Every House Has a Secret - 38

 

Rand and Brady spent the next few evenings packing things they wouldn't need before their move. Saturday, they went shopping for curtains and rods to hang them on, and then installed them.

 

"They definitely make the house homier," Rand said when they finished. "All it needs is our furniture, pictures on the walls, books on the library shelves."

 

"All of the above," Brady agreed. "It'll happen on Monday."

 

They were taking Monday off from their respective jobs to be there when the movers arrived, and then at the house to tell them where they wanted everything.

 

Because of that, they spent much of Sunday finishing their packing, only breaking to eat lunch. By that evening they were exhausted, but happily so. With all the pots, pans, and dishes in boxes, they went out to eat.

 

"Twenty-four hours and we'll be cooking in our new home," Rand said as they waited for their meals to arrive.

 

"Or we'll be falling on our faces, because we've unpacked one too many boxes trying to get everything in order in one day."

 

"That, too. Then we'll order pizza to celebrate."

 

"Sounds like a plan to me," Brady replied.

 

They did exactly that Monday evening, sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace in their new living room. They'd barely finished eating when the doorbell rang.

 

Figuring it had to be Ken and Carol, Brady opened the door, saying, "You're too late, we ate the whole thing."

 

"The whole what?" Colin asked with a bit of amusement.

 

"Well, damn. What are you doing here, and how did you find…? Never mind. I know how you found us. Come on in."

 

Colin did, pausing to look around the entryway before following Brady into the living room. He stopped in the center of the room, taking it all in.

 

"You did a fantastic job. I'd never know it was the same house Frank and I saw when we were looking for the gun."

 

"Thanks," Rand said. "Have a seat." He gestured to the armchair next to the sofa. "We have beer, if you want one. Then you can tell us why you're here."

 

"I'd love one, thank you." Once Colin was seated, beer in hand, he said, "I had a long talk with Dad. I wanted to tell you in person and since the store is closed today, here I am."

Every House Has a Secret - 37

 

 

Ken and Carol were standing on the porch. Ken said, glancing at his wife, "She's nosy. She wants to see what you've done to the place."

 

"Yeah, blame it on me," she retorted. "It was his idea." She winked at Brady.

 

Brady laughed, stepping aside to let them in. "We'll give you the grand tour."

 

They did, eliciting 'oohs' and 'ahs' from their neighbors. 

 

"It's absolutely beautiful," Carol said when they back in the living room again.

 

"If a bit empty," Ken added.

 

"That's the next step, moving," Rand replied.

 

"If you need help, holler," Ken said.

 

Brady shook his head. "Thanks, but we're going to be practical and hire a moving company. Given the amount of furniture we have, or don't have, it might still look half empty when we're finished."

 

Carol grinned. "Then you get to go shopping." She looked around. "Curtain rods and curtains for every room, a couple of throw rugs in here, pictures for the walls."

 

"Carol," Ken muttered.

 

"Pictures, we have," Rand told her. "And throw rugs." He glanced at his husband. "I guess we go shopping again for more rods and curtains. What we have at the apartment will work…for all of four windows."

 

Carol made a couple of suggestions for what else they needed before Ken told her, "Enough. I'm sure they have a list that's a page long already."

 

"Half a page," Brady said, sighing. "It's never ending."

 

"Give it a month and you'll be settled in and won't need anything more," Ken told him. "Right now, I'm taking my shopaholic home before she comes up with any more ideas."

 

"They're nice people," Rand said when the Malones had left.

 

"You're just figuring that out?"

 

"Well…no. We'd better get back to the apartment. We have a lot to do and it won't get done standing here, admiring our handiwork."

 

"Ain't that the truth?"

Every House Has a Secret - 36

 

 

"Damn it, we forgot all about the bathroom," Rand grumbled.

 

"It's not like it's going anywhere," Brady replied, patting his shoulder. "We have time, now that we've solved the mystery of the gun and the photos. We'll stop by the home improvement store to choose a new toilet then Nick can install it. Once he has, we'll paint and be done with it."

 

In theory, that sounded fine. In point of fact, when they saw all the options for bathroom fixtures, Brady and Rand spent an hour choosing a new sink, a medicine cabinet, and towel racks. The only thing they ended up keeping was the claw foot tub, which they asked Nick to convert into a shower.

 

"Come on, you can do it yourselves," he said. "There's a ton of how-to videos on You Tube."

 

"Twenty dollars says you'll do a better job of it, and we won't end up with a flooded bathroom," Brady replied.

 

"Make it fifty and I'll do it. But if you tell anyone I did it that cheap, I'll send you a bill for the difference."

 

Brady laughed, and agreed. Two days later, Nick had everything installed, including new tile on the floor—for a lot more than fifty dollars all told, but Brady had run out of services to trade him for his work.

 

Then Brady and Rand painted the bathroom and it was ready to use.

 

"A thing of beauty," Rand proclaimed.

 

"The whole house is."

 

"I think Emila would be proud of us," Rand said softly.

 

"I agree. We've put our heart and souls into making the house a home, our home, and it shows."

 

"It does. Now all we have to do is move in."

 

"That might be a good idea," Brady agreed.

 

The doorbell chimed seconds after he said that. Giving each other puzzled looks, they hurried down to answer.

Every House Has a Secret - 35

 

 

"I don't understand why he gave it to me in the first place," Colin said.

 

"He was old and knew he was dying," Brady replied. "He wanted to clear his conscious, but at the same time I suspect he didn't want to destroy the love your father and uncle had for him, or the hatred they held for their father. That's what he meant by the note, saying it could harm other people if you showed it to them. He trusted you, even though you were only a child when he wrote it."

 

"Which may have been before he told me and Frank about Grandpa Dennis, or his version of it."

 

"Since he didn't date the confession, we'll never know. Personally, I have the feeling he wrote it after he told you the story about Emila's death and what happened with your grandfather Dennis. He wanted to get your reaction first."

 

"We were kids! How did he expect us to react?" Colin smiled wry. "We thought it was an exciting story, like something out of a movie. It wasn't personal to us, as far as I remember. It wasn't until we were older that we asked Dad more about it. I'll give him one thing, despite his feeling about Grandpa Hodges, he didn't try to make us hate him, too. He laid out the facts and left it at that. I guess he was mellowing a bit, since it had happened so long ago."

 

"Whatever the reason, your father was a wise man," Rand said. "Hatred can only exist for so long before it becomes more harmful to the one carrying it than to the person who inspired it. Passing it on to someone else will cause more harm than good." Rand chuckled. "And that's my philosophical statement for the day."

 

"It's a good one; and something Ethan should have thought about before he indoctrinated my father and uncle to hate their father," Colin replied.

 

"I agree."

 

"Do you have any questions for us, Colin?" Brady asked.

 

"Not that I can think of at the moment."

 

"Then we should probably leave. It past late and we all could use some sleep."

 

"Hang on a second," Rand said, taking an envelope from his pocket. "With all of this, I almost forgot. These are copies of the photos we found with the gun." He handed the envelope to Colin.

 

When Colin looked at them, he said softly, "They were so young. Too young to have to go through what they did." He studied the one with Emila and the boys. "It's hard to tell from this, but she was a lovely woman. Dad has some photos of her and Grandpa. It was obvious Grandpa adored her from the expression on his face, and she felt the same about him. I wish Dad had believed that."

 

"If he didn't, why did he keep the pictures?" Rand asked.

 

"I asked him, once. He said, despite his personal feelings, Dennis was my grandfather and I had a right to know what he looked like, especially since I take after him." Colin tried to cover a yawn, apologizing when he couldn't.

 

"As Rand said, it's very late," Brand told him. "Would it be possible for you to make a copy of the confession for us? We could pick it up before we leave in the morning. I promise we'll do nothing with it, or the gun, without your permission."

 

"I can do it now. I have a printer in my office." Without waiting for a reply, Colin picked up the papers and went into a room off the living room. He returned minutes later, handing Brady a fresh file folder containing the copy.

 

"Thank you for talking to us," Brady said.

 

"You're welcome." Colin smiled. "Honestly, it took a load off my mind, so I should be thanking you."

 

"You're welcome, as well. If you have any questions, or just need to talk, you can reach me here." Brady gave him one of his cards after writing his personal phone number and Rand's on it. "Feel free to call any time."

 

"All right." Colin walked them to the door. "If you learn anything more…"

 

"We'll let you know, I promise."

Every House Has a Secret - 34

 

 

"Damn," Rand said when they finished reading. "What a hateful son of a bitch."

 

"He was," Colin agreed. "He did his best to turn my father and uncle against my grandfather, and succeeded."

 

"Have you shown his confession to them?" Brady asked.

 

""No. I did let my brother read it. That was in twenty-oh-five, soon after I turned twenty-one and the lawyer gave it to me. We talked about it, and Frank and I decided to see if we could find the gun. There was one problem, though. Grandpa Hodges was living in the house. Since we barely knew him, we could hardly drop in and search for it without his wondering what the hell was going on."

 

"You could have told him about the confession," Brady pointed out.

 

"First we had to prove to ourselves the story was real. If it wasn’t, then Grandpa was everything that Ethan had told us, back when we were kids. That meant finding the gun, which we couldn't do while Grandpa was there." Colin sighed. "It was sort of damned if you do, damned if you don't. Then, five years later, he died. We took a big chance, but we knew he'd left the house to Alan and Steven. We figured the realtor wouldn't know what they looked like, so we pretended to be them so we could get the keys and make copies of them. Then we spent as many weekends as possible searching the house. We'd decided, if we did find the gun, we'd show Dad and Uncle Dennis the confession because we'd have proof it was the truth, not the ramblings of a dying man who may have made everything up because it was what he had wanted to happen. Does that make sense?"

 

"Yes," Brady replied. "The gun does exist. We found it, along with photos of your father and uncle when they were young, and of your grandmother. You two probably wouldn't have unless you'd literally torn the house apart."

 

"The photos are one reason we came up here," Rand said. "We thought you might like copies of them."

 

Colin nodded. "I would love them. Did you tell Dad you had them?"

 

"I did," Rand said. "He said he didn't want to see them."

 

"I can understand, I guess. They would only bring back bad memories. "

 

"Exactly what he implied," Rand told him.

 

"What will you do with the gun?" Colin asked, looking torn—as if having proof the confession was the truth was more than he had hoped for, and yet not what he'd wanted. "This has been a heavy secret to carry for all these years, but what recourse did Frank and I have, with no proof?"

 

"None, I think," Brady replied compassionately. "Technically, I should turn the gun, and the confession, over to a detective I know on the force."

 

Colin cocked his head in question. "Technically?"

 

"Yes. I'm a private investigator. I'm not supposed to withhold evidence. However in this case, I don't see what purpose it would serve to give it to my friend. Everyone involved is dead. Why subject you and the rest of your family to the publicity that would ensue once the story got out about what happened."

 

"You're a reporter, or so you told me," Colin said to Rand. "Do you agree?"

 

"Absolutely. As far as I'm concerned, the only people who will know we found the gun will be you and whomever you choose to show the confession to, if you decide to tell anyone about it other than your brother."

 

Every House Has a Secret - 33

 

 

Brady opened the folder, taking out the papers it contained. With Rand leaning against his shoulder, they read them.

 

* * * *

 

Before I die, which will happen sooner than later because my cancer is terminal, I need to set the record straight.

 

When my beloved daughter, Emila, was murdered, I knew who to blame. My son-in-law, Dennis Hodges. If he had been there when the burglars broke in, she would be alive today. Instead, he allowed his job to take precedence. While he was off tracking down some criminal, a pair of bastards decided to break into his home. From what the police could determine, Emila surprised them in the act and they murdered her.

 

I will never forgive him for that.

 

A month later, he was dismissed from the police force for conduct unbecoming an officer. At that point, my wife and I took his sons under our wings, as he was in our estimation, unfit to bring them up properly.

 

Between the death of my daughter, and our taking the boys, I was able to find out who the murders were. It took time, but with the help of a lawyer I knew with contacts in the police department where Dennis had worked, I learned their identities. Why Dennis hadn't done the same, I can't say. Perhaps he did and was too cowardly to take things into his own hands. Perhaps he didn't know where they were, anymore than the other fools in the department did.

 

As a defense lawyer, I had clients of what I would call less than reputable character. It took me almost a month to find one who knew someone in the city where Dennis lived who might know the men who had murdered my daughter, and where they had gone to ground. I spoke with him, and he was willing to tell me, for a price.

 

I planned it carefully and was about to fly out to deal with them when Dennis went off the rails and beat and almost killed a man he'd arrested for burglary and other crimes. I took advantage of that, deciding it only added fuel to what would seem to be his reason for killing the two men who had murdered his wife—my beloved daughter.

 

The day after his hearing in front of Internal Affairs, which led to his dismissal from the force, I caught a flight to the city, ostensibly to talk with him about our taking the boys for a short time until he was more emotionally stable. I suggested he find a sitter for them so we could talk in private, which he did. I had no intention of meeting him. Instead, I paid visits to the killers and dealt with them, using what is called a Police Special or to be exact, a Smith and Wesson Model Ten exactly like the one I knew Dennis used to carry. It did my heart good to watch the bastards cower before I shot them.

 

With that done, I drove to a phone booth a block from his house and called Dennis, asking him to meet me at a local bar for a drink while we talked. I watched as he left the house, then broke in through the back door, planted the gun I'd used on a shelf in his boys' closet, under a pile of their winter sweaters.

 

Then, I left town. I honestly expected him to be arrested within a day or two of the police finding the bodies of the killers. He wasn't. Instead, the incompetent detective investigating their deaths put it down to a falling out among gang members. 

 

When my wife and I returned a week later to pick up the boys and make the final arrangements for our having custody of them, I took the opportunity to check if the gun was where I'd left it. It wasn't. I can only presume Dennis found it and did something with it. It may still be in the house as he had to know I was the one who left it there. If he hated me as much as I hated him, he may have hidden it, hoping to use it against me to regain custody of his sons. If that was the case, he never did. Instead, a few years later, he remarried and had more sons, before she divorced him and took them.

 

Now he has lost all his children, just as I lost my beloved Emila.

 

I suppose justice was served, although not as I'd planned it.

Every House Has a Secret - 32

 

 

Rand glanced at Brady, who nodded, then said to Colin, "You're right, we did buy your grandfather's house. It's in bad shape, but—" Rand pointed a finger at him, "—I think you know that already. We're restoring it and in the process we found something." He stared hard at Colin. "Something I think you and your brother were looking for."

 

"The gun." Colin looked as if he regretted saying that the moment the words were out of his mouth.

 

"Yes," Brady replied before Rand could. "You found out about it, somehow, and… Well, I don't know why you want it, but you do."

 

"To clear my grandfather of the deaths of the men who killed my grandmother. Before you say anything, I know he was never accused of that, but if anyone found the gun he would have been."

 

"You sound as if you're certain it wasn't him," Rand said.

 

Colin took a deep breath. "Can we meet at my house tonight? I have something I need to show you."

 

"What?"

 

"I'd rather not say right now."

 

Rand nodded. "What time?"

 

"We close at nine, so nine-thirty?"

 

"All right. Can you recommend a decent motel? I've got the feeling whatever you want us to see, and talk about afterward, will take time."

 

"It probably will," Colin admitted. He gave them the name of a motel he said wasn't too far from where he lived.

 

"We'll see you tonight."

 

Colin nodded as he got up. Rand and Brady followed him into the main room of the bookstore.

 

When Rand stopped to look at one of the shelves, Brady chuckled. "Have at it. We've got a few hours to kill. Just don't buy the place out."

 

Rand didn't, although he did pick up a book that interested him. Then they went in search of the motel, and dinner afterward. They agreed not to speculate on what Colin had to show them, figuring they'd be way off base, not matter what.

 

At nine-thirty, they were parking in front of a small house in a residential neighborhood of the city. Colin opened the door as they walked up the path, ushering them into the living room as soon as they were inside.

 

Once they were seated, Rand and Brady on the sofa, Colin in an armchair across from them, Colin picked up a folder from the side table. "Before Ethan Barrett died, he made out his will. One of the provisos in it was that I, because I'm older than my brother, would get this when I turned twenty-one. His lawyer sent it to me via priority mail and I had to sign for it, which tells you how important it is." He smiled grimly. "Or how important his lawyer though it was. He was right."

 

"What is it?" Brady asked.

 

"Ethan's confession.," Colin replied. "He murdered the two men who killed my grandmother, then tried to frame my grandfather by planting the gun in his house."

 

"Damn," Rand said softly.

 

Brady nodded. "The second part of his plan obviously didn't work."

 

"It didn't," Colin agreed, handing Brand the folder. On the cover was written, in a crabbed hand, 'For Colin Norman Hodges only. Colin, I hope you use discretion once you have read this and keep it to yourself. It could harm too many people if you don't."

'Kent and the Dangerous Man' is out today!

 Kent and the Dangerous Man

Kent and the Dangerous Man : JMS Books LLC, a queer small press (jms-books.com)

 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09948RTKD

 

Kent and the Dangerous Man by Edward Kendrick | NOOK Book (eBook) | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)

 

Kent and theDangerous Man eBook by Edward Kendrick - 9781646567829 | Rakuten Kobo UnitedStates

 

GENRE: Gay Mystery Romance
LENGTH: 45,115 words
RATING:

Their first meeting is fraught with tension when Jordan, ex-cop and self-employed bodyguard, accuses Kent of following him. He believes Kent could be going after his present client. Kent takes umbrage with that, since the only reason he's ever been in the same area as Jordan was while picking his sister Kelly up from work.

They meet again, when Jordan approaches Kent to apologize for his accusations, and they part on marginally amiable terms.

Then Kelly disappears, and Kent is certain the man she's been dating is responsible. A man he's never met. With no proof he can take to the police, he asks Jordan to find her. Because her disappearance eerily echoes that of the unsolved case which caused Jordan to quit the force, he agrees to look for her.

Now all they have to do is locate Kelly, alive, while fighting their slowly growing interest in each other.

EXCERPT:

As Kent got out of the car, he could tell from the crowds he saw ahead of him that it was a busy evening at the Art Walk. Not terribly surprising as the late May weather was perfect for spending an evening outdoors.

He wended his way through the crowds, sometimes going into one of the galleries if something caught his eye. As he exited one of them he overheard two guys in their late teens talking about some of the graffiti they'd seen in one of the alleys behind the shops and decided to check it out. He'd always had a soft spot for street art, deeming some of it more creative than a lot of the paintings hanging in the galleries.

The alley between Ninth and Tenth, paralleling Santa Fe, was surprisingly well lit so he was able to study much of the graffiti. Some of it was amateurish, but the majority made his walk well worth it. One piece in particular mesmerized him with the amount of detail the artist had been able to achieve using only cans of spray paint.

"Impressive, for what it is," a man said from behind him, his voice deep and intense.

Kent spun around and then took two steps back, his eyes widening in shock. "What are you doing here?" he managed to get out.

"I might ask you the same question," the Dangerous Man replied. "Are you following me?"

With a gulp, Kent said, "I was here first so maybe you're following me?"

"I did when I saw you come down the alley. Before that? No. Quite the contrary in fact. It seems every time I turn around there you are."

Since the man was keeping his distance, or at least hadn't come any closer, Kent smiled briefly. "I've seen you three times before today. All of them when I was waiting to pick up ..." He almost said, "My sister," but decided that might not be his best idea. "A friend to go out to dinner."

The man gave a sharp shake of his head. "A pat explanation, but not terribly believable, especially now."

"It's the truth, damn it."

"Who is this ... friend?"

"That's none of your damned business." Kent was beginning to get pissed at the man's inquisition.

"I'm making it my business. I don't like being spied on. Downtown, on Colorado, here. Shall I go on?"

"Huh? Where on Colorado?"

The man seemed to think about that, the gaze of his steel-gray eyes moving from Kent to the far end of the alley and back again. "In the area around Eighth."

Kent barked out a laugh. "Since I live a couple of blocks from there, that's not too surprising."

"I'm aware of that." He paused a beat. "Mr. Ryland."

"How the hell ...?"

"When I think someone's more interested in me than I like, I make it my business to find out who they are. In your case it wasn't too hard. I made note of your license plate the second time I saw you in LoDo, sitting in your car when I walked by. After that, it was easy enough to find out your full name and address."

"Do you do that with any car that happens to be around you?" Kent asked scathingly.

"Not all of them." The man's lips turned up momentarily. "Only the ones that show up once too often at the same time of day I happen to be in the area, at meters or in on-the-street parking spots limited to ten to fifteen minutes."

"If someone did want to track your movements don't you think they'd be a little smarter than that?"

"Presumably, but I'm not willing to take the chance." Again, the man checked the end of the alley, this time in both directions. "How about we take this discussion somewhere less secluded and a bit safer?"

"How about we forget we ever met. I'll go home, you go ... wherever it is you hang out that you'd rather no one knows about."

"I prefer my suggestion." The man pulled back his jacket just enough to let Kent see the butt of a pistol in a shoulder holster.

Kent sucked in a breath. "I suppose I could be convinced, as long as it's in public, like the coffee shop I saw a couple of blocks from here."

"That's fine with me." The man started toward the near end of the alley, stopping when Kent didn't move. "Relax. I'm not going to shoot you as long as you don't give me a reason to. Right now, we're two friends taking in everything the Art Walk has to offer."

"In an alley."

"That was your choice. Now, move it."

Kent bristled at the man's harsh words but did as he was ordered.

 

Every House Has a Secret - 31

 

Rand called Colin Hodges, gave him the reason he'd come up with for wanting to interview him. When Colin agreed to speak with him, Rand said he could be at Colin's place around noon Saturday morning.

 

"I'll be at work," Colin had told him. "I own a bookstore and Saturday is one of our busy days so wait until after two, please."

 

"No problem. I'll see you then."

 

The bookstore was very busy, as Rand and Brady found out when they arrived there Saturday afternoon. They stopped at the front counter, telling the clerk they were looking for Colin. She gestured distractedly toward a door at the back before moving on to the next customer in line.

 

Rand rapped on the door, which opened seconds later.

 

"Mr. Jordner?" the man standing there asked.

 

"Yes. I presume you're Colin Hodges."

 

"I am. Come in, please." Colin looked at Brady in question.

 

After Rand introduced him as his colleague, they all took seats around the desk in the center of the room. Rand was sorely tempted to stop and check out the books in the cases lining one wall, but resisted.

 

"I'm not quite certain why you want to talk with me about my grandmother's murder," Colin said. "I wasn't even alive when it happened."

 

"But you know about it, according to your father," Rand replied.

 

"Yes." Colin frowned. "You've talked with him as part of your story?"

 

"I have. He said your great grandfather, Ethan Barrett, told you about it. What were your feelings when that happened?"

 

Colin shrugged. "I was eight when he did. I think, from what I remember, I thought it was scary and exciting at the same time, if that makes sense."

 

"It does. He also told you about your grandfather Dennis and what happened with him."

 

"Yes." Colin's mouth tightened. "He blamed him for my grandmother's death."

 

"Do you?"

 

Rather than replying to Rand's question, Colin asked, "What does this have to do with the story you said you're writing about police procedures back then compared to today?"

 

"Background," Rand replied. "Human interest."

 

"I don't believe you."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because I'm not stupid. After we set up the appointment, I decided to find out if you really were what you said. You are, as far as being a reporter. A fairly respected one from what I learned. However…" Colin looked dead at him. "You also own the house that used to belong to my grandfather, which made me wonder if that's the real reason you wanted to talk to me. I called Dad. He said you'd called him, so I got in touch with my uncles. It seems you also talked with them."

 

"I told you I spoke with your father," Rand said.

 

"But…it had nothing to do with this so-called story you claim you're writing. The same with my uncles." Colin leaned back, crossing his arms. "Do you want to tell me the truth? If not, please leave."

 

Every House Has a Secret - 30

 

 

"Did you call George's kids?" Rand asked when Brady told him about his conversation with George Hodges.

 

"Not yet. I did find addresses to go with the phone numbers, which allowed me to do a bit more research into the bothers. Colin lives upstate and owns a bookstore."

 

"I like him already," Rand said.

 

Brady shook his head, muttering, "Of course you do. Frank lives a bit farther away and works for a plumbing company."

 

"Married?"

 

"Neither of them is."

 

"Maybe this weekend we should go visit Colin. It would be much easier to read his reactions in person than on the phone."

 

"On what pretext?" Brady asked. "We can hardly accuse him of pretending to be one of the Thatchers without proof."

 

"I'm a reporter. I'll tell him I'm doing a series on murders in the late sixties and how the police handled them, compared to what they would do today with the same case."

 

Brady eyed his husband. "You just came up with that off the top of your head?"

 

"Well, no. I was thinking about how we could get them to talk to us while doing an interview with a real estate developer who's trying to convince a neighborhood group they really need to have a fifteen story apartment complex in their area. Not sure what the connection between that and the Hodges brothers is, but…"

 

"You were bored with the interview and your mind wandered?"

 

Rand chuckled. "Maybe. The guy did keep talking without saying anything new or relevant. But then those types are good at that."

 

"I'm sure. Okay, we'll plan on going up there on Saturday. You should call first, to make certain he'll be there."

 

"Yeah, and hope it doesn't scare him away."

 

"I doubt it will. If we're right and it was him and his brother posing as the Thatchers, and they were searching for the gun or something else, he might welcome the chance to talk about his grandmother's murder."

 

"Let's hope."

Every House Has a Secret – 29

 

 

After a long pause, the man said, "I'm the George Hodges you're looking for. I'm not certain I want the photos, if that's what you're asking. I don't know if you're aware of it, but my father was thrown off the police force after he nearly killed a man he was arresting. At that point, my grandparents gained custody of me and my brother and I never saw my father again."

 

"I do know about what happened, and about your mother's murder. I'm sorry. I know talking about it must be painful."

 

"At one time it was," George replied. "Now it's past history although I don't like being reminded of it, which is why I don't think I want to see the pictures."

 

"If you don't, perhaps your sons would. I'd be willing to send them copies if it's all right with you. Do they know what happened?"

 

George sighed. "They do. Their great-grandfather, Ethan, told them, much against my wishes, the last time he visited us before his death. They were too young to understand, but he insisted they had to know."

 

"I suppose in his eyes, it was a necessary part of their family history. Personally, I can see why you objected. How did they react?"

 

"At the time it seemed like a fairytale to them, I think. But they did remember and when they were older they asked me about it. I told them the truth because I had no love for my father. Ethan drummed it out of me. My boys were more forgiving, but then they'd grown up in the age of action movies so what he did wasn't, well I guess shocking is the best word for it. They did want to know if their grandmother's killers had been caught. All I knew was the fact the police believed they'd been killed by other members of the gang they were in. That seemed to satisfy them." He chuckled wryly. "Justice served, I suppose."

 

"Undoubtedly. Do you think they might like the photos, or copies of them? One of them shows your mother, although only in profile."

 

"You can call and ask. Do you have a pen and paper?" When Brady said he did, George gave him the phone numbers.

 

"Thank you for talking with me," Brady said.

 

"You're welcome. I will admit your call came out of right field. I thought any interest in what happened was long dead."

 

"I hope talking about it didn't upset you."

 

"No," George replied. "As I told you, I learned a long time ago to live with it. Dwelling on it won't bring my mother back, or change what my father did. I suspect it's why Ethan took us in and kept my father away from us. I think in one part of his mind, he blamed my father for what happened to Mom. He wasn't there when the burglars broke in because he was working late on a case. Something he did a lot, from what I remember."

 

"One of the drawbacks to being married to a cop," Brady replied.

 

"Or any other professional who puts the job over family."

 

"Very true," Brady agreed. "All right, I'll let you go. Again, thanks for talking with me."

 

            "You're welcome."

Every House Has a Secret - 28

 

For the next two days, when he had a few free moments, Brady concentrated on finding Colin and Frank Hodges, George Hodges's sons. Before he did, however, he roughed out a timeline on the various family members in order of marriages and births.

 

(1) Ethan Barrett died 1992 - father of—

(2) Emila Barrett who marries Dennis Hodges. They have two sons

(2a) Dennis Jr. born 1957 and George born 1960.

(2b) Emila murdered 1969

(3) Dennis Hodges marries Irene Long in 1974. They have two sons

(3a) Alan born 1976 and Steven born 1977

(4) Irene divorces Dennis, marries Thatcher who adopts Alan and Steven

(5) George Hodges has two sons. Colin born 1984 and Frank born 1985

(6) Dennis Hodges dies 2010

 

With that accomplished, he moved on to Ethan Barrett's obituary, which he found in the Columbus Daily Dispatch from October of nineteen-ninety-two.

 

It listed his surviving relatives, including Dennis Hodges Junior, and George Hodges, as well as their children. At the time of Barrett's death, George was living in Athens, Georgia. Brady could only presume his sons were there, too, at that point, as they would have been in their teens. But that was then. Where are they now?

 

He ran a search for George Hodges in Athens and came up with four of them. Thankfully, only one was within the correct age-range, so he called him.

 

When a man answered, Brady introduced himself then said, "I'm looking for George Hodges, the son of Dennis Hodges. I hope you're him."

 

"Why?" the man asked.

 

"We recently bought Mr. Hodges house. In the process of renovating it we found some photos which we believe are of you and your brother, if you are Mr. Hodges's son."

 

"'We' as you and your wife, I presume."

 

"Yes." Brady decided to let him think that, rather than going into a long explanation about his being married to a man. No sense in taking the chance he's prejudiced, which he might be given where he's living. He knew that made him just as prejudiced in a different way, but so be it.

 

Every House Has a Secret - 27

 

 

Brady gave Rand's suggestion some serious thought before shaking his head. "What good would it do at this late date? None that I can see, with Hodges dead. On top of that, it might, probably would, bring unwanted attention down on Hodges's kids if it proved Hodges killed those guys. Reporters would have a field day and you know it."

 

"Yeah. Sometimes I wonder about some of the members of my chosen profession. The story is everything and damn who gets hurt in the process."

 

"No kidding." Brady gave his husband a hug. "You, of course, are the sterling exception."

 

"Of course. You wouldn't have married me if I wasn't."

 

"Probably not, although the heart can often overlook some obvious faults."

 

"Like when you insist on squeezing the toothpaste from the middle?" Rand grinned.

 

"Yep, even that. Okay, back to this." Brady pointed to the file. "If I were to make a guess, Hodges killed them and then hid the gun, along with the photos of his wife and kids. Why with the photos? Who knows? Maybe to convince himself that what he'd done was justified. At that point, he had the house to himself. It wouldn't have been hard to make the hidey-hole then replaster and repaint without anyone knowing. Every time he was in the living room he could look at the spot and know he'd done the right thing—in his mind."

 

"Then someone found out. One of Emila's sons, probably. But how?"

 

"A good question."

 

"So when we find them, because we know it wasn't the Thatcher brothers the realtor met, we ask."

 

"It wasn't Dennis Junior or George, either. They're way too old now to have been the men the realtor talked to."

 

"I'd say they were George's sons," Rand said. "Dennis Junior only has daughters."

 

"I agree. I'll start tracking them down, but not tonight. We have painting to do, as you pointed out when I got home."

 

"Then let's get moving."

 

Every House Has a Secret - 26

 

 

The email arrived moments later, Brady forwarded it to his personal email, then closed up and went home.

 

When he got there, Rand was in the kitchen making supper. After sharing a kiss, he told Brady to go change. "We have a house to paint."

 

"Yes, boss."

 

"Did you find out anything about the murder?"

 

"Maybe. But since you're so hell-bent on our painting…"

 

"Brady," Rand growled.

 

"Vern sent me a file. I haven't had a chance to look at it yet."

 

"Now would be a good time, if you have it with you."

 

"It's in my email. I'll get changed, we'll eat, and then we'll see what's in it."

 

"Or look while we're eating."

 

Brady hugged him. "That, too, impatient one." He went to change into an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days. By the time he'd finished, supper was on the table, along with his laptop.

 

They waited until they'd made inroads into their meal before Brady turned the laptop on and retrieved the email from Vern. He opened the file it contained, Rand moved next to him, and they began reading.

 

"As Vern said, the cops had the killers' fingerprints. What he didn't tell me was that they went under the radar after the murder. If Hodges was able to locate them…" 

 

"It could explain the gun we found," Rand said.

 

"I think so. Hodges decided to go on a vendetta after he was dismissed from the force. I'm surprised no one connected him to the killers' deaths."

 

"According to this," Rand tapped a paragraph at the bottom of the file, "they were put down to a falling out among thieves."

 

"Lousy police work, if you ask me. If one of them killed the other, who killed him?"

 

"Like it says, the detective in charge of the case found out they were part of a gang of burglars and decided the other members didn't like all the attention that was focused on Mrs. Hodges's murder and took care of the problem."

 

"I don't believe it for a second," Brady said. "Okay, I might have if we hadn't found the gun. Even the detective must have had his doubts because according to this he did look at Hodges, but there wasn't any proof he killed them."

 

"So what now? Do we turn the gun over to Vern?"