Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  “This is intolerable,” Liz stated. “We are going to come to some kind of a decision now. If I can see an end in sight, living with you won’t be so difficult. But we are not going to go on like this.”

  “I’m reading,” he said.

  Liz marched over to the bedside and grabbed the book out of his hand, and before he could lunge for it, she threw it as hard as she could against the wall.

  “What’d you do that for?” John yelled, trying to get up to retrieve it. But Liz had the advantage and pushed him down.

  “Nope, you are not going to ignore me. I’ll set this goddamned room on fire right now if you don’t pull it together and talk to me, John. The party is over!” Where that phrase appeared was a mystery, but later the next day, as she related the story to her sisters-in-law, they agreed it was perfect.

  “John always went along with the plan,” Paula said.

  Joan nodded. “He was happy to do whatever we wanted as long as he didn’t have to lift a finger.”

  “Well, I’m tired of it. I think the threat of all of his crappy books being set aflame finally did it. He was up all last night packing his books.”

  “Nick is going to help him move into the summerhouse,” Paula said. “And he’s going to join him. I’ll be alone for Christmas, but I’m okay with it.” Joan and Liz looked at Paula. Her husband was incapable of fidelity, but she still wanted to live with him and be his caretaker. Liz couldn’t do it and, furthermore, had too much self-respect to do it any longer.

  “Well, I’m truly sorry for you, but I’m not staying with John so Nick won’t leave you,” Liz said. Sounding more brutal than she intended, it was the first time she’d criticized Nick.

  Paula didn’t get defensive, as Liz feared she might. “No, I know. It’s my own doing. He only needed a willing companion. Nick would never move out to live alone. Evidently his girlfriend still lives with her parents, so moving in with her isn’t an option.” The women gasped, but Paula laughed. “Yep, she’s still at home. I’m afraid to ask how old she is, but I know Nick is older than her father.”

  Liz didn’t feel better after she talked to the women. And that afternoon when Nick kissed her on the cheek as they were preparing to leave for the summerhouse and her own husband didn’t even say goodbye, the euphoria she hoped his departure would precipitate never came. She locked the door after them, putting up the chain. Standing off to the side of the window so they couldn’t see her, Liz watched as Nick’s truck pulled away and drove down the daunting driveway. But she needn’t have bothered, because John didn’t care. Drawing the drapes closed, the sleepless night finally caught up with her.

  Making sure the house was secure, she went back to the bedroom, leaving the door open. It was dark with the drapes shut, and she didn’t bother turning on a light to undress. Slipping on a worn pair of sweatpants and an old college sweatshirt, she got into bed and fell asleep immediately.

  Pulling up to the front of the family summerhouse, as he looked over the yard, Nick was sorry he hadn’t called Maria first to have her arrange to have the driveway plowed. Lake-effect snow piled on more than eighteen inches in the past three days. He put the truck into four-wheel drive and drove up to the house. It would be the first time anyone had stayed there since Sophie’s murder.

  “I feel sad,” John said after being silent for the past hour and a half.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Nick said, opening the door. “It’s not easy ending a marriage.”

  John looked confused, and then it sank in. “No, not about that,” he said, frowning. “About Sophie. About the house and all.” Although he had the reputation of being a hard-ass himself, Nick would later tell his family he was shocked. Maybe there was something wrong with John that no one had noticed in sixty-five years, or he was becoming demented.

  “Yes, it’s very sad about Sophie,” Nick agreed. “But ending a long marriage with someone you love is sad, too.”

  “No, it’s not. I’m sad because I had to leave my bedroom, no other reason,” John said brusquely. “Liz expects too much from me.”

  “When did this come about?” Nick asked, confused. “You and Liz always had the steady marriage of the family. Frankly, I find it hard to believe you’re separating.”

  John looked at his brother, wondering how much truth was necessary. He’d managed to keep his innermost feelings hidden all his life, and his brother Nick was not going to be a willing confidant, he was almost certain of it. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Nick. I haven’t loved Liz for a long time. I like her as a close friend, but she’s been so hateful the past six months I can’t even say that’s true anymore. It’s better if we get it over with. I’m just sorry I had to leave the house.”

  He sighed, thinking about his treasured books in the back of Nick’s truck. It was only a small portion of what he’d collected, and he was worried Liz would trash them before he could convince Nick to make another trip. As it stood, Nick promised they’d get another load on their way home from Greektown Christmas Day.

  The thought of going to Detroit to face the rest of the family was grating on his nerves. “Why can’t we bypass it just once?”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Nick said. “I like going, and that’s where we’re spending Christmas.” It was the end of the conversation, not occurring to either man that it would be perfectly appropriate for them to go their separate ways.

  “I’ll turn the water on, and you can shovel a path from the truck,” Nick said, handing John the snow shovel. “Call Maria, too. I’m sure some busybody in the neighborhood has already informed her that we’re here.”

  John pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket and dialed his sister’s number. When she answered, he didn’t bother saying hello. “Nick and I are moving into the summerhouse.”

  “Who is this?” Having rarely spoken to John on the phone, she didn’t recognize his voice.

  “John,” he said, exasperated.

  “Brother John?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Maria, who else?” Later, she would tell her siblings that she definitely knew there was something wrong with him after that call.

  “Okay, John, why are you and Nick moving into the summerhouse? I had the pipes winterized right after Sophie died. I’m not even sure you’ll be able to get the furnace going.”

  “I left Liz, and Nick left Paula, and so we’re staying here.”

  “Oh! Is that right?” Honest to God, my brothers are a piece of work. “You could have given me some notice. What if Jim’s family wanted to use it over Christmas?”

  “Do they?” John asked. “You just said you’d had it winterized. And besides, it’s our family house, not Jim’s.”

  “Look, smartass, my husband has taken care of that goddamned house for the past forty years. If his family wants to use it, they will. When did you ever lift a hand over there?”

  “Why do I have to lift a hand? It’s my house. You live close by and evidently are using it more than the rest of the family, so you should be responsible for it.” There was a first time for everything, and in Maria’s recollection, this argument she and John were having was unprecedented. “Besides, if you didn’t want to take care of it, you only had to say something to me.”

  But he was talking into a dead phone. Putting it back into his pocket, he started shoveling snow. Once he began a task, he’d be unable to stop. Nick got the furnace going and turned the water on as Maria rehashed the conversation she’d had with their brother. John shoveled the entire circular driveway, the path behind the house that led to a seating area overlooking Lake Michigan and an area the size of a football field in front of the house. The sun was starting to go down when Nick looked out and saw his brother still at it. It was then that he was convinced that something was definitely wrong with John.

  Maria said, “He’s more than an ass; there’s something not right about him.” Nick dialed Liz’s number to try to shed some light on his behavior, but there was no answer.

  “L
iz,” he said to the answering machine. “I’m worried about John. Give me a call.” She’d listen to the message later that night when she woke up, suffering with a headache and hunger pangs.

  “Yeah, now you’re worried,” she said to the air. Wandering around her kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator and pantry looking for something to eat, she decided there was nothing keeping her home. There was a bar in Lansing with great atmosphere where she’d hang out if it were closer to home. Glancing at the clock, it was almost nine. If she hurried, she could be there before ten, the time the kitchen closed.

  18

  It was almost Christmas. Valarie Caldwell felt more isolated than she ever had. Her parents were reeling from Cynthia’s death and ignoring Valarie. The funeral was scheduled for New Year’s Eve, and the limbo the family found themselves in due to the delay was becoming unbearable. Elizabeth Caldwell had stopped speaking to anyone, and William sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, crying.

  Not that it affected Valarie; she was a self-starter through necessity, her mother willing to meet her needs by providing food and a roof, but little else. Never having felt like she belonged in their upper-middle class household, Valarie once told a friend she was sure that she was adopted, but that her parents took her in against their will. The middle child, she learned early to fend for herself. Cindy was the beautiful firstborn, the prima donna of the family. Valarie was smarter than Cindy, but her mother especially downplayed it because no one could be smarter than Cindy. Cindy had a four-year, paid-for college degree, while Valarie was going to community college on government loans. Cindy was front and center in all family portraits. Her wardrobe was the envy of her friends. Valarie babysat for extra money until she was old enough to get a job, and her parents expected her to buy her own clothes.

  Baby brother, Phillip, was perfection in their eyes. Born prematurely, Elizabeth Caldwell mentioned daily that they’d almost lost him. Revered by his parents in spite of being constantly in trouble at school, he stayed busy after the news of his sister’s death, hanging out away from the house with friends. “I’m sorry about your sister. But don’t you need to stick around your own house?”

  “Hell no,” he whispered. “I can’t stand it around there.”

  Valarie could have done the same thing; her friends were conciliatory, but Valarie couldn’t submit to it. She needed to be alone, to feel all the feelings as they came to her. She couldn’t believe Cindy was gone. It was bad enough when she was alive, but now her parents would canonize her and make a shrine of the house. It had already started. That morning, a truck towing Cindy’s car pulled in front of the house.

  “Oh my God, there’s her car,” William Caldwell cried. He’d been standing in the picture window, drinking coffee, when the truck arrived. Elizabeth ran over, and they made a beeline out of doors. Valarie watched from her upstairs bedroom window as her parents clung to each other crying, fawning over the piece of metal.

  She’d decided she was going to ask if she could have the car. It was now or never. The three of them stood in the freezing cold without coats on, arguing about the car. The neighbor closest to their house watched, saddened by what she saw as Elizabeth Caldwell pushed Valarie away from the car, yelling, “No! It was her car. I don’t want you to touch it, let alone drive it.”

  Valarie went back inside, numb but resigned. She didn’t doubt her parents loved her, but in their own way. It might be time to shake things up.

  Albert was snoring so loudly that he didn’t hear his phone ring. Roger grabbed it and answered for him.

  “This is Valarie Caldwell. Can I speak to Detective Wong?”

  Roger patted Albert’s shoulder, and when that didn’t rouse him, he gave him a little shake.

  “What?” Albert mumbled, it not yet seven.

  “A young lady named Valarie Caldwell is on the phone,” Roger said.

  Albert sat up in bed and took the phone. “You okay, Valarie?” He rubbed his eyes, trying to get oriented.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but I need to talk, and I need to do it right away,” she said.

  “Talk about what, Valarie?” Albert’s heart started to pound, hard. He could hear whispering in the background, almost growling.

  “I know who killed my sister,” she said. Soft crying sounds came through the phone.

  “Can you come into the city?” he asked. “We have everything we need to move forward here.” He was already thinking district attorney and plea deals. He was thinking they’d see the end of this mess by the end of the day.

  “Yes, I’ll get my parents to bring me over.” They said goodbye, and Albert jumped out of bed, excited by what Valarie might actually have. There had to be a break coming in because they had nothing else.

  Albert stopped off at Jill’s place on his way to the precinct to meet with Valarie. Sitting in the window looking out after Mark left, Jill saw Albert running down the street with a newspaper over his head. Warmer weather arrived overnight, and a winter rain washed away the snow. But as the day progressed, the temperature was supposed to drop, and hopes for a white Christmas abounded.

  “What are you doing here so bright and early?” she said, watching him shaking his raincoat off over the landing. “This is starting to feel like a habit.”

  “Valarie Caldwell says she’s ready to talk.”

  Jill took a step back, shocked. “Where did that come from?”

  “Got me. I’m completely surprised,” Albert said. “If you have any insight for me, please hand it over.”

  “I’ve got nothin’ this second, but let me think for a moment.” She walked to her altar and absently picked up a small owl statue. “What time will they be here?”

  “They’re probably arriving now, so I can’t hang around,” Albert said, fighting the urge once again to push up his sleeve to check his watch.

  “No, of course not.” She looked up at him. “Who’s her counsel?”

  “Baker,” Albert said. Azure Baker was a popular defense attorney. “So, no surprises.”

  “No, none,” Jill said. If Baker’s clients were guilty, she made sure they were treated fairly while looking for loopholes. “But watch your back.”

  Albert nodded his head. He said goodbye and left the apartment, deep in thought.

  “Valarie has information about our daughter’s murder,” William Caldwell said. “But before she says anything, we need to have your word that she’ll get leniency if she tells you what she knows.”

  Albert turned his head so when he snickered, he wouldn’t spray spit all over the Caldwells.

  “I’m afraid that’s not exactly how it works,” Albert said, looking at their attorney. “Counselor, you’d better inform your client that she may be charged as an accessory after the fact and with obstruction if she doesn’t tell us what she knows right now.”

  Azure Baker put her hand up. “Albert, can I have a minute with my client?”

  He nodded and gathered the files up to leave. He was leaning up against the wall outside of the room when the assistant district attorney, Alison, walked up to him. Word reached her that a possible suspect had stepped forward.

  “You’ve got about two hours to present me with something, Albert, anything. It’s Christmas Eve, for God’s sake.”

  “Oh, please, give me just half a break,” he complained. “She’s in with her attorney right now.”

  Alison looked at her watch and walked away. Albert swore he heard her emit a sob. Everyone wanted to go home early on Christmas Eve; Roger was picking Nana Wong up on his way home from work, and they’d do one more liquor store run. They were all going to go to midnight mass in Greektown after dinner at Gus’s if they weren’t comatose from the lavish hors d’oeuvres Roger was preparing to make.

  Azure Baker stuck her head out of the room. “Please come back in, Detective. We’re ready to talk.” Alison stuck her head out of her office door at the same time and pointed at her watch. Albert wanted to give her the finger but resisted.


  “Please don’t waste my time,” Albert said as he entered the room. “It is Christmas Eve.”

  “Yes, we’re aware of that fact,” Baker said, looking at Valarie. “Go ahead, dear.”

  “Paul Cummings shot Cindy,” she said.

  Albert quickly went through his mental list of suspects, and Paul Cummings was nowhere, so far out of the radar range that Albert had to search for him.

  “Paul Cummings,” he said. “The maintenance man at Griswold Country Club.”

  Valarie nodded her head, struggling not to start crying. The tension in the room was so thick it was affecting Albert, who broke out in a sweat.

  “How do you know this, Valarie?”

  “I was there,” she said, finally giving in to her emotions as her parents gasped.

  Elizabeth Caldwell was sitting next to Valarie, and then hearing that Valarie was present at the murder, she pushed her, moving her chair. A flurry of activity ensued as Azure Baker told Elizabeth Caldwell that she’d be charged with battery if she struck her daughter again.

  “What happened?” Albert asked gently.

  William Caldwell leaned closer to listen while Elizabeth made whining sounds, trying not to lash out.

  “Can I tell you alone? Mom, Dad, you’re making me nervous.”

  Azure Baker stood up. “Come with me, Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell.”

  “I don’t want to leave!” William said. “I’m paying your bill, dammit, so I should get to stay.”

  “Sorry, but that doesn’t work here,” she said. “Valarie’s an adult. Come with me.”

  The parents stood up and flashed angry looks at Valarie, but she wasn’t looking in their direction, so it was wasted. She started to speak, but Albert stopped her.

  “Wait for Ms. Baker to return,” he said. The minutes ticked by before the door finally opened again and she walked through.

  “They’re waiting out front,” she said.