The Tangerine Killer

by Claire Svendsen

  “I was so worried about you,” she said. “You never came to the cemetery.”

  “I’m sorry. Something came up.”

  There was no way I was going to tell her the real reason I disappeared.

  “Well, never mind.”

  She ushered me inside, down a hallway lined with family photographs and into the kitchen. The counters were filled with dishes of uneaten food. Bowls of casseroles and big plates of cookies, all untouched and on display.

  “My friends are so kind to me,” she said. “They didn’t want me to starve in my grief.”

  I bit my tongue. I’d seen all shapes and forms of grief but I’d never seen anything like Faye. Perhaps it was a prolonged type of denial but I doubted it. My gut feeling was that she just didn’t care at all. I’m sure my own mother would cope with my death in much the same way.

  “Coffee? Tea?” she asked.

  “Water.”

  “You’re sure? Maybe something stronger?”

  She seemed perturbed.

  “No, water’s fine,” I lied, trying not to think about the rest of the bottle waiting for me back at the motel. “It’s a beautiful house. What happens to it now?”

  “Nothing, it’s mine.”

  “What do you mean, it’s yours?”

  “Lisa was a mess,” she sighed. “You looked into her life over the last few days. You saw how it ended. She needed help.”

  “She had professional help, didn‘t she?”

  The psychiatrist Lisa had been seeing refused to tell me anything. Even when I told him Lisa’s life might be in danger he wouldn’t budge. I had no idea what she had been talking to him about and neither did Frank when I asked him about it. I had a hunch it was a toss-up between her controlling mother and philandering husband.

  “You mean Dr. Benton? Stupid old quack. No one had shrinks in my day. You were either crazy or you weren’t. Simple as that.”

  She should know. If Lisa had inherited any mental instability, it was definitely from Faye.

  “So you don’t think she went off the rails just a little bit?”

  “My own daughter crazy? Of course not.”

  Her indignation told me she knew how fragile Lisa really was.

  “You know it would have been helpful to know about the house before. Don’t you think maybe that may have upset Lisa? Knowing that you could hold it over their heads whenever you wanted?”

  I picked at the lacy tablecloth, irritated.

  “I would never do that to my daughter. Just remember I didn’t hire you dear. I was sure she’d come back, just like before. So were the police.”

  The way she called me, dear, in that false sweet tone made me want to vomit. As if we were friends or something. She really was a piece of work.

  “But you were wrong,” I said.

  “That doesn’t mean I have to publicly air my dirty laundry like some people,” she snapped back.

  How dare she? Who did she think she was? Faye was hardly in any position to criticize me.

  “My past is dead and buried so let’s just leave it there shall we?”

  An awkward silence settled in the kitchen. I picked at the loose thread, trying to compose myself. The urge to reach out and strangle Faye was unbearable. She was one of the few people in town who knew my sordid past. I wondered how many more people she’d spread her lies to. No wonder all her friends had that wide eyed look when they saw me. I was the local celebrity who garnered fame through an unfortunate set of events that ended in death. Whichever way you rolled it, in Tangerine I’d always be a murderer. Faye finally broke through my brooding.

  “Forget about it. Look, the truth is I bought this house so my daughter would have a roof over her head. Frank was a lay about. He couldn’t hold down a job for more than a few months at a time. They lived in all the cheap rentals. Just as Lisa would get it looking nice they’d be evicted and she’d have to start over. It broke her heart but she put up with it because she loved him.”

  “So you bought this house for them?”

  “For her,” Faye slammed her fist down on the table. “You should have seen the look on Frank’s face when I told them, he thought he’d hit the jackpot. Stupid bastard should have known I’d never let him get his sticky fingers on it.”

  “So after Lisa died you were just going to kick him out into the street?”

  “Of course.”

  Her absolution was astounding. It seemed Frank had quite a bit to lose if his wife didn’t return safe and sound. No wonder he’d been so desperate to hire me. Lisa was his meal ticket. Without her, he was just a homeless bum.

  “He must have loved her though, didn’t he?” I asked.

  “And that’s why you think he blew his brains out? I highly doubt it.”

  “Perhaps he couldn’t go on without her.”

  Faye laughed. Obviously she didn’t think so.

  “You know he was cheating on her,” she smiled cruelly.

  “Yes, you told me before. Did Lisa know?”

  “No. I don’t know, maybe.”

  “Why didn’t you tell her?”

  “She was so fragile. I was waiting until she got better. Maybe she found out, I don’t know.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair. It was loose today and tumbled around her face in soft curls. Looking at her I saw parts of Lisa. Only it was a harder, crueler Lisa than the one I had known.

  “And you think maybe she killed herself because of the affair?”

  “No. I think she was murdered.”

  TWELVE

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.

  She was so apathetic, I wanted to smack her.

  “Perhaps she was alive in the beginning. If you’d told the police your suspicions then maybe they would have searched for her. I did my best but the police might have found her in time.”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” she said.

  Of course it didn’t matter to her. The daughter who was more like a chain around her neck than anything was dead and she knew nothing of the note that foretold at least two more murders, one of them mine.

  “So who do you think killed her then? Frank?”

  I knew Frank hadn’t killed his wife. The note found its way into my hands after he was already dead. He was a victim too, even though I knew Faye would never see it that way.

  “Frank didn’t have the guts but I wouldn’t put it past that whore he was seeing. If anyone wanted Lisa out of the way it was her.”

  I knew this was more than a failed love triangle. Without the note I might have bought into the theory that the mistress killed the fragile wife to get her out of the way. Then Frank killed himself out of guilt. All the loose ends neatly tied together. Except it never really worked that way.

  “Who was she?” I asked.

  “Jill Hatchel.”

  The name sounded familiar, perhaps someone I had grown up with. I had the vague recollection of a skinny girl with long black hair and wild brown eyes. It was a small town. People tended to hang around long after they should have left. I got out while I still had a chance. Others weren’t so lucky, like Lisa.

  “You should have told me all this before,” I said.

  “I thought she’d come back,” Faye said again vaguely.

  “Well she didn’t and the sooner you face that the better. Now where can I find Jill?”

  “Here.”

  She went to a drawer and pulled out a flowered address book. Jill’s telephone number was listed under H. Someone had drawn an angry box around her name with a black marker. They pressed so hard it had ripped through the paper in a couple of places.

  “This is yours?”

  “No. It was Lisa’s.”

  “So she knew Jill?”

  I found it hard to believe Lisa could have been friends with Jill and not known what was going on behind her back. Perhaps she had been smarter than anyone gave her credit for.

  “I don‘t know. I didn’t know every aspect of my daughter’s life.”
>
  Faye’s face gave away the lie. I could tell she had been intimately involved with every detail.

  “Are you going to tell the police?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  It was true, I didn’t. The more information I gave Detective Olin, the more likely it was that he would try and stick his nose into my business and that was something I really wanted to avoid at all costs.

  “I’d better go,” I said.

  “Now?” she whined. “Couldn’t you stay just a little while longer?”

  “No. There are some things I need to do before I go.”

  I had to sort out what I was going to tell Olin, and then I was going home. The threatening note wasn’t going to keep me a prisoner of Tangerine any longer. Not now the dreams were sucking me into someone else’s life. If the sick bastard wanted to play games, then he could follow me back to Naples and my beachfront condo. God, I missed my home and my soft bed. When I got back I was going to sleep for a week. I couldn’t wait to spend all day in my pajamas, eating real food and not giving a shit about anyone.

  “But,” she pouted, and I saw her struggling to think up an excuse. “Harvey will be here any minute,” she finally relented.

  There it was. The real reason she had enticed me over with vague innuendoes of things we needed to talk about. She wanted to fix me up with her balding, alcoholic son. She didn’t really want to talk about Lisa at all.

  “I have to go,” I said.

  “Another time perhaps?” she asked sadly.

  I escaped out into the evening, eager to get away before Harvey arrived but I was too late. His silver BMW pulled into the driveway behind my Jeep. I was trapped. He smiled at his own cleverness. I didn’t think he’d have such a smirk if I rammed my Jeep into the shiny grill of his Beemer.

  “Hey gorgeous, did you just get here too?”

  As if he didn’t know. Faye probably called him on his cell phone the second I walked out the door and told him to step on it.

  “I’m just leaving,” I said.

  “That’s too bad.”

  It was too bad all right. I was longing to get Harvey back for the way he hustled me at the wake.

  “Won’t you stay and have a drink?”

  The evening air was thick and moist. Out of his air conditioned car, Harvey started to sweat. Dark flecks speckled his orange shirt. It was too bad he hadn’t paid me a visit at my motel. I could have stuck him up against the wall and never even noticed him. He ran a hand over his forehead, straightening hair that was no longer there.

  “Wouldn’t your wife have something to say about that?”

  I pointed to his wedding band.

  “We’re separated,” he said. “Just didn’t feel right to take it off yet.”

  “Of course,” I bit back sarcastically.

  Cheating asshole. Harvey had been a womanizer from the moment he hit puberty. His current separation was probably due to the fact that he couldn‘t keep his dick in his pants. No doubt the ring had seen more time in the glove box of his car than on his finger. I assumed he was playing the sympathy card for my benefit.

  “Move your car, Harvey. It‘s been delightful but really I must go.”

  “What will you give me if I move it?”

  He moved closer. Another step and I would have to straighten him out about respecting my personal space. The beer on his breath was stronger than it had been on the day of the funeral.

  “I’ll give you something if you don’t move it,” I said.

  “Oh yeah?” He stepped closer.

  “Yeah a fucking black eye. Now move your God damned car Harvey.”

  His face contorted with rage and indignation. I watched him wrestling with the urge to slam me up against the car and throttle me.

  “You’ve changed,” he finally mumbled.

  “You haven’t.”

  “Damn straight,” he said, then softened his tone. “Still, I really wish you’d stay.”

  “Begging doesn’t become you Harvey.”

  “It didn’t become Lisa either.”

  Breath caught in my throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She was always whining. Going on about how bad her life was. How she couldn’t cope. Please, what a drama queen.”

  “She was your sister and now she’s dead. Don’t you even care?” I yelled at him.

  “She said she’d rather be dead. Now she is.”

  I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of Harvey’s mouth. I knew he hadn’t exactly been close to Lisa but I never suspected he’d actually be glad she was dead. I opened my mouth to tear him a new one just as Faye came barreling out of the house.

  “Harvey, you’re here!” Her smile was so false her face looked plastic. “See, you have to stay now Sam.”

  Despite the urge to grill Harvey, I ignored Faye. I jumped into my Jeep and slammed the door, started the engine and shifted into reverse. Harvey leapt into his car and spun it out of the driveway. If I had to I would drive right over him to get out of there. Lucky for him, he got out of the way just in time. Too bad. I’d get him next time.

  I fumbled for my cigarettes as I tore down the road but the pack was empty. I threw it onto the passenger seat. Damn Harvey and Faye. Damn the whole stupid town. I was furious for allowing myself to be sucked back into the drama. I didn’t care that Frank and Lisa were dead. I couldn’t change that. I was tired and I just wanted to go home.

  I stopped at the gas station. It was the only one in town and the clerk was now familiar with my increasingly frequent cigarette stops. He had the packs waiting for me on the counter before I even made it through the door.

  “You should quit,” he scolded. “Smoking will kill you.”

  “If someone else doesn’t get to me first,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing.”

  As he took my cash I caught sight of the bulletin board behind the counter. It wasn’t filled with the usual garage sale flyers or houses for rent. Instead each picture showed Tangerine’s residents trying to outdo one another. The biggest fish caught in the lake, the largest deer shot on a hunting trip. I leant in closer as something caught my eye.

  THIRTEEN

  I was tired and frustrated. My mind had to be playing tricks on me. I asked the clerk if I could have the picture. He shrugged as though he couldn’t care less and ripped it off the board. Once I actually held it in my hands, I knew it was no illusion. The picture was of Lisa and Frank, their faces still fresh with youth, smiling as they cradled a newborn baby.

  “Shit,” I mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Hey, you don’t know these people do you?”

  He scratched his shaved head and examined the photo more carefully than I expected him to. I wondered how many times Lisa had filled up with gas at the pumps outside or whether Frank had often stopped in for coffee and doughnuts.

  “No,” he said. “Wait, wasn’t he the guy who just blew his brains out?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Cool.”

  “Do you remember seeing him in here?”

  “No.”

  But his eyes lingered a bit longer than they should have on Lisa’s smiling face. Perhaps he just thought she was hot. Then again maybe he had seen her right here at the gas station after she ran away.

  “You’re really sure?”

  “Look lady, I told you I’ve never seen either of them before. I’m new here, alright?”

  He scowled and pushed up his sleeves, then crossed his tattooed arms. I recognized the skull and cross bone ink of the local gang. I took that as my cue to leave.

  As I drove back to the motel, I couldn’t get the photograph out of my mind. I knew nothing of a baby. If there had been one before then there certainly wasn’t one now. I told myself maybe the baby wasn’t theirs. That it had been a relative’s or a friend’s but deep down I knew that wasn’t true. The look on their faces told me everything I needed to know. T
hey were the beaming parents of a newborn baby. So what the hell had happened?

  I knew there was one person in town who would know. The busybody no one liked but everyone went to if they wanted the inside scoop. In Tangerine that person was my mother.

  I hoped to slip in and out without seeing her. In fact I was surprised she hadn’t showed up at the motel, crying and carrying on. That was more her style but it seemed the standoff was still going strong. The few friends I had back home thought both my parents were dead and it was easier to let them think that than explain the truth. At times even I forgot that she was here in Tangerine, living her pitiful life. Every time she popped into my mind I’d reach for a bottle of Jack and promptly bury her back where she belonged.

  Back in my room the half-finished bottle called to me. I ignored its pull and turned my back. I picked up the broken phone and hoped the static in the line would disguise the way I knew my voice would sound. The phone rung several times before someone finally answered.

  “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to speak.

  “I’m not selling anything, Mom.”

  Silence. At least I had the satisfaction of knocking the wind out of her sails a bit. I waited for her to slam the phone down or scream that I was dead to her. Instead her reply was calm and breezy, just the right combination to catch me off guard.

  “Oh, it’s you.”

  What was that supposed to mean? I unconsciously started to pull at my hair. I should have called Detective Olin and asked him to find the birth records, done anything to avoid stepping into my mother’s sticky web but it was too late now.

  “Yes. It’s me,” I replied.

  “I wondered how long it would be before I finally heard from you. I know you’ve been running all over town, making a fool of yourself.”

  I imagined her in the little white house with its perfect picket fence, twirling the blue phone cord around her finger impatiently.

  “Mom, I need to know about Lisa.”

  Straight to the point. No bullshit. I wasn’t going to let her make me feel bad. I had to get in and get out. It was like pulling off a Band-Aid. The faster you got it over and done with, the sooner the pain stopped. I waited for her to point out my failure to find Lisa in time and criticize my detective skills. She didn’t.