Chapter Forty-Eight
About fifteen minutes after receiving an anonymous phone call, two policemen arrived at 31 Jones Street in San Francisco. The caller said it was in regard to a terrible stench emanating from that house. During the time between the phone call and the arrival of the first police car, the entire neighborhood congregated outside the house. They separated so the police car could park, then gathered around again. As he got out of the car, the first cop searched the crowd, asking which one of them had made the call.
They told the cop the house had been deserted for at least eight months. The owner, George Strauss, had an odd, but harmless reputation with his neighbors. The grass was waist high and the shrubbery so overgrown the first cop had to shove it out of the way with his nightstick as he and his partner made their way to the front door. They knocked, just in case, but no one answered. When they tried the door knob they weren’t surprised find it was locked. They gave it a few good kicks, then heard a loud crack as the door gave way. They stepped over the splintered door and found themselves standing in the middle of a dusty living room, its walls laced with filthy cobwebs.
The second they stepped inside they were hit by the putrid stench. The first cop gagged and clamped his hand over his nose and mouth in an attempt to dilute the stink. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen, but when he walked into the room, he realized it was coming from the basement. Fighting natural instincts, he followed the smell down the stairs and discovered the decomposed body of what appeared to be an adult male. It lay on the floor, the head a pulpy mess and the skin black with rot.
The cop took the stairs back up two at a time. In the kitchen he found his young partner vomiting into the dirty sink.
“Is there a dead body down there?” asked the second cop, wiping a sleeve over his mouth.
“How did you guess?” the first cop snarled. He pushed his partner toward the outside, needing to escape the smell. They stepped back over the wrecked door and into the sunlight, not meeting the curious eyes of the neighborhood. He turned his back to the crowd and spoke quietly to the younger cop. “Go back to the station house and tell them we need the medical examiner. Could be a homicide.”
The crowd stepped aside for the younger cop as he backed his car out of the space and drove away. The first cop faced the onlookers.
“No one goes in, you get it? This is now an official police crime site.”
The people immediately buzzed with words like “murder” and “dead body”, though none of them had seen anything yet. The reek spoke for itself. It was so thick, even outside in the fresh air, the cop felt like he’d never be able to wash the stink off. He walked to the corner of the building, looking for any kind of clues and breathing in relatively clean air.
On his way back he heard a commotion coming from the west side of the house and headed toward it. Could it be vandals? At first the only thing he saw was a birds’ nest on the ground, holding three dead baby birds. The mother bird was nowhere in sight. She’d obviously abandoned her babies a while back.
Then he heard a scream from inside the house. He ran inside, braving the smell again. Downstairs he discovered two teenage boys standing over the body. One of them looked as if he’d been about to search the corpse’s pockets, but had stopped short when some sort of liquid oozed out of the blackened mouth.
“One move and you’re both under arrest.”
The boys ran for the stairs, but the cop was too fast for them. He tripped the first boy, who fell flat on his face, and grabbed the other one around the waist, then handcuffed them together and pushed them to the floor. They were still there half an hour later, looking slightly green, when the medical examiner arrived.
“What are they doing here?” the M.E. asked as he bent down to examine the body.
“Learning a lesson I hope they never forget.” Lesson taught, he unlocked the handcuffs, grabbed both boys and dragged them upstairs. As he left, he heard the examiner sigh with resignation.
“It’ll be tough to identify this one,” he said.
***
After spending three days checking for a fingerprint match and looking through photographs of John Does that had gone missing during the last six months, the corpse discovered at 31 Jones Street remained unidentified. He became John Doe #67 for the year 1931.
The owner of the house, sixty-three-year-old George Strauss, was located at a veteran’s hospital in Colorado. He suffered from both alcoholism and diabetes. The first cop was able to speak to him by telephone.
“Do you know anything about the body we found at your house on Jones Street?”
“Nope.”
“Did anyone have a key to your house?”
“No. No one.”
“Why did you abandon it?”
“No money, no mortgage payments. It belongs to the bank. Maybe you should call them.”
“How long have you been in the hospital?”
“August 13 last year.”
“And you haven’t been inside the house since then?”
“Haven’t gone anywhere near it.”
The medical examiner estimated the corpse had been in the house for two months. George Strauss hadn’t been there in nine months, so he obviously hadn’t had anything to do with the murder. And based on how weak his voice sounded over the phone, the cop doubted the old man would have had the strength to harm anyone even if he had been around. They were back to square one.
“Tell you what, Sergeant,” said the old man. “You need to find my nephew, but I’ll be damned if I remember his name. Rudy … no, I think it’s Randy. Yeah, that’s it. Randy.”
“Randy Strauss.”
“No, he hated his father. Took his mother’s name instead. Damn it, I can’t remember what that name is. Give me some time and I’ll come up with it.”
“I’m sure you will.”
“Randy no-last-name” wasn’t much help at all. The cop said he’d keep in touch with George Strauss in case he remembered his nephew’s last name.
***
Laura walked into the baby’s nursery and her tiny daughter turned her head. She peered into the crib and saw the baby was awake. She reached in and wrapped her fingers around the warm little body, then lifted her up and snuggled her against her chest. Rachel cooed and her little head wobbled slightly when she tried to look up at her mother.
Laura was convinced this tiny girl was the most beautiful baby girl she’d ever seen, with her mother’s gold hair and her father’s blue eyes. At times Laura couldn’t believe how much she looked like Erich. Even though she was only two weeks old, Laura could tell Rachel had a more willful personality than Todd ever had. When she wanted something, she cried until she got it. Laura tried to be a firm parent, but most of the time all Rachel had to do was stare at her with those beautiful blue eyes, her father’s eyes, and she gave in. If she felt as if she were spoiling the baby, she made herself think of Todd, and it no longer mattered.
The baby seemed content in her mother’s arms, so Laura carried her out while she went to look for Mrs. Nickerson, who was helping her take care of Rachel a few days a week. She found her in the kitchen rearranging the shelves. Mrs. Nickerson smiled when she saw them, then reached for Rachel’s tiny fist.
“There, there. Let’s get that out of your mouth, shall we?”
Laura looked down and laughed. She hadn’t noticed Rachel had gotten a hold of a handful of Laura’s hair and was chewing on it. “Oh, you funny girl. That’s right. Get that out of your mouth.” She pulled the little fist of hair from Rachel’s toothless gums, then chuckled at the baby’s startled expression. “Will you just look at her?”
“I guess you’ve forgotten that Todd did the same thing,” Mrs. Nickerson said, smiling fondly.
“When he was this young?” She sighed and glanced at the nanny. “Oh, Iris. I’m only twenty-three years old and my memory’s already shot. Oh well. Iris, would you mind helping me bring up Todd’s old bassinet from storage?”
“No trouble at all. Why don’t we do it while she’s napping?” Iris suggested. “What are you going to use it for?”
“I’d like to keep her with me during the day as much as I can. She seems much happier when she isn’t by herself.”
Mother and daughter spent the remainder of the morning together while Laura worked on her memoirs and her second novel. Afterwards Laura read out loud what she’d written, then realized her audience had fallen asleep. So she continued to work until Rachel woke up, needing to be fed and changed. Once she was finished doing that, she went into the kitchen to make her own lunch.
“I was just coming to look for you,” Mrs. Nickerson said. “Here. Let me take the baby so you can have some time to yourself.”
Laura put her hand on the nanny’s arm and kissed the top of Rachel’s velvet-soft head. “When she’s out of my sight I can’t help thinking of her brother. But you can take her now. After I finish what I’m doing I’m meeting my aunt at her house. We’re going to do a little shopping. I hope you don’t mind staying here alone with the baby.”
“Of course not.” Iris Nickerson paused, then frowned at Laura. “I’m sorry, Laura. This may be none of my business, but well, I think you and I have known each other long enough for me to speak my mind.”
“Of course. You can say whatever you want to me, Iris. You know that.”
“When are you going to let the baby’s father know he has a child? He calls here several times a week, and you refuse to speak to him. He’s miserable without you, and you’re miserable without him. Why do you insist on punishing both him and yourself?”