by Kasi Blake
* * *
I’m not sure what I expected in Cheryl, but the woman who stood on my doorstep wasn’t quite it. Squat, heavy, dressed in a too-tight hip-hugging pair of black jeans and a paisley top which squeezed her breasts into a high, unnatural shape. Her face was weathered and rough, as if an apple had been left in a corner for far too long.
I drew back, welcoming her in. “It is great to meet you, Cheryl,” I greeted. “Thank you so much; I imagine you had many things to do today.”
“It was on my way,” she stated, a sharpness edging her voice. “And besides, you said we could have a glass or two of wine while we talked.”
I glanced at the clock on the cable box – the green, segmented lines indicated it was a few minutes after noon. “Of course,” I agreed with a smile. “Come on in.”
She looked around as we moved through the living room, her eyes lingering a little too long on the large-screen TV hanging over the fireplace. A shiver moved through me; I dismissed it with a deliberate push. Surely she was not simply here to case my house for a robbery.
She plunked herself down on the chair facing the back suet feeder and looked over at the waist-height maple wine rack which stood against the center island of the kitchen. “I prefer red,” she called out.
“Red it is,” I agreed without censure, drawing out a bottle of Velvet Devil merlot. It was a screw-cap, so it was only a moment before I had the glass in front of her. She drank half of it down in one draw.
I moved to the fridge and pulled out a Tupperware of cheddar I’d sliced into squares, and laid them out on a plate with some Triscuits. I placed the snack at the center of the green tablecloth, settling myself to her right where my mug of Chanakara tea waited, steaming.
She ignored the food offering. “So, what’d’ya wanna know?”
“Tell me about your sister.”
She made a swirling motion in the air with her hand. “Eileen the perfect. Tall. Elegant. Blonde. Blue-eyed. Every guy within fifty miles wanted to have sex with her.” She gave a chortle. “In all the movies she’d be the other woman, the reason the guy drowned his ugly wife. It figures she somehow took the martyrdom glory and the starring role for herself.”
“The glory?” I asked, baffled.
She leant forward. “Oh, sure,” she insisted. “The papers were talking about it for months! How did she drown? Was it one of those four guys? What could the motive be? What kind of a brilliant actress had the world lost?” She rolled her eyes, and it was as if a petulant thirteen-year-old had been trapped inside the sagging body of a middle-aged woman. “She would have absolutely loved it.”
“What did you think the motive was?”
She downed the rest of her wine and her eyes went meaningfully to the empty glass. I stood, brought back the bottle, and put it on the table beside the plate of cheese. She filled her glass to the very brim; I was impressed how the surface tension kept the liquid from rolling over the lip onto the table.
Another mouthful and she was talking again. “Oh, I’m sure it was simply her stupidity. My sister thought she was perfect. She never had even the slightest inkling that she could fail.” Cheryl scowled. “And of course, she wouldn’t. If she did something wrong in Algebra class, she would just smile and wink at Mr. McGuthers. He would give her extra tutoring after class and pass her. If she got caught speeding down 146, a wink and a flash of her cleavage would get her off with a warning.” Her look soured. “I got caught in that exact same spot and the ticket was tossed at me without a second glance.”
I took a sip of my tea, sliding my fingers along the smooth burgundy ceramic handle. “But surely one of the boys could have done it?”
She took another gulp of the wine, pondering the thought for a moment. “Maybe Richard or Sam,” she stated at last, “But certainly not Charles. I’ve never seen a bigger coward.” She gave a snorting laugh. “I saw him at the Publick House a few days after he was fired from OmniBank for his inappropriate loans to the senator. You should have seen him. He would have jumped if someone had tapped him on his shoulder.” She scoffed. “And he calls himself a man.”
“How about John?” I asked.
She looked at me as if I’d spoken in tongues. “John? John was her lap-dog. I’m surprised he didn’t dress in matching outfits with her. He was beyond obsessed with her.” She took another long drink of wine. “Calling every day on the phone, throwing pebbles at her window every night, it was beyond belief.”
“How did your sister take it?”
She laughed out loud. “As my sister took everything in life. As her due. She was the queen, and John was her groveling subject. If she was ever surprised, it was because not every man collapsed like a puddle of quivering Jell-O when entering her presence.”
I thought about that, looking out the side window. The cardinals from the morning had long since gone. Now a blue jay sat stationed at the feeder, picked a sunflower seed out of the feeder hole, tilted his head back, and swallowed it whole. Another seed, another tilt. I saw a chickadee flutter tenuously down toward the opposite side, then veer off, nervous. The blue jay was not giving up his perch; for now the smaller birds would have to wait.
Cheryl looked sullenly down into her wine. “Eileen always got everything,” she sulked. “My parents sided with her on every argument. At Christmas she got exactly what she wanted, while I had to settle for ‘nearly good enough’ presents. And at school –” She snorted. “Every teacher would look around in delight when they read my name on the first day, and then I could see it in their eyes when their gaze finally settled on me. Disappointment. Throughout the year I would be exhorted to do as well as my sister, reminded when I failed that my sister would have succeeded.”
“That must have been rough,” I commented.
“You bet it was rough,” she snarled. “I was always in her shadow. A black, grimy shadow I could not escape. That was what life was like with her around. Inky dark, and not even a glimmer of light could penetrate it.”
I kept my voice low. “So you were … happy when she died?”
“You betya,” she agreed with a nod, “and I’m not ashamed to admit it. It was her own stupid fault she got drunk on that beach. It’s her own idiotic choice to insist they go out on the water. She probably stirred those boys up into a jealous frenzy and got them fighting about her. It was her favorite pastime. And what kind of an idiot spends time on a lake and barely knows how to swim?” Her voice took on a sing-song effect. “ ‘I wouldn’t want my skin to wrinkle,’ she would say. ‘I might look all gross and old.’” She laughed. “Well, looks like she doesn’t have to worry about that now.”
“But there was money missing when she died, wasn’t there?” I asked.
Her eyes darted to the window, staring at the blue jay, and her fingers wrapped tightly around the stem of her empty wine glass. I reached forward to pour it full again. I pitched my voice to be reassuring. “I don’t care about the money,” I reassured her. “I just want to eliminate it as a motive for foul play.”
She snorted at that, bringing the wine to her lips, her shoulders easing as she drew the liquid down her throat. “There would be plenty of motives for drowning her, with the enemies that girl made, but the two thousand dollars wasn’t one of them.”
So she knew the amount. I kept my voice calm. “Oh?”
Her voice began to rise. “After all I went through? After all those years of neglect and failed promises? Every single item of clothing I owned was a hand-me-down from her. I never got a new coat. Never a new pair of shoes. Everything was worn and scuffed and stained and torn. Every. Single. Thing.” The years of pain echoed in her voice. “I deserved that two thousand dollars. I earned it. I bled for it!”
“So nobody knew?”
She shook her head. “She thought she could lock me out of her room but I figured out how to pick that door years ago. I knew exactly what shoebox she kept her treasures in.” She snorted. “She couldn’t help but boast to me the moment she came home with the
cash, how glorious her life would be and how nasty mine would end up. She was going to live in an elegant mansion in Hollywood, with an in-ground swimming pool, a sauna, and a personal masseuse. I would be lucky to have a roof that didn’t leak.”
She took another drink. “The moment my parents told me she had drowned, I ran upstairs. They thought I was upset, but I was only making sure that I could get into her room as quickly as possible. I took that two thousand and hid it underneath my dresser. The moment I turned eighteen I moved out and got my own apartment. I was going to take charge of my own destiny and be out from under her shadow forever.”
I looked her over. Her top was frayed around the neckline and the necklace she wore had imitation turquoise in it. My voice became soft. “Did you find happiness?”
The corners of her mouth turned down. “It was too late,” she snapped. “She had spoiled everything. Every family gathering focused on the loss of Eileen and how tragic it was. There weren’t even any more hand-me-downs for me. Everyone around here treated me like an outcast for not wearing black and moping for the loss of the world’s greatest treasure.”
“So why didn’t you leave?”
She blinked in surprise. “And go where?” she asked. “I wasn’t a star. I couldn’t go to Hollywood.”
I looked at her for a moment. “But surely there are many other places in the world that would interest you?”
Her blank gaze seemed to indicate that she’d never thought of that.
Her eyelids began to droop. A nervous spear of energy lanced through me at the thought of inflicting her on the busy roads in this state. “I just got in Brave on Netflix,” I offered. “It’s a DVD about a girl who chooses her own destiny. It sounds like it’s right up your alley. Would you like to watch it?”
“Sure,” she agreed listlessly, and together we moved to the futon in the living room. I set her up on the left side, with the pillows against the arm and a draped comforter over her. I pulled the ivory tapestry curtains over the windows to dampen the light a bit.
The movie had only finished its opening sequence before I heard a low snore.
