Silent Neighbor

CHAPTER FIVE

Rosa Ramirez lived in an apartment just on the cusp of the nicer edge of the downtown district. When she took the call from Nolan, she seemed quite eager to help Chloe and Rhodes. When they arrived at her apartment at 4:30, it was clear that she had straightened up her place just for them. She even had coffee and graham crackers set out on her coffee table as snacks.

“Ms. Ramirez,” Chloe said, “how long had you been working for the Fairchilds? As I understand it, they had only been in town for about five weeks.”

“That’s right. I responded to a help wanted ad I saw online. This was about a week before they even moved out here. They wanted everything set up and ready to go when they moved in. That included a house cleaner. I even stepped in to help them unpack some of their things.”

“Did they seem grateful for the help?”

“Yes. It was clear that they weren’t exactly used to people so willing to help out.”

Chloe helped herself to the coffee even though she usually tried to limit her caffeine intake. She wanted Rosa to feel at ease; a comfortable witness or lead was often more prone to stumble across truths they may not even realize they had.

“Were there ever any cross words between you and the Fairchilds?” Rhodes asked.

“No, not a single one. Honestly, I even went in asking for a rate a little over what I typically ask for and there weren’t even any negotiations. Neither of them ever spoke a negative or cross word to me.”

“What about the two of them?” Chloe asked. “Did you ever see them arguing?”

“No. I’ve been trying to think about that myself but I can’t think of a single time. Now, keep in mind that for the five weeks I worked for them, I only saw them together two different times. Mark was usually off on business.”

“Any idea where he would go on these business trips?”

“All over. But I think it was primarily on the east coast. Boston, DC, New York.”

“Do you know if Jessie resented him for it?”

“If she did, she hid it well. She kept herself busy. Like really busy. I don’t know that she gave herself time to even really notice that her husband was gone.”

“Busy how?” Rhodes asked.

“Well, the neighborhood they live in is filled with prominent people. Or, if I’m being honest, people who think they’re prominent. Jessie was already trying to find her place in that scene. She was sort of dipping her toes in all of the social circles…garden clubs, fundraisers, looking into helping organize local gala events, that sort of thing.”

“Did she officially join one of those things?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Ms. Ramirez, I’m sure you understand that I need to ask you where you were for the earlier part of the day that you discovered Jessie Fairchild’s body.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, letting out a little sigh. “It was Friday. And on Fridays, I take the morning to myself. Sometimes I just sleep in and catch up on a few TV shows I watch. Other times, I get errands done. But this past Friday, I was actually at the library for part of the morning.”

“Did anyone see you? Would there be anyone that can confirm that?”

“Yes. I was emptying out some of my old boxes in storage. I donated a ton of old paperback books to the Friends of the Library. I wheeled them in on one of the library’s little dollies and even helped the assistant librarian shelve them.”

“So you remember what time this might have been?”

“Sure. I got there just after ten thirty, I think. I was out of there around eleven or a little after. Then I drove out to the Fairchilds’ house.”

“Did you stop anywhere along the way.”

“I did. I stopped at Wendy’s to grab lunch.”

“And when you arrived at the house…you saw nothing strange or out of the ordinary?”

“Nothing at all. The first strange thing I saw was Jessie, on the bed in her running clothes.”

“We were told by the police that her husband was here in town…not on business. Do you know if there is any truth to that?”

“I think so. Usually they let me know when Mark is going to be away. But as far as I know, he was at the local office on Friday. I got there right around eleven thirty…which means he had probably been gone about three or four hours by the time I got there.”

“Ms. Ramirez,” Rhodes said, “do you feel there’s any chance at all that Mark might have killed her?”

Rosa shook her head confidently. “No. I mean, I know nothing is impossible, but I really doubt it. He’s a nice guy. And very playful and kind with her. They’re both in their early fifties…the kind of couple that still holds hands. I even saw him playfully smack her on the butt one time, like two young newlyweds. They seemed very happy.”

Chloe let this all sink in. She was confident that Rosa had nothing to do with Jessie Fairchild’s murder. She’d have the local PD follow up on the alibis she’d just given, but she felt it would be wasted effort.

“Thank you for your time,” Chloe said, finishing up her coffee with a long gulp. She handed Rosa one of her business cards as she headed for the door. “Please contact me if you think of anything else.”

Rosa nodded as she walked them to the door. “There is one thing that comes to mind,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“The ring on the nightstand…the one used to cut into her neck. It had no business being there. Jessie was sort of a neat freak—it’s why she had a housekeeper even though she kept a mostly clean house. I had never seen jewelry just sitting out.”

Chloe nodded, as she had been hung up on that, too. The ring being there not only served as some sort of message from the killer, but it also proved that the murder was likely not related to wealth or a botched burglary. The ring was an expensive one and had been used as nothing more than a crude weapon. Even though the killer had it in their hands at one point, they’d had no interest in ever stealing it.

And that alone spoke volumes about the killer.

Now, Chloe thought, all I have to do is translate the killer’s message.

CHAPTER SIX

It was just after five when Chloe and Rhodes left Rosa’s apartment. It was only about a forty-minute drive from where they had parked back to DC. Chloe considered this a big plus, as it eliminated the need for checking into a motel. The can of worms it opened up, though, was that it was hard to tell when to call it a day.

“Should we head to the library to check out Rosa’s alibi?” Rhodes asked as Chloe pulled out of the apartment complex parking lot.

“I thought about that, but it’s Sunday afternoon. It’s doubtful the library would even be open. I was thinking I’d like to find out where that ring came from. See if we can maybe figure out who last wore it. If the husband doesn’t recall it even belonging to his wife…”

Rhodes opened her mouth to respond but the chirping of Chloe’s cell phone stopped her. Chloe answered right away, hoping for a lead on what was looking to be a slow and grinding Sunday afternoon.

“This is Agent Fine,” she answered.

“Agent Fine, this is Deputy Nolan. I thought you’d want to know that I was able to get in touch with Mark Fairchild, the husband. He’s due to come by the station around eight tonight. He and his brother are headed back home to take care of funeral arrangements, insurance paperwork, and things of that nature.”

“And he knows the FBI is looking into things now?”

“He does. He seemed pleased, and eager to speak with you.”

“I’ll see you at nine, then,” Chloe said, ending the call exactly as she had hoped: with another source of information lined up. When the information came to you rather than having to hunt it all down, it tended to make for a quick and easy case.

Chloe just hoped things continued at this pace.

It was clear from first glance that Mark Fairchild had not been sleeping well. From his appearance alone, Chloe was willing to bet he had not slept a wink since being told his wife had been killed. There were dark circles around his eyes—eyes that seemed to be staring at nothing at all while managing to look rapidly around the small conference room, as if trying to take everything in. His hair was disheveled and a growth of thin stubble covered the lower half of his face.

Still, he looked somewhat centered and determined. He sat partially slouched in a chair, holding a cup of coffee that Nolan had given him, but not sipping from it. His brother was standing in the corner, looking just as tired but carefully watching over his grief-stricken sibling.

Chloe knew that the coming conversation could be difficult. Grieving people who were clearly tired, still dealing with the idea of their recent loss, could be precarious. They could either talk endlessly, often in circles, or lose control of their emotion within just a handful of seconds. So she knew she’d have to choose the leading questions carefully, giving him the feeling that he was in control.

“Mr. Fairchild, I’d like you to walk me through Friday morning. Include every detail you can, no matter how small or trivial you feel it might be.”

He nodded, but looked clearly uncomfortable. “Everything,” he said with a sleepy grin that looked rather forced. “Well…my alarm went off for work. I hit snooze and when I did, Jessie came to me and snuggled up…sort of a tradition we’ve had since we were dating. It was Friday and had been a good week for both of us so snuggling led to sex. She enjoyed it in the morning; it was really nothing out of the ordinary.”

Chloe felt awkward as she watched his face go through several emotions as he recalled the start to the morning. She gave him a moment as he paused, clearly making sure that he was going to be able to get through it.

“So I hopped in the shower while she answered some work e-mails. I got out of the shower and she was brushing her teeth. There was some small talk. As I got dressed for work, Jessie put on her running clothes—the same ones she was wearing when…”

He trailed off here, taking in a deep breath. He looked to his brother, who gave Mark an encouraging nod. Mark returned the nod and then started again, his voice a bit shaky.

“We went downstairs. She had a smoothie and I had a cup of coffee. She never drank coffee before her run. She said it played hell on her stomach. She walked me to the door, I remember that. She usually does that, just to kiss me goodbye. She was fiddling with her airpods, cueing up whatever podcast she’d been listening to so she could listen to it on her run. We kissed, I got in the car, and that was it. That was the last time I saw her alive.”

“What time do you believe it was when you left the house?” Chloe asked.

“I don’t know an exact time, but it was somewhere between seven fifty-five and eight-oh-five, I’d guess. Certainly no later than that.”

“So we’re looking at a three-, three-and-a-half-hour window,” Rhodes said.

“Mr. Fairchild, had you and your wife made friends yet? Anyone who had come over a few times since you’d moved in?”

“No. Just acquaintances. There had been people in the house, sure. When a new family moves into the neighborhood, people come over with pies and cookies and things like that, you know? But I think the only person who had ever stepped foot in the house that was more than just a welcome-to-the-neighborhood kind of thing was the housekeeper. Oh, and the plumber. We had an issue with the garbage disposal on the first week.”

“I want to also talk about the ring found on the bedside table,” Chloe said. “I understand that you can’t confirm whether or not it belonged to your wife?”

“That’s right. It didn’t look familiar, but that’s not unusual. Jessie never really wore jewelry…just her wedding ring. That may seem silly because the closet is full of jewelry. But Jessie sort of collected jewelry the way some women go crazy with shoes or purses. When her mother passed away six or seven years ago, Jessie got all of her mom’s jewelry. Necklaces, rings, these awful-looking earrings. But it put a fire under Jessie. She started to collect that sort of stuff.”

“Do you recall how many rings came to Jessie through her mother?”

“No. I remember it was mostly in a safety deposit box. Some of it was, anyway. I do know that she received a small box with some necklaces and rings. There had to be at least ten rings in that box.”

“So you’d say there’s a decent chance the ring found at the scene was one of the ones that came from her mother.”

“Probably. But that’s the thing…she kept them in the closet. Whoever did that…”

He stopped here, as if the mere mention of what had been done with the ring had frozen him. He sucked in a breath and shook his head, determined to go on.

“Whoever did it,” he continued, “must have known where to look for it.”

“That or they simply got lucky and figured out where expensive jewelry might be kept.”

“True,” Mark said.

“And the week leading up to Friday…was there anything particularly off about your wife?”

“No. I’ve been wondering that myself…wondering if I missed anything. But I swear…she seemed perfectly fine.”

“We understand that Jessie had started to try to get involved in local groups and organizations,” Rhodes said. “Do you happen to know which ones?”

“She talked a lot about Kid’s Cove, this non-profit that raises money for kids that have trouble paying for school lunches and things like that. There was another one…some garden club or something like that. I’m pretty sure I know where she kept names and numbers of all of those people, if you’d like to see it.”

“We have a copy of that already,” Nolan said.

Mark nodded, rolling his eyes. “That’s right. I swear…these last three days just sort of all blur together.”

“I’m sure,” Chloe said. “Mr. Fairchild, thank you for your time. Please…go home and get some sleep. And I ask that you stay in town for the foreseeable future just in case we have more questions.”

“Certainly.”

He got up and gave a halfhearted wave as he and his brother exited the room. Nolan followed them out, closing the door behind him.

“What do you think?” Rhodes asked Chloe when they were alone again.

“I think even if Mark Fairchild did have something worth telling us, he probably wouldn’t remember. I think he’s telling the truth about that morning, though. His cheeks flushed when he mentioned the sex. And those pauses he took…he was legitimately fighting back tears and a potential sobbing fit.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too.”

“Still, it paints an interesting picture, doesn’t it? A new wealthy couple comes to town. The husband has a job that keeps them solidly in the upper class. And they seem to get targeted right away…less than five full weeks after they’ve moved in.”

“You think they were running from something?” Rhodes asked. “You think they maybe moved to Falls Church to get away from something in Boston?”

“Could be. I’d like to know as much as I can about his job. Maybe get a peek at the Fairchilds’ financial information and criminal records. Maye even talk to Mark’s employer if I have to.”

“And I think we need to also check the security company,” Rhodes said. “I find it odd that no alarm was tripped. It makes me think Jessie Fairchild willingly let in the person that killed her.”

As they mulled all of this over, the conference room door opened and Nolan came back in. He looked drained from having been in the presence of a man who had been so heartbroken and distressed.

“Nolan, what do we know about Mr. Fairchild’s job?” Chloe asked.

“He’s a standard broker. From what he tells me, he just got lucky with a few deals early in his career. It led him to some high-profile clients becoming very happy with him. He was quite humble about it, but he told us that he brought in a little over six million last year.”

“And it’s all on the up and up?”

“As far as we can tell. We haven’t done a deep, through check into their finances yet, or into his tax returns from last year. We told him it might come down to that before it was all said and done. He seemed a little offended, but gave us his blessing. Even gave us a few numbers to call where he works if we need help.”

“So in other words, he’s not hiding anything when it comes to money.”

“That’s right. Clean as a whistle from what we can tell. But I’ll probably still call some of the numbers he gave, just to say it’s been done.”

“I didn’t see any note of a criminal record in your files, either,” Rhodes added.

“Yeah. Both of the Fairchilds have clean records. Nothing. Not even a speeding ticket.”

Chloe looked to the file folder on the table in front of her, suppressing a frown. True, the case seemed to already be veering far away from the strangulation deaths the year before. But there was still a death that had gone unsolved.

She stared at the folder, as if willing it to give her the answers. She had basically memorized what was inside; it told the story of Jessie Fairchild’s murder in forms, reports, notes, and crime scene photos.

And for right now, the story seemed to be very open-ended.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Chloe had forgotten how useful car rides with a partner could be. They left Falls Church at 8:42 that night and headed back to DC but they made use of those forty minutes. Before they were even out of Falls Church, Rhodes had managed to get a manager from Intel Security on the phone. Intel was the brand of security system the Fairchilds had set up on their property. Chloe listened to the conversation as she headed through the night back home.

She smiled here and there, realizing just how good Rhodes was when it came to dealing with people. Chloe had noticed how Rhodes only asked questions during investigations when she had a good one to ask. She wasn’t much for asking one hundred questions and hoping one might stick. She was the same way on the phone when speaking with Intel Security. She polite and cordial, but there was no pussyfooting around what she needed. As such, though, it was hard for Chloe to keep up with the information she was getting, as she was only hearing Rhodes’s short-and-to-the-point side of the conversation.

Several minutes later, when the call was over, Rhodes filled her in. Here, Chloe realized another of Rhodes’s strengths. She was a copious note-taker and often didn’t even need to take the notes at all. The woman’s mind was like a lockbox when it came to details.

“Okay, so the gentleman I spoke with said there is no sign that the alarm was sounded last Friday morning,” Rhodes said. “He also pulled up their data timeline and said he didn’t see where the alarm had been disengaged at all. It wasn’t cut off by one of the Fairchilds at any point.”

“Did he give you details on how it works?”

“Yeah. The alarm kicks on when the door is opened with force. Opening with a key automatically disengages the alarm. When the door is opened from the inside, it is also disengaged. The only time the alarm would kick on other than someone essentially picking the lock or kicking the door open is if the door is left standing open for more than twenty seconds.”

“In the few weeks they’ve been there, were there any instances of the alarm going off?”

“He said there were two notes on their account. Both came from the first week they were living there. Intel gives courtesy calls when the alarms are triggered. On both of the calls, Mark Fairchild said they’d neglected to fully close the door while bringing in boxes and furniture as they were moving in.”

“What about windows? Does the alarm work for windows as well?”

“According to what I was just told, any time a window is opened from the outside, the system has to be deactivated. They gave an example of spring cleaning—making sure the windows and frames are all cleaned. If someone planned to do that sort of cleaning, they should kill the alarm first.”

“But you’re saying there were no suspicious alarm triggers over the last week or so, right?”

“Not a single one.”

“So in other words,” Chloe said, “whoever killed Jessie Fairchild did not break in. They were allowed to come inside.”

“Seems that way.”

The car went quiet as they both pondered this. Chloe knew where they needed to start looking next. So far, all they truly knew about Jessie Fairchild was that ever since she and Mark had moved to Falls Church, she had been looking into how to get involved in local groups and organizations. New to town, neither she nor Mark had any real friends—and that meant most of the people they spoke to would be unreliable.

But she also thought about a question that had come up earlier. Had the Fairchilds perhaps left their home in Boston because they had been running from something? If the investigation ended up taking them into the lives of the Fairchilds all the way back in Boston, this seemingly simple murder case could become a lot more convoluted.

“No friends, no local family,” Rhodes said out loud as they neared DC. “A sister in Boston, both parents deceased. If this thing takes us into Boston…”

Chloe grinned, pleased with how the two of them were starting to think along the same lines, at the same speed. “Well, wasn’t there a note somewhere in the file about a relative of Mark’s? Someone who lives right outside of Falls Church?”

“Yeah, his uncle. But from what I gather, he’s on some kind of trip. A vacation, I think.”

She answered it with the sort of nonchalance that made Chloe think Rhodes felt the same way about that potential lead as she did—that it wouldn’t come to much anyway.

Closing in on home, Chloe slowly allowed herself to slip into more personal thoughts. She strongly considered calling Danielle to apologize for her behavior yesterday. But those kinds of conversations with Danielle typically turned into a rather long discussion, and she did not have the stamina for that.