“Thank you for that information. We just need to have a look around for our commanders final report,” Liam said. “We’ll let you know when we have finished our search.”
“Of course. I’ll leave you to your work,” Fiona said. “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be in the living room crocheting.”
Cup in hand, Hunter walked toward the foyer and then came back. “Do you mind pointing us in the direction of the stairs that lead to Reilly’s area?”
“Sorry. It’s through the laundry room,” she explained, leading the way. It was a generous sized area with two stackable washers and dryers and a folding table in between the units, as well as a utility sink. “Only the upstairs is accessible from the foyer. There’s also a private entrance to the backyard here. My Brownstone is the same way.”
“Makes it convenient if you wanted to rent out the basement as an apartment,” Liam said.
“Yes. My husband and I tried that for a few years and then we got tired of the hassle,” she replied. “Geraldine thought about it after Joseph passed– they were her grandparents– but I believe Harley persuaded her not to for her safety. And now it’s only Harley living in this big ole place.”
“With neighbors like you, I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Hunter said. “Thank you for showing us around.”
Tears brightened her blue eyes but she managed to smile. “I’ll be in the living room.” She started to leave but stopped. “I’ll take your cups if you’ve finished.”
They passed them to her and watched her depart.
“She’s a font of information,” Liam said.
“Indeed.”
They turned on the overhead light at the top of the stairs that took them down to Reilly’s space. For a basement area, it was well lit with several windows along the upper portion of the outer walls that brought in natural light.
There was a bedroom, as well as an office and a living area downstairs. A small kitchenette with microwave, minifridge, andsink provided Reilly with everything he needed for food prep without having to go upstairs if he didn’t want to.
“Hmm. Interesting set up,” Hunter said. “A bit isolated.”
“Maybe with the hours he kept on the force it was easier this way than to make noise in the kitchen on the main level?” Liam suggested.
“There is that,” Hunter said. “But why would Harley not mention it?”
“Maybe she didn’t really consider this a real kitchen? It’s just a microwave for heating up something, like popcorn. It’s more on the scale of a dorm room. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Hunter looked at the area and nodded. “Yea. I see what you are saying.”
“I don’t even see any canned food or jars of peanut butter stored here,” Liam pointed out. “For one thing, there aren’t any cabinets. And I heard Reilly was a peanut butter freak. Always had a jar in his hand, shoveling that stuff in his mouth by the spoonful on his way to practice.”
“Really?” Hunter frowned in consideration. “He liked some peanut butter did he?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I like it too, but I don’t think I’m that crazy about it.”
“Me either,” Liam said. “Let’s check for prescription drugs. Brand said Harley has already searched here for those and any OTC drugs he might have been taking, but let’s do a thorough check so if asked we can honestly say we didn’t find anything.”
“Gotcha,” Hunter said. “I’ll look out here and in the office area if you want to take the bedroom and bath.”
“Divide and conquer. Let’s do it.” Liam gave him a fist bump and headed into the bedroom to open bureau drawers, and the closet. He searched though the pockets of all the clothing hanging there but found nothing. There was nothing behind the books on the built-in shelves either. In the cornerof the bedroom, he found a duffle bag on the floor and quickly unzipped it. Inside, he found dirty workout clothes, an empty plastic jar of peanut butter, a used plastic spoon, and tennis shoes. Getting down on his hands and knees he looked under the bed and found two more empty peanut butter jars and put them on the bedside table. In the kitchen area, he found a large plastic bag and put the jars inside and then went into the bathroom.
For a guy he had to admit the bathroom was spotless. Simone was meticulous about keeping theirs clean, but Reilly had either cleaned it before his death or the Flynn’s had a maid service that cleaned their home. But the empty plastic jars under the bed told a different story unless Reilly had finished off those jars after the place was cleaned.
“Did you find anything?” Hunter came to the bedroom door.
“Yea, empty peanut butter jars, two under the bed. What about you?”
Hunter held up two of the same. “Stuffed in the side of the couch.”
“What did I tell you about the guy? Did you find anything else?”
