by Mona Marple
“Oh, loud and clear Sheriff. Loud and clear.” Vera says, but a mischievous grin spreads across her face. “It’s awful when a man loses his hair at such a young age. Don’t you think?”
“Come on, I’ll escort you out.” Taylor says.
The three of us walk through the building in silence and Taylor opens the front door for Vera, who struts out into the daylight without a backward glance.
I look at Taylor and shake my head. “She's a piece of work.”
“Not a killer, though.” he says.
We climb the stairs together, him taking them two at a time and me, to my surprise, managing to keep up without losing my breath.
“So, I know I should probably just take the hint, but I can’t get this off my mind. Would you give me a chance and let me take you out for dinner?”
His words catch me off guard and I can’t hide the grin from my face. There’s no time to prepare a more guarded reaction, and the joy his question brings makes me realise what my answer has to be. “I’d like that.”
He grins too, before a scream comes from ahead. The door to the men’s toilets bursts open and it’s no-neck, but with the most luscious head of hair I’ve ever seen.
“Can you believe this!” he shouts, combing the locks with his fingers. “It’s real! It’s… it’s magic!”
15
Sage
I wake from sleep as if I’m weighted down, as if sleep is an ocean and I’m at the bottom, swimming against the tide to reach the surface.
My eyes open and take in the light of the room. Morning? No. This has been a nap.
And I’m still weighted down. A daughter on each side of me. Connie’s thick duvet over us all.
“What time is it?” I ask, which is such a living-person question to ask. I have no need to wonder about the time now. No commitments to keep. No school runs to do. No dinner to have on the table.
I smile at the thought of me doing school runs. The days when I’d judge the time not by the clock but by the weather. I could be sure that if an otherwise pleasant day turned overcast and wet, it was almost school run time. I’d grab my rain coat and umbrella and brave the winds, get soaked in the downpours, and stand in the school playground until the bell went. Then the class door would open, and the teacher - always a kind, young female back then - would glance quickly for each parent’s face before letting each child leave.
Coral would be bursting to escape. She loved school but she loved me more. Sandy would be the last one out, every single day.
I was helping Miss tidy, she’d say. I was just clearing the bins. I was sharpening all of the crayons! I just had to finish my homework.
Homework’s meant for home, you know, I’d say to her. She’d look at me wide eyed and explain that she’d asked for extra, so she still had some to do at home too.
That girl was my polar opposite in many ways. So responsible. So ready to accept the day to day drudgery that felt like a millstone around my neck. She spent her childhood seeking out the mundanity that I spent my adulthood being suffocated by.
“Nearly five.” Sandy says with a yawn.
“Best nap ever.” Coral says, stretching. “I never nap like that at home.”
I try to ignore her calling another place home, as if it doesn't kill me inside.
“Connie’s going to be pleased to get her bed back.” Sandy ponders. “When we leave.”
“Oh, Sandy!” Coral moans. “Don’t do that. It’s like all the Back to School posters being up in shops before you even broke up for summer. I hated that as a kid.”
“I loved it.” Sandy admits. “It was so exciting looking at the new pencil cases. Planning how neat you’d write.”
“How neat you’d write, maybe. I never thought like that.”
“You were always so different from each other.” I say with a smile. “It’s amazing you get on so well, really.”
“She drives me mad sometimes.” Coral admits, but flashes a wink towards Sandy. “Just kidding. Love ya, sis.”
“I can’t believe it’s nearly time for us to leave.” Sandy says, and this time Coral doesn’t argue. We can’t pretend forever that the end won’t come. In just a few days, they’ll be boarding a plane and returning to England.
“You know.” I begin, nervous. “You don’t have to go. I mean, look at Connie, she came over here and made a good life for herself. She’s happy. You could be too.”
“Are you suggesting we stay?” Coral asks, eyes wide.
“I’m asking you to stay.” I admit, my insides transformed into a butterfly farm.
“Oh, mum…” Sandy says, but doesn’t finish.
Coral looks across at her sister but whatever their look says, I can’t interpret it.
“We can’t stay, mum.” Coral says, her voice as balanced as a tightrope walker.
“We need to get home.” Sandy adds.
I nod, as my eyes pool with ghost tears. “Of course, of course, it was a silly suggestion really.”
“No, mum, it was…” Sandy begins.
“Look, girls, I get it. You’ve got your whole lives to live. I know that. It’s all good. Honest.” I say, and all I know is that I have to get out of the room. I have to get away so they don’t see me break down.
“Why don’t you come with us?” Coral asks, as I climb out of the bed. I turn to her, stunned.
“Why?”
“You don’t have to live here, right? You could come back with us.” she says.
“But, sweetie, you wouldn’t be able to see me.” I say. The cruelty of it all feels so unfair I could scream. The only place in the world where they can see me is right here, thousands of miles away from their lives.
“Even now we know it’s real?” Sandy asks. “Surely, we’ll see you anywhere now?”
“It doesn’t work that way.” I say. “It’s this place, it’s special. Mystical.”
“I can’t believe that we wouldn’t see you, mum. Not now we’ve been here and experienced this. We’d see you anywhere. I know we would.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, girls. This is the only place where we can be together.”
**
I go to Bill’s, for no other reason than I feel so down I’m craving junk food. Yes, I know I can’t eat it. But I can still look. And sniff. And maybe even hold a chocolate bar in my hands and dream.
It’s near closing time, the independent store favouring reasonable opening hours, not the 24/7 nonsense that Bruce Skipton’s planned supermarket would no doubt have offered.
The supermarket staff are restocking shelves and efficiently tidying aisles, getting ready to usher people out at closing time and not be far behind them. Nobody in this town wants to work much harder than they have to, especially so close to Hallowe’en. Everyone’s diaries are full of seasonal activities, kitchens at home packed with pumpkin recipes to try out, and parents desperate to make the final touches on homemade costumes for trick or treat.
I let all that stuff wash over me, heading past the bumper bins of candy, through the almost-empty racks of Hallowe’en decorations, and past the freezer section.
Down the next aisle, I spot Kim Kane and decide I should really thank him for letting Coral interview him. Sure, my plan of showing her how easily she could create a profitable life over here hasn’t worked, but that’s hardly his fault.
I draw close enough that I can read what the various tattoos on his arm say, and then I realise that he’s holding a slab of steak in his hands. Gazing at it.
He senses my presence and looks up at me, his face tense.
“Hey!” I exclaim.
He returns the steak to the rack and shakes his head. “I could cry thinking about what that poor animal went through.”
“Oh, yeah.” I say, awkwardly. Can anyone really be that passionate about animal rights that they’d come and, what, pray for the steak section? “Well, I’m on my way to the chocolates. Good to see you.”
He nods, takes a deep sniff, and struts off towards th
e door.
Celebrities are so darn weird.
**
It turns out that cuddling a chocolate bar is no replacement for inhaling one in two bites, as I would do if I were still alive.
But the time out of the house has given me perspective, at least.
Of course the girls can’t pack up their lives and move here. It was unfair of me to ask.
I’ve survived twenty years without them.
I’ll just have to relearn how, so I can do it again.
“Mom, is that you?” Sandy calls from the living room as I close the door behind me. I should have floated in silently but I couldn’t face the thought of that sensation.
I glare at Igor, as if everything that’s wrong in the world is his fault.
“Yep, it’s me.” I call out, looking away from the Hallowe’en figure. It’s not a staring contest I was going to win, after all.
The living room flickers amber, candles arranged around the room. Sandy, Coral and Connie all sit on the settees.
Connie’s lost more weight, I see immediately. Her face looks less puffy. There’s something else, though. The way her eyes twinkle. She’s happy, that’s it.
“Aunt Connie’s got a date!” Coral exclaims, turning to me with a grin. The emotion of the afternoon’s been forgotten, and I’m glad. I don’t want to talk about it again.
“Oh, have you now?” I ask, plopping myself down on the settee and getting comfortable. An October chill runs through my body and Sandy, such a nurturer, silently drapes a blanket across me.
“Taylor Morton asked me for dinner.” Connie says, a flash of a smile escaping despite her best attempts to sound casual. “It might not even be a date. It probably isn’t.”
I roll my eyes. “If it looks like a date and sounds like a date…”
“It’s probably a date!” Sandy and Coral finish my sentence in unison and the three of us laugh while Connie’s cheeks flush.
“I just don’t want to go in there expecting it to be something it isn’t.” Connie says. “Better to be pleasantly surprised than disappointed.”
“Okay.” I say. “So when is the big meal out with male friend?”
“Tomorrow!” Connie says with a gasp, as if he asked her to join him for a meal on 29 October and she’s only just realised when that date is.
“What are you going to wear?” Coral asks. “I can paint your nails for you?”
“I’ve got no idea what to wear.” Connie says, and then gives a shy smile. “I might need to buy something. Some of my clothes are feeling a bit baggy.”
And so we end up at the strip mall across town, a place where I rarely venture. The open-air row of shops seems to change ownership every year or two, so it’s better to not get attached to any stores you find here. Right now, there’s a sub sandwich place, a coffee shop, an attorney’s office, an Asian food store, a craft place, and two clothes shops.
We trudge across the pavement, Connie’s nerves palpable.
“I hope Taylor doesn’t see me.” she whispers, as if he could be around any corner listening.
“Why? Is it bad luck to see the male friend before the meal?” I ask with a smirk.
“Oh, shut up.” she scolds. “I just don’t want him thinking I’m going to all of this effort for him.”
“Oh no, that would be awful. I’m sure he’d hate to think you’d go to any effort for him.”
“It just makes it awkward, if it is just a friendly dinner. Well, like I say, I’m here because I need new clothes. That’s all.” she says, her voice switching to theatrical loudness.
“Aunt Connie.” Sandy says, a few steps ahead, looking in the window of the first clothes shop. “This looks so pretty.”
She’s gazing at a tunic dress, long sleeved, with pockets, and covered in a falling leaf pattern. It is pretty, and it would look adorable on Connie.
“I like it.” I say.
“A dress?” Connie asks. “It’s going to cling in all the wrong places.”
“Those wrong places are disappearing off you every week.” Coral says. “You’re like the incredible shrinking woman.”
“It is a nice design.” Connie admits. “I could try it?”
I busy myself looking around the shop while Connie waits for the changing room. In front of her, a teenager with bright pink hair waits to try on a pair of denim cut off shorts, and a woman ten years or more older than Connie waits to try on the leaf dress. Luckily, Connie doesn’t seem to have noticed.
Autumn clothes are the cutest. If I was alive now, I’d love the pinafore dresses and chunky sweaters. Back when I was alive, I was too busy trying to pretend - or convince myself - that I was still young. My style was boho year round, and I thought cardigans were for grannies. I’d love a nice cardigan now.
“Mom, look!” Sandy calls, and I float back across to the fitting rooms.
“You look amazing.” I say, looking at the woman formerly known as my sister. After decades of watching her conceal her body, as if the bigger she made it look the less noticeable it would be, it’s amazing to see her standing there, with her bosom standing high and proud (that’s what having no children will do for you), and her waist cinched in a little. The dress is almost knee length, and she came in a pair of brown country leather boots which will finish the outfit perfectly.
If I could cry, I might shed a tear right now, surrounded by the three women I love most in the world, watching my sister finally begin to realise what she has to offer herself and the world.
But I can’t cry, and so I just stand there and nod. Up and down, up and down.
This, I want to say. This is all I need.
But humour wins the day, and I crinkle my nose devilishly and tell my sister, “Sheriff Morton won’t be able to keep his hands off you!”
**
“So I guess you two have got a real thing for law enforcement?” Patton asks me later that night as we sit out on the veranda together.
I give him a playful push and mimic Connie's words. “It might not even be a date.”
He rolls his eyes, but I don’t want word spreading around town, just in case Connie’s fears are right about his platonic intentions.
“The grand ball’s going ahead.” Patton says, out of nowhere. “I think it’s a mistake.”
“You do?”
He nods. “Killer’s still out there. Sheriff Morton don’t seem any closer to knowing who did it.”
“Well, neither are we.” I say with a shrug. “I’ve met the first ex-wife, and the oldest son. I don’t think it was either of them.”
“The curse isn’t real, so we can’t blame Vera.”
“She told Sheriff Morton that whoever it was used the curse as a chance to kill, so everyone would think it was the curse.”
“Makes sense.” Patton says.
“Well, hold on, that means the killer had to be at the gig.” I say, realisation dawning on me.
Patton shakes his head. “That narrows the suspects down to a few hundred.”
“Not all of them will have a link with Bruce Skipton, though. We find the guest list and see who had motive, and that will give us our real short list.”
“That’s a lot of work, Sage.” Patton says, but I’m already up off the step.
“We’d better get started then.”
**
The Town Hall’s always left locked, the mole-faced woman who seems to head up every community group in town makes sure of that and does a nightly patrol to make sure it’s the case. The doors are locked with a key, but then a huge metal padlock is used too, so anyone passing who might have wicked thoughts knows not to even attempt to get inside.
And, so, no matter how much I hate it, I have to float through the door. Patton and I take deep breaths and go at the same time, whooshing through and reappearing inside the building.
It’s strange to see such a public building locked down for the night. Dark, cold and empty.
“Where will the list be?” Patton asks.
“
I’m not sure. There must be some kind of office?” I say, and we float through the main room, towards the stage where Vera and the Vamps performed. There’s a door off to the left and we go that way first, but all it leads to are the toilets. The building’s symmetrical, so we know there’s a door off to the right as well. We follow that and end up in a small corridor that leads to the cloakroom.
“There’s no admin office.” I say, in surprise.
Patton shrugs as he looks around the cloakroom. A set of drawers stands against the wall, a large bin with a swing lid by its side, and a few chairs are stacked in the corner.
“They used this as the dressing room, ya know? Vera and the Vamps.” I shake my head. “Can’t imagine it’s up to their normal standards.”
I pull open one of the drawers. It’s bursting full of paper, and I take out the whole wad and begin to flick through various agendas and committee meeting minutes. Snoozeville.
What kind of person dedicates their life to these meetings where you all come back six months later to see that nothing’s changed, and decide the same action points that nobody ever takes action on? It would drive me insane.
A few coats remain on the hooks and Patton busies himself searching through the pockets. He pulls out a tissue and a small plastic toy from one pocket, returning them carefully. The next coat, a bright yellow bomber jacket, produces a tiny vial of liquid, which Patton holds up with a gasp.
“I think we found our poison.” he says, holding the bottle up towards me.
16
Connie
The lab promise the results within a couple of hours, and while they get to work on examining the contents of the vial, the rest of us hole up in Taylor’s home, examining the guest list that Sage found amongst the committee meeting notes.
“What are we looking for exactly?” I ask, stifling a yawn. It’s getting late, and it’s pretty clear we’ll be working through the night. I’ve come out in my loungewear; baggy grey slacks and a huge hoodie. There’s no amount of tunic dress wearing that will remove the sight of me like this from Taylor’s memory. I can probably kiss the date goodbye.
