Welcome to Blissville

by Walker, Aimee Nicole

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “I’m not doing it for you; I’m doing it for Nate.”

  “We’ll see you at noon,” the detective said. “Be sure to bring your alibi information with you for the night that your brother died.”

  I didn’t like him having the last word, so I waited until they were almost to the door before I asked, “Detective Wyatt, am I identical to my brother in every way?” The detective stiffened slightly but didn’t stop or respond to my question. I was trained to read body language, pick up the most minute gestures, and see someone’s unspoken emotions. I laughed long and hard at the discomfort he couldn’t hide. That’s right, Detective. I know all about your past with my brother.

  “They don’t have shit on you because you didn’t kill your brother,” Rick Spizer, my attorney, said when we stood outside the Cincinnati police precinct. “You have nothing to be worried about, Jonathon.”

  “I’m not worried, Rick.” Even if I were, they’d never know it. Fuck, I could pass a polygraph if needed.

  The attorney patted me on the back. “Let’s get this over with then. I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep.”

  He didn’t know the half of it, but I didn’t enlighten him. Once inside, Rick and I were separated. The detectives interviewed my attorney first, and I wasn’t sure if they hoped to sweat me out or they hoped to glean info from Rick since he knew Nate longer than I did. That realization never failed to stab me in the heart. Rick’s interview went faster than I anticipated, so it wasn’t long before all three men entered the interview room where they’d stashed me.

  “Thank you for coming in today,” Detective Wyatt professionally said. “Can you please state your full name for the recording and relationship to the victim, Nathaniel Turner.”

  I flinched when I heard my brother’s name in the same sentence with the word victim, which proved to me that training could be forgotten when a person reached their breaking point. “Jonathon David Silver and Nathaniel Turner is… was my brother.” My words faltered and every ounce of bravado I felt that morning faded.

  “Can you tell us who might’ve wanted to kill your brother?” Detective Wyatt asked.

  “No,” I replied softly. “Nate told me about the threats, of course, but said he didn’t know why he was receiving them.”

  “Did you believe him?” Dorchester asked me.

  I released a long frustrated sigh. “Honestly? No. Nate was a very private man and getting to know him had been hard. He was shocked to learn he had a twin brother and that he didn’t really know the parents who raised him, so you can imagine that he had some serious trust issues.”

  “What do you mean that he didn’t know his adoptive parents very well?”

  “They never told Nate about me, so he began wondering what other secrets they hid from him,” I replied. My mother refused to share the details of our conception or the reason she gave one of us up for adoption, but I had a feeling there were sinister reasons involved. I never shared my opinion with Nate because he loved his adoptive family. Still, he began questioning their character on his own.

  “Are you implying that him digging into their background had something to do with the threats?” Dorchester asked.

  I shrugged and said, “The timing works.”

  “As does your appearance in his life,” Detective Wyatt said to me. “It’s pretty easy to deflect guilt on the dealings of a deceased couple.” He turned to Rick and asked, “Could there be any truth to what Silver said?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, Detective. I wasn’t Charles and Marie’s attorney at the time of Nate’s adoption. I found out about Jonathon from Nate,” Rick replied. “I can attest that Nate was angry and bitter that he’d gone his entire life without knowing about Jonathon.”

  “How’d you find out about Nate?” Detective Wyatt asked me.

  “Nate was given up for adoption, but I was not. Our birth mom raised me, and she told me about Nate just before she died.” I swallowed hard because it was still difficult for me to discuss. “The details about the adoption are irrelevant to Nate’s death, and I prefer not to speak about them.” Of course, it was hard to talk about something I didn’t yet know. My mother refused to discuss the past and spent all her remaining energy on getting me focused to find Nate. First, I was too excited to meet Nate to delve deeper into it, and then the devastation over Nate’s death took up all my emotional energy. Learning the reasons why the Turners only adopted one of us no longer seemed to matter. It wouldn’t bring either my mother or my brother back to me. Besides, who would I ask about the incident when all the main players were deceased?

  As logical as all of that sounded, the largest part of me was afraid to learn the truth about my biological father and the reasons my mother seemed afraid to speak about him. Killing had come easy to me and maybe I came by it honestly. Perhaps my father was a really bad person, and I inherited all of his evil DNA. I decided that the old adage about letting sleeping dogs lie seemed like the best approach for me to take when it came to my lineage. Poking a stick around might unearth truths I could never accept.

  “I take it that you are the beneficiary of your brother’s estate,” Detective Wyatt commented.

  “Yes,” I answered between gritted teeth. I knew where the detective was heading with his remark, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  He arrogantly smiled when he realized he’d struck a nerve. “Can you tell us where you were between the years of your birth and 2014 when you magically appeared in Louisiana?” Score another point for the detective. He was more thorough than I first thought.

  “Don’t answer that,” Rick said, speaking up. “Detective, that’s completely irrelevant and none of your business.”

  “I don’t agree, counselor.” Detective Wyatt leaned forward and pinned me with a damning glare. “Your client surfaces out of nowhere with no past to speak of, and his wealthy brother gets killed within months. Now he owns his brother’s business, drives an identical car, and has access to his fortune. Do you live in his house too? Sleep in his bed?” he asked me.

  “That’s enough, Detective!” Spizer said firmly.

  Not reacting to his taunt was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I found that place I went when I was called to do things no human being would voluntarily do. I breathed evenly through my nose as if my blood pressure hadn’t soared to dangerous heights and I didn’t want to reach across the table and punch that smug smirk off his fucking face. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. I was ecstatic to find my brother, and I had no reason to hurt him.”

  “Nate’s homicide was very personal,” Detective Wyatt said. “Someone stalked him, threatened him, ran his car off the road, and put a bullet in his head. We’re talking about a trained killer who leaves behind no evidence. Someone knows something, and they better start talking before whoever killed Nate decides to start eliminating risks.”

  “Is this an example of how you deal with bereaved family members after a loss, Detective?” Rick asked. “If so, I’m not at all impressed.” Rick put his hand on my shoulder then said, “We’re done here, Jonathon.”

  “Just one more thing,” Detective Wyatt demanded. Rick and I halted from rising from the chairs and looked at him. “Where were you the night of January twenty-second?” he asked me.

  “You don’t have to answer that,” Rick told me.

  “It’s okay, Rick,” I said, patting my attorney’s arm before I reached inside my suit jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. “These men can attest to my whereabouts that night and morning.” I winked lecherously to let them know we hadn’t been playing Monopoly all night long. I chuckled when I saw the scornful, yet curious, expression on Detective Wyatt’s face. “What can I say? I have a very healthy appetite.”

  Rick and I rose to our feet and started to exit the room. “I’ll let you know if I have any more questions,” Detective Wyatt remarked. We didn’t stop to acknowledge him.

  Neither Rick nor I spoke until we stood in the parking l
ot near our cars. “You take care, Jonathon. Please call me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  “Thanks,” I said before I got in my car. I sat there thinking things over long after Rick drove off.

  I might not have liked Detective Wyatt’s methods, and his questions might’ve ruffled my feathers, but two things were clear: the man was on a mission, and I’d greatly underestimated him. I wouldn’t repeat my mistake again.

  “How’s life in Blisstown?” Memphis asked when I answered his call bright and early. He caught me just as I was about to head out for a jog.

  “Ville,” I corrected. “I moved to Blissville.”

  “Excuuuuse me,” he replied sassily. “So, how’s it going?”

  “Too soon to say,” I answered honestly. “It started out on the wrong foot when I met my neighbor, although I’m not sure why, but I think I’ve righted the ship.” Well, Josh’s pity for my tragic past played a bigger part than anything I did or said. “Good thing too because he’s also my hair stylist.”

  “Maybe he’s only nice to lure you in so that he can take scissors to your mane of hair,” Memphis teased. “Maybe I should plant a bug in the guy’s ear. What’s the name of the salon? Don’t bother telling me, Em. I’ll just google it because there can’t be many salons in Blisstucky.”

  I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me and I didn’t bother taking the bait. “How are things going on your end?”

  “Same old thing, different day. Oh, I broke up with Caleb.”

  “Doesn’t that fall into the category of same old thing, different day?”

  “You’re fucking hilarious, Em,” Memphis replied, but there was no heat in his voice. “It just wasn’t working between us. We wanted different things in life.”

  The problem with Memphis was that he had no clue what he wanted to do in life—professionally or personally. He had one passion: comic books. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to get him anywhere in life unless he started creating them himself or opened an online store and sold the rare comic books he found. He might’ve loved going to comic book conventions, but it didn’t exactly pay the bills. He had multiple degrees from prestigious universities, including an MBA, and didn’t use them because they were obtained out of obligation, not desire. I thought Memphis would be much happier if he at least found a job that paid enough so he could move out of Aunt Karen’s basement and into an apartment.

  I had the means to help him, but he refused me each and every time I made the offer. Smart men would’ve stopped offering, but either I wasn’t smart, or I never wanted Memphis to forget how much he meant to me. He was the only person I could talk to about River and my psychic connections. I treasured his friendship and devotion to seeing me live even when it was the last thing I wanted for myself.

  “I could always…”

  “Nope.” His response was the same as it always was before he changed the subject. “Has River returned to your dreams?”

  His question hit me like a tornado and the effect to my heart was just as devastating. “No.”

  “I’m sorry for upsetting you, Em,” he replied. “I won’t bring him up again.”

  “I’m glad you did, Memphis. No one else is brave enough to speak his name to me and not talking about him is far more painful for me. It’s just… I miss him.” That line about time healing all wounds was utter shit. I shook my head to snap myself out of my melancholy. If I let it grab me, it would imprison me for the rest of the day. For River, I wanted to find some semblance of peace and happiness, but I felt like I was at a crossroads in my life and, no matter the direction I chose, none of them would lead me to him. “You can always come for a visit if you need a change of scenery. I have plenty of room.”

  “I might take you up on that, Em.”

  We talked for a few minutes about random things, and I could tell there was something he wanted to say but hesitated for some reason. It could mean only one thing. “My mother asked you to pass a message on to me, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t make her any promises.”

  “Let’s hear it, Memphis. What did Mommy dearest have to say?” I asked, bracing myself for a pithy, cold message about me shirking my duties. Perhaps she wanted to tell me to get my head out of my ass and come back to the company or maybe it was to ask me to see a psychiatrist for my “crazy episodes.”

  Memphis was quiet for a long time, and I worried that it must’ve been something really bad. “She said, and I quote, ‘tell my son hello from me and that I miss him.’ First, I nearly fell out of the chair, then I thought it was a trap. I replayed the words and the tone of voice she used to say them at least a hundred times before I called you.”

  “Huh,” I replied. No other word came to mind on how best to describe how much Memphis stumped me that morning. “That’s new.”

  “Tell me about it. And, Em, she sounded sincere.”

  “Thanks for telling me, Memphis. I’ll think about calling her.” I wouldn’t make promises I couldn’t keep. “You give my offer some thought too.”

  “I’ll think about visiting you,” he said, making sure I knew which offer he would consider.

  “My door is always open to you,” I said before we disconnected.

  Hearing that my mother was looking for me was enough to make me want to build a blanket fort and hide like I did when I was a kid, but I wouldn’t give her that kind of power over me. Instead, I went for the jog I planned before Memphis called me. The rhythmic sound of my feet slapping against the concrete and the steady rise and fall of my lungs centered me when my world felt chaotic. My mother and I had a turbulent relationship for as far back as I could remember. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that she had changed her ways. No, she wanted something from me. But what?

  There was a cute little gazebo in the park that was the halfway mark of my jog. I hadn’t lived there long, but I’d already developed a routine of stopping to stretch on one of the benches beneath the gazebo. I saw Josh running toward the gazebo from the opposite side of town. He looked surprised to see me but didn’t say anything.

  I propped my heel on the back of the bench so that my leg was extended out in front of me. I bent over my leg and reached for my toes, stretching my hamstrings. I felt Josh staring at me and looked up at him. His surprise had turned wary like I’d read his mind or something.

  “I can’t read your damn mind, Josh.”

  “You just did,” he said suspiciously.

  “It didn’t take psychic ability to know what you were thinking,” I said, switching legs. Josh’s thoughts were plain to see in his expressions. “Did anyone ever tell you not to play poker?” It was a reversal of my original opinion about my neighbor.

  “Yes, but then I took all his money and that of his parents too.” Josh laughed maniacally.

  “Good to know,” I said with a nod of my head. I noticed that Josh’s eyes kept straying to my man-bun and chuckled. “Not a fan, huh?”

  “No, although I can appreciate the necessity to get it off your neck while working up a sweat. Not that I’m thinking about the ways you work up a sweat or anything.” Josh’s hazel eyes widened, and his cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

  “I didn’t get the wrong idea,” I told him. “I knew you meant jogging and not other, um… sweaty activities.”

  “You did it again.” Josh took a leery step backward.

  I was a passivist through and through and no threat to him, so his fear struck my funny bones. I threw my head back and laughed hard for several long seconds. I was shocked at how rusty my laughter sounded but realized I had very little to laugh about the past few years.

  I expected Josh to retreat further, but he didn’t. Instead, he tipped his head to the side and asked, “What are you doing on Sunday?” He shook his head slightly like he couldn’t believe what he’d just asked.

  “Sunday? Isn’t that Easter?” I asked.

  Regardless of his surprise, Josh rolled with his instincts. “Uh, yeah. Do you have plans?”<
br />
  “I’ll probably still be unpacking then.” I started shifting my weight slightly between my right and left foot. I wasn’t sure why, but Josh’s question made me feel uncomfortable. Was this a pity invitation, or an offer of friendship? One left a sour taste in my mouth, and the other made me feel a glimmer of hope.

  “Well, I’ll be serving dinner around five if you’d like to come over,” Josh said.

  I nodded noncommittally then bit my bottom lip while I debated how I should respond. “I appreciate your invite, Josh. I’ll think about it, okay?”

  “Sure,” Josh replied. “I don’t mean to toot my own horn here, but I can pretty much guarantee that you’ve never had a glazed ham better than the one I’ll serve you.”

  “Oh, I’m vegan,” I said. I wasn’t really, but I was still paying him back for lying about the wine.

  Josh gasped and stood back from me like I announced I was a serial killer and he was a moment away from becoming my next victim. He was stunned by the possibility that I didn’t want to come over and devour his ham. My twitching lips must’ve given me away because he said, “You’re a complete shit, Emory!”

  “Man, you’re so easy,” I told him between chuckles.

  “Who told?” Josh demanded dryly. I loved his snarky sense of humor when he let his guard down.

  I clutched my stomach and laughed even harder. “So sorry,” I said, trying to catch my breath.

  “If you think I’m funny then you should see my makeshift family. I can promise you a good time,” Josh said, sounding like a bathroom stall promise.

  “I’m not touching that one,” I said, shaking my head. “No way.”

  “The offer is there if you want to accept it, but I won’t take it out on your hair at your appointment next week should you not show up to dinner,” Josh told me.

  “Yeah, well, this style—or lack thereof—is from not giving a damn. I guess you could say my looks have lost their importance to me the last few years.” I attempted a smile to soften the sadness behind my words. “Can I ask you for one favor if I do show up?”