Unaware of events within the Moon Lake courtroom during Yvette Smith's arraignment hearing, two plain clothes detectives of the Moon Lake Police Department were continuing the investigation authorized by the Moon Lake District Attorney's office.
They pulled up near a run down house in one of the older sections of town. Unlike most of the surrounding buildings, which had been carefully restored and preserved over the years to proudly showcase its age and heritage, this one looked like a halfway decent breeze would demolish it in seconds.
"This is the place?" the older and senior detective asked, while looking around. The slight touch of gray in his temples was the only indication that he was starting to age, despite the fact that as a weredog, he was already well past 100.
"Yeah Denny," said his younger partner, while checking his small notebook. "Town records show this address as the last known residence of Margaret Smith, mother of Yvette Smith, the rogue werevixen in custody. No known father on record."
"The place looks like it went to Oz and back the hard way," replied Denny, while staring at the one story structure. There were holes and busted slats in the wooden property fence. The grass was overgrown. The exterior house paint faded, and the curtain was closed in every window. "You sure anybody still lives here?" he asked, looking at the overfilled mailbox. A quick peek at some of the address labels on the visible envelopes sticking out all either said 'M. Smith' or 'Margaret Smith', with most also bearing red stamps warnings of past due bills.
"Well, the DA's office requested someone check out Yvette Smith's mother while other's are investigating the rogue were-vixen herself," his partner reminded him.
"And we drew the short straw," said Denny. "Well, let's get this over with."
The two detectives started walking up the cracked cement sidewalk to the front porch of the house. The weeds were well past the edges and threatening to cover the concrete completely.
When Denny started to step on the porch, the wooden board under his foot was so rotten that it almost broke under his weight.
Carefully climbing up to the front door, Denny knocked while his partner looked around. Despite the apparent tranquility of the area, the last thing a good cop wants is to be caught unaware.
But while there were no apparent suspects or hostiles nearby, the detectives were alerted that something was amiss.
"Do you smell that?" Denny asked his partner.
"Smells like probable cause to me," replied the other man, as he opened the screen door and tried the front door handle. "Locked."
"Go for it," offered Denny, as he pulled out his service weapon.
The younger man pulled out his handgun, before kicking the front door open. The smell that greeted them was enough to want to make an adult gag.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Denny, as he put his gun away and donned a pair of rubber gloves before he pulled out a handkerchief to cover his mouth and nose.
"Afraid so," replied his partner, copying Denny's actions as he led the way inside.
The house was dusty and dirty and looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months. There were cobwebs starting to form in some places and trash piled on the coffee table near a battered recliner that was turned to face the television.
Food soiled plates covered the kitchen table, with more in the sink, along with a collection of used pots and pans.
A quick peek inside the refrigerator made Denny say, "There's stuff in there old enough to apply for retirement benefits!"
While not clean, the bathroom looked like it hadn't been used in quite a while. The detectives noted pill bottles scattered across the counter. All were made out either to M or Margaret Smith.
They were surprised to find one bedroom completely empty. The discolored impressions in the carpeting from furniture having been there for years was the only clue that the room was ever occupied.
The next bedroom looked like it had always been used for storage. Dust covered everything, but it would have to be examined in more detail later.
The master bedroom was were the smell originated from.
The detectives opened the bedroom door long enough to see the decomposing remains of a body lying on top of the covers of a king sized bed.
"Mrs. Smith, I presume?" asked Denny, before closing the door. "We better call the Coroner's Office and seal the house as a potential crime scene," he added, before walking back toward the front door.