Page 78 of Pretty Broken Dolls

“What do you want to talk to me about?”

“Your neighbor, Jeanine Trenton.”

“She’s dead and gone.”

“We have a few questions. Can you come out here to speak with us?” Katie was losing patience as the woman’s voice grated on her.

“I don’t have to speak with you.”

Katie decided to go another route to try to make her open the door—just a bit of deception and pretext. She glanced at McGaven who kept his best poker face. The street was still unnaturally quiet—no cars; no people walking; no dogs barking; no birds chirping; no wind blowing through the trees—just idly stagnant.

“Mrs. Caldwell, the word around Lompoc is that you were selling drugs and stealing profits for yourself.”

They waited.

The front door unlocked. It sounded as if three heavy locks disengaged. The door slowly opened a crack as a woman’s eye stared out at them. Her short grayish hair was cut in a pixie style with bangs. “That’s a lie.”

“Just repeating what we heard.”

“It’s a blatant lie.”

“We don’t believe in gossip, only in facts. Can we talk to you?” Katie tried to soften her voice and appeal to her as one law officer to another.

“I don’t have to.”

“We know that, but we’re trying to solve a homicide. Any help would be greatly appreciated.”

She opened the door wider as her eyes darted back and forth from Katie to McGaven. “Does the big guy talk?”

Katie laughed. “Sometimes.”

“We just want to ask a few questions about your previous neighbor,” said McGaven. “We won’t take up much of your time.”

“Here’s my card,” said Katie.

“Hmmm,” she said, taking the card and still eying them suspiciously. She opted to open the door wide and stepped out onto the porch, but slammed the door behind her. Her focus rested on McGaven. “You know, my late husband was tall like you.” She seemed to like McGaven and ignored Katie as she stepped further outside.

Mrs. Caldwell was dressed in a running outfit, navy blue, and ill-fitting around her middle. She was heavyset but moved her body much more gracefully than her stocky frame would suggest. It was clear that she’d had some type of advanced physical training.

“Mrs. Caldwell—” Katie began.

“How tall are you? Six foot six?” she asked McGaven.

“And a half,” he said, smiling.

“What do you want to know about that hussy?” Her demeanor relaxed as she focused on McGaven.

“Do you remember anything from the night she was murdered?”

“No.”

“Anything suspicious or unusual from the days leading up to the murder?”

“Like what?”

“People visiting. A strange car parked on the street or sounds of arguing from the house.”

“I didn’t hear anything. It was quiet, for once.”