by Cindy Bell
“Sure,” Samantha smiled with a touch of warmth. Now that Frank's demeanor towards her had shifted she could tell that he wasn't as tough as he portrayed himself to be. She helped him back into the villa and settled him down on the couch inside. She noticed it was still Baki's couch. She assumed Frank hadn't even had time to properly move himself in just yet. “Let me get you some water?” she suggested.
“A beer,” Frank requested. “There are some in the fridge. Help yourself if you'd like one.”
Samantha stepped into the tiny, familiar kitchen. She felt a pang of grief for her friend, Baki. She loved that he was able to be close to his daughter, but she missed him. She opened the fridge to find a six pack of beer. Beside it was a pack of lunch meat and some cheese. That was the extent of Frank's food.
As she grabbed one of the beers out of the pack, she noticed that two more were missing. She wondered how much Frank drank each day. Reminding herself not to judge she turned to carry the bottle into Frank. As she did she nearly tripped on the trashcan that was sticking partially out of the cabinet. All of the villas were equipped with slide out trashcans in the kitchen to make the most of the small space. Samantha happened to know that Baki's often got stuck. It was clear that the problem hadn't been fixed before renting the villa to a new resident. She decided to fix it for Frank as he had enough to deal with. She gave the trashcan a hard tug and then slammed it back into the cabinet. Something in the trashcan clanged together. She assumed that it was the beer bottles that were missing from the six-pack. The trashcan didn't quite slide back into place. She tugged it out again and was about to slam it again, when Frank's voice interrupted her.
“Stop that!” he commanded her and rushed over towards her.
“Oh sorry, I am just fixing it for you,” Samantha explained. “This one always gets stuck.”
“I don't need your help,” Frank growled. “I don't need your meddling either.”
“Frank, I'm sorry,” Samantha said quickly as she tried to meet his eyes. “I know that you must be upset about James.”
“I'm upset about having my privacy invaded,” he said and snatched the beer from her hand. “I just want to be left alone.”
“If you say so,” Samantha said hesitantly. “Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?”
Frank stared at her without responding. She turned away from him swiftly. “I'll just be on my way then,” she said.
Samantha was just about at the door when Frank called out to her. “Sam, I'm sorry,” he said as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen. “I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just, I'm going through a lot right now, and my temper gets the better of me sometimes.”
“No need to apologize,” Samantha said as she opened the front door and prepared to step out. “You're entitled to your feelings.”
“I just need some time to settle in,” Frank explained. He set his beer down on the table beside two empty bottles. “Maybe once I am, you could show me around a little?” he offered her a charming smile.
“Maybe,” Samantha replied politely, then she stepped out the door. She pulled it shut behind her. As soon as she was outside she breathed a sigh of relief. She shook off the experience and tried not to let it bother her.
As she continued walking towards her villa she noticed Eddy and Owen talking by the recreation hall. That did not surprise her. Eddy and Owen were always sharing lunch or walking by the lake. Owen had a strange fascination with Eddy, and Eddy didn't seem to mind the attention, which was a little surprising, since he did his best to avoid almost everyone else.
Samantha reached her own villa and let herself in. Everything inside was decorated with light blues and teals. She liked things to be bright and airy. Since moving into Sage Gardens she had dedicated herself to a positive lifestyle. Maybe it was her way of balancing out all of the crime and gore she had written about during her career. Her mind shifted back to James' death. The only way she had to get things out that were troubling her, was to write them down. She sat down with her notebook and pen and began scribbling out what she had witnessed at the party. She always focused on the little details that were easily overlooked. She noted James' interaction with his son. She wrote about him having his own special cupcake. Then she described the scene as he collapsed on the table.
As she was finishing, she realized she hadn't noticed when Frank left the recreation hall as he claimed. She wondered if it was the same time that James had left. Maybe they had a discussion that triggered James to be more upset than his body could handle. Samantha frowned as she made this note on the paper. Then she closed up her notebook. She decided it was far past time for her to take a nap, considering the events of the day. She walked into her bedroom and sprawled out on the sea-blue shaded comforter that was stretched across her bed. She closed her eyes and imagined she was drifting off on the waves. Each wave was a pleasant thought. It was the only way she had been able to fall asleep in years.
Chapter 4
Walt stood out front of his villa. He was carefully watering each of his plants. He liked to grow green things. He was not that fond of flowers. All of his plants had a purpose. Most were herbs, some kept pests away in the tropical climates. Usually, watering his plants was the most relaxing activity of his day, but not today. He was disturbed by the gathering around the main square of Sage Gardens. Someone had thought it would be a good idea to hold a candlelight vigil for James, since he had passed so suddenly, and on his birthday. Walt did not enjoy social things. He often avoided them. He knew that most of Sage Gardens had probably gathered for the ceremony, but he had no intention of joining them. Until Samantha came walking up.
“Walt, put down your watering can. We should show our respects,” Samantha said as she paused in front of his garden.
“I'd really rather not, Samantha,” Walt said with a frown. “I didn't know James all that well, and there are a lot of people.”
“Walt, you have to come out of your shell sometime,” Samantha pointed out with a gentle smile. Walt always felt at ease around Samantha. She never forced him to do anything, but he always ended up doing anything that she asked. When he had first moved into Sage Gardens she brought him a basket of muffins to welcome him. He appreciated that each was individually wrapped, and there were exactly six. He liked things to be even. She had struck up a conversation and Walt had been surprised that he didn't mind her company. Instead he found it to be quite enjoyable.
“I don't actually,” he smiled a little. “But, I think tonight is a good night to stay in it.”
“Why?” Samantha asked with a troubled expression. “Doesn't it bother you at all?”
“Well, I don't mean to be cold, but no,” he shook his head slowly.
“How can you say that?” Samantha asked, her eyes wide. Walt frowned. He didn't enjoy confrontation, or upsetting anyone, especially Samantha.
“I said I don't mean to be cold,” he reminded her. “It's just that I didn't know James very well. Is it sad? Yes. Does it bother me? No,” he shook his head.
“Shouldn't it though?” Samantha pressed. “I mean, one minute we were singing happy birthday to him, and the next he was gone. Really, that could have been any of us.”
Walt drew a long, slow breath. He set down his watering can and looked up at her with trepidation. “There's no need to be so morbid, Samantha,” he pointed out.
“I'm not being morbid,” Samantha argued as she turned away from him and looked at the gathering of people in the square. “Who do you think that vigil is really for, Walt?” she asked.
“For James,” Walt pointed out with confidence.
“James isn't here anymore,” Samantha said quietly. “He can't see any of this. The vigil is for the people left behind, those that are witnesses to just how fragile life is, how suddenly it can be taken from you.”
Walt reached out and lightly touched Samantha's shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him as he looked at her sympathetically.
“You're not going anyw
here yet, Sam,” he said reassuringly.
“If I did, I wouldn't know it, would I?” she asked with a slight laugh. “I guess there's some comfort in that. The not knowing.”
“Maybe,” Walt frowned. “I've honestly never found comfort in anything but numbers. I've already figured out when I will die.”
“What?” Samantha looked at him with shock. “That's not possible, Walt.”
“I know, it's just an estimate,” Walt explained. “But statistically and taking into account my genetic history, I estimate my death will be around the age of eighty-six.”
“I hope not,” Samantha grimaced. “I don't like to think about it too much. I mean, if we're lucky we'll have a long life.”
“Unless you're murdered,” Eddy's gruff voice said from beside the villa as he walked up to them.
“Now, who is being morbid?” Samantha shook her head.
“Oh now, there's no need to make it an emotional thing,” Eddy said as he too turned to look at the gathering. “They're all up there wiping their tears and singing songs tonight, but tomorrow they'll be fighting over his favorite lounge chair by the pool.”
Samantha opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn't. She knew that he was right. She had seen it happen.
“But the point is that no one knows,” Samantha said and squeezed her hands together tightly before brushing off her palms, as if she was trying to rid herself of the thought. “That's why it's so important to live our lives as happily as possible.”
“Happily,” Eddy snorted. “Death doesn't care if you're happy or not.”
“Don't be so glum,” Samantha sighed. “At least we can enjoy the time that we have.”
“Maybe,” Eddy frowned.
“Why did you say that?” Walt abruptly asked.
“Say what?” Eddy glanced over at him.
“Why did you say, unless you are murdered?” Walt turned his dark brown eyes towards Eddy. “We weren't talking about murder.”
“No, we weren't, but it's always a possibility,” Eddy explained.
“There must be a reason why you brought it up,” Walt said and squinted his eyes at Eddy. He didn't let things go very easily.
Eddy cringed and looked over his shoulder at the gathering again. “All right, but this is just between us, understand?” he shifted his dark blue eyes to Samantha, and then to Walt.
“Between us,” Walt agreed.
Samantha nodded and turned her full attention on him. “What is it?” she asked.
“There's some suspicion that James did not die of a heart attack,” Eddy said in a low voice. “There's no proof yet, but apparently his skin turned very pink and had a strange rash which doesn't usually occur in this type of death.”
“Wow,” Walt said with a raised eyebrow. “That is unexpected.”
“Even if it wasn't a heart attack, that doesn't mean that it was murder,” Samantha said thoughtfully. “It could have been a stroke, or something else.”
“It could have been,” Eddy agreed and lowered his eyes. “Or it could have been poison.”
“Poison?” Samantha gasped.
“Shh!” Eddy said sharply. “Do you want all of Sage Gardens to hear you?”
“Sorry,” Samantha grimaced and glanced at the gathering in the square. “Could you imagine if they did? Everyone would be terrified.”
“Panic is never good,” Walt said gravely. “Do you really think it was poison, Eddy?” he asked.
“I'm not sure yet,” Eddy admitted. “It's going to be up to the medical examiner to decide that.”
“I hope it's a good one,” Samantha sighed. “I've written about a lot of crimes over the years that were botched by the medical examiner.”
“He's a good one,” Eddy said with confidence. “I've worked with him many times.”
“Oh?” Samantha asked. “I didn't know that you still had connections with the police department.”
“Some old timers,” Eddy nodded casually. “Sometimes even the young detectives want a little advice if they are stumped on a case.”
“How interesting,” Samantha said. “We should get together sometime and compare notes about the crimes we've studied.”
“Well, I think my point of view would be quite a bit different from yours,” Eddy suggested with a faint smirk. “There's a difference between wielding a gun and wielding a pen.”
“I'm aware of that,” Samantha said with exasperation. “But sometimes it takes an outside view to see a crime clearly.”
“Clearly,” Eddy said dismissively, as if putting an end to the conversation.
“About this murder,” Walt interjected. “What will the medical examiner have to do to figure out if it was poison or not?”
“First he'll examine the body for natural causes of death. If he finds anything suspicious then he will probably run a tox screen on James' blood. If he was poisoned, it should show up in the tox screen,” he frowned. “Well, hopefully.”
“Hopefully?” Walt asked.
“There are some poisons that won't show up,” Samantha explained. “I wrote about this fascinating crime where a woman killed three of her husbands before they realized she was the one doing it. She was using a poison that wasn't detected by traditional methods.”
“I'm sure her husbands didn't find it fascinating,” Eddy snapped. Samantha looked over into his glaring eyes.
“Take it easy, Eddy,” she said. “I just meant that it was fascinating that she could get away with it for so long.”
Eddy shook his head. “That's the problem with you crime journalists, it's all about the drama and the story. But you never see the body, you never see the real consequences of the crime.”
“As I said, different perspectives,” Samantha said through a tight smile. She was doing her best to remain positive. She decided to attempt to distract both men from the subject. “I think that we should do our own investigation,” she suggested.
“It's best left to the police,” Walt said sternly.
“I am the police,” Eddy reminded him.
“Were the police,” Walt corrected him.
“It will take time for the results of the tox screen to come back,” Samantha explained. “We should do something in the meantime.”
“That’s if the medical examiner even orders one,” Eddy added.
“I don't know,” Walt hesitated. “Is this something we could get in trouble for?”
“Not if we don't get caught,” Samantha said with a sly smile.
“We won't get in trouble,” Eddy assured Walt. “I don't think it's a bad idea. I'm sure that anything we find could only help the police.”
“Then it's decided,” Samantha said with a nod. “First thing in the morning we'll meet down by the lake to discuss the case.”
“All right,” Walt finally agreed. “But I'm not doing anything illegal.”
“Don't worry, Walt,” Eddy said with a light wink. “We won't let you get your hands dirty.”
“Good,” Walt said and picked up his watering can again. “But I'm still not going to the vigil.”
“Fine, Sam, will you join me?” Eddy asked and offered her his arm.
“You want to go to the vigil?” she asked with surprise as Eddy was not exactly social himself.
“Yes, I do,” he replied. “Murderers sometimes like to participate in the aftermath of their crime. If someone did poison James, then there's a good chance that person will be at the vigil.”
“You think it was someone here at Sage Gardens?” Samantha asked nervously.
“I think everyone is a suspect, until they're not,” Eddy replied with a smirk. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” Samantha nodded. Walt glanced over at the two of them.
“Good luck,” he muttered, and turned back to his herbs.
Chapter 5
Eddy was quiet as he walked towards the square with Samantha's arm wrapped around his. He rather enjoyed the warmth of her being close. He was not the romantic type, but there were times when he mi
ssed what he had with his wife, just the comfort of companionship. His attention shifted from Samantha to the group of people gathered at the vigil. Samantha pulled her arm from his and focused her attention on the gathering as well.
“It is a sad moment when we lose a friend,” Bethany Dander was saying at the front of the group. Bethany took any chance there was to steal the spotlight. She liked to be in front of people. She had once been a fairly well-known actress in plays, but that time had passed quite long ago. Bethany still craved the attention, and others were mostly happy to give it to her.
“Yes, it is,” a man's voice called out from the group. Samantha glanced over to see Owen amidst the group. Eddy nodded to him.
“Isn't that nice that he would take time from his own personal life to attend the vigil,” Samantha said quietly to Eddy.
“Owen is a good guy,” Eddy nodded with a hint of pride in his voice. Samantha hid a fond smile. She could tell that Eddy had a lot more invested in Owen than just a conversation here and there. He seemed to really care about the young nurse. Eddy was scanning the crowd intently. Samantha looked at the people around her curiously. But she had no idea what she was looking for. Though she had researched many crimes over the years for her articles, she had never really seen many criminals face to face. For a moment she wondered if Eddy knew of some special characteristic that they all shared.
“Is he here?” she asked in a whisper. “The murderer?”
Eddy glanced over at her, his rough features growing even rougher with his annoyed expression. “Now, how am I supposed to know?” he asked gruffly. “Do you think I'm some kind of psychic?”
“I just thought maybe you could tell,” Samantha pointed out with a sigh. Eddy sometimes had a way of making her feel just a little bit dense.
“If murderers wore a sign that said ‘hey look at me I'm a murderer’, no one would ever get killed,” Eddy snapped in return then he shook his head. “Well, maybe a few still would, but most wouldn't.”
