get-togethers here and there during football season but it wasn’t too bad. I honestly almost didn’t even call in the complaint about the stupid dog. The only reason I did is because no one answered the door over there when I knocked.”
“I don’t suppose you know if they ever had any regular guests, do you?”
“I don’t think so,” Demi said. “The cops asked the same sort of thing. My husband and I thought it over and I don’t ever remember seeing any cars parked over there regularly unless it was their own.”
“Well, do you know if they were involved in anything that might get us some people to talk to? Any sort of clubs or weird interests?”
“Not that I know of,” Demi said. As she spoke, she was looking at the wall, as if trying to see through it and into the Kurtzes’ townhouse. She looked a little sad, either for the loss of the Kurtzes or simply to have been dragged into the middle of this.
“You’re certain?” Mackenzie pushed.
“Pretty certain, yeah. I think the husband played racquetball. I saw him going in a few times, just coming back from the gym. As for Julie, I don’t know. I know she liked to draw but that’s only because she showed me some of her stuff one time. But other than that…no. They pretty much stayed to themselves.”
“Is there anything else about them – anything at all —that stands out to you?”
“Well,” Demi said, still looking at the wall, “I know it’s sort of lewd, but it was quite evident to my husband and me that the Kurtzes had quite an active sex life. The walls here are apparently thin – or the Kurtzes were very loud. I can’t even tell you how many times we heard them. Sometimes it wasn’t even just like muffled noises; they would be going at it, you know?”
“Anything violent?” Mackenzie asked.
“No, it never sounded like it,” Demi said, now looking a little embarrassed. “They were just very enthusiastic. It was something we always wanted to complain to them about but never did. It’s sort of embarrassing to bring it up, you know?”
“Sure,” Mackenzie said. “You’ve mentioned your husband a few times. Where is he?”
“At work. He works a nine to five. I stay here and run a part-time editorial service, a work from home deal.”
“Would you please ask him the same things I’ve asked you just to make sure I get all the possible information?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Thank you very much for your time, Mrs. Stiller. I may call you a little later if any other questions arise.”
“That’s fine,” Demi said as she led them back toward the front door.
When they were outside and Demi Stiller had closed the door, Harrison looked back to the townhouse that Josh and Julie Kurtz had once called home. “So all we took away from that was the knowledge that they had a great sex life?” he asked.
“Seems like it,” she said. “But that tells us that they had a strong marriage, perhaps. Add that to the statements from the family about their picture-perfect marriage and it makes it more challenging to find a reason for their murders. Or, on the other hand, it could be easier now. If they had a good marriage and stayed out of trouble, finding someone with something against them could prove to be easier. Now…take a look at your notes. Where would you choose to look next?”
Harrison seemed a little surprised that she had asked the question but he dutifully looked down at the notebook he kept his notes and files in. “We need to check out the first crime scene – the Sterling residence. The parents of the husband live six miles from the house, so it may be worth checking in with them.”
“Sounds good to me,” she said. “You got the addresses?”
She tossed him the car keys and headed for the passenger door. She took a moment to admire the look of surprise and pride on his face at the simple gesture as he caught the keys.
“Then lead the way,” she said.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Sterling residence was eleven miles away from the Kurtzes’ townhouse. Mackenzie couldn’t help but admire the place as Harrison pulled into the long concrete driveway. The house sat about fifty yards off of the main road, lined with a gorgeous flowerbed and tall thin trees. The house itself was very modern, mostly comprised of windows and distressed wooden beams. It looked like an idyllic yet expensive home for a well-to-do couple. The only thing that broke this illusion was the strip of yellow crime scene tape strung along the front door.
When they started walking toward the front door, Mackenzie noted just how quiet the place was. It was blocked off from the other high-priced neighboring houses by a thick grove of trees, a lush wall of green that looked just as well maintained and expensive as the houses along this stretch of the city. While the property was not on the beach, she could hear it murmuring somewhere in the distance.
Mackenzie ducked under the crime scene tape and dug out the spare key that Dagney had provided from the Miami PD’s original investigation. They stepped into a large foyer and Mackenzie was again taken aback by the absolute silence of everything. She took a look around at the layout of the house. A hallway stretched out to their left and ended in a kitchen. The rest of the house was quite open; a living room and large sitting area connected to one another, leading further off and out of sight toward a glassed-in back porch.
“What do we know about what happened here?” Mackenzie asked Harrison. She, of course, already knew. But she wanted to let him display his own smarts and commitment, hoping he would quickly get comfortable before the case really took off.
“Deb and Gerald Sterling,” Harrison said. “He was thirty-six and she was thirty-eight. Killed in their bedroom in the same manner as the Kurtzes, though these murders took place at least three days before the Kurtz murders. Their bodies were discovered by their maid just after eight o’clock in the morning. The coroner’s reports indicate that they had been killed the night before. Initial investigation’s turned up absolutely no evidence of any kind, although forensics is currently analyzing hair fibers found clinging to the front door frame.”
Mackenzie nodded along as he recited the facts. She was studying the downstairs, trying to get a feel for the sort of people the Sterlings were before heading up to the room where they had been killed. She passed by a large built-in bookshelf between the living room and sitting area. Most of the books were fiction, mostly by King, Grisham, Child, and Patterson. There were also a few art-related books. In other words, basic filler books that gave no insights into the personal lives of the Sterlings.
A decorative roll-top desk sat against the wall in the sitting area. Mackenzie lifted the top and looked inside but there was nothing of interest – just pens, paper, a few pictures, and other household debris.
“Let’s go on up,” she said.
Harrison nodded and took a deep, shaky breath.
“It’s okay,” Mackenzie said. “The Kurtz house got to me, too. But trust me…these sorts of situations do get easier.”
You know that might not necessarily be a good thing, right? she thought to herself. How many terrible sights have you become desensitized to ever since coming across that first woman on a post in the cornfields of Nebraska?
She
