Two Widows: A totally gripping mystery and suspense novel

by Laura Wolfe

  An hour earlier, after double-locking all the doors and windows, I’d made up beds for Beth and her sister on the couches downstairs. We’d agreed it was safer for them to stay inside with me and Rascal. Plus, Beth had hidden her gun under the cushion where she slept in case of any uninvited visitors.

  I thought of Ethan on his camping trip and hoped he was sleeping soundly. It was a small relief to have him out of harm’s way and oblivious to the horrible man named Vic Callis. At the same time, I couldn’t wait for him to return, to confide in him about Beth’s experiences, and to feel less alone.

  My instincts told me to march down to the police station and report Vic as a possible suspect in the murders of Ella and Amanda, but Beth had made me promise not to contact anyone. She was convinced the police couldn’t touch him, especially small-town police who’d probably never investigated a real crime before. She said Vic was a professional criminal who didn’t leave behind evidence. He didn’t make mistakes. There wouldn’t be enough to hold him. She doubted Vic Callis was even his real name. Alerting the police would only guarantee prison—or a death sentence—for Beth.

  I reached for the glass of water next to me and the gleam of a jewel caught my eye. Beth’s necklace, the one I’d discovered in her car and had assumed was Amanda’s, lay in a shimmering coil inside the zip-lock bag on the corner of my nightstand. Amanda had sold her jewelry to pay Vic the $10,000. I picked up the bag and examined the silver chain through the plastic; the turquoise wings of the butterfly reflected like sparkling water under the light. What if? I thought. What if?

  Under normal circumstances, a “Risk-averse/Conformist” like me never would have considered the illegal act. But facts had changed. Piece by piece, I concocted a plan.

  The next morning, my eyelids struggled to stay open as I poured water into the coffee maker. I hadn’t slept a wink. Opening the refrigerator, I rummaged for something to offer Beth and Caroline for breakfast. Half of a loaf of bread and some eggs lay on the shelf. French toast would be the easiest.

  A torturous sob drew me into the living room. I found Beth on the couch next to Caroline. I looped my arm around her shoulders and squeezed. Her body radiated heat beneath my embrace, and my heart wrenched. I knew from experience that grief surged in waves, crashing over a person at unexpected moments.

  “It’s my fault. I caused those women to die.” Beth lowered her hands, revealing her watery, red-rimmed eyes.

  “No. It’s my fault,” Caroline said, burying her head in a pillow.

  “That’s not true,” I said to both of them. “It’s Vic’s fault. It’s Jason’s fault. But it’s not your fault.” My hand shook as I rubbed Beth’s back.

  “Why didn’t I warn her sooner?” Beth asked, her voice frail and cracked.

  “You didn’t know it would come to this. You didn’t even know Vic was in town. You told me that yourself. Besides, it doesn’t sound like it would have made a difference.”

  Tears flowed down Beth’s cheeks as she heaved and sniffled. I didn’t know what to say to comfort her as thoughts and emotions tumbled through my mind.

  At last, Beth squeezed my hand. “You guys,” she said, alternating her stare between me and Caroline. We looked at each other. Beth’s eyes were stretched round and wide like a doe. Her lower lip trembled. “He’s going to kill me next.”

  “We’re not going to let that happen.” I stood up, pulling Beth’s arm. “You both need to leave. Right now. Hook your truck up to your tiny house and drive somewhere far away.”

  Beth raised herself off the couch but shook her head. “It won’t matter. He’ll figure out where I’ve gone.”

  I squared my shoulders. “You need to trust me on this. I have a plan.”

  “What plan? You can’t call the police. He’ll know it was me. They won’t be able to pin Amanda’s death on him.”

  I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Please, Beth. You can’t stay here. It isn’t safe.”

  “She’s right, Lizzie. We’re putting Gloria in danger by being here.”

  Beth’s mouth dropped open, her complexion fading. “I don’t want to put you in danger. Or Ethan.”

  I envisioned my meager bank account and the depleted stack of cash I’d spent on dog supplies, gardening equipment, and groceries. “What could Vic want with me?” I cleared my throat and spoke with authority. “I need you to trust me. Get into your tiny house and drive far away. I’ll call you when it’s safe.”

  “What if I don’t hear from you?”

  “You will.”

  Beth stared at the wall, finally nodding. I peered through the windows to make sure no one was lurking outside, then ushered Beth and Caroline through the front door and hustled behind them toward the tiny house.

  It didn’t take Beth long to pack, as she only had to disconnect a hose and remove a folding chair and a flowerpot from the front porch. She reversed her truck, and I signaled for her to stop when the hitch was within an inch of the house. I’d been directing her into the same spot only a few weeks earlier. If only I’d understood how she would change me—the depth of friendship, confidence, and excitement she’d breathe into my life—then maybe I wouldn’t have charged her for the land. Now I had to protect her. That’s what friends did.

  Rascal ran circles around Beth as she exited her truck.

  “I’ll miss you, Rascal.” She leaned down and kissed his head. “Don’t give your mom too much trouble.” Tears leaked down her pale cheeks.

  I stepped toward her with a hug. “Keep yourself safe.”

  “I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”

  We pulled apart. “I know, but I am involved now and I’m going to fix this mess.”

  “What’s your plan, Gloria?” She spoke in a strained whisper, her lip twitching.

  “I’m going to make sure Vic gets caught. That’s all I can tell you.”

  I expected Beth to argue or to dig for more information, but she only pinched her lips together and stared at me. She closed herself inside her truck and pulled it forward with her sister following a car-length away in a dented silver hatchback. A rectangle of yellowed grass and a strip of flowers were the only clues Beth and her tiny house had been here. She stared straight ahead as she drove down the dusty driveway, the miniature log cabin rattling behind her.

  Several hours later, my car eased to a halt on the side of the dirt road. I parked in the same spot as the night before, partially hidden behind a dense cluster of trees. Through the branches, the Waterside Condos stretched out beyond the bend. A few windows glowed from within the row of vacation homes, but the darkened condo on the end loomed like a monstrous shadow. There was no car in the driveway. Presumably Vic had either gone out for the night or had left town.

  I crouched down, reciting a prayer in my head, asking God to grant me the courage to exit my sedan, as well as for forgiveness for the law I was about to break. Breathing ever so slowly, I inched open my car door and ducked out into the night, my hand clutching the zip-lock bag that contained the secret weapon. Despite the vacant-looking condo, I couldn’t calm my nerves or shake the sensation that someone was watching me. Aside from sneaking into Beth’s tiny house the night before, I’d never disregarded the authority of the law. At least, not on purpose. Being out of options didn’t prevent my thoughts from circling downward.

  A man’s voice bellowed from somewhere outside, followed by a woman’s laughter. I froze, pressing my back against the rough bark of a nearby tree and scanning for movement. Glasses clinked. The noise was coming from a patio or balcony on the opposite side of the condos. They wouldn’t be able to see me from there.

  My gut urged me to dart up to the front door and get out of there as quickly as possible, but I didn’t want to appear suspicious should anyone catch sight of me. I forced myself to inhale and stretch my shoulders back, pacing calmly toward the end condo as if out for an evening stroll. As casually as possible, I walked toward the condo where I’d seen Beth talking to Vic. My heart beat so wildly I thought it
might burst out of my chest. My fingers turned over the bag holding the necklace I’d found in Beth’s truck. It hadn’t belonged to Amanda. Amanda would have sold her necklace to try to pay back Vic, but the police wouldn’t know that. They’d believe this belonged to her. She’d been wearing an identical necklace in the police photo. The next time I talked to Beth, I’d ask her to tell a white lie and confirm Amanda had been wearing the same necklace at The Castaways the night she disappeared.

  I hunched over, clearing away a handful of wood chips next to the bushes by the painted green door. The necklace dangled from my hand. I’d already pulled it apart, breaking the clasp to make it appear like it had been ripped from Amanda’s neck. Now, I removed a cloth from my pocket, pulled the necklace from the bag, and wiped any stray prints off it. Using the cloth, I draped the silver chain across the ground in a spot underneath the shrubbery. Lightly covering the necklace with a sprinkling of wood chips, I surveyed my work. The jewelry wouldn’t be noticeable at first glance, but even a mediocre small-town detective doing a cursory search wouldn’t be able to miss it.

  Stepping back from the planted evidence, I glanced from side to side, scanning for any witnesses. Aside from the conversation echoing from the cocktail party, the night was quiet and still. I crossed my arms in front of me and strode back to my car, only allowing myself to breathe once I was safely inside.

  My hands shook as I shoved the cloth and empty plastic bag into my purse, grasped the steering wheel, and accelerated past the row of condos. The faster I drove, the faster my mind raced. I thought of Amanda’s family and Ella’s family, and how they must be aching with grief and searching for answers. I wondered how far Caroline and Beth and her tiny house had traveled since this morning, and whether Vic knew they’d left town. I envisioned Ethan sleeping in a tent, oblivious to everything that had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. I wondered what Charlie would think if he could see me now. Would he have recognized me? I swallowed, believing he would have accepted my need to make things right, no matter how illegal my actions.

  A memory from years earlier popped into my head. Our local banker had been held up at gunpoint. I’d been so livid with Charlie when he’d defended the robber.

  “You don’t know what his situation was,” Charlie had said. “Maybe the guy’s kids were starving.”

  I’d been stunned at the time. My own husband defending an armed criminal! But now I could see he’d been correct. Charlie hadn’t believed in good or bad, black or white. He’d realized how complex people could be, how events outside of their control could influence their behavior. Surely he would have understood my actions. Maybe he would have even been proud. I blinked back tears.

  A car honked and I swerved wildly. I’d traveled across the centerline and hadn’t even noticed. Now, back on my own side of the road, I breathed in jagged breaths, taking stock of my surroundings and where I needed to go.

  “Pull it together, Gloria,” I said to myself.

  I followed the signs to downtown Petoskey and pulled into an empty parking space a block away from The Tidewater. Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I exited my car and ambled toward the restaurant. I didn’t stop until my sedan was out of sight. A well-dressed couple strode through the front door, chatting about their plans for the following day. From a half-block away, I could see they were city folks.

  “Excuse me,” I stepped in front of them, “do either of you have a cell phone I can use to call my husband? I have a flat tire and I left my phone at home.” I’d watched enough Dateline episodes to know it was foolish to make the next call from my own phone.

  The woman studied me for a second before her face relaxed, probably realizing that I resembled her mom or, possibly, her grandma. “Oh, sure.” She reached into her purse and slid out a phone, a half-dozen silver bracelets clanking on her arm.

  “Can I help you with your car?” the man next to her asked. His hair was gelled to his head, and he wore plaid shorts, a braided leather belt, and boat shoes.

  The woman rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, right. Like you know how to change a tire.”

  “I could do it.” The man shrugged. “I mean, probably. Or I can call Triple A.”

  I smiled. “No. Thank you.” I motioned to a bench about twenty-five feet away. “I’m just going to step over here. I’ve got a bad back. Don’t worry. I’m not stealing your phone.”

  The woman chuckled. “You’re fine.”

  The couple went back to their conversation as I plodded toward the bench and sat down. My heart clamored inside my chest. I pressed the 1-800 number I’d committed to memory. It was the tip hotline the police had set up to gather information relating to the recent Petoskey murders. I waited as the phone rang three times.

  “Petoskey Murder Investigation Hotline, how can I assist you?” asked a man with a gruff voice.

  “Hello. I’m calling about the woman who was found in the ditch, Amanda Jenkins.”

  “Okay. Your name, please.”

  “I have some information that may be helpful to the police.”

  “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “I prefer not to give my name.” My muscles tensed. I hadn’t realized they’d be so intent on learning my identity. “I know who murdered Amanda and my life is in danger.”

  “Do you need police assistance?”

  “No! I need you to listen to me.” The volume of my voice had increased enough that the couple glanced my direction. I gave them a wave and a smile and took a deep breath.

  “Okay,” the man said. “Please continue.”

  “I heard a woman screaming last Friday night. It was a week ago. The night Amanda went missing. I was walking my dog past the Waterside Condos in Petoskey. The screaming was coming from the end unit. The one with the green door. There was a large man with black hair in the doorway, and he slammed the door shut when he saw me.”

  “What time on Friday?”

  “It was very late. I don’t know when exactly, but probably around midnight. I was going to call earlier, but I thought it was a domestic dispute. Then they found that woman, Amanda Jenkins, in the ditch. I realized I may have witnessed something important.” I let my voice trail off for dramatic effect.

  “You said the Waterside Condos in Petoskey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know the unit number?”

  “No, but it was the end unit, as I said. Green door.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Promise me someone will go over and investigate?”

  “I assure you this information will be checked out by the police as soon as possible.”

  “Thank you.”

  I ended the call before he could ask me any more questions. My legs wobbled as I stood up, but I steadied myself and forced a smile as I walked back to the helpful couple.

  “Mission accomplished.” I handed back her phone.

  Thirty-Four

  Gloria

  Now

  “One pound of shrimp, please,” I said to the man behind the seafood counter at the IGA. Ethan stepped next to me, plopping a bag of rice into the cart. We were collecting the ingredients for my famous One-hour Paella recipe, as well as some fresh vegetables to put in the gazpacho so Joe would have something to eat. It was Ethan’s last night in Michigan before heading back to San Francisco.

  It had been three days since I planted the evidence outside the Waterside Condos and called the police hotline, and two days since I cheered in front of my television as Vic Callis was led away in handcuffs on the local news. It happened the same day Ethan returned from his camping trip. I’d spent at least an hour filling him in on the truth about Ella and Amanda, my late-night encounter with Caroline and Beth, and all the dreadful events that Beth endured during the past year.

  Once they had Vic in custody, I’d urged Beth to call the police to fill in the blanks. By then, they’d discovered Vic’s true identity: Leonard Brunkso. He was connected to an illegal gambling ring in Detroit and had been using Jason�
��s fund to launder large sums of money. Jason had promised Vic huge returns for investing in the fledgling fund.

  Beth had gone along with my plan, falsely confirming with police that the necklace recovered in front of Vic’s condo was the same one Amanda had been wearing at The Castaways the night she disappeared. Amanda’s parents, unaware Jason had given both women the identical necklace, further confirmed the necklace was the same one frequently worn by their daughter. A local police officer had found Amanda’s car in an abandoned parking lot bordering Pelliston Airport, the keys still inside and the vehicle wiped clean of prints. Together, it had been enough to charge Vic with Amanda’s murder, in addition to multiple counts of fraud. Using DNA evidence that had been collected from Ella’s body, they connected Vic to Ella’s murder several hours later.

  With her safety secured, Beth and her tiny house arrived back at the empty field earlier this morning, without her sister. Ethan and I greeted Beth with hugs and a few tears.

  “I’m heading into the station,” she’d said. “Amanda’s family deserves to know what happened to her. So does Ella’s. She clenched my arm and lowered her voice, “I’m not going to tell them about the necklace. That stays between us.”

  I nodded and exhaled. Some things remained sacred between friends. We understood the importance of protecting each other.

  While Ethan and I roamed the aisles of the IGA for ingredients, I envisioned Beth sitting under fluorescent lights in a tiny interrogation room answering an endless stream of questions. I imagined her voice cracking and her forehead glistening as she recounted the unbelievable turmoil she’d been through over the past year. And finally, I imagined the detective being satisfied that she’d connected all the dots, cementing Vic’s arrest. Beth would stand and shake the hand of the detective and walk back to her truck, her shoulders five tons lighter than when she’d arrived.