by Sarah Kelly
“So we have Anita, Rodney, Eric and Demetria, and Maurice as our main suspects,” India said. “Anita had the means and opportunity, because she was in the house, and though she is quite slim, I think she could have been strong enough to push him off the balcony, especially if she was in a fit of rage.”
“And she had the motive,” Xavier said, picking up another piece of pizza. “He was going to propose to someone else.”
“Right,” India said. “Rodney also had the means and opportunity, but his motive would be hate.”
“I could see that,” Xavier said.
“I know you’re not going to like this,” India said, “but it could have been Eric and Demetria. Eric could have sneaked back into the house, killed Jim Quinn, then come out through the back and climbed the fence. Or he could have stayed inside the house for a while, and come out later on, when Joey had stopped filming.”
“Far fetched,” Xavier said.
“Then, if your memory’s not too selective, you’ll remember that when Detective Morgan came over, he said he’d interviewed Eric on Friday, whereas Eric kept insisting it was Thursday. Maybe he kept saying Thursday to cover his tracks, because he was actually down at the beach, threatening Anita.”
Xavier shrugged. “Maybe. But I doubt it.”
“And finally we have Maurice, who had slipped into the house the night of the murder and messed around with the electrics. Certainly had the means and the opportunity.”
“And the motive,” Xavier said. “He was sick and tired of Jim always asking him to buy land off him, and there was a border dispute that went to court a few years ago, too. Maybe he just snapped.”
India was incredulous. “You’re just telling me that now?”
“I forgot all about it.”
India reached over and tore off a bit of Xavier’s pizza for herself. “I think we should go talk to Eric and Demetria.”
“Oh, man. Can’t you see how messed up that is?” Xavier said. “If they’re not involved, which I’m ninety nine point nine nine nine percent sure they’re not, then they’re going to hate me forever.”
“We’ll tread carefully,” India said. “I just feel we’re on the edge of something. Just a couple more pieces of information and the whole thing will slot into place.”
“Fine. We can do it, but you have to promise me one thing. That you’ll let me ask all the questions, and that you won’t accuse them of a single thing.”
“Fine.”
“Promise?”
India rolled her eyes and smiled. “Promise.”
***
“And we’re doing this on Sunday,” Xavier said, walking back and forth on the sidewalk outside Eric and Demetria’s home. The afternoon sun was golden, making its way down to the horizon and casting shadows everywhere. “Brilliant, an ambush on their way back from a day at church.”
“I’m telling you, Zave, they looked so suspicious last night, even before the cops came over. We’ve got to at least ask them about it.”
“They’re due to be back any minute.”
But after twenty minutes of waiting, they went and sat in the car. His own family had come back from the church dinner a little late themselves. When Xavier asked his mom if they’d seen Demetria and Eric, she said she had turned halfway through the meal to find they had slipped out.
Staring straight out the windshield, Xavier said, “Maybe it was them, and they ran. Do you think so? No, it can’t be that. Not them. No way.”
“I have no idea,” India said. Over and over, the different suspects rotated through her brain. When she focused in on one of them, within minutes she could convince herself they were the culprit, but then two minutes later she was totally persuaded that someone else was responsible.
They sat in silence for a long time. When an hour had passed, and a hazy darkness had settled around the car, India realized there was something she hadn’t followed up on. “Xavier, I need to go in the house.”
“Sure,” he said, opening the car door. “I could do with something to eat. I’ll come in with you.”
“No. That house.” She pointed at the Queen Anne mansion.
Xavier closed the car door. “What? But you can’t, there’s police tape all around it.”
“I know.” Her chest ached as she wished she could confide in him all about the magic. “But I really need to.”
“You’ll get caught.”
“I won’t,” India said, sounding more confident than she felt. “I have to do this. Please say you’ll keep guard for me.”
“Indie, we could get in serious trouble. You could get hurt. I could lose my job if my department back in Benton Point heard about it… Why do you want to go in, anyways? What are you looking for?”
“Zave,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. “I can’t… I can’t tell you right now. But I need you to trust me. And I need to go in alone.”
He looked so torn, caught between a rock and a hard place. Her chest ached. If only he could come in with her, and she could show him what she had planned, and they could revel deep in the mystery together. As it was, she always had to keep him an arm’s length away, holding back her secrets.
“Why can’t you tell me?”
“It’s a long story,” she said, looking down and feeling heat prick at her eyes, threatening tears.
“You’re not in trouble, are you?”
“Oh, no.” She looked back up at him. “It’s nothing you have to worry about. Please, Zave, I want to go in right now. You’ll be my lookout?”
He studied her, then the house, biting his lip. “Fine,” he said finally, “I’ll do it. But only because I love you more than sense, and I trust you with my life. You’re normally the most sensible person there is, so…”
“Thank you so much,” India said, already getting out of the car. She wanted to be quick, so there was no time for him to change his mind. “I’m going in now.”
“All right.” He sounded more confident. “I’ll park the car across the street near Joey’s and keep watch from there.”
India squeezed his hand, looked in every which direction, then made her way toward the house. She tried to keep in the shadow of the bushes as much as she could, out of the orange glow of the streetlight. She heard the low growl of the car as Xavier drove out of his street and into the entrance of the next, then made a three point turn and parked up. All the while, her eyes were dancing over the mansion, looking for a window cracked just a little way open. It had been hot the past few days, and the house was so big she was sure a few windows had been overlooked by Anita and Rodney, or by the police, whomever shut it up. It was a very safe area, after all.
But as she looked around, she found every single window at the front of the house was shut clean. Starting to feel discouraged, she pinged a message to Luis. Care to come down here and get me in this darned place?
No can do, sweetie, he replied instantly. I’m in a Saudi Arabian desert for a witch convention. Hmm. Maybe I can do something though…
What can you do? India asked. Yes, please, do something!
Later, girl.
But Luis, what can you do? There was no reply. Drat you, Luis. He didn’t reply to that either.
India had felt so confident when she’d made up her mind to go inside, but then, standing there in the dark on the front lawn, hiding from the streetlamp, she felt her boldness draining away. She glanced over at Xavier, the man who believed in her perhaps more than she believed in herself, and gained a bit of strength. Enough to run across the lamp lit entrance and to the other side, back into the shadows. There was only one thing for it – she’d have to creep around the side of the house.
With a deep breath, she made the turn, her fingertips skimming the luxurious green siding. A quick look up and around showed her no windows were open. Her heart sank. There was a door, presumably the door through which Maurice entered the house to fiddle with the wiring – or worse – but she fully expected that to be locked. Just because there were no other o
ptions, she tried the handle, and her mouth dropped open and heartbeat skipped when the door opened.
You’re welcome, Luis sent.
India grinned as she stepped inside to find a flashlight on the step. Is that from you, too?
But he was already gone, like the line had gone dead.
India clicked on the flashlight, and tried not to feel creeped out by the place. Thankfully everything was neat and clean, so it didn’t have the haunted house feel of cobwebs covering every doorway, and dust rising from the floorboards with each step, but it still had an eeriness about it. She crept through what looked like a store room, where plenty of gardening tools and bottles of various chemicals stood neatly on shelves. The open door led to the hallway, with the grand staircase she remembered from her first visit. She had been concerned about finding her way through the place, but realized from the stairway she could find her way, she was sure of it. The first stair creaked as she stepped upon it, and her breath caught in her throat, a feeling of dread at the pit of her stomach. But then she told herself she was being ridiculous, that she was a woman on a mission, and she had no reason to fear. It worked, and she ran up the rest of the stairs on light toes.
“Now, to find the right room,” she whispered to herself. Hearing her voice out loud somehow comforted her. She flashed the torchlight up and down the corridor she found herself in, and quickly realized it was the very same she had been in with Luis. “Perfect.” She spotted an elephant ornament she remembered seeing last time, and knew she was on the right track.
Creeping down the hallway, right to the end, she found herself doubting that the magic would work. Could she really do it without Luis there? What if she couldn’t tap into the energy? She realized she’d been holding her breath, and as she got to the three doors at the end of the corridor, she let out a long, slow puff, trying to calm herself down.
Then she took the door handle to the room with the overwhelming negative energy, which had rushed out and pummelled her like a strong wind. I can do this, I can do this. The round metallic handle felt cold against her hand, but she knew she’d have to go through much more discomfort than that. Would she be able to stand in the storm of torrid energy without running? That sense of dread she had sensed last time would only be magnified tenfold as she stood in the energy, trying to extract its secrets.
There was no more time for questioning, or hoping, she told herself, trying to push through the fear. It was time for action. But just as she was about to open it, she heard a car horn blare from outside. She rushed to the window to see Xavier, half in half out of his car, and Detective Morgan striding up toward him. Anita, Rodney and Becky stood next to the squad car, looking up at the mansion.
CHAPTER 10
Despite what was going on outside, India wasn’t about to run and hide. This could be her only chance to find out what really happened, and she wasn’t about to pass that up, even if her hands sweated and her heart raced and she’d never been so afraid in her life.
Her fear of what was outside made her bold about confronting the energy. She marched to the door, grabbed the handle and threw it open, waiting for the huge surge of energy to rage toward her like floodwaters and sweep her soul up in the flow. But when she opened the door, there was nothing. No wall of energy smashing her in the face. India was relieved at first, but then her heart sank. She needed that energy, to be able to listen into what it contained.
She stepped into the room, dejected, wondering what on earth she was going to do now. She could hear shouting outside, and perhaps, though she couldn’t be sure, the front door opening way at the front of the house, but she turned her attention to her immediate surroundings. The room was bathed in the orange lamplight, so all was immediately visible. The king sized bed was made up almost like a showhome piece, with an abundance of pillows and shams and cushions in a floral pattern and with a multitude of tassels. But it was the balcony off to the left of the bed that captured her, and she felt almost magnetically drawn to it. As she stepped closer, she realized that it was the balcony over which Jim Quinn had been pushed. She saw the roof of Xavier’s house through the glass doors.
It was then the energy gripped her, not like a wave or wind this time, but like an iron vice grip, tightening around her heart, her soul, her mind, her body, everything she was. She wanted to scream out, but it seemed to all get lost in her throat somewhere. It was like nothing she’d felt before – perhaps the closest thing was breaking her arm when she was seven years old, but this agony was much more profound. It ran so much deeper. The pain not only seared through her body, but deep into the core of her. She sank to the floor, trying to scrape back some control. Tap into the energy, she told herself through the agony. Tap into… the energy!
And in that moment, something changed. Though she was still in pain, and the energy had coiled itself around her and was squeezing like a boa constrictor, she relaxed just the tiniest bit. She needed this energy, and it wasn’t going to kill her. Tell me your story, she found herself whispering.
“You took the money!” she heard instantly, a man’s harsh, grating voice yelling. It was so real India looked about the room, but within a moment or two she knew the voice was Jim Quinn’s. The memories were speaking up their truth.
Despite the pain, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists and listened as it continued, not wanting to miss a word. Soon her face lit up. The final piece of the puzzle had clicked, and, like a game of dominoes, everything else had fallen into place. The energy was beginning to fade, and she smiled as it wafted away in its multicolored glory, seemingly satisfied that someone had listened to its story.
When she snapped her eyes open, she realized she was lying flat on the ground. She almost jumped out of her skin when Detective Morgan came into view, standing above her.
“You’re in a lot of trouble, young lady,” he said with a sneer. He grabbed her and hauled her to her feet.
“I know who did it!” India said.
“Yeah, right,” Detective Morgan replied, as he slapped handcuffs on her wrists. “You’re arrested for trespassing. I expect you were probably something to do with it yourself. Maybe you and whatever your boyfriend’s name is and his despicable father all teamed up together to get rid of Jim Quinn for your own ends.” He jerked her by the wrists as he strode out the room.
“No,” said India, “it’s nothing to do with any of us. I swear. It’s—”
“Shut the hell up!” Morgan exploded. “I don’t want to hear a single damn word from you until you’re in the interrogation room, you got that clear?”
India knew what was good for her, so shut her mouth. As they made their way silently through the house, she could hear a commotion going on outside. Sirens blared, and people talked and shouted frantically, though she couldn’t make out what anyone said. She opened her mouth to ask Detective Morgan what was going on, but then closed it again.
As soon as they came out the front door, they were assaulted by a barrage of flashing lights and what seemed like a thousand people talking over each other. India cast her eyes around, feeling a sense of peace in the midst of chaos. She spotted camera crews, Anita, Rodney, Becky, Joey, and Xavier. Then, looking further back, there was all of the neighborhood, Maurice, Demetria and Eric, plus all of Xavier’s family. Cop car lights flashed from the street. She wondered how long she had been wrapped up in that energy, for all these people to have had the time to gather. She’d lost all sense of normality. But looking around, India knew, deep down in the pit of her stomach, that this was her moment. This was the moment.
“Get out of the way,” Detective Morgan barked at the journalists, but India jerked away from him.
“I know who did it,” she told the camera crews. She particularly focused in on one woman, with a very short haircut and bright red lipstick. It was easier to talk to one person.
“Tell me,” the woman said immediately. “Tell us. What happened?”
“No!” Detective Morgan shouted. “This is ridiculous.” H
e grabbed the chain between India’s handcuffs and yanked it so hard that India stumbled and fell to the ground. Shocked, she paused on the grass for a moment, then raised herself up. A pair of arms helped her, and she looked up to see Officer Rogers. Their eyes locked. “Tell us,” Officer Rogers said. “You can do it here or down at the station, if you want, it’s up to you.”
Detective Morgan’s eyes burned with fury. “You will lose your job, Officer Rogers!”
But Rogers didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink. “Go on,” she said to India.
“Tell us,” the camera woman urged. “Who killed Jim Quinn?”
India closed her eyes for a moment, trying to make sure the energy approved. And, yes, the answer came back. “It was Anita, his wife,” she said.
Gasps went up, even from the most professional looking reporters.
India looked over at Anita. She had a carefully blank expression, but the fear was vivid in her eyes.
“No,” said Rodney. “No. No. No.”
“I’m afraid so,” India said. “Jim Quinn was dying of cancer. He was not in remission, as you had stated, Anita, he was still sick. Rodney himself told me that. And Jim had been shopping around for engagement rings, for his mistress…” She took an educated guess… “Becky Goddard.”
Another gasp came then, from Becky, and India knew she was right.
“Yes,” India said. “Jim Quinn had accused Anita of taking the money in the safe, which was actually Rodney’s doing, and they got into a terrible argument.” She reported back what she had heard in the bedroom, when she had let that horrible energy speak to her. “He finally spilled that he would be leaving her, and fulfilling his one dying wish, to marry Rebecca, before he died. All the money was to be left to her. None to Anita.”
