The Girl Who Loved a Killer

by Tilty Edin

  "Likewise."

  Peter, still dressed in his suit from work was setting up the dining room when he heard them walk in. He stood big and a bit bulky with blonde, balding hair and kind eyes. He walked through the hall to see his daughter for the first time in a while, and next to her the man she claimed she was determined to be with forever.

  Leanne smiled, walking over to him and giving him a hug. "Hey Dad," she said. "Meet Tod."

  "Been waiting forever to meet you," Peter said.

  Tod reached out a hand to Peter, "A pleasure."

  "I heard you're thinking of law school?"

  "Next year," he smiled humbly. "I work on the sound for the summer."

  "We went out on one of the boats," Leanne mentioned. "We had a great time."

  "Beautiful home," Tod mentioned, glancing around navy colored wall paper, old wooden floors, and pristine furniture. There were many pictures in all sorts of different frames. One was of Leanne as a kid. Another was a wedding photo.

  Peter smiled humbly. "We've been working on it for almost thirty years."

  Alex started walking over to the kitchen. "Why don't we all go and get ready to eat now?" she suggested.

  They all made their entrance into the dining room on the left. Beyond that was the bright, homey kitchen where Tod helped her set bowls of mashed potatoes, creamed corn, rice and casserole on the large, mahogany wooden table, laced with a white cloth and place mats.

  Leanne sat by her father at the table, getting him up to date with the latest in her life. When everything was set, Alex shushed them and asked everyone to bow their heads in prayer.

  "Lord, our father, let us pray…" She said with a precarious voice. "Thank you for bringing us all here together to enjoy another meal. Thank you for the many years we've had and the many years yet to come. And thank you for those we love, those we lost, and those who have been returned to us again.”

  “Amen.”

  Peter took a heaping portion of mashed potatoes. "You're going to love this cassorole, Tod. It was my mothers recipie."

  "Can't wait to try it."

  "Has Leanne told you about her?"

  "A bit."

  "In fact, there's a picture of her right behind us on the counter." He reached his heavy body over to grab a black and white photo of Grandma Li, an Asian woman, with permed hair and passed it down to Tod.

  Tod smiled, "Lovely," and passed it back.

  "Her husband was Russian," Peter continued. "His name was Anton Kozlov. I got the most of his side of things. Everyone else in my family has my mothers. You should see my sisters. We look worlds apart."

  "Genetics are a funny thing," Alex said.

  Peter nodded. "Right they are." He dabbed his chin with a napkin. "So, Tod, have you seen the nursery?"

  Tod nodded. "It's a neat place."

  Leanne dropped her fork beside her plate. "Tod has a friend from work who's trying to sell some space," she mentioned. "It's in a pretty high traffic area for a low price. We thought maybe we could use it as another store to sell with more traffic."

  Alex looked surprised.

  Tod swallowed a small bite of food. "I asked George, my boss, and he said he finally got someone interested, but it's not finalized yet. We still might have a fighting chance."

  "As a business man myself, that's a brilliant idea," Peter said. "Of course, there's a lot you'll need to go with it. Transport, extra funds, set up equiptment, loans and licesnses."

  "I think it'll pay off," Leanne said. "Jean and Tuck think so too."

  Alex stopped chewing.

  "They jumped to the idea when we mentioned it," Tod added.

  "What do you think, Alex?" Peter asked.

  She smiled weakly. "I think, anything that has to do with it's imporvement, I can't disagree on."

  "Well, you know what they say," Peter said. "Sometimes we meet people for a reason."

  Leanne and Tod exchanged glances.

  "You both do seem well suited," Alex said quietly. "I can't deny that."

  "There's nothing better than the right time and place," Peter said.

  After dinner and more chatting, Leanne and Tod headed back to the car.

  "I think that went smoothly," Leanne said.

  "Yeah," Tod nodded. "I think it couldn've gone better."

  Before Leanne got in the passenger side, Tod stopped her.

  "I have a surprise," he said.

  "Surprise?"

  His face went smug as he reached into his pockets and took out a crinkled, thinning piece of paper.

  Leanne watched as he unraveled it, amused. He handed it to her. On flattened, color faded paper, was the picture of a serene beach and small captions.

  He held her unsure gaze. "To your efforts in finishing school," he said. "And to the start of a new summer together."

  "Is this?"

  "Monica point, Northern California."

  Leanne beamed.

  "The company I work for on the sound has docks set up all over the Pacific," he said. "One of them is located there and offered me some paid vacation time. I heard it's a beautiful place and I couldn't resist. We'll go fo about a week. What do you say?"

  She tackled him with a strong embrace. "Yes!"

  19

  1:38pm

  As the days rolled by, Leanne no longer felt the tensions she had earlier for Robinson's, the place she just seemed destined to be. Tod had talked her through most of her problems concerning it, and her mother's bruteness was no longer so overbearing. And as college was coming to an end, she thought she'd have more time for other things, especially waiting for the modeling agency to call back.

  She parked her car in Robinson's lot and walked around aimlessly outside, watching the rolling white clouds in the bright blue skies. The breeze passed gently through her breathable periwinkle dress as she headed into the front door. The little bell jingles.

  An older customer and his wife were peaking around, admiring the geraniums. "Do you work here sweetheart?" the old woman asked. "I just wanted to know a price."

  Leanne walked over to her. "What were you curious about Mam?"

  The old woman pointed a pink and green, sturdy house plant with a shaky finger.

  Leanne eyed the plant and the price tag with numbers almost too small for even young eyes to read. "I believe that's 20 cents," she said. "We'll have to rewrite those."

  The old woman smiled. "Thank you dear."

  A door creaked and slammed.

  "Finding everything you need?" Tuck asked.

  "We're just fine," the old man replied. "Thanks to the help of the young lady."

  Tuck smiled proudly. "Oh. My niece," he said. "She's our helper."

  The old lady looked at Leanne with inspecting eyes. "I thought she looked familiar," she said. "She was smaller back then."

  Leanne straightened up a bag of seeds and walked over to Uncle Tuck. "Need any help around here?"

  He bit on an unlit cigarette in his mouth. "Jean's out picking and washing some tomatoes out back," he mumbled. "Why don't you find her while I handle these fellas?"

  She went off to the back door and briskly up the beaten path until she found Jean among all the bold red specs against the green leaves. Just where Tuck said she'd be.

  Jean looked up, wiping some sweat from her forehead. "Getting hot isn't it?"

  "It's brutal," Leanne replied.

  "How've ya been, Lee? It's so nice to see you here more often."

  "Better than ever, really," Leanne said.

  Jean pulled a tomato gently away from a twisty vine. "This place may not be all that dazzling, but it can be very rewarding if you give it the chance."

  "How’s Uncle Tuck been?" Leanne asked. "He looks a little tired."

  Jean sighed. "He’s good. Although he's been a little bitter lately. Not sure what's been up."

  Leanne lowered her head, rummaging through the vines.

  "I don't even think he knows," she continued. "He's been having some weird dreams during the night."<
br />
  Leanne furrowed her brow. "What about?"

  "He says he doesn't remember," Jean said. "But, other than that, everything’s been skippy."

  Leanne placed some tomatoes in the basket. "Glad to hear."

  They continued to pick more ripe tomatoes until there were barely any left. They filled up a wagon beside them full of the large baskets.

  "Your grandparents did a really good job setting up this place," Jean said after the last basket was set. "You had a good family history of hard work. It certainly runs through you blood. Look how fast we got this done?"

  Leanne dusted her hands.

  Jean put a hand on her hip. "You know, sometimes I do feel really sorry for you mother," she said. "I think it's always been a little more than losing Sophia."

  Leanne wiped sweat from her forehead. "You think?"

  "I think she fell into some dark depression," Jean admitted. "It happens sometimes. It sticks and never goes away. When some people can't let go, sometimes it stems from a root the runs a little deeper."

  Leanne pursed her lips, feeling her reddened cheeks sting from the slight burn.

  Jean pat her back. "I don't know what your mother has said all these years," she said. "But you shouldn't feel scared of this place. It's here if you want it, and it's not if you don't."

  "Thanks, Jean."

  The two walked side by side back to the shop. After they washed off all the tomatoes off in a big sink, they spread out a tarp on the floor and sorted through and placed them in smaller baskets.

  Jean wiped dusty apron. "We've definitely been getting a lot more customers lately. Folks love their ripe tomatoes."

  Leanne took a small one, almost small enough to be a grape tomato and took a bite. "These are perfection." She could hear from the other side of the thin, chipped white painted walls the shuffling feet of more customers.

  She stood up. "I'll be back," she said, and walked down the small hall until she stood behind the checkout desk where Tuck quickly distributed money back and forth.

  A customer with big sunglasses smiled. "Getty busy now, huh?"

  Leanne took some paper bags and bagged his purchased zucchini and lettuce heads. "It's a good thing," she smiled before he turned away. "Have a good day."

  The hours passed. One customer after another, until none were left. By the time the shop was getting ready to close, almost half of the tomatoes Jean set out were already sold.

  Leanne went back through the store and returned everything neatly in its place. She didn't think anyone else would be coming back in before 5, and it was already thirty minutes to.

  Tuck wiped his hands before lighting a cigarette. "I don't know what we'd do without you today," he said, heading back outside. "Haven't a clue."

  "You'd be fine," Leanne said modestly.

  After the shop was cleaned up, Jean inviting Leanne over to some lemonade in the closet sized kitchen with the lemons from the trees they grew out back.

  The three of them clicked glasses together.

  "To our helpful niece," Jean cheered.

  "To one profitable summer," Tuck added.

  Jean wiped the juice from her mouth. "While you two finish closing up, I'm going to drive over to the house and start dinner," she said. "Would you like to join us, Leanne?"

  "I'd be happy too."

  Jean started heading out the door. "I'll take the truck then," she said. "See you two in a bit."

  Tuck continued putting away tools from outside while Leanne took in the days cash, counted it, locked the registers and swept the floors. By then the sun was streaming into the room, lighting up the wooden floors and the specs of grey in her eyes.

  Birds from outside paced from tree to tree, singing their last songs, fending for their last meal.

  She set the broom against the wall while and started off at the glowing gold clouds, as bright and vivid as they'd been when she and Tod were sitting in the fields of Sage. The memory seemed as real as the filtered light that touched her skin.

  "Leanne?" Tuck called as he walked in. "Have the cash?"

  "Oh." She walked over and handed it to him. "Yeah."

  He lifted up his wrist as if a watch was there, but there wasn't. "Almost time to go."

  They walked along the back pathway, enjoying the breeze blowing away the sweat from the back of their necks. The grass like flowing green seas crashing against sky.

  He puffed away on a cigarette. "So, the big question."

  Leanne sighed and inspected the cerulean blue hydrangeas, picked one falling off and placed it behind her ear. "Is it okay if I still can't answer?"

  He shook his head.

  "Sorry."

  "I understand," he said. "Kind of. Want to go over to the field?"

  She dug her hands in her pockets. "Sure."

  He smiled as the shed came into sight. "I remember Sophia's eyes," he said. "They were the kind of blue that almost looked violet. Reminds me of the exact color of the field."

  They walked over the bridge, crossing the bubbling creek and into the field.

  "The truth is, you only get to truly fall in love once," he went on. "Don't get me wrong, Jean is a wonderful woman in every way I could imagine. I wouldn't know what I'd ever do without her sunny soul."

  Leanne crossed her arms. “You put a lot of effort into this,” she said. "How long did it take you?"

  "A year," he said. "Just about."

  Leanne glanced down at what she could make of her feet. "I'm sorry," she muttered.

  He nodded and flashed a short lived smile. "There will always be some pain in my heart," he said. "How could I not feel it? This was Sophia's families business after all. Not mine. And if it wasn't for Jean and I the place would be demolished years ago. And then there's Alexandra, out claiming she cared more about the place than anyone else. If she cared anything for Sophia, she'd be right here, right now, helping us."

  "It's a shame, for sure. But I don't let my mother bother me like I used to.”

  "I'm glad you don’t," he said. "I shouldn't let her burn me up either, but it's unavoidable sometimes. You know, Alex was a hard time long before you were born. Since I was a kid, it was always a mystery to me why she always had to be so damn miserable." He scratched his head. “Jean says it's the blues, something that runs through the Robinson family. I guess I can't argue with her there. Everyone deals with it in their lives; I know that much. Some more than others, I guess. Makes some sense. The Robinson’s certainly carried it as far as I can remember. Your Grandparents on your mother's side were always a cold, reclusive pair. It shames me to think part of Sophia's ashes are between them in the family plot.” He paused and wiped a small tear. “The Robinson's were all bitter,” he said. “Except for Sophia. And only Sophia."

  He put out his cigarette and entered violet swaying field, making it very real that Sophia was still very much a part of his life, dead or alive.

  He lowered his head. "I knew Sophia nearly most of my life before she died. And I have no doubt I still would have known her now. So how can I not think about her every day?"

  "How'd you meet her, anyway?" Leanne asked.

  "I was about a mile away from here, riding my bike when a little girl about my age stopped me. I was in a hurry home. It was about to rain, but something about her was full of sunshine. She had some flowers, including Sage in her hand and gave them to me. I said I didn't want them, and she threw them at me." He laughed. "I knew she looked familiar," he said. "From school or a barn party. From somewhere. She told me her name was Sage and she asked if I wanted an umbrella."

  She smiled at the way he talked about her. It was as if he could bring her back to life with words.

  He tucked his hands in his pockets, looking out at the sky above the mountains. "I couldn't think of a better place to grow this field," he said. "I was going to sell this piece of land, but with the beautiful view and the way it just called to me, I had this wild idea to grow Sage in hopes maybe I would find peace."

  She looked at him
curiously. "Have you?"

  He smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I think so."

  "It gives me a sense of peace too."

  "What about Tod?" he asked. "Did he like it?"

  She laughed lightly. "He did."

  He chuckled. "You two gettng serious now?"

  "He invited me to Monica point, California next week. A little surprise for the both of us. So, I hope you won’t mind my absence much."

  He pat her back. "So I think I got my answer."

  "It doesn't mean I won't help out when I get back, Uncle Tuck."

  “You just worry about having a good time," he said, turning back towards the shop. "You deserve it."

  When they turned to walk back, she couldn't help but eye the passing shed once more.

  "I hope you'll like Robinson's homemade tomato sauce," he siad. "If that sauce doesn't thrive on it's own one day, I don't know what will."

  20

  3:00am

  The first hours of morning not a trace of wind could be felt, not from any direction in the dark blue were Tod crouched among shadowy trees. The air, damp with a strong scent of earthy rust that his fingers curled in. The moonlight was enough to see hundreds of insects devour a corpse as still as death gets.

  He traced his fingers along the naked body’s slick blue tinted skin. Specs of grime and dirt stuck to the tips.

  He moved away, unable to take another breath, and wondered how many people need and long for some task to fill the urge to feel completely at ease with the world.

  Sometimes they find it helping others, catering parties, building skyscrapers, or maybe within art. But I. I always find it in murder.

  What the hostile feeling it brought was, he'd never know. Sometimes he'd give the world to find out, especially during moments immersed in his kill, lost in the deep dark, long before the sun would rise. Nights after a killing spree, he doubted the sun would ever rise again, but it did. Every morning. And always on time.

  He ran his dirt covered hands through his hair, feeling the cool soil linger on his face and scalp. He went back to the body with bare knees snuggled soundly against the moss.