by E. C. Bell
“I’m not talking about living together,” Dad said sharply. “God, Sylvie, we both know that won’t work. I drink too much, and you—you have your ghosts.” He sighed. “Just let me in a little. Let me help you. Please.”
He looked across the table at me. I was sitting there with my mouth hanging open. I blinked and snapped it shut.
“Marie says that you could use some money,” he said. “At least let me do that for you.”
Mom turned and glared at me as though she wished I would just burst into flames and disappear. “I’m fine,” she said stiffly. “I don’t need your money. I told you that.”
“Seriously?” The words burst out of me before I could stop them. “Seriously, Mom?”
“Stay out of this, girl. This is between your father and me.”
And then Dad jumped to her defence. “I told you, your mother makes her own decisions,” he said. “It’s her life.”
“Thank you, Myles,” my mother said primly.
“You are more than welcome,” my father said. “I’m sure.”
I stared at them both, then looked at Rhonda. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here?” I asked.
She silently shook her head, looking just as confused as I felt. So, I turned to James. He was astute and all that. Maybe he could see what I was missing.
James shrugged. “I can see where you get your stubborn streak from,” he said.
What?
“I’m not stubborn,” I said, aghast. “Not like them!”
Every adult sitting at the table turned and stared at me for a long, long moment.
“Yes, you are,” James said, finally. “You’re absolutely like them.”
Rhonda tittered. And then Jasper. My mother snorted laughter into her napkin, and finally, even my father chuckled.
“You really are pretty stubborn,” he said.
“Just like you, Myles,” my mother said.
“No,” Dad said. “Just like you.”
And they smiled at each other like they were sharing the biggest joke in the world.
Good grief!
Arnie:
Four Helium Balloons
ROSALIE PARKED NEXT to a great big house up on the hill, shut off the lights, and pulled out her binoculars. Tried to zone in on the house, but couldn’t do it. The trees were in the way.
“This is maddening,” she said.
She moved the car to the middle of the driveway and stopped again. Looked at some helium balloons tied to a mailbox with the name Jenner-Michaels painted on it and squealed like a little kid. She jumped out of the car, dragging me with her.
“These are going to be perfect,” she said. “Just perfect, aren’t they, Arnie?”
Why did she keep talking to me? She couldn’t see me or hear me. So why the hell did she keep talking to me?
She opened the trunk and stuffed the balloons inside, tying them to the jack. Then she stopped, stock-still, and stared up at the house, like she had heard something.
When she was sure there was no movement, she jumped into the car and moved it down the street a few car lengths.
“Don’t need them seeing me before I’m ready for them, now do I?” she said. And then we waited.
For what, I did not know, but I could guess. We were watching for Marie.
Marie:
Of Course the Cops Harass Us
DAD TURNED TO Rhonda, and all the humour drained from his face. “What the hell’s up with the cops in this town? Have they all gone crazy or what?”
“Why?” Rhonda asked. “Have they been bothering you again?”
“Yeah,” Dad said. “They had me in the box again today. Wanted to talk about the Stillwell murder. Again.” He gestured to James. “They took him in, too. Didn’t they, James?”
“That they did,” James said.
Dad looked around the table, and his eyes finally settled on me.
“They were asking me about you,” he said. “When you really got to town, and such. Watch yourself, girl. I think you’re next.”
My stomach tightened, dangerously, and I glanced a question at James. He shook his head in the negative. The police hadn’t asked him anything about me, then. Why would they have asked Dad, but not James?
“If not her, then someone else in the Jenner family,” Rhonda said, angrily. “Why won’t they just leave us alone!”
“Dear, they’re just doing their jobs,” Jasper said. Rhonda looked at him angrily, but he didn’t back down, this time. I was surprised. “If I was a cop, I’d check you all out. After all, what that guy did to Marie—”
“That’s enough,” I said, my voice instantly rough. “We all know what he did. Just leave it alone. Please.”
I hated having people talk about me—about my past. All I wanted was for this to be finished, and then, finally, this part of my life could be over, and I could move on.
But if the police had decided that I was involved, this part of my life was still alive and well, and it would be a long time before anything was going to return to something like normal for me. And worse than that, I had the horrible feeling that I was dragging some of the people in this room down with me.
My throat tightened. The cops were harassing my family, because of me. Again.
“I think I need a breath of fresh air,” I said, and pushed my chair back, hard. I heard its legs scrape along Rhonda’s nice wood floor, and knew if there were marks, she’d be pissed. Just one more thing for her to be angry at me for.
I didn’t think I’d be able to stand it.
So, I did what I usually do, in situations like that. I ran out the front door, slammed it shut, stood in the dark, and cried like a stupid little kid.
Arnie:
Trapped!
ROSALIE LEANED OVER the front seat of the car and grubbed around in her lunch bag. I expected her to pull out a sandwich or three, but she didn’t. She pulled out a mason jar with a lid, a small white candle, and a Bic lighter.
“It’s time, Arnie,” she said. “I’m sorry about this, but I can’t have you warning Marie before I’m ready.”
She flicked the lighter, and her eyes looked spooky in the sudden light. What the hell was she doing?
She picked up the candle and touched the flame to the wick. It spat as the wax warmed, and then the wick caught.
Rosalie put down the lighter and concentrated on the flame of the candle.
“This won’t hurt, Arnie,” she said, her eyes huge as she stared and stared at the flame. “Not too much, anyhow.”
I felt one of the light strings that attached me to Rosalie let go with a snap. She winced, and then smiled. I gasped and tried to reattach it, but couldn’t seem to make it work.
What the hell? I concentrated, but still no-go. I felt another and then another string snap loose. She flinched at every snap, but still kept smiling. Soon, only two strings were anchoring me to her.
“What are you doing, you bitch!” I cried. “Stop it, now!”
But of course, she couldn’t hear me. Just stared and stared at the yellow flickering flame of the candle as the last two light strings went ping! And I was free.
I expected to flash back to Rosalie’s apartment, but I didn’t. I felt the light from the candle reach out and grab me, one yellow string at a time.
For the first time since I died, I felt really afraid.
Rosalie dropped the little candle into the mason jar. The strings of light that held me to it pulled me in as well. Then she screwed the lid down tight, tight, so no air could get in, and nothing, including me, could get out.
“What are you doing!” I screamed. But she didn’t answer me. Just put the mason jar on the dash and watched the candle as it guttered and finally died.
“It won’t be long, Arnie,” she said. “Not long at all.”
Marie:
Where Did the Balloons Go?
THE AIR HAD cooled and the sun had set since we’d walked into the house for Rhonda’s family meal. I leaned against one of the mock ma
rble pillars holding up the front of Rhonda’s McMansion and blubbered, wishing I had some tissue in my pocket. Didn’t though, even though I checked. Just my cell, an old stick of gum, and lint. I made do with the sleeve of my jacket.
The door opened and closed quietly behind me, but I didn’t turn around.
“Go away,” I said. “Please.”
It was James, of course. Looked like he was still trying to keep the party going. Too late, James. Party definitely over.
“Come inside, Marie. You’ll get cold.”
He tentatively walked up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I tried to be tough and cool and confident, but that lasted about two seconds.
“Oh, James!” I cried, flinging myself into his arms. “What am I going to do?”
He gathered me close, and I stepped into the warmth of his arms gratefully. He was right. I was cold, inside and out. I shivered and ran my hands up his back and then clung, like he was a life raft and I was drowning.
“This will all be over soon,” he said. “The police will realize that none of us were involved in Stillwell’s death, and it will all blow over.”
“You promise?” I asked, childishly. No one could promise something like that. Then I sniffled, and felt my stupid throat tighten, because that was exactly what I wanted to hear, even if it was a lie.
“Once we find the right Sunfire, we’ll be good as golden,” he said. Then he huffed laughter. “Close enough to a promise?”
“Close enough,” I said. And, surprise, surprise, my throat loosened.
“Come inside,” he said into my hair. “Finish this night off as well as you started it.”
“So I’ve been ladylike enough for you?” I asked, and breathed in his scent. I felt like I could live forever in a place this warm and fragrant. But I knew that I couldn’t. Not until the mess that was my life was cleaned up, once and for all.
“Yes,” he said, and his chuckle vibrated through me. “I see hope for you.”
“Well, thank you very much, Mr. Lavall, I’m sure.” I pushed away from him regretfully. “Just give me a couple more minutes to pull myself together, and I’ll be back inside, charming the heck out of all of them.”
“Excellent,” he said. Then he looked down into my eyes. “You sure you’re all right out here by yourself?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I’ll run if I see a bear.”
“A bear?” He looked around. “Are there bears here?”
“Oh God, Lavall. Are you that much of a city slicker? Of course there are bears.”
“Maybe I should stay out here with you. You know, to protect you.”
“From bears.”
“Well—yeah.” He frowned. “What do you do if a bear attacks?”
“Run faster than the other guy,” I said. “In this case, you.”
“Oh.” He chuckled. “Oh. So you think you can outrun me?”
“If a bear was chasing us, damned straight I could.” I patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. And James? Thanks for coming out and checking on me.”
“You are more than welcome.” He pulled a half-assed old-fashioned bow, and turned toward the door.
“Just make it a couple more minutes, though, Marie. Remember. Bears.”
The door clicked shut, and he was gone.
I thought for a second about walking in right after him, but decided I did indeed need a few more minutes out in the dark.
I stepped off the entrance steps, looking up to see if I could see some stars, but I couldn’t see the sky past the trees skirting the driveway. I stepped out onto the drive and tried again. Thought I saw one or two, but the trees really blocked the sky. I hadn’t noticed that when we’d driven in. Even though it was a short driveway, it curved enough that I couldn’t even see the road that we’d driven up a few hours before.
Now the thought of seeing the stars and calming myself was planted in my head, I clattered down the driveway, between the trees, glancing up periodically to check. A few more, but not good enough. Not yet.
I saw Rhonda’s ridiculous black metal letterbox perched at the end of her drive, and knew I was close. If I got out as far as the road, I’d see the stars, I was sure of it.
Then I gave the letterbox a harder look and stopped. There was something different, but for a second, I couldn’t figure it out. Took a step or two closer, and it hit me. The balloons were gone.
“Some stupid kids popped ’em,” I muttered. “Little shits.”
I walked out into the open. Whoever had stolen the balloons hadn’t even left the strings. That pissed me off, because I knew how hard Rhonda had worked to make everything perfect, no matter how silly the balloons had seemed. I looked down the road, to see if I could catch the kids as they made their escape. It was quiet and dark enough that I couldn’t really see a thing.
Glanced at the sky as I turned to look up the road, the way we’d come. And there, finally, were the stars, in all their glory. It was truly amazing how big the sky was, and how the stars scattered over that sky looked like a million brilliant diamonds on black velvet.
A small noise to my right brought me out of my reverie. I turned and glared, ready to take on the little juveniles who had popped my sister’s balloons.
No juveniles, and no bears, either. I was staring into the business end of a handgun.
Holding it was Rosalie Jacoby.
She was standing beside her Sunfire, and I distantly noted that in the dark, it looked a faded blue colour. Blue. Holy crap.
When I’d checked the colour of her car, it had been in the daylight. But at night, under the streetlight, it looked blue. Which meant that this was probably the car that had picked Arnie up at the Blue Ox Inn. Which meant that Rosalie was probably the person who had killed him.
“I saw you at my place,” she said. “This afternoon. Kind of impolite, you not coming up to visit.”
I blinked and spluttered, and slowly brought my hands up by my ears. I did not have one quick retort in my head. Not one. All I could think to gasp was, “Please don’t shoot me.”
“Oh, I can’t promise that,” she said. “This is all very inconvenient. I wasn’t going to take you until tomorrow. After my meal with Arnie’s parents.”
She smiled, and I saw the crazy oozing from her big brown eyes.
“We’re putting the final touches to Arnie’s funeral. Picking flowers and such,” she said. “I’m so looking forward to it. You’re not gonna wreck that.”
“Oh,” I squeaked. “Oh, that sounds nice.”
It didn’t sound nice. It sounded as crazy as she evidently was. But there was no way in the world I was saying that to her. After all, she had that gun pointed at me.
“So now I have to figure out a way to keep you quiet,” she said. “Until tomorrow.” She waved the gun at me. “Move to the trunk of the car. We’re going for a ride.”
“My—my family is expecting me,” I said.
“Too bad,” she said. “Looks like your little family reunion is over.” She backed up until she was standing beside the trunk of the car. “Get over here. Don’t make me shoot you.”
For about a microsecond, I thought I was going to say something heroic but truly stupid like, “You won’t shoot me here. My family will hear, and they’ll catch you.” But I didn’t say anything like that, because I was pretty sure she didn’t give a rat’s ass whether the gunshot that would probably kill me would bring the rest of my family streaming out of Rhonda’s McMansion. I was pretty sure that she’d shoot at them, and there was a chance she’d hurt or kill them. And I couldn’t take a chance like that.
So I walked toward her, my heart pounding so hard I was pretty sure she could hear it.
“I’m coming,” I said. “See?”
Why had I sent James into the house? He would’ve liked seeing the stars, and when he heard that noise behind us, he would have done something smart. He wouldn’t have just turned around like an idiot, to be trapped by the crazy woman with a gun.
Th
inking about James turned my brain on. He’d have his cell phone, and he’d probably have it on. I couldn’t see him being so polite that he would shut it off for the dinner party. At least I hoped he had it on.
All I needed was a minute to myself, and I could call him. Let him know I was in all sorts of trouble, and he’d figure out a way to save me.
My heart settled a little, and when Rosalie opened the trunk of her car and gestured for me to get inside, I complied without protest. I didn’t even say anything when I saw the helium balloons from Rhonda’s letterbox, tied to Rosalie’s jack and rammed in the trunk. I just curled up so I could fit in the trunk of that little car and closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see her crazy anymore.
James would save me. He would.
Stage Three
Hell Is Going Back . . .
Marie:
The Phone Call
THE TRUNK OF Rosalie’s Sunfire was cramped, and I heard the helium balloons squeak as they rubbed against each other with every bump and jostle.
I was in real trouble and needed help. ASAP. I didn’t need James. I needed the cops.
I pulled my cell from my pocket and powered it up. Felt a jolt of fear when it tinkled and jingled its way to on, and slapped my hand over it, hoping I could block the sound.
The car didn’t slow down, so I figured crazy Rosalie hadn’t heard and I was in the clear. My finger hovered over the nine button, but I didn’t press it. All I could think was calling the cops had never ever helped me here. They’d always treated me like a nuisance, or worse, someone who deserved what she got. I didn’t need judgement. I needed frigging help.
So I pressed James’s number, instead. He’d believe me and figure out a way to help, with no judgement. For a second, I thought about texting, but I really wanted to hear James’s voice because, well, I was terrified. Called him, and as I listened to the ring ring ring, tried to think of the quickest way to tell him absolutely everything.
