“Mail something!” Nora exclaimed. “What? Did she say what it was?”
Ronnie shrugged. “Beats me. I thought she was just making up an excuse…”
“Ronnie, whatever it is she was mailing, we have to find out!” Nora exclaimed. “It might be just the clue that solves it all!” Nora slapped her hand on her head. “I’ve been such an idiot!”
“What is it?”
“I saw it!” Nora exclaimed. “That day, the day Zoey came to me, she had a box in the front seat of her car. A big, brown package. I saw it, but then I completely forgot I’d seen it…until now.”
“Well, what are you waiting for!” Ronnie exclaimed. “You’ve got to go find out what it was!”
*****
Chapter 18
All Alone
The post office was no help, unfortunately. For a minute, Nora had hoped that Zoey had somehow left behind a clue or perhaps, better yet, a letter that would incriminate the killer. The lady at the post office laughed as she shattered Nora’s hopes.
“A bill?” Nora tried to hide her disappointment.
Donna, a part time artist who Nora had once helped a long time ago, nodded. She’d known immediately what Nora was hoping for. “Nice try, Nora. The sheriff already came in and asked me. Someone told him they’d seen Zoey mail something and he was just as eager as you. But it was just an overdue electric bill that she sent. We looked it up.”
“Oh.” Disappointed, Nora’s shoulders sagged a bit, but then she perked up. “Wait, this was after 7pm on a Saturday. Surely you weren’t here, then.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, no. If she’d wanted to send a package or something then, we’d have been closed. But all she wanted was to send was a return envelope for the bill, so the box outside was fine,” Donna said. “Sorry, Nora. I really hope they catch Zoey’s killer, too. But I’m afraid this is a dead end.”
“A package. A package…” Nora blinked. “Donna, if she had wanted to mail a package, then she’d have taken it back home with her, right? Since you were closed? Did the sheriff look for anything like that in Zoey’s house?”
Donna blinked, alarmed. “Well, now, I’m sure I don’t know. But he must have, don’t you think?”
“Thanks for everything!” Nora exclaimed as she raced out. Zoey’s house. That’s where she had to go now. Surely there would be something there. Something the sheriff had missed. Nora cursed herself for not thinking of the package before. Whatever was in it was key to solving this whole mystery, Nora was sure of it. But what was it? And where?
*****
The yellow tape surrounding Zoey’s house was gone but the gate now held an iron chain on it to deter curious passersby. Nora stood in front of the house for a minute, gazing up at it. It was amazing how quickly a house could look abandoned. The last time she’d come here, on the morning of Zoey’s murder, the little whitewashed house had looked cleaner, brighter and more alive than every other house on the street. Yet already, only a few days after Zoey’s death, the house looked as though it were falling apart. It was subtle things, like the drooping, unwatered flowers on her plants and the way the grass had become overgrown. The windows looked dull and soulless, too, like the half-shut eyes of a dying man.
Shivering slightly, Nora walked around until she found a loose board in the fence and managed to squeeze in. The sheriff wouldn’t like her poking around, but there was no harm, surely. Breathing heavily, Nora peeked into the house through the windows and tried both the front and back doors. All locked.
It wasn’t quite dark yet, but Nora was sure it would be soon. Wishing she had a flashlight with her instead of just her weakly-lit phone, Nora managed to open up a window and crawl through it.
“I really will work out more,” she promised herself as she finally managed to land in the kitchen. Her face was red and her heart was protesting, as were her arms. She sat down on the floor for a while, resting her head against the oven as she caught her breath. Finally, she picked herself up, this time to the protest of her knees.
Oh, to be young again, she thought.
With a start, she realized that, for the first time, she was standing at the scene of the crime. The kitchen had been cleaned up now so that it looked normal — no chalk outline of the body, no fingerprint dust. Just clean counters and a small dining table nearby. But right here, Zoey had drunk her morning smoothie, never guessing that it would be her last act on earth. Nora could picture it clearly: Zoey getting up that morning, coming down sleepily to the kitchen, getting out her fruits from the fridge and hitting the button on her mixer…
Well, unknown to Zoey, someone had gained access to her refrigerator somehow. But how? Nora looked at the tall, white fridge standing next to the stove and then at the window through which she’d just crawled. With a start, she realized that she’d probably unconsciously retraced the murderer’s own steps. The killer had crept into the kitchen through the window with a bunch of poisonous berries in his pocket then had mixed the berries with Zoey’s pre-cut fruits. Then he would’ve gone back out the way he’d come in. Neat and clean, no proof left behind.
Nothing but a dead body.
Where was the killer now? Nora wondered. Was it one of the people she had talked to already? Or someone completely different? An image formed in her mind. She saw a man wearing a silver jacket walking away from her. He was whistling a cheerful tune and slowly taking off a pair of gloves. If only she could see his face…
Shaking herself, Nora decided to focus. She’d come here to find the package that Zoey hadn’t been able to mail. Now, logically, if she were Zoey and she’d come home with the package still in hand, where would she keep it? Right by the front door, possibly.
No. Not if it was important. Not if Zoey thought it was proof of some kind. Then, she’d want to keep it tucked away as safely as possible until she had a chance to send it. Nora’s best bet was probably the bedroom.
Nora walked out of the kitchen and nearly had a heart attack as a body blocked her way. She gave a little scream and leapt back, putting a hand on her heart. “Brock! What are you doing here?”
“Well, I was going to ask you that!” Brock exclaimed. “I’ve locked the doors. How did you get in?”
“Kitchen window,” Nora said. “Oh, Brock. You scared the daylights out of me.”
“You scared the daylights out of me,” Brock repeated. “Couldn’t you have knocked like a normal person?”
“I thought the house was empty,” Nora said.
“It is.” Brock sighed. “I just decided to stay the weekend because the sheriff warned me to be close by. I couldn’t keep driving up and down the same fifty-mile stretch of road. Anyway, this is my house now, or it will be very soon. The lawyers said since the sheriff’s done with investigating it, I could stay here for a bit till the paperwork is finalized.”
“Oh, that makes sense, I suppose,” Nora said. “Zoey left it to you in her will.”
“Right,” Brock said. “I hate it. She’s still here. With every breath I take, I can feel her, smell her scent. She’s just...” He shook his head. “I can’t stand it. I’m going to wait till I’m able, then sell this house to the first person I can and take off.”
“Where will you go?”
“California, maybe? Hawaii. I don’t know. Someplace warm and far from here,” Brock said. “I’m going to leave all this behind and make a clean start.”
“Will you have enough money? Zoey’s left some behind, but...”
“I’ve got a pair of hands and I can work. And, yeah, Zoey left me enough,” Brock said. “Of course, you can always use more money. Who can’t? Wish I was a millionaire like some of the folks here in Milburn. Anyway, why are you here?”
“A package,” Nora said. “I’ve got a feeling that Zoey left behind a brown box somewhere in the house.”
Brock bit his lip and his eyes narrowed. “You came to search the house? The sheriff did that already.”
“Well, yes. But he doesn’t have the advantage you do, Broc
k. You were married to Zoey. Just think, if she wanted to hide something important, where would she do it?”
Nora saw a spark in Brock’s eyes. An idea flamed to life. Then he shook his head. “It’s getting late,” he said, looking at his watch. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow morning? We can discuss it then.”
“You know something!” Nora exclaimed. “I could see it. Come on, Brock, don’t you want to find her killer? It’ll mean your freedom, too!”
Brock shook his head. “I don’t care about her killer. Don’t you get it? What I care about is not getting arrested. But Zoey’s dead and nothing’s bringing her back. Even if she did hide a parcel, so what? It’s probably just a care package to some old aunt of hers. Or it’s something even more stupid like her returning a dress to Amazon. I’ll hunt around and I won’t find a thing. All you’re doing is making me hope and I don’t want that. I don’t want your false hopes!” He strode to the front door and pulled it open. “Out,” he said, his voice low.
“Brock, come on!” Nora stared at him, aghast. What had happened to him? This wasn’t the reformed man who had begged her for help. This was a calculating ex-convict who was hiding his thoughts from her. Trying to shake him, Nora said, “I have it on good authority that Zoey loved you, Brock. She wanted to be together with you.”
“Yeah, well that was never in my destiny, was it?” Brock’s voice was bitter. “It’s all I ever wanted, too. I told you: me, Zoey, a red convertible and a bag full of money. That was my biggest dream in life. But now it’s all gone. The sheriff’s after my blood and I’ll probably rot in jail for the rest of my life even though I’ve done nothing.”
“Come on, Brock. You can’t give up hope like that. We’re going to find out who killed her. I’m sure of it.”
“Well, what does it matter?” Brock shook his head. “You won’t understand. You just can’t. You, with your perfect house and your perfect husband and your perfect kids. You will never understand what it’s like to be a loser like me. What does it matter if they find Zoey’s killer? I’ll still be alone, won’t I? Old and near broke and alone. I lost my youth, my freedom, my Zoey…and I’ve lost my hope, too. So just get out and leave me be.”
“Brock—”
“I mean it,” Brock said. He pulled the door open wider and gestured with his hand. “Out.”
“You’ll regret this,” Nora said. “Don’t give up. Look for that package. I understand if you don’t want me around but you have to look.”
“Out.” He wasn’t even looking at her anymore. But his eyes…there was calculation in those eyes. There were racing thoughts behind them. Nora wished she could read minds.
Reluctantly, Nora left the house, lingering in front of the door for a moment. She was trying to come up with the words that would change Brock’s mind, but he slammed the door heavily in her face.
Sighing, shaking her head, Nora left, squeezing herself humiliatingly through the loose fence board once more. She paused by her car and looked first at Zoey’s house and then at Matt’s house across the street. Once more, she thought she saw the curtains shift. This time, however, she had no desire to knock on the door.
*****
Try as she might to figure out who had killed Zoey, she was stumped. For the first time, she wondered what would happen if they never did find out. Would life just go back to normal eventually? Would Zoey’s name slowly disappear from people’s lips? And the killer? Would he go about as if everything was fine, whistling his happy tune as he lived a long, happy life?
Nora knew only one thing: she couldn’t allow that to happen. Tomorrow, she’d talk to Brock again and try and shake him out of his apathy. Or, at least, try and find out exactly what thoughts he’d been hiding from her. Tomorrow, she’d try again.
But when the morning came, Nora woke up to a phone call that was eerily similar to the one she’d gotten the morning after her birthday party.
“It’s Brock.” Tina’s voice sounded strained. “Will you come to the diner immediately? I think you need to know what’s happened.”
*****
Chapter 19
Berries & The Bathtub
“Suicide,” Tina said. “Can you believe it?”
The diner was packed with customers. Nora had seen this trend before — when something big happened, townspeople liked to come over to the diner and discuss it over hot cups of coffee and a slice or two of pie.
Angela was busy in the kitchen and both Tina and Nora were manning the counter, serving crumbly apple pie with scoops of ice cream and pouring endless refills of coffee into waiting mugs.
“It’s so tragic.” Kim and Perry Morris had both driven down and were seated at the counter now, looking somber.
“I have it on good authority that the note he left behind seals the deal,” Perry said. “Brock was overwhelmed with guilt and scared of going back to jail. Being in Zoey’s house must have unhinged him. He admitted everything.”
“Poor man.” Kim shuddered. “I mean, I know he was a murderer, but still… I pity him.”
“I don’t pity him at all,” Tina said, banging the coffee pot down. “He’s a coward, is what he is. Why take Zoey’s life? Was it really that hard to learn his lesson after twenty years in jail? Poor Zoey! That’s who I pity. She was good and innocent and fell into the clutches of an evil man.”
“Now, now.” Perry raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “We must be charitable. We never know what shaped him.”
“Greed, plain and simple,” Tina said. “We like to complicate ‘bad boys’ these days, but it just comes down to greed in the end.”
“But when did it even happen?” Nora asked.
“Well, here’s the deputy now. He’ll be able to tell us,” Perry said.
The bell above the door tinkled and the entire diner turned to stare as Deputy James walked in.
“Welcome!” Perry exclaimed, patting the seat next to him. “Come on and sit down, old boy. You’re just the man we’ve been waiting for.”
“Phew.” Deputy James sniffed the air as he sat down next to Perry. “You been bathing in a forest today, Perry? You smell like one.”
“It’s my anniversary gift.” Perry put his hand on Kim’s and gave her a loving smile. Mysore Rajah.”
“I’d be sore, too, if I smelled like a forest full of flowers.” Deputy James laughed.
“Oh, hush you.” Kim swatted at him. “And look at what my Perry got me.” She showed off a diamond necklace that had both Tina and Nora ooh-ing. There was a chorus of “Happy Anniversary.”
“Never mind all that. Now come on, Deputy,” Perry said. “Out with it. Tell us all the details about Brock. The town’s going to find out anyway.”
“Sheriff’ll have my hat,” the deputy said. “I’ve been warned thrice about my big mouth already.”
“Some pie for the deputy, Tina,” Perry said. “My treat.”
“On the house.” Tina put a plate of pie and a fork in front of Deputy James. “Tell us, would you? We’re all dying to know.”
“Well…I suppose you’ll find out one way or another.” Deputy James looked over his shoulder as though he were afraid to find Sheriff Ellerton standing there. Then, leaning down, he joined heads with the others.
“We found the body early this morning. Sheriff had gone by to question him,” Deputy James explained. “He walked into the house and knew something was wrong.”
“The sheriff’s got good instincts,” Perry said.
“Yeah. He went upstairs and the room was a total mess. Brock had been looking all over for something,” Deputy James said. Then Sheriff went to the bathroom and there Brock was, in the tub. He ate the poison berries and drowned in the bathtub. Our guess is, it all happened around midnight last night.” Deputy James shook his head.
“What had Brock been looking for?” Nora’s eyes narrowed. “Did he find it?”
“Well, we found nothing. So I guess he didn’t, either.” Deputy James shrugged. “Sheriff thinks maybe he had a break
down before killing himself.”
“So... case closed?” Tina asked. “We can all breathe easy?”
“Wait, where did Brock get the poison berries?” Nora asked.
“Huh?” Deputy James blinked at her.
“Where did he get the berries? Any idea?”
Deputy James shrugged and shook his head. “Not a clue. But it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“I don’t think he killed himself,” Nora said.
“Huh?” The others stared at her, dumbfounded.
Nora bit her lip, uncertain, then plowed ahead. “I met him. Yesterday evening. We talked about Zoey’s death. He didn’t look like he was feeling guilty, Deputy. He just looked angry and frustrated that he might end up back in jail for something he didn’t do.”
“Well, of course he’d tell you that he didn’t do it,” Deputy James said. “A man’s got to pretend, right? But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t eating him up inside.”
“It’s not just that,” Nora continued. “Zoey had hidden a package somewhere in her house. That’s what Brock was trying to find.”
“A package?” Deputy James scratched his head. “We didn’t find any package.”
“But maybe Brock did.”
“I don’t understand,” Tina said. “If Brock found the package, it should have been near his body.”
“Unless the killer took it,” Nora said.
Then there was silence deepening around her words as though she’d dug a hole into reality. Perry changed that by saying, “Well, if it’s good enough for the sheriff, it’s good enough for me. I’m voting that Brock did it and committed suicide out of guilt.”
Deputy James nodded enthusiastically. “I agree. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“What about the package?” Nora asked. “What about the fact that five hours before he allegedly committed suicide, Brock was perfectly guilt-free?”
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