Handcuffs in the Heather – Dale Mayer

Friday Late Afternoon … “ALL YOU NEED to do now,” Mack said, “is stay out of trouble.” Doreen shrugged. “How much trouble can I get in? I’ve been gardening all day, and I’m coming up to the big hydrangea bush. I can get in no trouble with that.” He just looked at her. “Hydrangeas?” She shrugged. “Those big flowering plants. I promise I’ll spend tomorrow working in my garden.” He stared at her in doubt, also noting how all three of her animals sat nearby, watching the exchange like a tennis match. They didn’t seem disturbed at the discussion. They knew this was the usual exchange between Mack and Doreen. She chuckled. “Of course I can’t guarantee what I might find.” “You don’t get to find anything,” he said, a warning in his tone. “Well, why not? There was a gun in the gardenias.

Maybe I’ll find …” She stopped, pondered for a moment. “How about I find handcuffs in the hydrangeas?” she announced triumphantly. “How about you don’t? How about you just stop trying to find anything?” And, with that, he turned and stormed out. Mutinously, she watched him walk out the front door, her traitorous animals trotting behind him, all wanting goodbye hugs or pats. She trailed behind him, her gaze falling on the wheelbarrow with the little bit of dirt left that she had “borrowed.” She still had to return the last of it to her neighbor. She picked up the handles to the wheelbarrow and pushed it to his house, her animal trio in tow. There she rapped on the door. When he opened it, glaring at her suspiciously, she said, “I just brought this back. I promise to get you some more to replace what I used.

” He shook his head. “Don’t bother. That’s all extra anyway. It was outside because I’m supposed to spread it in the front garden but haven’t gotten around to it.” He glared at her animals. Mugs, Thaddeus, and Goliath knew better than to ask Richard for a hug or a pat to the head and stayed close to Doreen. “Put it right there.” Richard pointed to a spot at the corner of the garage. She nodded and said, “Well, thank you for the dirt I used.” She lifted the wheelbarrow handles and dumped the last bit in a pile as he’d requested.

As she turned the wheelbarrow around, she looked at the hydrangeas in his garden and said, “This garden is doing really well. And that heather is gorgeous. The hydrangea is looking lovely too.” “The hydrangea is nice. It’s the blue-flowering variety.” As she studied the bush, she wondered out loud, “I’m surprised that bush is so small though.” He shrugged. “It’s been small since forever. I don’t know why. Probably no room to grow against the house.

” She wondered. “May I take a look?” He stared at her suspiciously. “What could you possibly look at?” But she eyed something flashing in the sunlight. Only it wasn’t in the hydrangeas but rather in the blooming heather in front of the bigger bush. “Who knows? Something could be restricting the bush’s root system.” At least that gave her an excuse to get in the garden bed. She crouched at the edge of the hydrangeas to where the heather had tangled up in something metallic. Almost immediately she identified the item. She gasped, and then she laughed. Very carefully she scooped away the leaves and the mulch that had piled up over the years.

Mugs, Thaddeus, and Goliath all stepped in to help. “Hey, guys, I’ve got this.” And, sure enough, she found a set of handcuffs, one of which was caught around the plant. She sat back and howled with laughter. It wasn’t handcuffs in the hydrangeas. Instead, it was handcuffs in the heather … Who’d have guessed this? Even better that they were torn and very much worse-for-wear pink satin handcuffs … She snickered. Wait until she told Mack … Chapter 2 Friday Late Afternoon … DOREEN REACHED OVER with a nearby stick and carefully disentangled the metal object. It was caught up in the heather from deep underneath, half buried and half twisted in the greenery. Luckily both the cuffs were open and not clicked shut. Eventually she broke them free and held them up for her neighbor to see.

She snickered again and, trying for a straight face, asked, “Did you lose these?” Richard inspected the handcuffs, partially covered with what appeared to have once been a soft pink satin; only now they were soiled with dirt and stained over time. Embarrassed, he stared at her, his jaw dropping. “Those aren’t mine,” he squeaked, his face flushing bright red. “Well, maybe not,” Doreen said. “They’re pink. Maybe your wife’s?” He was so irate it looked like he would stomp his foot. Instead he spun on his heel and roared, “Get that nastiness out of my yard!” Then, when he reached his doorway, he looked back and said, “You probably planted them there.” She stared at him in surprise. “Well, they’re not mine. And it’s obvious they’ve been here for a long time, long before I moved here.

Who knew you were into kink behind closed doors?” He slammed his door in her face. She burst out laughing before mustering enough seriousness to leave. Calling her critters, she pushed the wheelbarrow with one hand and held the handcuffs with the other, still looped over the stick she’d poked them with. When she reached her house, she parked the wheelbarrow in her garage and took the handcuffs inside. She carefully laid them on a piece of paper towel and studied them. “Handcuffs in the heather,” she said to herself. “Mack will never believe that.” Not that she was ready to tell him. It definitely wasn’t a police issue but a sex-story issue. And, of course, that raised all kinds of interesting questions.

She’d never really been exposed to sex toys, so this offered a whole new level of research. And she also expected all kinds of issues when doing that research with her own laptop. She had decent virus checkers, but she was bound to end up on porn sites. Not exactly what she considered her daily reading. Although, if that was all she had for issues, then whatever. But relieved that her unpaid workday designated to helping the local police was more or less over, with the potential of a fire tamped down here at her house and with Steve caught and hopefully at the police station, Doreen opted for a hot cup of tea at the creek. It amazed her how the soothing sound of the water perked up her spirits and gave her energy instead of draining her. Right now, she didn’t really want too much energy because she was looking forward to an early bedtime tonight. And considering what she’d been through these last few days, a hot bath and an early night would be perfect. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the handcuffs.

What an odd place for them. Her neighbor had to be in his seventies. He had told Doreen that he had a wife, Sicily, yet Doreen had never seen Sicily. Doreen had heard that odd androgynous voice out in their backyard behind the tall wooden privacy fence every once in a while. So Doreen was never sure if she was speaking to Richard or to Sicily. And Doreen wasn’t even sure that he was a he or that Sicily was a she. Even if a he, maybe Richard was homosexual. She didn’t have any problem with that. But, if the neighbor’s partner was hiding away, that would explain why nobody ever saw them. In which case, maybe the handcuffs were theirs.

She smirked at the idea. Something was very delightful about the thought of her grumpy secretive neighbor with pink satin handcuffs. She relaxed by the creek, the setting sun highlighting the greens of the trees around her and her animals. It was truly a unique spot which she was so grateful to have. She couldn’t imagine living in those town houses with people so close on either side. She appreciated this creek, with the wide open spaces, a ready path, and a spot for the animals. And maybe all because of the creek she’d ended up finding a solution to so many cold cases. She certainly came here to find joy. She knew the media would hound her as she helped to solve each case, and that usually meant her front yard would be out of bounds again. Most of the time the media didn’t follow her to the backyard, but she couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t.

She didn’t even want to contemplate how many cold cases this last case would close. At least she hoped Annette Helmsman’s deathbed confession should help close several of them. And now with Steve’s involvement confirmed, that would be another matter resolved, if not two. And potentially a lot more. Once the authorities got digging into that stuff and checked out Steve’s finances, who knew how many other women were paid to stay quiet? Doreen wondered if some of those women were still alive. Maybe they were buried on his property. Not to mention, who was the body they found burned to a crisp that they had first thought was Steve? On that note, she walked back to the house where she called Mack. His voice was exhausted as he said, “Please, not tonight.” She winced. “I was just making sure you were okay,” she improvised.

“I know it was a pretty rough day.” “You think? On the other hand, Steve is in jail, locked up, and not saying a whole lot. But now we have reasonable access to everything in his life. It’ll take weeks to run it all down.” “Unless you get more from him,” she said. “You might want to play the Penny card with that. I’m pretty sure he might have had something to do with the deaths of George and the nurse.” “In what way?” “I just feel like Penny and Steve have been friends, if not more than friends, for decades. And I think that was the source of the fighting between her and George. He was probably always worried something more than friendship existed between them.

” “Interesting line of thought,” Mack said. “We can use that. We can interview each of them and see what the other has to offer.” “Of course, if it’s true love, neither will roll on the other.” He gave a half snort. “True love tends to fall by the wayside for self-preservation when it comes to jail time.” “They’re both getting jail time regardless,” she said. “But what we can’t have is reasonable doubt that Penny worked alone, and then Steve walks free on yet more crimes. Or both being involved and not proving either case clearly. Of course, if he’s already going away for several murders …” “Depends.

We don’t have a full investigation going yet at Steve’s house. We’ll return to his property, probably with cadaver dogs. Then we’ll see what we can find.” “So whose dead body was that who burned in the fire at Steve’s house?” “Police business, Doreen.” He sighed. “We’re checking into it.” “Good,” she said. “You sound exhausted too,” he said. “With good reason,” she retorted. “If you would stay out of trouble for once …” She snorted.

“Absolutely! Wouldn’t that be nice?” Then she smiled and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, if we’re still on for dinner?” “We are. Not to worry.” “Great,” she said. “In that case, I’ll hang up. I’m sitting by the creek, trying to relax and unwind. I need a good night’s sleep tonight.” “You need several good nights’ sleep, and you need to stay out of trouble.” “With all the antiques gone, and pretty much everything else resolved with Penny and now with Steve locked up, I think I should be good to go. Oh, except for one thing.” “One thing?” His voice turned dark when he asked.

“I did find something oddly incidental.” Mack gave a heavy sigh on the other end. “I don’t like the sound of that. What? Where?” “Well, it will give you a good laugh when I tell you,” she said. “I did find handcuffs. Not in the hydrangeas but in a patch of heather.” “Still an H,” he said, chuckling. “And why would you have found handcuffs?” “I took the rest of the dirt back to my neighbor. And, while I was there, I saw something shiny in his big heather patch. They were just so full of beautiful blooms that I had to admire them.

And then I saw the metal object. When I pulled apart the heather to take a closer look, I realized what was there. So I used a stick to pull them out.” “Handcuffs?” he asked in disbelief. “Handcuffs in the heather at my neighbor’s house, yes,” she said, laughing. “So, you should be happy it’s not at my place.” “I highly doubt they’re significant in any case, so that’s great. I bet your neighbor loved it.” “So not,” she said. “In this case, they’re not real handcuffs either.

” And she knew her humor should have been a dead giveaway, but Mack was obviously tired when he asked suspiciously, “What do you mean, not real?” “They’re wrapped in pink satin,” she said with a giggle. He snorted and then chuckled on the other end. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” “And, of course, they’re quite dirty, as if they’ve been there for a while. I do have them here, but I’ll just toss them in the garbage.” She didn’t plan on doing that, but she wanted to hear if Mack had any reason she shouldn’t. “You do that,” he said. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need anything else on your plate right now. Anyway, I’ve got to go. It’s been a rough day.

” And he hung up. She hung up too. Then she picked up the handcuffs and put them in a ziplock baggie with the paper towel she had lain them on and set them on the nearby bookshelf that was already fairly stuffed again. She frowned at that, but she didn’t really have any other place to keep the handcuffs. It wasn’t like she had a cupboard where she could store evidence. She did have a couple spare plastic baskets though. She went into the hall closet, pulled out the stack of baskets, and put the cuffs in the top one. Then she put it away again into the front closet. She called the animals to her for an early bedtime, and they all trooped upstairs. Chapter 3 Saturday Early Morning … THE NEXT MORNİNG, Doreen opened her eyes.

The first thing that popped into her head was spaghetti. Today was spaghetti day, and she couldn’t wait. Her stomach already growled, and she wasn’t even sure if she’d eaten last night. Probably just a few crackers with cheese. She did that most days, and the days morphed into each other. Yet her stomach had gotten used to having some regular food, cooked by Mack, but last night she’d been too tired and too exhausted to do much. The day’s events had caught up with her, making her beyond aware of what she’d been through, and all the things she still had to do as well. She still lay in bed, plotting her day and sensing where her three pets were. Goliath was curled around her head. Mugs lay across her feet.

She thought she heard the tiny squeak of the nearby overhead perch for Thaddeus. Her body tried to convince her not to do more. It warned her that she’d pay if she moved. She shook her head and said, “You should have a hard day of work in your own garden today.” She shifted and gasped in pain. But then she remembered the fight with Steve and that garden work she had done at Millicent’s on Friday, followed by all her own backyard gardening accomplished yesterday and realized she had every right to be sore. She slowly made her way out of bed and into the shower. However, Mugs’s barking caught her attention. She stepped out, wrapped herself in a towel, and asked, “Mugs, what’s the matter?” He ignored her and kept barking. Then she heard somebody at the front door.

Groaning, she wrapped a bathrobe around her and raced down the stairs. She peered through the living room window to see Mack standing there with a glare on his face. She sighed, disarmed the security, and opened the front door. “And what’s the bee in your bonnet?” she asked. “Me?” He looked at her in surprise. “It’s early still, and you already look angry.” “My body is sore from yesterday, and I just got out of bed and into the shower.” “Good. I’ll put on the coffee while you finish up and get dressed.” She rolled her eyes at him, then returned upstairs as he headed to the kitchen.

She really should make him buy his own coffee to refill her stock, but, the fact of the matter was, she probably still owed him for many meals. So really a pound of coffee wasn’t a hardship. Dressed and with her hair brushed back but hanging damp around her shoulders, she made her way downstairs. Mack looked at her and said, “You’re still tired. And have you lost more weight?” “I don’t know,” she said softly. “My pants are a bit looser.” He shook his head. “Did you eat at all yesterday?” “Didn’t we have sandwiches together?” He nodded. “Did you have dinner?” She frowned and shook her head. “I think I had a few crackers with cheese.

” He sighed and brought out a frying pan, then opened her fridge. “I don’t have any ham,” she said, “but I do have cheese.” She watched with interest as he put toast on and then added butter in the pan and proceeded to crack a full half-dozen eggs. She frowned. “Didn’t you eat?” “This is for you,” he said in a dark voice. “You have to eat.” When the eggs were almost done, he picked up the cheese and grated it over the top, then worked it into the soft egg mixture. At the end he sprinkled a handful of chives from her garden into the eggs. She stared at it in fascination and said, “You just made that out of nothing.” “That?” He smiled.

“I made it out of eggs and cheese. Isn’t that amazing? Scrambled cheesy eggs made out of eggs and cheese.” She glared at him. “You don’t need to be sarcastic.” “No,” he said. “I don’t.” He put the scrambled eggs onto a plate, grabbed the toast from the toaster, buttered it, and plated everything before setting it on the table. “Now, eat.” “I can’t eat all that.” She gasped.

“That’s six eggs!” He glared at her and said, “I’ll finish what you don’t eat if Mugs and Goliath don’t.” She sat down as he put a cup of coffee in front of her too. She smiled and murmured to her critters, “He might have arrived grumpy and angry, but I’m quite happy to have something different to eat.” “What do you mean, something dif erent to eat?” “I was getting a tiny bit tired of cheese and crackers.” He stared at her plate for a long moment. “Have you made anything else for your breakfast?” “An omelet. Have you showed me how to make anything else?” she asked, forking up her first bite of scrambled egg. She stopped, closed her eyes, and sighed in delight. Several more moments went by as she inhaled half of her plate. Mack shook his head.

“We only made you a plain omelet. And you’ve done that on your own. I have the pictures on my phone you sent me as proof. I didn’t show you how to add things to the omelet or how to take the eggs and just make some simple scrambled eggs, like this.” She nodded. “This wasn’t simple.” “It’s very simple. You saw me make it.” “Sure, but it doesn’t have a simple taste. It’s deep and rich with flavor and cheese.

” She ate like a starving woman because, at this moment, that was what she was. Before she knew it, only a little bit of scrambled eggs were left. She scraped it onto her toast, lifted the toast, and polished off the first piece. Then she sat back with a happy sigh but looked at the second piece of toast and said, “I don’t think I can eat it.” “I highly suggest you try.” Mack walked over to the cupboard and brought out the peanut butter and jam. Doreen slathered both on and cut the bread in half. She gave him half and then started on the other. He picked up his half and ate it in three bites. She watched it disappear while she nibbled on hers.

“That’s the problem with you,” he said. “You put so much effort into your eating, you’ve burned up all the calories before it hits your stomach.” She ignored his comment and ate as slowly as she wanted. Then she picked up her coffee and asked, “So what’s got you so upset this morning?” “Where are they?” She frowned at him in confusion. “Where are what?” He growled, “The pink satin handcuffs.” She looked at him and tried hard not to smirk but couldn’t stop it. Her lips twitched, and the first snort of a giggle escaped. And then she burst out in laughter. Mack glared at her. And Mugs, who had been quietly sitting at Doreen’s feet, jumped onto his back legs and woofed at her.

She smiled but was still laughing helplessly as she reached down and cuddled him close. And then she heard an even odder sound. She looked over at Thaddeus perched on the windowsill, imitating her laughter. It was the weirdest cackling yet snuffling sound she’d ever heard. At that, Mack burst out chuckling. “Wow, we’re all just a mess this morning,” Doreen said, still giggling. She looked at Mack and asked, “Why do you care about the handcuffs? You were all for me throwing them in the garbage last night.” “I want to see them,” he said. Snickering, but happy to go along with his request, she hopped to her feet and walked to the front closet. She pulled out the stack of baskets and brought the top one back, so Mack could see the bag with the handcuffs in it.

He lifted it up and said, “You put it on the paper towel?” She nodded. “And then I put the paper towel in the bag, in case anything fell off.” He nodded and carefully looked at the handcuffs still inside the plastic bag. She refilled their coffee cups, then sat, noting the resigned look on his face. She peered at the bag in his hand, but it was hard to see from her position. Plus the lighting was wrong. “What do you see?” “Initials MP,” he said. His voice was heavy and deep. “Initials? What?” She jumped to her feet to look closer. “So, we can return them to somebody.

Do you really think they’d want them back?” “We can’t return them to anybody,” he said quietly. “Because I’m pretty sure these handcuffs belong to a woman, a known prostitute in this town, but one who disappeared about ten years ago.” Doreen stared at him for a long time. “But the handcuffs couldn’t have been buried there for ten years.” “No, I suspect not. The material would have rotted away.” “So …” “So, we actually had a problem with nonessential evidence from the case disappearing from the station.” Her jaw dropped. “From the evidence locker or whatever you use to keep all that stuff in?” Mack nodded. “In cold cases, we don’t throw everything away.

Some police detachments do when they run out of storage. But obviously, if we’re still trying to solve a case, we don’t get rid of the various pieces of evidence we have.” “But this is hardly pertinent evidence, is it?” “No, it was taken during the investigation, and it didn’t have any fingerprints or anything on it, and her purse was found in the alley, nearby where she was known to work. Everything was photographed, and the digital copies were kept,” he said. “But the purse and the contents went into an evidence box.” “But you didn’t have anybody to return it to, so what happened to it?” He shrugged. “It was kept with forensic evidence for a long time. And then this stuff disappeared. We assumed at the time it had been tossed and no one marked it down. The cleanout was official so no one was really upset …” She stared at him in fascination.

“So you don’t think this is relevant to the cold case on her disappearance, which is probably a murder, but you are thinking it might be related to whoever broke into the storage or the evidence locker or whatever you want to call it.” He nodded slowly. “Exactly.” “So, let me get this straight. A woman’s presumably murdered, and you collect all kinds of items for forensics. But, after testing, whatever is of no interest, you have nobody to give it back to because she has no family. So you hang on to the stuff until the theft of the stuff. What … How many years ago?” “Seven,” he said slowly. “In this case.” “So, years after the original disappearance, but I’m calling it a murder, somebody dumps the box —which does seem to point the finger at somebody in the police department.

At least initially. But maybe then the dumpster was raided, and I’m thinking kids got to it and threw it away here in the neighbor’s yard. And yet it wasn’t important to the case, so the kids stealing it shouldn’t have been important to the case either. More nuisance value. Likely someone pilfered the purse, hoping something worth money was inside, but, not finding anything, they just threw everything away.” He nodded. “But then where is the purse? Or, in this case, the rest of the box?” “That could be anywhere. Particularly if the purse was nice. The rest? … Possibly tossed in the bushes as they walked or drove by. … That part we’re not likely to ever know.

And it ends up at my neighbor’s front garden,” she said. “See? That says prank to me. Was anyone who worked at the force related to Richard? Maybe even hated him? Or, like I said first, it could have been just some curious kids …” “Of course it could,” Mack said. “And, more to the point, it ends up in your hands.” She chuckled. “Is there any way to know what else went missing?” “The items weren’t considered pertinent for the case. That entire box disappeared.” “But you had a list of these items somewhere, right?” Mack shrugged. “We’re checking into that.” “And, if she was a prostitute, and this is related … You know? Like the pink satin handcuffs, was the rest of the evidence similar paraphernalia?” He nodded.

“Yes, definitely. From what I remember.” “So maybe somebody knew the box was there and just wanted to have some fun with it?” she asked cautiously, not sure how to put it. “Most people don’t steal sex toys from a police evidence room. Nor try out used sex toys.” “No,” she said. “But obviously something happened. Was other stuff taken as well?” “No. And the box wasn’t important to the missing person’s case—yes, now considered a murder after so long—so no one cared until it went missing. Even then it wasn’t a big deal, just chafed for my friend.

” “So this box could have been targeted but why? More likely it was tossed and no one wanted to get into trouble so stayed quiet. Someone saw the box in the garbage and snagged it without knowing what was in it …” she pondered that. “And that’s why people did know about it,” he said. “After three years had passed from the original missing person’s statement, we reopened that cold case, trying to find anything new we’d missed. It was decided that the box contents were of no value. And that box was put aside.” “So, if the box was stolen shortly after the department’s review of the box, that makes it sound targeted to me. But”—she shrugged—“it’s a theft of unimportant items, and that’s unpleasant, but that doesn’t mean it was necessarily criminal.” “Well, it’s criminal because it’s theft,” he said in a dry tone. “Especially when stolen from a police department.

But the originating case file is obviously not at the top of any of our pending files to work on.” “That’s very interesting,” she said. “Still it feels like the items were just tossed away. As if someone had this stuff and just threw it out a window as they drove by. Then, considering that, in all those years—seven since the box went missing—wouldn’t the satin have deteriorated somewhat more?” “How close to the house were they? Were the heathers protecting them? Where are the sprinklers? Or were the handcuffs just sitting there under the heather branches, dry and protected? Is there any reason they wouldn’t have looked weather-beaten or old by now? I’ll take them to forensics and see if they find anything on them.” “Be my guest,” she said. He nodded. “So, when we’re done with our coffee, you’ll show me where you found them.” She rolled her eyes. “Sure.

My neighbor’ll love that.” The good thing was Richard didn’t even show his face. He was probably too embarrassed. Doreen walked over with Mack and showed him exactly where she’d found them. No pink satin remnants were anywhere around the heather. “You should take a bunch of photos, I guess,” she said. “But I never thought to when I pulled them up. There’s where the chain between the two of them was or whatever you want to call that piece that connects to the handcuffs. You can see it was dug in slightly.” Mack nodded and took several photos, then said, “Good. I’ll take these and the handcuffs into the station and see what the chief wants to do.” “Sounds good,” Doreen said. She stood outside while he drove away, Mugs and Goliath sitting at her side. Both watched Mack, whereas Thaddeus apparently showed a great deal of interest in the heather. He plunked up a stem and tossed it on the ground and went after another one and then another one. “Oh, no you don’t,” she said. “We don’t ravish plants as pretty as this. Particularly when they’re not ours.” She scooped him up gently onto her hand and placed him on her shoulder. He squawked in outrage and tried to get back to the heather, but she didn’t let him. Back at the house again, she closed the front door and cleaned the kitchen. She was at odds and ends. With the Steve scenario in police hands now, and, still not sure what to do with the six hope chest boxes she’d found above the front closet, she was tempted to start in on the Bob Small newspaper clippings, but suddenly she was really tired. Deeply tired. Maybe she was tired of humanity acting like this. Humans really were a lousy species to be the supposed king of this planet. Maybe a coffee would help. And, of course, with Mack coming and going, they were running out of coffee. Just as she went to put on some, Nan called. “How about a cup of tea and a croissant?” Nan asked. “Well, tea, yes, but I’m pretty stuffed. I had a very big breakfast.” “Lovely,” Nan said. “If you come down, you can take the croissants back for lunch. They’re full of ham and cheese.” Doreen brightened. “That sounds wonderful!” “You must be exhausted,” Nan said. “Maybe I should come up to you.” Caught by that idea, Doreen chuckled and said, “If you would like to come for a walk, sure. Do you want me to pick you up?” “No, no, no,” Nan said. “I’m walking outside to my patio now. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Put on the tea.”

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