Chapter 3: *** 03
Didn't take long walking through the house. Their eyes were peeled, all of their senses completely awake, as they absorbed every detail. Petty was a disconnected observer recording everything. Tom was an invested author building the story. Neither had much as they walked back out.
The neighbours were staring with greater curiosity and more openly than earlier. Tom sighed, knowing what was coming.
"I hate this neighbourhood," Petty remarked. The sharpness of her tone left no doubt.
Tom swallowed the words that he couldn't keep from birthing. Didn't Petty grow up in such a neighbourhood? He told himself it must be why she felt so strongly about all such neighbourhoods.
"Let's just do out job," he said, heading to the nearest house.
"If only there was perfection," Petty grumbled as she followed.
A middle aged woman was standing at the open door, looking at the detectives walking over. She wore a bright dress that covered her hands and fell just below her knees, matching shoes on her feet, a broad glass bangle on her right hand, a wristwatch on her left, with her hands clasped over her stomach. Her hair was combed and held in place by the wide headband, not a strand loose. Her face was powdered, not to look prettier but to look homely. She looked a pristine example of a housewife. She took the initiative to greet the detectives and welcome them in warmly.
"Hello detectives. I'm Brianna Ohwerlund. Please, how can I help?"
Tom was discomfited. Petty was used to such scenes. But she was too stirred. And he had to steer the conversation.
"Mrs Ohwerlund, thank you," he said in the nicest tone. "We received a report of a burglary in your neighbour's house. Did you see or hear anything?"
"The Persons? Today? I'm sorry. No. I didn't see anything. Are you unable to reach them, Mr and Mrs Persons?"
Tom didn't break eye contact, and continued.
"What can you tell us about the Persons?"
Mrs Ohwerlund was only too happy to share everything.
"The Persons. Hmm. What can I say? They moved in about two years ago. Most of us have been here for a lot longer. When Sandra and Drew, that's the Milwauees, told us they were selling their house and moving, we were all surprised. The Milwauees were among the first of us. Anyway, we were all curious about the Persons who were moving in. So, we were just a little extra attentive. This is a residential neighbourhood. You know how that is. The Persons were a nice family of three. Earl said he was a developer, whatever that is. Lily said she was a scientist at some research lab. Not the science scientist, like the title would suggest. A scientist of computers. Something to do with data analysis and cryptography. Never really understood what that meant. They were both always working, always at work. Never had the time to make it to any gatherings. That would be okay. But they never had the time for their poor daughter either. Sasha. Poor girl. She wasn't very sociable either. Always kept to herself. Had no friends. That's what happens when children don't have a good example to learn from."
"So, the Persons weren't home much?"
"If we didn't know the house was theirs, we wouldn't know they were living here. I'm next door to them, and I rarely see them. It's always Sasha, by herself."
"Sasha didn't have anyone over?"
Mrs Ohwerlund had a gleam in her eye, her voice lowered as if sharing tasteful gossip.
"It would have been fine if that was the case. A young girl, by herself, wouldn't be strange to have boys come over. Girls too, nowadays. But no, there was never anyone. And that's not all. It wasn't like Sasha was home all the time. She was out more than she was home. At least that's like a normal girl her age. Why? What's happened?"
"Nothing ma'am."
"Oh please," Mrs Ohwerlund cut in. "Ma'am is for old people. I'm not old. Not yet, at least. Still have many years in me, know what I mean."
"Yes, Mrs Ohwerlund," Tom said, with a straight face. "We didn't find anything, actually. Might have been a prank call. We're just checking to make sure."
"Yes, of course," Mrs Ohwerlund said knowingly. "Dotting the i's, crossing the t's. Think it might be Sasha? Might do the poor girl a lot of good if it was her."
"Thank you, Mrs Ohwerlund."
The detectives walked out. The women of the other houses saw the detectives with Mrs Ohwerlund, and seemed to be prepared. They looked every bit the housewife like Mrs Ohwerlund. Tom felt like he had walked into a studio shooting an episode of the Midland Housewives. Petty didn't make a sound, lest she scream at the women for their fake concern and their falsehood. The women repeated the words of Mrs Ohwerlund, as if rehearsed. No one saw anything that morning. The women were all convinced it was a prank call made by Sasha, even if the detectives weren't decided yet. Mrs Ohwerlund was the president of the house owners' association, and she volunteered the recordings of the security cameras. The detectives thanked her again, before leaving.
As they drove out of the neighbourhood, Petty breathed out in relief.
"It wasn't the best place to live in, but it wasn't that bad," Tom said from behind the wheel.
"You have no idea," Petty replied drily. "The teaser shows only the best scenes from the movie. And that is so much more than a movie."
Tom laughed. Then said nothing. They were silent all the way to the station, forgetting the unimportant details and gathering the important in their heads.
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