stop?” DeMarco asked as she got behind the wheel.
“I’d like to go back to the Hopkins house…maybe talk to the neighbors. He mentioned that keyhole garden, right outside the office window. There was a neighbor just within sight of that window. It’s a long shot, but maybe one worth taking.”
DeMarco nodded and pulled the car out of the driveway. They drove back toward the Hopkins residence as the first of those storm clouds started to creep in front of the sun.
They started with the neighbor directly to the right of the Hopkins residence. They tried the front door but got no answer. After waiting thirty seconds, Kate knocked again but to the same result.
“You know,” Kate said, “after working neighborhoods like this one long enough, you almost expect at least one member of the couple to be home.”
She knocked one more time and when no one answered the door, they gave up. They left, crossing across the Hopkinses’ yard to venture over to the other neighbor. As they did, Kate peered across the lawn between the two houses. She could just barely see the edge of the house that was visible through Karen Hopkins’s office window. She was looking at the back of that neighboring house, the front of it situated along a street that apparently intersected the one the Hopkinses lived on.
As they made their way to the house on the left, Kate noticed the first few droplets of rain coming from the scattered storm clouds overhead. They started for the stairs just as she felt her cell phone buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the display. It was Melissa. A small knot of guilt gripped her heart. She was sure her daughter was calling to bemoan the fact that she had left Michelle with Alan last night. And now, a bit farther removed from the decision, Kate felt that Melissa had every right to be pissed.
But it was certainly not a conversation she was ready to have right now, as they climbed the stairs to the neighbor’s house. DeMarco knocked this time. The door was answered almost right away by a young-looking woman carrying a child who might have been sixteen or eighteen months old.
“Hello?” the young woman said.
“Hi. We’re Agents Wise and DeMarco with the FBI. We’re investigating the murder of Karen Hopkins and were hoping to get some information from the neighbors.”
“Well, I’m not exactly a neighbor,” the young woman said. “But I might as well be. I’m Lily Harbor, a nanny for Barry and Jan Devos.”
“Did you know the Hopkins couple well?” DeMarco asked.
“Not really. We were on a first-name basis, but I maybe spoke to them like once or twice a week. And even then, it was just a quick hello as we passed one another.”
“Did you get any sense of the kind of people they are?”
“Decent enough from what I could gather.” She stopped here as the child in her arms started to tug at her hair. He was starting to get a little fussy. “But again, I didn’t know them on a deep level.”
“Do the Devos know them well?”
“I suppose. Barry and Gerald would borrow things from one another every now and then. Gas for the lawnmowers, charcoal for the grills, things like that. But I don’t think they ever really hung out. They were polite to one another, but not really friends, you know?”
“Do you know of anyone in the area that did know them well?” Kate asked.
“Not really. People around here are pretty private. This isn’t really the block party kind of neighborhood, you know? But…and I feel bad even saying this…if you want to know anything about practically anyone in the neighborhood, you might want to check with Mrs. Patterson.”
“And who might that be?”
“She lives on the next street over. We can see her house from the Devos’s patio. I’m pretty sure it would be visible from the Hopkinses’ back porch.”
“What’s the address?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s easy enough to find. She’s got these scary-looking cat statues everywhere on her porch.”
“You think she’d be much help?” DeMarco asked.
“I’d think she’d be your best bet, yeah. I’m not exactly sure how truthful any of her information will be, but you never know…”
“Thanks for your time,” Kate said. She gave the little boy a smile, making her miss Michelle. It also reminded her that she very likely had an angry voicemail from her daughter waiting on her phone.
Kate and DeMarco went back to their car. By the time they were in and backing out onto the road, the rain had started to come down a bit harder.
“It sounds like this Mrs. Patterson who lives in a house that is visible from the Devos’s patio could very well be the one I saw through Karen Hopkins’s office window,” Kate said. “All those connected back yards with only fences to break them up…that could be a paradise for a snooping older lady.”
“Well,” DeMarco said, “let’s see what Mrs. Patterson has been up to.”
Kate could not help but notice how wide Mrs. Patterson’s eyes got when she realized two FBI agents were standing on her porch. It wasn’t a look of fear that touched her face, though; it was one of excitement. Kate imagined the older lady was already planning how she’d tell the story to all of her friends.
“I heard all about what happened to Karen, yes I did,” Mrs. Patterson said as if it were a badge of honor. “Poor dear…she was such a charming and kind woman.”
“You knew her then?” Kate asked.
“A bit, yes,” Mrs. Patterson said. “But please…come in, come in.”
She ushered Kate and DeMarco into her house. As they went in, Kate looked back at the several items that had clued them in to the fact that this was indeed the right house. There were eight different statues of cats, ornaments that looked like they had been plucked directly from some weird swap meet or yard sale. A few of them did look unnerving, just as Lily Harbor had suggested.
Mrs. Patterson led them into her living room. The TV was on, tuned to Good Morning America with the volume quite low. This made Kate assume that Mrs. Patterson was a widow who could not get used to being alone. She’d read somewhere that older people tend to always have a television or stereo on in the house after they lose a spouse, just so the house seems alive and active at all times.
As Kate settled down into a recliner, she looked out of the living room window that sat on the east side of the house. She saw the street and did her best to estimate the layout of the yard and the street. She was pretty sure they were indeed in the house she had spied from Karen Hopkins’s office window.
“Mrs. Patterson, clear something up for me, please,” Kate said. “When we were in the Hopkins home, I looked out Karen’s window and saw a house right across the right edge of their back yard. It was yours, right?”
“Yes, it is,” Mrs. Patterson said with a smile.
“You said you know the Hopkinses a bit. Could you elaborate?”
“Sure! Karen would ask me questions about her little garden from time
