The Caller

Eighteen

In the bathroom, Garcia pulled open the cupboard mirror above the washbasin and once again rummaged through the contents inside it. As he did, he felt like one of those people who needed to open the fridge door every time they stepped into the kitchen.

‘Yup,’ he said. ‘Just like I thought. Nothing new has magically materialized in here since this morning.’

He closed the mirror and moved over to the shelf unit to the right of the bathtub. The top three shelves held an astounding number of beauty creams, lotions, and oils, all perfectly arranged in separate groups. Garcia reached for one of the bottles on the top shelf and silently read the description on its label.

Facial cream with high UV protection.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. He was sure that his wife, Anna, had bought that exact same product not that long ago. He placed the bottle back and reached for another one.

Facial cream with low UV protection.

And another.

Facial cream with cucumber extract.

He carried on.

Facial cream with avocado extract.

Facial cream with olive oil.

Facial cream with almond oil.

Garcia shook his head, a little amused. ‘I feel like I’m shopping for salad here,’ he said under his breath. He returned the bottle to the shelf and tried a different group. This time he frowned at the bottle. ‘What? Strawberry cheesecake scented body lotion? Really?’

His lips parted with a smile but, despite finding it funny, he was also quite intrigued and couldn’t resist. He pulled his mask down, flicked the bottle cap open and brought it to his nose. To his surprise, it smelled so much like freshly baked strawberry cheesecake, he heard his stomach rumble. The question bouncing around in his head though, was why would anyone want to smell like strawberry cheesecake?

Garcia readjusted his mask back over his nose before going through a couple more bottles.

Coconut.

Vanilla.

‘I guess this must be the dessert group.’

He decided to move on to the next shelf.

Eye cream.

Eye cream.

Eye cream.

Hand cream.

Foot cream.

Neck cream.

Once again he paused. ‘There are creams developed specifically for your neck?’ he asked the empty bathroom.

The next shelf was full of hair and skin hydrating oils and lotions. The one after that held several expensive-looking perfume bottles. The fifth and sixth shelves were where Karen Ward kept all her towels.

Garcia exited the bathroom and moved on to the bedroom. Instead of switching on the lights, he walked over to the unobstructed window on the west wall and pulled open the curtains, allowing sunlight to finally bathe the room. From where he was standing, he looked around the crammed space for a long moment before deciding that he would start with the bed.

First he checked under the pillows, the bed cover, and the bed sheet — nothing. He pulled his sleeves up and lifted the mattress to check the bed frame — nothing. He crossed the room to the dresser and tried the first drawer. It was full of lingerie, stockings, and socks; all of it neatly packed away in straight rows. He moved on to the next drawer — T-shirts, blouses, and spaghetti strap tops, again, perfectly arranged to maximize the drawer space. The third drawer was a repeat of the first two, only with sweaters and hot pants. The fourth and last drawer was packed full with a variety of accessories — belts, hair ornaments, necklaces, bracelets, sunglasses and so on.

When Garcia was done looking through the drawers, he dropped to his knees and looked under the dresser. There was nothing there other than some dust.

This is silly, he thought. If there was anything to be found in here, forensics would’ve done it already.

As Garcia swung his body around on his way back up, his right knee slammed into the shoe rack to the right of the dresser. A downpour of shoes came down on top of him.

‘Crap!’ he said, bringing both arms up to protect his head. ‘I’ll be goddamned.’

‘Carlos, are you all right in there?’ Garcia heard Hunter call from the living room.

‘Yep,’ Garcia replied, finally getting back on to his feet. ‘All good. Just bumped into the shoe tower in here by accident and half of them came crashing down on me like a shoe rain.’ He paused, scratching his forehead. ‘Man, do you think she had enough shoes?’ he called out, turning to look at the mess on the floor. Shoes of all different colors and styles were absolutely everywhere. His next words came out as a murmur. ‘Why would anyone need this many shoes?’ He thought about his wife again, then nodded to himself before answering his own question. ‘Because she was a woman, that’s why.’

Garcia began picking them up and placing them back on the rack. Judging by how well organized Karen Ward’s shelves and drawers were, he was sure that every pair had its specific place, probably arranged either by color or style.

Out of sheer respect, he started grouping them as best as he could, and he wasn’t at all surprised to find that most of them looked like they’d never even been worn. And now probably never would be.

Garcia was about halfway through the large pile when something that must’ve come down with the shoes caught his eye.

He reached for it and paused.

‘Oh, shit!’