My heart still pounding and my hands shaking, I punched in 9-1-1.
“I want to report a…” I stopped, searching for the right words. I couldn’t be sure it was a murder. It could just as easily have been a heart attack or stroke. Or even suicide.
I stammered for a moment before finally uttering, “A disturbance at…” I opened the wallet I still clutched in my hand and read the address aloud. “At 1342 East Benton. A woman is in trouble,” I added for lack of anything better.
Confident I had done the right thing, I breathed a sigh of relief, then disconnected before the operator could ask more questions. I had no more information to offer. It was up to the police to handle everything now.
The thought didn’t offer much comfort, though. The woman’s limp body sliding onto the floor remained forever engraved in my mind. Never in my life could I recall being so frightened. A violent shudder coursed through my body.
Winslow’s Diner was open for business when I arrived. Still shaking, I straightened my uniform, combed my hand through my hair, and stepped inside. Only a handful of customers occupied the dining room.
“What happened to you?” Like a hawk watching over her prey, Heather perched on her stool behind the cash register, studying me with intense curiosity.
I didn’t want to explain my morning to anyone, especially not Heather. “Just got off on the wrong foot this morning,” I said, trying to force a smile. “Has Mr. Winslow noticed that I’m late?”
She shrugged. “He hasn’t even been in this morning,” she remarked.
That surprised me. Mr. Winslow rarely took any time off from the diner. He thought the place would collapse if he wasn’t around to keep an eye on things. But at least I wouldn’t have to explain my tardiness now.
“I just need a few minutes to freshen up,” I said to Heather.
“Whatever,” she responded, her expression questioning. “Lisa’s been covering for you.”
In the ladies’ room, I bent over and clamped my hands onto the sink, sucking in a long, deep breath. Then I turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on my face. It felt good. I could feel the earlier tension easing away. Reaching for a paper towel, I dabbed at the rivulets of water on my face.
I glanced in the mirror. The pale, frightened face that stared back was unrecognizable. I took my compact from my purse and tried to restore some of my natural color before returning to the dining room.
I spotted Lisa Trammel, another part-time waitress, carrying a tray full of dirty dishes. I walked toward her. Just as I reached her side, Lisa turned abruptly and we collided. The tray of dishes she was holding rattled in protest. I reached out to grab the tray in an attempt to prevent any breakage, and realized my hands were still shaking.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized, noticing Lisa’s worried frown. Mr. Winslow constantly badgered Lisa. Petite and extremely nervous, Lisa was easily intimidated. I was sure Mr. Winslow’s abrupt attitude had a lot to do with it. Lisa was terrified of being fired for any minor mishap.
“It’s okay,” she said. She took the tray from me and set it down on the nearest table. “Are you all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not exactly a ghost, I thought.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just one of those mornings when nothing goes right,” I added with an indifferent shrug. I didn’t want to go into detail about my morning with Lisa or anyone else for that matter. I was having a hard time believing it myself.
I started to help Lisa by picking up the tray of dishes she’d just deposited on the table, when the sudden screeching of sirens startled me. My hands shook so badly the tray dropped to the table. Lisa’s brown eyes filled with concern.
“I’ve never seen you so jumpy,” she said. “Whatever happened this morning must have been awful. Maybe you should take the rest of the day off.”
I was sure Harry Winslow would love that, I thought. No one called in sick at his diner unless they were in the hospital or dead. However, I did think it strange that he hadn’t made an appearance yet—especially with all the commotion between Lisa and me this morning.
Eleven o’clock finally arrived with no word about the incident at Mr. Black’s. I had already decided to walk down to Benton Street on my way home. Surely someone had noticed police cars in the neighborhood. That wasn’t something that happened every day. Since I wanted to remain anonymous, I couldn’t just come out and ask anyone about it.
As Lisa had done for me earlier, I briefed my replacement on the few remaining customers’ orders before retrieving my purse from my locker and exiting the front door. I was just about to cross the intersection when Justin’s blue Malibu pulled up.
“Get in!” he yelled. He reached over and pushed the passenger door open.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. My plans to stroll down the street had suddenly been quashed.
My disappointment at his unexpected appearance must have been evident. “I was hoping you’d be glad to see me,” he said.
I forced a smile. “I am,” I lied. “I’m just surprised.” I folded myself into the small car and pulled the door closed. “I figured you’d be sleeping in every chance you got until school starts.”
Justin laughed and put the car into gear. “You’re right about that,” he said, turning the car around. “But who could sleep with all the excitement this morning?”
My mouth dropped at his remark. “What excitement?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it actually turned out to be nothing. Just that some practical joker made a crank call to the police this morning about a woman being in trouble at a house on Benton Street.”
My pulse quickened. I swallowed hard. “What happened?” I asked. “What did the police find when they got there?”
Another shrug. “Nothing.”
My breath caught. I couldn’t believe my ears. “What do you mean they didn’t find anything?” How could that be? I wondered. I was there. There was a dead woman in that house this morning.
Justin didn’t appear surprised by my strange questions. He pulled the car into my driveway and shut off the engine. He turned to face me, his eyes full of amusement. “I mean just what I said. They didn’t find anything. They even questioned some of the neighbors. And this is the really strange part,” he added with a trace of laughter in his voice. “According to the neighbors, the guy that lives there left on a business trip last night. And his wife has been dead for ten years.”
Chapter Three
The blood drained from my face. My body numbed from the shock of Justin’s words. There had to be some mistake! How could the police have found nothing at Michael Black’s house this morning? I was there! I had witnessed a woman’s lifeless body slide onto the living room floor in a crumpled heap.
It didn’t make sense.
Despite the warmth of the day, a shiver shook my body. If Michael Black’s wife had died ten years earlier, then who did I see at that house?
Something was terribly wrong. But what could I do? How could I explain a missing corpse?
Justin’s deep blue eyes squinted against the bright sun. With one hand on the steering wheel, he reached over with the other and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He arched an eyebrow. “You’re unusually quiet.”
I forced a smile, unsure how to respond. I hadn’t planned on telling anyone about what I’d seen this morning. The police were supposed to take care of everything. But something was horribly wrong.
“I’m okay,” I finally managed to say. “I guess things just got off on the wrong foot this morning.”
What an understatement, I told myself. In my mind, I kept reliving the scene from this morning. I had seen a woman’s body slither from a chair to the floor. Nausea threatened to erupt. I swallowed hard to gain control of the situation.
What is going on? I silently screamed.
Justin killed the engine, then leaned back against the seat, turning toward me. His probing eyes st
udied me with curious intensity.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again. “You look a little pale. Maybe the picnic we had planned for today isn’t such a good idea.”
In all the commotion, I’d completely forgotten about the plans we’d made last night. Right now, a day in the park was the furthest thing from my mind.
“Would you mind if we just hung around here for awhile?” I suggested instead. I put my hand to my forehead. “I seem to be coming down with a slight headache.”
Truthfully, I was hoping to sneak away to Benton Street and see if I could learn more about the incident at Mr. Black’s. Someone in that neighborhood must have some idea of what happened. After all, bodies don’t just disappear. With any luck, someone would be outside willing to talk about it.
I smiled at Justin. “I can find us something to eat here.”
He reached for the door. “Sure, if that’s what you want.” He exited his side, then circled the front and opened my door. “Maybe we could go for a walk later. We could stop by the diner for dessert.” He shot me a wink. “You could actually have someone wait on you for a change.”
“That’s a great idea.” We could take the long way around Benton Street, I realized. The squeal of sirens in this quiet neighborhood would be cause for concern. Someone must have seen or heard something.
Our hands entwined automatically. The gesture felt comforting, familiar. I hoped Justin and I could repair our broken relationship. But only if he could learn to accept me as I was. I refused to be molded into something I wasn’t.
Rooting around in the refrigerator, I pulled out salad dressing, onions, and pickles. In the cabinet beneath the microwave, I located a can of tuna fish. Making quick work, I assembled the ingredients into a bowl and placed it on the table. I filled two tall glasses with ice and set a two-liter bottle of soda next to Justin. Reaching for a bag of potato chips and a loaf of bread from the pantry, I took the chair next to him.
We ate in companionable silence until Justin finally broke the spell.
“Hey,” he said, his mouth still full. He washed down the sandwich with a swig of his soda. “Weren’t you on Benton Street this morning returning a guy’s wallet?” His blue eyes widened in accusation.
My jaw dropped, but the words were lost as I struggled for something to say. “Uh…I…”
Justin lowered his sandwich, resting his elbows on the table. “Denise?” he said again. “Please tell me you weren’t the one who phoned the police this morning.”
When I didn’t answer right away, he leaned closer. He cupped my chin with his strong, masculine hands, his eyes questioning. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Denise?”
I swallowed hard, the sandwich suddenly dry and tasteless. My eyes clamped tight as I forced down the sandwich now lodged in my throat. I remained silent, contemplating my response to the unexpected question. How could I explain to Justin what I had seen this morning? How could I explain it to anyone! Somehow I had to make Justin understand that I had no reason to make up such an unbelievable story. I knew there was a dead woman in that house this morning. I saw her!
When my eyes opened, Justin was staring at me. His eyes were wide with disbelief.
His voice barely audible, he asked again, “Was it you?”
I expelled a gust of air from my lungs. I nodded, lifting my chin to meet his questioning gaze. “Yes,” I said vehemently. “I made that call this morning. And it was no prank. I know what I saw!”
My appetite gone, I placed the remainder of the tasteless sandwich onto the napkin. I took another deep breath before I finally relayed the details of my frightening discovery at Michael Black’s house to Justin.
When I had finished, I lowered my gaze to the table. My fingers lightly traced over the floral patterned tablecloth while I awaited his response. His prolonged silence was evidence enough that he was having a difficult time believing what I had just told him.
“Are you absolutely sure about this?”
It wasn’t the response I expected. My head sprang up. My fist pounded the table. I met his doubtful expression with a defiant glare. “Of course, I’m sure!” I shouted. “I was in that house this morning. And I know what I saw.”
Justin put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I believe you.”
He slid the chair away from the table and stood up. Running his hands through his thick hair, he paced the room. When he came to a stop beside my chair, he leaned over and put his arms around my neck. His chin rested on my head. “Let’s say you did see something.”
“But I did!”
“Let me finish,” he added quickly. He took the chair next to me and placed his hands on mine. “Let’s say you did see the lady in the house just like you claim. Isn’t it possible someone was just playing a joke on you?”
A joke? I sat up straighter.
“Yeah,” he said. “A practical joke.”
I considered the possibility. “It would explain why the police didn’t find anything,” I admitted.
“It would explain everything, Denise,” he said. “Mrs. Black has been dead for ten years. There’s no way the woman you saw in that house could have been Mr. Black’s dead wife. Now that would definitely be something worth investigating.”
I flashed a smile, then broke into laughter. Removing my hands from Justin’s grasp, I covered my face in my hands and wiped away tears of relief. When I could finally focus again, Justin’s eyebrows were squinted in confusion.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
I reached for the bottle of soda on the table, poured some into my glass, and took a sip. “It’s just that you’re probably right,” I said, biting into a chip. “It had to be someone playing a joke. That’s the only logical explanation. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away, do they?”
Justin relaxed and reached for my hand again. “Of course it was a joke, Denise. There is no other possibility.” He reached across the table and slid his lunch closer, then bit into his sandwich. “Now why don’t we both finish our lunch and then go to the diner for that dessert I promised you. We can take the long way through Benton Street and see if anyone has anything to say.”
“I’d like that,” I said. “If I do see any more dead bodies this time, at least I won’t be the only one.” I meant it as a joke, but the statement left a bad taste in my mouth.
Half an hour later we walked hand in hand along the sidewalk and around the corner to Benton Street. The sun had warmed the day to a scorching eighty-five degrees. The playful laughter of children emanated from back yards. It was a stark contrast to the dark, ominously quiet atmosphere when I walked this way earlier this morning.
My pace slowed as we reached Justin’s parents’ house. “I’m sure your parents were up this morning when I walked by. I saw a light on in the kitchen window. Did they mention anything to you?”
“My parents had left for work when I awoke to the sirens. I haven’t had a chance to talk to them yet, but I will when they get home tonight. Maybe they’ll have some information on Michael Black.”
I hoped he would follow through. I just hoped that, unlike our own neighborhood, their acquaintance with Michael Black wasn’t just casual. It seemed most people these days were more concerned about their jobs and lives than getting to know their neighbors well.
As we continued down the street, Justin squeezed my hand and pointed with his other hand. “Looks like Mr. Black is back from his trip,” he said. “There’s a car in the driveway now. Do you want to try and return the wallet while we’re here?”
“No, thank you!” I said. “There’s no way I’m setting foot in that house again. Besides, that car was here this morning. There was also a car in the back, which is why I was so sure someone was home.”
He led the way into the driveway and leaned against the car. “Okay, let’s go over what happened this morning.” He crossed his arms. “You knocked on the door, and no one answered. So you just went in?”
I wasn’t sure I appreciated the way he tried to take over the situation, but I decided to let it rest for now. I knew he was having a difficult time believing I had actually seen what I claimed. But he would soon know that I wasn’t making it up. Something had happened this morning. I just didn’t know what yet.
“Not exactly,” I answered. “Just as you had, I also assumed someone was here when I saw the car in the driveway. So when no one answered the front door, I decided to go around back and try the back door.”
He took my hand again, asserting his authority. “Okay, let’s go around to the back, then.”
I allowed Justin to lead the way along the driveway that circled to the back of the house. But as soon as we made the turn, I realized something had changed. I stopped for a moment and studied the empty driveway. My pulse raced in a nervous frenzy. I freed my hand from Justin’s grasp and ran to the spot where only a small oil stain remained.
“What’s wrong?” Justin asked.
“The car’s gone!” I told him. “I told you there was another car parked back here this morning. It was a red Toyota. But now it’s gone.”
He shrugged and came closer. “Look,” he said, a bit condescendingly. “It probably belonged to the lady you saw in the house. I mean, we’ve already established that she couldn’t have been dead. So she probably drove off in the Toyota after you left.”
“And that’s why there was nothing here when the police arrived.” I said the words slowly, trying to comprehend the meaning.
“Exactly,” Justin said. “It all makes sense now, doesn’t it?” He seemed determined to find a logical solution.
I hugged my elbows to my waist and considered his response. “I suppose so,” I finally answered. “But there is still one thing that doesn’t make sense.”
“What’s that?” He blew out a deep breath.
I ignored his obvious frustration and glanced at the house. “It’s just that it seems strange to me that someone would go to so much trouble setting up this practical joke when they couldn’t possibly have known that I would be here.”
Anonymously Yours Page 3
