Murder! Too Close To Home by J. T. Lewis

“I’ll go check to see if I can confirm that,” he said as he bounced up like his legs were made of springs. He then headed to the kitchen to compare the knives there with the murder weapons.
    Betty tugged at my sleeve and pointed toward the door, “the front door hasn’t been compromised, and the lock and handle are intact. Has anyone checked the back door for signs of a break-in?”
    “Back door was closed but unlocked when we got here,” Tucker Vance piped in as he entered the room from the bedroom. “No sign of a break-in there, and the front door was locked.” A flashback of the mysterious perp coming from the back of the house gave me a chill as I was reminded once again of the vision.
    “You think he knew his attacker?” Betty questioned with a surprised look on her face.
    I looked down at the late Mr. Longstreet, wondering just how many acquaintances our apparent hermit had, and how many of those would be visiting in the middle of the night. Another thought entered my head, so I threw it out for discussion.
    “Maybe it wasn’t someone he knew, maybe it was someone he thought he could trust,” I offered, having no idea what or who that would be.
    “Who could get the old man to open his door and invite in this late at night?” No one commented on the thought, but their looks told me they were thinking about it.
    I moved to the outside of the room looking for any additional clues. I noticed some display cabinets that I hadn’t detected earlier, a closer look revealing that these held maybe a hundred or more pocket watches of every conceivable size and design, all of them looked to be antique. I could guess that their value would be easily in the thousands or more. Frank appeared beside me and a “wow” escaped his lips as his eyes landed on the accumulated time pieces.
    “I do believe robbery is out as a motive,” I stated flatly, not having seriously considered that as a motivation for the perp until now anyway.
    Moving on, I noticed that some of the periodicals stacked ubiquitously in the house were quite old, but as I made my way further around the room it became quite apparent that none of them were recent editions. I hadn’t seen any that were newer than five years old, further evidence that old Harold didn’t get out much and probably didn’t do a lot of entertaining.
    Moving to the kitchen and looking into the trash bin revealed it to be full of containers used by the local charity that brought meals to shut-ins; this guy hadn’t had much of any contact with the public for quite awhile.
    Having another thought, I made a note to check on the people working at the charity that regularly delivered meals to Harold. It was along shot, but they would be somebody that he trusted and would let in his house at night.  
    Walking back into the living room, my eyes wandered to the window where I was greeted by a sight that caused me to blink my eyes in disbelief…an American flag.
    An old front porch, draped with an American flag
     
    Chapter 19
    March 10, 1997
     
    I pulled Betty aside, telling her I would be right back; I had a hunch to follow. Looking at me quizzically, she nodded then turned back to the investigation. I left through the front door, pulling up on the crime-scene tape as I walked under it and continued across the road.
    The house seemed to be a weather-beaten yellow with what must have once been white trim. Tidy in appearance and well maintained overall, the owner would seem to be someone that took pride in his home, and the flag draped on the porch also attested to the owner’s patriotism.
    The lingering scent of cigar smoke as I padded up the steps brought back yet another memory from my dream, as an eerie feeling of déjà-vu crawled up my spine. I hated to bother people when they were sleeping, but if what I saw earlier was true at all, this man may have been an inadvertent witness to this murder.
    I tapped on the door three times and waited, getting no response. I was