Empty House

Detective McGirth was lazy beyond his years.  Between his love of pork, pork rinds, mashed potatoes and dessert, he grew in size year after year.  A man waiting for a heart attack, some would say.

His wife, Lizzie had been pilfering from the community homeowner's association for years.  He enjoyed the run off from that money.  Shortly after he learned of this, the deputies told him they would cover for her crimes.  After all, police have a code of conduct.  And it isn't one for the citizen; it is a code for one another.  They do not squeal on fellow officers.  Ever.

Living in a small town, everyone knew or were related to everyone else.  The detective's wife was best friends with Julie's sister.  The wife knew about the affair and was happy Julie's sister had finally found a good man. As any man knows, when mama isn't happy, no one is happy.  McGirth would keep his wife's secret. He would also cover up the murder of Julie's boyfriend.

McGirth knew what was going on.  He only had to look at the lights that were on in Julie's bedroom and see the white van in her driveway to know.  When the lights slowly dimmed throughout the house, he knew.  McGirth was lazy, not stupid.

Julie didn't have a history of making good choices.  She, like her best friend, was also a spiteful kind of person.  When another woman, Carlie,  went after Julie's boyfriend, Julie wasn't about to give up so easy.

Carlie was highly allergic to bee stings.  She carried an Epi-pen with her at all times. Julie suggested Carlie and she hike in the mountains.  When Carlie went to the restroom, Julie put her her cloth clothes and removed her Epi-pen from her backpack and hid it.  She neatly tucked her cloth clothes back into her own backpack.  Since Carlie didn't know the trails, Julie volunteered to be her guide.

It was a hot day with no relief in sight.  A bee stung Carlie near her jugular vein and collapsed instantly.  Death ensued within ten minutes.

Julie lifted Carlie into the white van and covered her in 6 mil plastic and drove around until she stopped on a ridge near her best friend, Lizzie.  Lizzie would know what to do. But she wasn't sure she wanted to involve Lizzie.  When she heard the crushing of leaves as though someone or something was walking in her direction, she hid under the plastic.  As he footsteps got closer, she panicked and came out of the van.  She thought that no one would dare look inside so she could have time to conjure up a story.

Just then, Beth, Lizzie's neighbor who also knew Julie and her sister appeared by the white van.

They say families often have pathology. Or traits even.  Spitefulness was in Julie's family.  They would get even no matter the cost.  Betrayal was a curse throughout generations.


And get even they did. When Lizzie returned home, she found a note from Julie's inside her detective husband's jeans.

"Honey, meet me for coffee in town."

     -   Julie

Detective McGirth had been leaving for work early the past few months.

"It's quite an involved case," he told Lizzie.

But Lizzie suspected her best friend.  She had done it to others.  And she had no standards.

That night when the detective returned from work, Lizzie had her own surprise for him.

A large red sign hung from the second bedroom.

"Honey, meet me for coffee in town."
         - your girlfriend, Julie

McGirth stopped his patrol car dead in the driveway looking up.  He slowly walked to the front door and opened it.  The house was totally empty.

     

Fallen Oaks

I was beyond tired from the move.  Everything went exceedingly well.  I kept thinking about the woman in the woods with a Glock. She looked so familiar. For a moment, I thought it was my neighbor, Julie's sister.

Then there was the dead body in the van.  But I didn't dare take a look.

The following morning my  neighbor phoned.  Sometime in the middle of the night, Julie and her male friend died.  Right under the nose of the county sheriff's detective.  McGirth wasn't the sharpest pencil in the drawer.  Only last year he boasted of using his silencer to murder two coyotes in his yard.

"They could git my kids, " he said.

Beth did her best not to appear shocked.  After all, McGirth was her neighbor and she wanted to ensure some sense of civility with him.  But living in the southern Appalachians means just about everyone carries a weapon.  It also means people are cavalier about using them when wild animals enter their land.  Risk or not.

The children of the detective are preteens and the coyotes are clearly more afraid of them than to come close enough to do harm.  Besides, parents need to parent.  But Beth forgot, that children today are society's problem, not the responsibility of their parents.

The detective's wife is often seen driving her Lincoln SUV about town.  Beth never gave that much thought until the first homeowner's association meeting.  The detective's wife was on the board of Beth's community homeowner's association in the capacity of vice president.  The vice president/wife was also the next door neighbor and friend of the Oakwood Homeowner's Association president.  One would think a detective's wife who was also the association's vice president, would surely see a conflict of interest as the president deposited homeowner association dues into her personal account. 

When a new board was formed the following year, community representatives spoke to the Sheriff's department regarding this. They were escorted to a small room in the back of the department.  The door was closed abruptly. 

"You need to let this go," the lieutenant said.

The new president and her board were taken aback.  Speechless.  They wondered how a detective's salary could afford a new Lincoln SUV. They couldn't get out of the room fast enough.

There were other things that didn't fit. Detective McGirth lives in front of Julie.  To the right of him is the Pesty family.  The Pesty's have a surveillance camera posted facing their driveway and the road with a sweeping view.  Yet no one in the Sheriff's Department examined the suveillance footage.

Julie and her son were at odds for some time.  His girlfriend and he were arrested for severely injuring Julie last year. Both Julie and her son had numerous DUI charges against them. There were other problems.  Julie was constantly fighting with her sister.  The sister and her husband had been estranged for some time.
 

When Julie did not answer her phone for two days, a friend stopped by.  The back door of her home was left ajar.  Julie and her male friend were inside.  Julie was found on the floor, her male friend on the bed.  A gun was near his hand.  Both were unclothed.

Could the son have caught his mother and her friend in an intimate moment?  Could he have been on drugs at the time? Was Julie's sister, the woman I saw in the woods, the same woman I video'd on my cell phone involved?  Did the son seize the opportunity to destroy both of them since he was the only child and heir apparent to whatever Julie had accumulated financially?  This incident was kept secret for five days by the county Sheriff's Department.  

Six days after their deaths, Julie's family drove from Florida and completely emptied the house.  A For Sale sign went up the same day.  

Beth had been an investigative reporter for a few years.  She was shopping in a store in town, when the manager of a thrift shop happened by.  Beth had donated many things to the store and the thrift shop manager had been to her home numerous times picking up furniture in their truck.

"Hey, Beth, how have you been?"

"Fine, except for the allegedly murder-suicide in Oakwood."

"OMG, I knew that woman," the manager said.

"She told me just last week that there was a man that was going to kill her," the manager added.

The following day Beth was on her way to the airport.  Her flight was delayed and hour.  She knew the thrift store manager wouldn't contact the Sheriff's office with her information about Julie's death.  Beth contacted Detective McGirth who assured her he would call the manager and interview her.  

Even on the plane,  that never quite sat well with Beth. She decided to pay the woman another visit when she returned to town in a few days.

"Hey you, the store looks great!  Love the smell of apple cinnamon," Beth said.

"Thanks, we re-merchandised, do you really like it?"

"It is really attractive," Beth said.

"Should be, you sure donated enough here," the manager said.

"Hey, do you know Detective McGirth?"

"Do I know him?  He is one lazy man.  Didn't investigate the burglary in my sister's house.  He doesn't do a thing!" the manager said.

"Wait.  So he never stopped into the store to ask any questions?  I mean you are just down the street and everyone shops here."

"He never called or came to interview me.  Nothing," she said.

"This doesn't fit.  People do not quarrel or fight undressed, especially women."

Beth requested a copy of the autopsy from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in North Carolina. No toxicology studies were done.  Inspection of the police report never discussed fingerprints on the gun allegedly used other than it was a Glock. Nor was her home dusted for fingerprints. The report said it all.

Suicide.

There was far more to the story.  Why was the detective in such a hurry to close out this case?