Allena Abigail Burkhardt: Part 4

Her muscles ached. Hours sitting in a fixed position probably wasn’t what most physical therapists would have recommended for a Saturday morning. And not the potential gym visit she had been anticipating. With little opportunity to stretch her legs, Allena was essentially trapped to her vantage point in the dense brush. She’d been forced to trespass in a garden opposite a pretty little residence with a wisteria vine archway, densely growing garden bed, and several fruit trees. Allena strongly suspected they were pear trees, or perhaps apple if not only for her immediate pear craving, having forgotten her lunch –featuring said fruit– on the kitchen counter at home. The trees bore a few, seasonally confused flowers along the branches, perhaps curtesy of the bout of warmer weather they had had a week ago. The house under observation was painted white, accented with a pale green. It had received many visitors since she had arrived. The first she had seen had been non-other than Ted Bennett.

Allena owned a tiny dark red pre-2000s Corolla. As useful as it was for the odd surveillance operation, it wasn’t the most inconspicuous. If she ever decided to have the windows slightly tinted, it would only draw more suspicion. No, she decided. It would look decidedly dodgy if she had that done, especially if the peeling gloss layer of the paint remained. Hers wasn’t the sort of lucrative job that enabled Allena to purchase another car, not yet. Besides, this one was fuel economic and easy to park, even if it did take some effort to unfold herself upon each entry and exit. Her long legs and tall frame were certainly not designed for such compact spaces. It didn’t stop her from attempting though, as her current hiding place suggested. Even with an unobtrusive car, surveillance often required a little variation in method, or at least Allena thought so.

Much like how her appearance had required variation after last afternoon’s encounter. Thankful for the cool autumn weather, she had tied her hair in an austere bun that morning, which she duly stuffed under a beanie, and paired with a thick brown scarf. Her usual glasses replaced with contact lenses, and a denim jacket swapped for her favourite navy coat. Upon receiving Laylor’s call that morning at 7am—notifying her that Ted had left the house ‘for the gym,’ Allena was already parked a block away in The Beast as she called it, ready to follow Ted in his sleek black sports car.

Far from heading to the gym, he had come to this house. Allena had been far enough behind him to see him stop to park, and she had the opportunity to take a right hand turn away from the street to do the same – thankfully finding a spot almost immediately, fortunate that the suburb was the kind with spacious front yards and driveways for most properties, meaning the street was left relatively clear. Shouldering her faded red backpack, she made purposefully back toward the street of interest. She’d paused to rifle through her bag, dropping her gaze away from Ted’s parked car and scanning for a reasonably hidden vantage point. There weren’t enough cars to use as a temporary hiding place, so she headed down the path of one of the many well populated gardens. Spotting no-one observing her from the house windows, she confidently took a few more steps up the path before making for the side of the house and obscuring herself behind a vast, dark bush. She’d then sidled under it, branches scratching her face, just as she heard the pleasant thud of a car door.

It was an uncomfortable business, but the bush wasn’t so dense that it prevented her from pressing forward towards the front of the garden. Her backpack already open, she had relatively easy access to her camera (despite her hindered limbs), carefully stowed in its unzipped case at the top of the bag. She’d just made it to a point where she could see partially from the bush when the garden gate across the road creaked open. Ted didn’t bother to shut it as he made his way quickly up the path. Risking the potential for making a sound loud enough to attract attention, Allena tried slowly leaning further forward, trusting the support of a few thicker branches at the centre of the scrub, to angle the camera across the road. Adjusting the lens to focus on Ted as he made his way toward the pale green door of the pleasant looking house, it was a challenge to find a view that wasn’t entirely obstructed by leaves.

Allena took in some deep breaths to stave off any trembling that threatened to arise from her arms due to the precarious position in the bush. She was seriously considering taking up a gym membership of her own when the door opened. Several photos were garnered in quick succession, no time to adequately adjust for the dimmer light of the front porch, she couldn’t make out who answered the door. Ted handed over a rather padded looking yellow A4 envelope. It appeared unmarked, from what she was able to record, but it could have been the angle. Allena couldn’t hear what was being said, but there was a raucous laugh. Ted seemed to tense and shook his head, backing away from the front door.

The main branch she was leaning on gave way, her legs went up behind her as she swung headfirst into the fray of thin branches and damp garden bed below. Camera clutched close to her chest, she didn’t dare move. Allena could very well be caught, only immobility might save her now. Any further sound, or movement would immediately attract attention if already directed her way. Paralysed, face pressed against the debris, legs in the air, trying not to let herself fidget as her ears strained to listen and blood rushed to her head.

“You’re a twisted bitch, you know that?” Ted’s voice finally loud enough for Allena to hear as he shouted it. Allena fought the urge to frown, not sure if that was precisely the thing he might say if she’d been caught out… Must have been for the person in the house.

“Do be a darl’ and shut the gate on your way out,” a vaguely familiar feminine voice called out in mock pleasantry. Metal against metal snapped and rattled as the garden gate was apparently flung shut. The car door slammed, and the engine revved to life. Only after the purr of the vehicle was long gone, and Allena had counted to a hundred several times did she dare move. Feeling rather faint and vowing never to tell a soul of her unexpected foray into the gymnastics world, she assessed the damage to her camera. Thankfully, all the damage that had occurred had been to her pride. No sooner had she settled herself at the base of the bush, carefully breaking some dead branches to make room for herself while she assessed her options, another car pulled up. A harried, middle aged woman jumped out, giving instructions to two children as they pushed a back door open and exited the car, one in a pale blue princess outfit, the other in what Allena guessed must be a giraffe-costume. The woman sighed, whipping out her phone.

“We’re here, told them to stay in the car, but if we’re late, we’re late I guess,” the woman laughed. “I won’t bring them into the yard, is Alex ready to go?”

The front door of the white house swung open to mark the exit of a fair-haired boy, perhaps the same age as Ben, charging to the gate in a caped, blue, red, and yellow superhero costume.

“Alex! Jacket!” Allena lifted the camera as Jenny – recognisable from Ben’s birthday party – strode from the house, waving what had to be a black jacket after her son. The boy whined. “You can take it off if you have to, but I don’t want you cold.” She grinned up at the other woman. “It gets in the way of the cape,” she intoned.

The other woman, hair cut in a sleek bob, gave a tense laugh in response. “We’ll be back by three. I’ll try to keep tabs on the jacket.” Jenny scoffed.

“It’s not the end of the world if it disappears. That isn’t, anyway.”

“Oh, okay,” the woman responded uncertainly. Her already tense frame seemed to stiffen further as one of the girls squealed. “Well, we should be back by three, but we’ll see how that goes.”

“No rush, thanks for taking Alex, I’m just so busy with the business lately.” Jenny crossed her arms over the garden gate.

“No, no worries, of course.” The exchange was broken as the visiting woman turned to address the children hanging off the car door and usher them into their seats to be secured. Jenny waited by the gate, smiling, to wave them off. Allena had finally managed to get some decent photos to prove that it was in fact Jenny they were dealing with. Plenty to report back to Laylor, but still no real indicator of what was going on. What had been in the yellow envelope? And what had gone on to make Ted so vindictive. Allena’s personal encounter with him, although very brief, had not suggested that he was the sort of person to lightly go around slinging insults.

No sooner had Jenny returned to the house, and Allena had noted down what she wanted to say to Laylor, had another car pulled up a little way down the street. What surprised Allena, was that four men exited and headed for Jenny’s residence. Two were rather well built, one wore a canvas jacket. The third was slim, and wore a baggy grey short-sleeved t-shirt, despite the chill. The fourth had some sort of white printed motif on the back of his black jacket. Simply casual. Frowning, Allena studied this through the camera, taking a few photos out of interest but otherwise remaining frozen until they had knocked on Jenny’s door and been greeted warmly. Something told Allena they weren’t biscuit couriers.

Several other visitors came and went before Allena finally dared check her phone. Two missed calls from Laylor, thanks to the setting she kept it on. She swore internally. As important as it was to not be caught with a ringing or vibrating phone on surveillance, it wasn’t a good look when she couldn’t pick up a call for the client she was supposed to be running surveillance for.

“Laylor, hi,” she said softly. “Apologies for missing your calls.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m just calling to let you know Ted’s come home.” Laylor’s voice was unmistakeably tense.

“Are you alright?” Allena held her breath. Her client’s tone made her uneasy.

“He just seems angry, tense, you know. Didn’t want to talk, of course.” Then she paused. “He’s shut himself in his study. I’m just worried.”

“That’s understandable,” Allena said carefully.

“I don’t suppose you saw anything?”

“Not too much, but a lot more than expected. And I have photos.” Allena explained all she had seen. Laylor was deathly quiet on the other end of the line and the detective assured her that although he had been to see Jenny, it hadn’t appeared to be for any of their previously suspected reasons. Not, that that could truly be ruled out. He had been to see Jenny behind Laylor’s back. And it had sounded as though it probably wasn’t the first time. It was at the mention of the yellow envelope that Laylor made a small, strangled sound.

“I think I know what that was,” Laylor said.

“Oh?” Allena’s curiosity was piqued. “May I ask–“

“Sorry, Allena, I need to go,” Laylor sighed heavily. “Thank you for all your help. It’s about time I confront this husband of mine.” The line went jarringly dead.

Part 5 of Allena Abigail Burkhardt:

Or find part 1 here:

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