

         I got up.

         “Lead the way,” I said.

         He hesitated.

         “Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal anything.”

         He laughed shortly.

         “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

         He led me up carpeted stairs and turned right. He stopped. Gestured toward the door.

         I opened it and went in. He stood in the doorway.

         “I prefer to work alone,” I said.

         “Suit yourself.”

         “I normally do.”

         He left without closing the door. I suspect that he wanted it open a crack to spy on me.

         Rollins wasn’t kidding.  The bedroom did look as if she had just stepped out, perhaps to take a shower. The bed was unmade. A pair of sweatpants lay on the floor, as if she had just kicked them off, like kids do. The commonplace suddenly became eerie. I half-expected her to emerge from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head.

         School textbooks sat on her desktop. I recognized a well- used grammar book for grade twelve. A Mac computer took up most of the desktop. I touched the space bar.  I heard a little click. The Mac was on! I watched as the virtual desktop emerged from “sleep.” Had it been on all that time? Since the day she left with her family to go camping? That seemed unlikely.

         My phone rang, jolting me.

         Terry.

         “I think I know why you remembered that house,” he said.

         I was so wrapped up in Katherine’s room that it took me a second. What house? Then I remembered.

         “Oh, right. That was fast,” I said.

         “It was easy. I just Googled 636 Cole Street.”

         “And?”

         “Charles Manson and his so-called ‘family’ used to live there.”

         “Get out!”

         “True. And there were probably photographs in the newspapers and on TV from time to time. That’s why you remembered the place.  But it was a hella long time ago. Thirty-three years? You were probably too young to know about Charles Manson.”

         “Too young? How about this: I wasn’t even born yet!”

         “Damn, dude.”

         Silence.

         “Francis?”

         “Still here. Just thinking for a sec. This has to mean something.”

         “Really? If the killer was leaving a message, why did he leave the body in front of the wrong house?”

         Good question.

         “Maybe she screwed up,” I guessed. “Early morning it’s still pretty dark. Maybe he or she misread the house number. That’d be easy to do. Listen, I’m right in the middle of something. Let’s talk about this when I get back.”

         “Cool.”

         I disconnected and called Colin back. “I got the info I needed from Terry. Sorry for the bother.”

         “My guy found nothing,” Colin said. “I meant to call you and tell you.”

         “That tells me he wasn’t digging too deep. “

         “No?”

         I told him about the Manson connection.

         “Shit.”

         “Maybe deep shit. I can’t tie it in to our investigation, yet, but it’s worth a try. Over and out.”

         “Copy.”