I Am Quinn

by McGarvey Black

  They posted pictures of Quinn sealed in plastic sleeves all over Newbridge and hung purple ribbons around hundreds of trees along the streets of The Glades as a nod to domestic violence. Reporters came and took pictures, and they urged the public to come forward with anything they might know.

  No one ever did.

  Chapter 73

  Erin Googled her sister’s name once a month without fail. She’d type ‘Quinn Delaney Roberts’ into the search bar and see what popped.

  The first year after Quinn died, she got old newspaper articles from the Newbridge Gazette or one of the Rochester papers talking about the murder and the investigation. Sometimes there would be a new comment posted on a message board tacked to the bottom of an old article. Most comments were from kooks speculating about who killed her sister. There were a lot of creeps out there. One guy thought it was the Mafia. Another thought it was al-Qaeda. She hated reading them but it was necessary, you never knew what could be significant. Anything could be a lead.

  Mike begged her to stop Googling Quinn’s name.

  ‘It’s been more than three years. Every time you do it, it’s like you drag your heart through shards of glass,’ he said gently.

  ‘I’m not giving up on her. She would never give up on me.’

  The next day she ignored her husband and typed ‘Quinn Delaney Roberts’ into the Google search bar and scrolled through pages of results. The news coverage on her sister was extensive.

  She checked every link until she saw one she hadn’t seen before. It was brand new. Her fingers trembled as she clicked on the document. It took her to an article on some political conspiracy news magazine. The report was about U.S. Supreme Court Justice Alexander Roberts. Erin wondered if it showed up in the Google results because the judge and Quinn were both named Roberts.

  That wasn’t it. Erin had typed ‘Quinn Delaney Roberts’ in quotes, so Google search looks for all three words. She kept reading. At the bottom of the article there were hundreds of reader comments ranging from thoughtful to insane. She read through every posting until she found it.

  One commenter called himself ‘Tater’, and the other was named ‘Tot’. Tater and Tot obviously knew each other. Also, it appeared that they knew her sister and not in a good way.

  TATER: And as a perfect example I’ll give you a point for the war on growth hormones in the meat supply. But first, could the ladies on this site do some online shopping for a moment? This next part is just for the guys. I’m almost 50, and one of the things that always stuck with me is the lack of Female Blouse Basketballs in junior high and high school. As I’m getting old enough to be an old geezer myself, my memory ain’t what it used to be, and neither are the Bra Sizes on today’s fairer Sex. But one thing I’ve never forgotten is the names of the only two girls in junior high AND high school who you’d want to be pressed up against on a Japanese Subway on the way to work (DOES that make any sense to you people? WAKE UP.) Quinn Delaney and Julie Gardner.

  As Captain Snarky Face has already reported: The hottest chick in our high school class was murdered by a husband who must have lost it after the birth of a few kids and the wreck and ruin of what used to be inside her bra. That’s just a guess, I don’t have any hard evidence on the motive.

  But I digress…

  Think how boring life would be if there were no lemons to leer at behind the lemonade stand. Or no fresh melons at the Farmer’s Daughter Food Stand.

  TOT: I don’t know what happened to Julie Gardner but Quinn Delaney married Roberts and moved near Rochester. She was murdered there a few years ago.

  TATER: You are absolutely correct, Captain. She and her breasts were murdered by, at the time, an unknown assailant, I have no doubt that Roberts did it. It was the year of my (mostly flat chested) twenty-fifth High School reunion. I had scoped the ballroom out as soon as I got there for a chance peek at an old fantasy that had never come true and never would. Did you happen to dig up anything on rack number two, Julie Gardner, Tot? Or is that her on the fat girl pop up ad? I never got to go out with her and my best friends of the time have all moved on to divorces from their Fat Wives. Only one of my friends is still with his Fat One.

  But I’ll never forget the memories of those mammaries and having to cover my pants crotch with my Math book when called to the front of the room after a secret staring contest between me and Quinn Delaney’s Chest from across the room.

  TOT: I don’t believe that Roberts has been charged. It may have something to do with him being on the Supreme Court and having one of their cleaners erase traces of him from the crime scene. From the reunion, I thought Quinn appeared to retain much of her attractiveness up to the time of her demise.

  TATER: Never forget what Roberts did to Quinn Delaney.

  Erin froze, barely able to breathe.

  Who the hell were Tater and Tot? Why were they talking about my sister, her breasts and her murder on a message board, years after her death?

  She copied and pasted everything and sent it to the police. If these two creeps had something to do with her sister’s death, maybe it wasn’t Alec after all. What if they killed Quinn, and this was the only place they could brag about it?

  Chapter 74

  Losing three hundred dollars was nothing, if there was the slightest chance Erin could communicate with her sister. She punched James Vance’s address into her GPS and drove south for two hours until she reached a small town outside of Philly. Vance was a well-known psychic who had come highly recommended. He had worked on many criminal cases with police all over the country. Even though she was skeptical, she had nothing to lose – ‘except your money’, her husband pointed out when he learned of her intention to go. She wouldn’t tell the psychic anything. If he were legit, he would know why she was there.

  She drove to the end of a leafy country lane in the rural town and pulled past a gravel driveway. There were several cars parked on the side of the house, one behind the other. A sign hanging on the front door said, ‘Office in back’.

  Erin had never been to a psychic before and wasn’t sure what to expect. When she entered the office, she heard New Age music quietly playing. Every inch of wall space was filled with shelves of books and spiritual knick-knacks, all for sale; crystals, candles, and stuff she couldn’t identify. She sat down and thumbed through some old magazines, anxious about whether her sister would come through and wondering if the whole thing was a bunch of bullshit.

  A few minutes later, a door opened, and a man in his sixties with long white hair, rimless glasses, and wearing what looked like blue medical scrubs entered the waiting room. He smiled.

  ‘Erin?’ he asked.

  Erin nodded with a puzzled look on her face.

  ‘I’m James Vance,’ he said, grinning more. ‘You’re wondering about my clothes.’

  She blushed.

  ‘Am I that transparent? Clearly, I need to work on my poker face.’

  ‘I wear these clothes because they’re comfortable,’ Vance said. ‘I like to keep things loose. You don’t get much looser than scrubs. I don’t have to decide what to wear in the morning. I’m always in my blue uniform. Come on back to my office.’

  They walked down a hall into a small room with two beige couches facing each other. She sat on one and he on the other.

  ‘Every psychic is different, and no encounter I have is ever the same. Some days I hear the spirits with my ears. Sometimes I see them with my eyes and other times they send information and messages that pop into my head like on a billboard. I want you to understand how they come through to me. It varies, okay?’

  Erin nodded, although she had no idea what he was talking about.

  Almost as soon as they sat down, James began talking about all her deceased grandparents.

  ‘It’s your mother’s mother,’ James said. ‘She likes the scarf you’re wearing. She’s admiring your accessories. She approves and says you’re a chip off the old block and have inherited her sense of style.’

  His comment
took Erin by surprise. Her grandmother had been a clothes horse and loved accessorising. Grandma always used to say ‘less is less and more is more and more is always better’. On any given day her grandmother would have on four or five rings, an arm full of bangle bracelets, a scarf, earrings, a pin and something sparkly in her hair. Still, Erin wasn’t sold yet. A lucky guess, she thought, everyone must have one grandmother who liked to dress up.

  ‘There is someone I want to talk to,’ said Erin. ‘She died a few years ago.’

  ‘What was her name?’ he asked.

  ‘Quinn, her name is Quinn.’

  James closed his eyes, then opened them, cocked his head to the side and looked down at the floor. There was a long silent pause.

  ‘She’s here,’ he said softly. ‘I can feel her. I can’t see or hear her yet, but I feel her presence.’

  ‘She was murdered,’ Erin blurted out and immediately kicked herself for volunteering too much. ‘I miss her. I worry about her being hurt and alone.’

  James started to laugh.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, still chuckling and looking across the room over Erin’s head. ‘Yes, I see you, calm down.’

  Silence.

  ‘Yes, they’re very nice,’ James said, still smiling at an open space on the other side of the room. After a moment, he turned back to Erin. ‘I see your friend Quinn,’ he said, laughing again. ‘She’s funny. She wants you to know, she’s okay. She’s pointing to her chest and neck and showing me everything is good. She wants you to know that she’s not hurt anymore. That she’s healed.’

  Tears streamed into Erin’s eyes. James handed her a box of tissues.

  ‘She says she misses you but that she’s alright,’ he continued. ‘She said wishes she could hang out and drink margaritas with you. She’s pretending to make a drink in a cocktail shaker.’

  Erin started to laugh and cry at the same time. Maybe this was the real deal, she thought. Quinnie loved margaritas. How could he possibly know that?

  ‘Can she tell you anything? We’re trying to find out who killed her,’ Erin said. ‘Was it her husband?’

  James turned his head a few times, looked down and then looked up. He shook his head, confused.

  ‘I’m having trouble hearing her,’ he said. ‘I can’t see her face, no wait, now I can. She’s frustrated. She says she doesn’t know why the person who killed her did it. She says that her last day isn’t clear. She didn’t know him or why he wanted to hurt her. She begged him not to do it.’

  The session went on for a full forty minutes and Erin got more information about the murder.

  ‘It wasn’t her husband?’ Erin gasped near the end. ‘Are you sure?’

  James looked over Erin’s head again. ‘Her husband might have known about it,’ James said. ‘But he didn’t do it. Quinn’s showing me a deli or a supermarket. I can see the sign outside the store, it’s blue and white. She’s pointing to the camera over the register.’

  ‘She must mean that little market near her apartment. I went there once with her,’ Erin said. ‘I think their sign was blue and white.’

  James turned his head again and zoned out, then he began to nod.

  ‘I’ll ask her,’ he said, looking over Erin’s head at the wall, still nodding.

  ‘Ask me what?’ said Erin.

  ‘Quinn wants to know why you didn’t tell me that she’s your sister?’ he said.

  Erin lost it. This was real. Her sister was there.

  Chapter 75

  QUINN

  Everything is so weird now. I don’t know where I am or where I’m supposed to go. I’m always walking, always moving. There are others around me, but they’ve got their own agenda. I often find myself at a playground, riding on the swings. I’m waiting for something, but I don’t know what. How will I know I’ve found it if I don’t know what I’m looking for?

  Today, if it even is today, I was suddenly yanked from the park and found myself in a strange room. There was a man there with white hair and rimless glasses. He must have been a doctor because he had on blue scrubs like the kind they wear in operating rooms. Erin was sitting across from him. She was crying and talking about me. I went right up to her face.

  I said, ‘Erin. I’m here.’ But she couldn’t hear me. No one ever hears me. I screamed into her ear. ‘Erin, I’m right here next to you. Don’t cry.’

  Nothing. Then I saw the doctor look over in my direction almost like he had heard me. I tried to get his attention by jumping up and down and shouting, ‘Doctor, here, doctor, I’m over here, can you see me?’

  He was looking the wrong way. I grabbed at my shirt and lifted it up to show him my boobs and then stood directly in front of him, dancing. He’ll notice these, I thought. Within seconds, I saw a glimmer of something in his eyes. He saw me. He could see me. Yay! I did a little victory dance.

  He laughed when he saw what I was doing and told Erin I was there. I pointed to each of my naked breasts and laughed with him because someone finally acknowledged me. The doctor told Erin what he saw.

  ‘That’s Quinnie,’ Erin said to the man in the scrubs. ‘Always outrageous, always wanting to have fun. I miss her so much. I’m afraid she might be scared and alone.’

  I didn’t want my big sister to worry, so I showed the doctor that I was all better and pointed to my neck and chest, so Erin would know I was healed. He told her and she started to cry again.

  ‘She wants you to know she’s okay,’ the doctor said.

  ‘Please don’t cry, Erin,’ I shouted. ‘Let’s have a margarita together.’ I pretended I had a martini shaker and acted out making a drink, pouring it into a glass and having a sip. The doctor saw me do it and laughed too.

  Chapter 76

  Erin sobbed while she told Mike about her session with the psychic causing Mike to cry too. After they composed themselves, they laughed about Quinn making margaritas and flashing her breasts. It was so her.

  ‘You know I don’t believe in this kind of stuff,’ Mike said to his wife, ‘but I have to admit, James Vance kind of nailed your sister. And, Kenny’s Kwik-Mart does have a blue and white sign. How could he have known that and how did he know Quinn was your sister?’

  Although the cops would probably think they were total flakes, they decided to write a recap of sections from the recording Erin made of her session with James Vance and send it to the police. They wanted the cops to check the security video from that market.

  The session with Psychic, James Vance

  Erin: I want to talk to my friend Quinn, she died.

  (Long pause)

  James: (Vance laughing) I can see her. She’s showing me her breasts, pointing at them and smiling. There’s a lot of bright light around her. She’s okay. She’s in a good place. She says she had a feeling something wasn’t right, not at first but near the end, she knew. It happened quickly. Her chest was hurt, and so was her neck. But she’s restored now and looks good. (Pause) Now, she’s making herself a cocktail and mouthing the word ‘margarita’. (Pause) She wants you to know she’s alright and she loves you. That you shouldn’t worry about her.

  James: (Long pause) She can hear you by the way. She says she didn’t expect things to get as out of hand as they did. She’s showing me a man walking up to her house with a dog. (Pause)

  Erin: Is it her husband?

  James: She says her husband is useless.

  Erin: He wouldn’t talk to the police.

  James: She thinks the person who did it is somebody she had seen in a store. She’s showing me a small store that sells eggs and bread and has a blue and white sign. She’s pointing to the camera over the register. She says that last day is fuzzy. Everything is upside-down. She didn't know the person who did it.

  Erin: But, we thought it was her husband.

  James: She says her husband’s not the brightest bulb, but he thinks he is the smartest. She’s telling me her husband is someone who could have blood on his face, like war paint and still say he’s innocent. Lying comes easily to
him but it wasn’t her husband. The person who did it was jittery and nervous. (Long pause) Avon. There’s some connection to Avon, NY.

  Erin: Quinn lived in Avon with her husband and kids.

  James: She says her husband didn’t kill her, but all connections lead to Avon. Her husband may have a piece of information you need. Quinn’s telling me she felt like she had been under surveillance, that a stranger had been watching her. She’s showing me the security camera at the store. The killer was there when she was.

  Chapter 77

  Candace Burrows, head of Victim’s Rights for the Newbridge PD cornered McQuillan in the department’s break room. She was the point person between the police and DA, and victims and their families. She was Erin’s primary contact, and she wanted to know if McQuillan had seen the email from Erin about her meeting with the psychic.

  ‘Yeah, I read it,’ he said as he poured himself his third cup of coffee.

  ‘And?’

  ‘C’mon, Candy, a psychic?’

  ‘McQ, what have you got to lose?’ she said. ‘Some police departments work with psychics all the time.’

  Candace knew which of McQuillan’s buttons to push. She slathered him with guilt, and eventually it worked. Though the detective was convinced it was a big fat waste of time, he decided to go get the video from Kenny’s Kwik-Mart and have a look at it.

  ‘I had a feeling you’d want to see it one day,’ Kenny said with a satisfied smile when McQuillan walked into the market. ‘It’s in my safe. I’ve looked at it at least fifty times. There’s no audio, only pictures and the images aren’t that clear. I only have the system to prevent shoplifting. It ain’t HBO. You know what I mean?’