Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection

by Pamela Frost Dennis

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  COINS AND CADAVERS

  SATURDAY • FEBRUARY 21

  Guest Posted by Samantha Drummond

  Katy asked me to fill in some of the gaps in the story, so I’m guest posting….

  When Katy’s flight to Los Angeles was canceled, she texted me from the Santa Lucia Airport: Guess what? Flute cackled due to flog. Going home for a nip and leavening later this afternoon.

  Katy’s texts are often indecipherable, thanks to autocorrect. Really wish she’d read them before she hits Send. I read it while on duty but was too busy to think up a sarcastic reply. Two nurses had called in sick, and of course, it was also an unusually busy day. I don’t know what was going on in Santa Lucia nine months ago, but we are running about 27% above normal in the maternity department.

  And now that the hospital has all but phased out the nursery, the new moms get no recuperation time. For some, this is fine, but my heart goes out to the ones begging for a nap. I know how they feel!

  One of the moms on my shift went through thirty-six hours of labor before the obstetrician did a C-section. The exhausted mother desperately needed some rest, so I kept her baby at the nurse’s station for a few hours because we had no one staffing the obsolete nursery. It has gotten ridiculous, and I’m seriously considering a career change.

  Two hours of overtime and three babies later, all I wanted to do was to put up my feet and have a glass of wine, but my stepdaughter, Chelsea, was having a sleepover, so neither was happening.

  I finally crawled into bed around eleven-thirty, resigned to a long night of giggling and ear-splitting shrieks. When Katy and I were teenagers, we vowed never to tell our kids to quiet down when having a slumber party. I was determined to be the cool mom and keep that stupid vow, but at one in the morning, I lost my cool and broke it. A fat lot of good it did.

  While up, I thought of Katy and checked my phone for a text. Of course, there wasn’t one, but I didn’t give it much thought. Instead, I went back to Chelsea’s room and broke the vow again.

  Saturday morning, I texted Katy. Hey, girl! Having a good time??

  Late that afternoon, Katy’s mom called. “Have you heard anything from Katy? There haven’t been any plane crashes, but I’m getting worried. I’ve heard of young women being abducted and sold into slavery, and—”

  “Marybeth. I don’t think that sort of thing happens in Belize. But maybe she doesn’t have good cell reception. I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “You’re right. I’m probably overreacting. It’s just that she’s never traveled alone before, or out of the country, for that matter.”

  “I’m sure I’d be worrying too if it was my kid,” I said.

  “You’ll let me know if you hear from her?”

  “Will do, and you do the same, okay?”

  A few minutes later, Katy’s grandma called. “I haven’t heard from Katy, and I’m getting pretty darned p.o.’d at that girl. Has she called you?”

  “No. I just spoke to Marybeth and promised her that if I hear anything, I’ll let her know.”

  “Well, you can add me to the list,” she said.

  “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. She probably just doesn’t have good cellphone reception.”

  “I bet she’s swilling fancy umbrella drinks and too damned drunk to give a hoot whether we’re worried or not. That’s what I’d be doing. If I’d been invited to go, that is. Which I was not.”

  “Neither was I, Ruby, although I couldn’t have gone anyway.”

  “So, what do you think about this new cousin?”

  “Erin seems nice enough.” I recall feeling guilty at that point, remembering the lovely scarf she gave me. But the truth is, I’m a little resentful about how fast Katy and Erin have bonded.

  “You don’t sound so sure about her.”

  “I like her. I really do.”

  Ruby snorted. “Oh, please. I can read you like a book. But don’t you worry, honey. You’ll always be Katy’s best friend. What do you girls say nowadays? Your BFF? Sounds so silly. Why can’t people just say the words, so the rest of us have a clue what you’re saying?”

  After talking to Katy’s mom and grandma, I felt a little concerned, too. But a couple of hours later, Katy checked in with a short, annoying group text to all of us. Having a goooood time, wish you were here! I may never come home!!

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  COINS AND CADAVERS

  SUNDAY • FEBRUARY 22

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Hard to believe this was just a week ago….

  Sunday, February 15

  As dawn lit the world, I recalled Tyler’s dire prediction that tomorrow would be my last day on the planet. Then I thought, Just because Tyler said that people couldn't live longer than three days without water, doesn’t necessarily make it so. Besides, Erin gave me some water, so that’s got to count for something.

  I was determined to survive this ordeal and spend the rest of my days savoring every blessed moment. I even swore to any God willing to listen to me that if I survived, I would never again be petty, ungrateful, snarky, bitchy, thoughtless, unkind, or jealous. I’m sure there were a lot more character flaws that should have made the list, but I was too drained to think.

  By this time, the stench in the attic was becoming unbearable. Tyler’s body had released its waste when he died and the foul odor mingling with my own stink was disgusting. But now I was catching another revolting smell from his end of the room that was growing stronger by the hour. His body was decomposing. I was thankful that I couldn’t see the progress and that a fresh breeze was blowing through the broken window.

  Late in the day, the sky clouded over, and I caught the delicious scent of rain in the air. Pretty soon, it turned into a torrential downpour. It hadn’t rained in nearly a year, and I was crushed that I couldn’t run outside and get soaked to the skin and dance in the puddles.

  A cold, drip splashed onto my head. Then another and another. Drip. Drip. Drip. My roof was leaking life-sustaining water to me, and I couldn’t open my mouth to receive it.

  I tried to shimmy away from it but didn’t have the strength to power through it, so I gave up and accepted the bitter irony.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  COINS AND CADAVERS

  SUNDAY • FEBRUARY 22

  Posted by Katy McKenna

  Monday, February 16

  Part One

  Monday, Monday.... The few lyrics I knew from the old Mamas & the Papas’ song kept looping in my head. My resolve to break the three-day rule was dissolving into a puddle of dry tears. Monday, Monday... My final day....

  Something woke me. A muffled, scuffling sound. Probably the damned rats again. A flicker of anger ignited in my gut. Leave me alone. Can’t you at least wait until I’m dead? Then I heard something that stabbed my heart. Daisy was whining. I opened my eyes thinking she was beside me. But she wasn’t there. It was just me, dead rotting Tyler, and maddening little flies buzzing everywhere.

  And yet, I could hear her as if she were right next to me. She must know I’m dying, and she’s connecting with me. Oh, my sweet baby. I’m so sorry. Mom and Pop will take good care of you and Tabitha. I promise. They love you almost as much as I do.

  “Daisy! Mind me! You’re making Grandma very cranky,” yelled my mother. “It’s time to go.”

  Mom?

  Daisy erupted into a manic barking frenzy.

  “Fine then. I give up. You can stay, but I’m leaving.”

  The front door closed.

  No, no, no! Don’t leave. I’m up here. Mommy!

  I lifted my feet and banged them on the floor, and Daisy howled. I stomped again, not feeling a twinge of pain. No way would my girl leave me up here.

  “Daisy, you’re scaring me,” said Mom.

  Oh, thank God. She came back. I thumped the floor and screamed, straining against the tape. “Mmmmm!” I slammed the floor again. It’s me, Mama. I’m here.

  Mom call
ed in a scared voice, “Who’s up there?”

  I moaned as loud as I could. “Mmmmm.”

  The front door slammed. I’d scared my mother away. My last chance.

  There was no reason to keep hanging on. It wasn’t even worth trying anymore. I just wanted to sleep. I gave in and closed my eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  COINS AND CADAVERS

  SUNDAY • FEBRUARY 22

  Guest Posted by Marybeth Melby

  My daughter asked me to post about when I found her in the attic. I’m not much of a writer, but I’ll do my best….

  Monday, February 16

  That morning, Kurt made a lovely breakfast. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sourdough toast. He was trying to make me feel better, but I had no stomach for food and was in no mood to feel better.

  “You’d think she could at least take the time to call,” I said.

  Kurt shook his head, as he buttered his toast. “You’d think.”

  “I mean, this is so unlike her.”

  “I know.”

  The phone rang, and my anger instantly evaporated, as I

  stood to answer it. “That’s got to be her.”

  “Give the brat hell,” said Kurt.

  Then the caller I.D. announced it was Mom calling, and I sat back down, even madder. “Will you talk to Mom? I can’t deal with her right now.”

  Mom had been checking in every few hours, and I couldn’t handle another tirade about taking Katy out of her will if she didn’t call soon. Kurt took the phone into the living room, and I could hear him trying to smooth her ruffled feathers.

  Daisy must have felt the tension in the house, because she nuzzled her head into my lap, gazing up at me with her soulful, brown eyes. “Sorry, baby. Grandma’s cranky. And I’m sure this darn peri-menopause isn’t helping my mood one bit. I’m probably overreacting. Your mother’s a big girl and can take care of herself.”

  Daisy sighed, and I said, “Once a mother, always a mother. Doesn’t matter how old your kids get, you never can turn off the worry switch.”

  She groaned, and I took it as agreement. “How about some breakfast?”

  Her ears perked at the word “breakfast,” and she scampered around the kitchen as I opened the sack to fill her bowl. “Hey, Daisy, we’re almost out of food. I know your mommy has another full bag in the laundry room. Later, when I get back from the salon, we’ll get it, and you can say hi to Tabitha. Probably need to check on her food and water, too, since Erin went home yesterday.”

  The salon is closed on Mondays, but I always go in for a few hours to catch up on the previous week’s paperwork and place orders. I finished up around two-thirty and drove straight home. Daisy greeted me at the door clutching her stuffed alligator in her mouth.

  After a good hug and a lot of sloppy kisses, I got her a doggy treat, and then it dawned on me. “Oh, baby. I forgot you’re out of food. You know what? Granny’s exhausted. How about we spoil you tonight and give you people food?”

  Her tail wagged and she spun in circles the second she heard me utter those wonderful words.

  “And we won’t tell your mother because we know how fussy she is about what you eat.”

  And then I remembered that darned cat.

  Daisy pawed at Katy’s front door as I inserted the key. “Honey, stop it. You’ll scratch the paint, and your mother will kill me.” I barely had the key pulled out when she shoved through and disappeared. I stepped inside and called, “Hey, kitty! Granny’s here!”

  Tabitha raced to the entry and tried to climb my legs. Thank goodness I had jeans on. I scooped her up and cuddled her. “What’s wrong, honey? You lonely? Let’s go check your food, sweetheart.”

  As I write this, I can’t believe I didn’t notice the disaster in the living room or hallway. I guess I was so intent on soothing Tabitha, that I simply beelined to the kitchen without looking at anything other than the cat. But when I stepped into the kitchen I got a nasty shock.

  Dirty plates were stacked on the counter and in the sink. The refrigerator door was wide open. A milk carton on the counter had gone sour. The drawers were all pulled out, and a couple were dumped on the floor. The garbage can was knocked over. Flies everywhere. It took me a good minute to comprehend the chaos. I could not fathom how Erin, no matter how spoiled she may be, would do something this rotten to Katy. Little did I know....

  “Oh, Tabitha, you poor baby. No wonder you’re so upset.”

  I opened a window to air out the smelly kitchen, dumped the sour milk, set the trash bin out the back door, then tackled the dishes. I broke all my rules about wasting water and set the crusty dishes to soak in a sink full of hot, sudsy water. But as soon as I stepped away from the lemon-scented dish detergent, I still smelled a revolting stench.

  “What is that? It smells like something died in here.”

  Daisy whined in the hall, and I left the kitchen to see what her problem was. That’s when I caught sight of the living room. It looked like a wrecking ball had swung through, randomly smashing into the walls. Broken plaster was strewn everywhere. A thick film of chalky dust covered everything, making the room look eerie.

  Daisy woofed and I found her perched on a pile of rubble in the hall, eyes fixed on the ceiling, whining and pawing the pile of plaster. The walls had been stripped down to the studs, exposing the underlying shiplap and electric wires. A putrid stench wafted from the attic.

  “My, God! What died up there?” And then it dawned on me. “Rats. Daisy. It’s time to go.”

  The stubborn dog would not tear her eyes off the ceiling.

  “Daisy, it’s just a dead rat. Or several. That’s all it is. Nothing to worry about.” I wanted to get out of the house—not just because of the smell, but because I was frightened. It had to be vandals who broke in after Erin went home, and I was nervous they might return while I was there.

  “Let’s go, girl.” Daisy ignored me, completely fixated on the ceiling. “We’ll call an exterminator in the morning. It’s time to go now.” I patted my thigh, and she continued to disregard me, which was so unlike her. I stepped into the debris and tugged her collar, and she lay down, refusing to budge.

  “Daisy! Mind me! You’re making Grandma very cranky,” I yelled, then threw up my hands. “Fine then. I give up. You can stay, but I’m leaving.”

  I wasn’t really leaving Daisy, but I needed to get out of the house before I vomited from the overwhelming odor. On the porch, I called Kurt’s cell, figuring he’d still be at his shop. As it rang, Daisy’s whining took on a tone that chilled me to the bone, so I hung up and went back inside.

  “Daisy, you’re scaring me.”

  Something in the attic thumped the floor and let out an unearthly sound that sent shivers down my spine. Daisy responded with a low, throaty whimper that grew into anguished howls.

  Petrified, I forced myself to yell, “Who’s up there?” Something or someone needed help, but I didn’t have the nerve to go into the attic alone. Then I remembered Josh, so I ran to his house and pounded on the door.

  He looked annoyed when he opened the door, until he recognized me from our one brief meeting months ago. “Marybeth? What’s wrong?”

  “You need to get your gun and come with me.”

  The dear man didn’t even question my unusual request. “Hold on.” A few moments later, he ran with me to Katy’s house. At the front door, we heard Daisy wailing, and he motioned me to stay behind as we entered.

  He stopped when he saw the living room chaos. “What the hell happened here?”

  “I have no idea. Vandals, I guess. But there’s something in the attic that has Daisy frantic, and I’m terrified to go up there alone.”

  Josh followed me into the hall. “It smells like something died.”

  “At first, I thought it was rats,” I said. “But then something pounded on the floor and moaned, so whatever is up there is a lot bigger than a rat. It could be an opossum, and I’m afraid it might be injured or rabid.”

  Josh too
k Daisy’s collar and coaxed her off the mound. “Come on, girl. Let me go see what’s upsetting you.”

  She seemed to understand and stepped away. I helped him clear the pile of plaster out of the way, and then he stepped on the stool Katy keeps in the hall and unlatched the ceiling door. As he pulled down the steps, I half-expected some horrible monster to leap upon us.

  When the stairs locked into place, Josh took his gun from his back waistband and set his foot on the first rung. “I want you to stay down here and hold onto Daisy. I don’t think she can manage these narrow steps, but the way she’s acting, I’m afraid she might try.”

  “Please be careful, Josh.”

  Three-quarters of the way up the steps, he yelled, “Call 911!”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Katy! She’s hurt!”

  I ran to the kitchen phone, dialed 911, and screamed, “I need an ambulance.”

  The dispatcher calmly asked the nature of the emergency, and I came unglued. “It’s my daughter. She’s...” I didn’t know what to say. “...my daughter’s been injured.”

  After answering his unending questions as coherently as possible, I hung up and dashed for the stairs.

  In the attic, Josh was crouched beside Katy, his back to me. Daisy stood beside him, nudging her girl’s limp legs.

  I hung back, terrified that my baby was dead.