Together the two women crossed the patio and entered the house through the sunroom door. Piper caught a few whispered words spoken by the housekeeper that sounded like: “. . . your estate...papers looked real enough.”
Instead of sitting down, Piper strolled to the edge of the swimming pool. The water looked clean, yet she’d never noticed a pool service at the house. Probably the housekeeper’s chore.
She glanced down the driveway at the parked car. The sun reflected off the windshield. The first visitor she’d seen since moving in next door. She squatted on her heels, ran her fingers through the water. It was cold. Bone-chilling cold. How could Sybil stand to swim in such frigid water? She returned to the patio table and sat. Minutes passed. She refilled her cup and drank the bitter brew, now lukewarm. It was strange to see Sybil’s perspective of the neighborhood. Her downward view of the hills was the same as Piper’s. Yet her upward view was partially blocked by the Vogt’s guesthouse and peaked roof of the two-story Tudor. She pretended to be Sybil, sitting in her yard looking up at the guesthouse to the deck where she, the new neighbor, sat in the morning and evening. Had Sybil observed her as she had observed Sybil?
The hair along Piper’s arms rose, the skin tingled. Suddenly she had the feeling she was being watched. She turned her gaze from the guesthouse to the Squire mansion. The house sat quiet. No figures were present in any of the windows within her view. The dove that had been cooing all morning was silent. Everything around her seemed still. She rubbed at her arms. The skin at the back of her head tightened. Twisting around, she stared down the driveway at the car parked there. The windshield, bright with sunlight, obscured the interior. A hand reached out of the passenger window and curled around the upper door where it met the car’s roof. Someone was in the car, watching her.
She stood and moved back until she was out of sight. She glanced at her watch. How long had Sybil been gone? It seemed ages. She considered leaving, but the thought of walking past the parked car with its silent observer creeped her out.
Hearing footsteps on the walk at the front of the house, she moved back to the table and caught a glimpse of a short Asian man coming around the car to the driver’s side. He opened the door and climbed inside. In the split second before his head cleared the opening and the door slammed shut, he looked at her. Then the car started, backed out, and drove away.
It was another five minutes before Sybil returned, apologizing for taking so long. She lowered herself into the chair, her face devoid of expression. The blank, bewildered look of shock. As she sipped the cold coffee, her fingers trembled, splashing coffee into the saucer.
“Is something wrong?” Piper asked.
Sybil looked at her. “What?” Then she lowered her cup and dropped her hands to her lap. “No. Nothing. Some news. Unexpected news. I’m sorry.” She reached out. “Where were we? You were saying you’ve taken a hiatus--no, you’ve just returned from a hiatus.” She rubbed her forehead, squeezed her eyes shut.
The housekeeper stepped out of the backdoor, twisting a dishtowel.
Piper stood up. “Mrs. Squire, I think I should go. Another time, maybe?”
“Another time? Yes. Another time.” She came to her feet, swaying.
The housekeeper hurried to her side.
“You can go that way.” The housekeeper pointed to the corner at the back of the lot. “It’s shorter.”
Piper went behind the pool house to the corner of the stone wall where she slipped through a gap between the two walls, coming out at the Vogt’s garage/guesthouse. She looked back at the Squire mansion. Another time, she told herself.
Buy it now
Night Widow
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Be sure to read the Laura Cardinal Series
of crime fiction thrillers
by J. Carson Black
Darkness on the Edge of Town
Dark Side of the Moon
The Devil’s Hour
Kindle Editions published by Breakaway Media
Table of Contents
Epilogue
The Desert Waits Page 32
