74 Carla
I walked down the hallway slowly. I noticed a pair of scuffed black cowboy boots lying on the floor as if they’d been tossed there. I knew I’d seen them before, but I couldn’t place them. I also knew that Owen didn’t wear cowboy boots. Even if he did, they wouldn’t have been in such a ratty manner.
Finally, I was standing at the door to the room from where the sound came. My heart was thumping loudly, making it nearly impossible to hear what was happening. I don’t know what was making my heart race. Maybe it was the sneaking around. It made me feel as if I were doing something bad. After all, this wasn’t my house and even though Owen had given me a key, wanting me to have total access to his house, I still felt like I was being intrusive and invading his privacy.
I put my ear to the door carefully to see if I could hear anything more.
I waited.
There were some thumps.
I waited.
There was a voice. It wasn’t yelling. In fact, it was so low, even with my ear to the door, I couldn’t make out the words.
I closed my eyes in order to block out one of my senses. With my eyes closed, my ears worked harder. Maybe now I’d be able to make out something being said on the other side of the door.
I was just registering the fact that the voice was getting closer to the door. I was just thinking that it would be horrible to get caught snooping and eavesdropping like this. I was just thinking that I should walk myself right back down the street to Hazel’s, where the smell of soup was thick in the air.
Then, the door opened.
75 Louis
I stood at the kitchen sink pouring myself a glass of steaming hot water that was going to be tea, wondering how much I could get out of my house. This was a great neighborhood. The houses were all two-story with large yards. Every house on this street was bound to appraise for more than a half million dollars. Some of them, even more than that. My house was probably middle of the road in appraisal price. It didn’t matter, though. I was selling and getting out of here. No more mundane living for me. No more homeownership. I lived out of hotels ninety-five percent of the time anyway; why not make it a hundred?
I dipped the teabag up and down, in and out of the scalding water. The aroma brought a fresh batch of saliva to my mouth.
I wondered if I had remained married if I’d still want to sell the house. I should’ve given it to her in the divorce. Of course, at that time, she was lucky I’d let her walk away with anything. Two-timing tramp. I wondered if it was too late to make her take it. It’s a shame the house wasn’t just a tad smaller. I’d shove it up her ass and she’d have no choice but to take it. Oh, screw her. I’d sell it. Then, I’d make her watch me burn the money.
The thought of the look on her face as she watched me burn a huge pile of cash made me laugh out loud.
Still smiling at the thought, I stirred the tea and brought the mug up to my mouth. I froze before I could complete the task because that’s when I saw him.
He was standing in my back yard, covered in mud.
76 Carla
He stood before me, eyes wide, with one hand still on the handle of the door. I noticed he was breathing hard and sweating. His hair was disheveled. His shirt was torn. His nose was bleeding. His left cheek was swelling before my eyes. He was bleeding from somewhere other than his nose. I saw the blood, but couldn’t identify the source.
“Carla?” He said my name in such a way that it could’ve been a question or an exclamation. I wasn’t sure how to take it.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?” I looked past him now, and wished like hell I was knitting at Hazel’s.
On the floor a few feet inside the room, lay Jill. She was lying on her side in a pool of her own blood. Her right hand rested on the floor, palm up. In her palm, lay a pregnancy test. I couldn’t tell from the doorway, but I was sure it was positive. I held my breath and watched closely for a few seconds for the rise and fall of her side to indicate that she was alive.
There was no movement there. She was gone.
In the middle of the room, just beyond Jill, sat a kitchen chair. In this chair sat a man. His arms were pulled tightly behind him and tied together. Binding his body to the chair at the chest was a curtain that had been yanked from a window and wound around him and tied in a knot.
His head hung down, his chin nearly resting on his chest. He appeared to be unconscious. Blood trickled from his head and ran down the side of his face. I watched as it dripped onto his shirt. Drip, drip, drip. I couldn’t look away.
In that second, as I watched the dark red liquid create a growing pool on what once was a crisp white t-shirt, I realized that life as I knew it was over. Everything had just changed. Nothing would ever be the same now. For any of us.
“Carla,” he said, still standing at the door.
And my blood ran cold.
77 Jenson
I turned onto Hewitt Street just as the knot in my stomach gave birth to one in my throat. I felt as though I may vomit, but I was certain I would choke on it because there would be no way around the lump in my throat.
Nothing appeared out of the ordinary here. Maybe the danger wasn’t on this street. I knew that was wishful thinking, but I held out hope.
I pulled into the driveway and parked the car. I got out quickly and looked at each house on the street. Again, I noticed nothing unusual. Everything seemed as it should. I went from house to house visually, taking notes in my mind. Nothing seemed wrong.
The only thing different was a light on in Louis’ house. That didn’t happen often.
I thought it was quite odd that Louis returned on the same day I had this awful feeling. Maybe it was a coincidence, but maybe not. Maybe the two events were connected somehow. Of course, I’d just have to wait and let everything unfold as it was supposed to in order to find out.
I went inside. I pulled up a chair to my front windows and sat. I didn’t plan to take my eyes of Louis’ house. Not if I could help it. I wanted to be ready this time.
78 Carla
My fists clenched automatically. I knew I couldn’t inflict any damage with them. But I would die trying.
“What’s going on here? What happened?” I asked, trying to sound casual. You know, as if I walked into a room with a dead body and a hostage every day.
“You have to call the cops,” he gushed. “I was on my way to, but since you’re here, you have to.”
“What happened?” I asked in a much sterner tone.
“He killed Bernie! He killed Jill!” His eyes widened, which I would’ve thought impossible. I had no idea how his eyes were staying in the sockets.
“What?”
“He killed him. He killed her too.” Tears welled in his eyes. I just couldn’t seem to process what he was saying. This was all so unreal to me.
In the background, I saw the chair-bound man raise his head. He slowly turned his head and looked at me. My heart sank.
He shook his head and nodded, indicating that the real killer was the man standing before me now, pleading for me to leave the room.
Over and over, he repeated, “He killed him, he killed Bernie. He killed Jill. He tried to kill me, but we fought and I managed to tie him down. But we have to hurry.” While he chanted this, my gaze remained locked with the helpless man bleeding from the temple.
Seeing that something had caught my attention, he turned around and glanced at the man in the chair. Quickly, he turned back to me and tried to lead me out of the room.
“Please, go call the police. Tell them to hurry!”
“Okay. I’ll go. I’m going now.” I turned to leave.
Satisfied that I was leaving, he turned and walked farther into the room, toward the bound man.
Seizing the opportunity without much thought at all, or so it seemed at the time, I quickly and quietly turned back to the room. I stepped inside and grabbed a very heavy iron bookend from the bookshelf just inside the door. In one fluid movement, I picked it up and swung it
as hard as I could at his head. It was a solid connection.
After the sickening sound of iron hitting bone, came the sound of a body hitting the floor. I watched briefly as he fell beside Jill. He landed so close to her body, the red of her blood mixed in with the red of his hair.
I dropped the bookend and rushed over and began to free Owen from the chair.
“He’s the killer. He killed Bernie and Jill,” he said slowly.
“Are you okay?” I asked, still working on the rope.
“Yeah. He hit me pretty good there.” I finished freeing him and he reached up and touched his head. I watched him wince and felt terrible for him.
He stood slowly. He stepped over Jill’s body and felt for a pulse on Andy.
“He’s alive. We have to tie him to this chair in case he wakes up before the police arrive.”
Owen didn’t have the strength to move Andy, and I wasn’t strong enough so he remained on the floor. We decided that even if he woke, Owen could deal with him.
I felt sick. It was bad enough that Andy and Owen were in the shape they were in and that Andy had killed Bernie and Jill, but the thought that we were in the same room with Jill’s body was too much. And knowing the Andy had killed her only made it worse.
79 Louis
As if he could feel me staring at him, he turned his head and his eyes met mine through the window.
I still stood there, like a fool, with my cup of tea caught in the air between my mouth and the saucer. Realizing how silly this was, I set down the cup.
I grabbed a rolling pin, planning to beat that dog with it for digging in my back yard. I carried it with me as I stomped my way out the door and across the back yard to where the dog stood, covered in mud.
As I approached him, his tail wagged. Little bastard. Digging up my yard.
I changed my mind about beating the dog when I saw what he’d been digging. I changed my mind about the dog altogether, as a matter of fact.
Sticking up out of the ground was a hand.
80 Carla
Owen hugged me. It was a tight embrace. The kind you give someone who just saved your life.
“You do need to go call the police,” he said as he pulled away from me.
I nodded and started to walk away. But then I heard Andy speak.
“He killed him, Carla. He killed Bernie. He tried to kill me because I knew. He probably killed your aunt. He killed Jill.” His voice cracked.
I looked at Owen, who looked hurt that anyone could even suggest such a thing. He shook his head. “I didn’t, Carla. I would never.”
I looked from Owen to Andy and back again. They both looked sincere. They were both in bad shape.
Andy said, “It’s true.”
After a moment of silence, I said, “I’ll go call the police.” I exited the room. They both knew that. What they didn’t know was that I was just outside the door, listening.
I was always amazed at the things you could learn from being a fly on the wall.
As I listened to the conversation taking place between the two men inside the room, I felt my heart shattering, my soul ripping. I could actually feel myself going hollow inside. I hated the feeling. It was new to me and I never wanted to experience the feeling again.
I’d heard enough. I knew what I had to do. I took a deep breath and went back into the room, where there stood a killer and captive.
81 Jenson
I watched the police pull into Louis’ driveway. I wondered what was going on over at his house, but didn’t figure it was any of my business. If this was the reason for my horrible feeling, then it wasn’t near as bad as last time.
The police officers didn’t seem to be in any hurry, so it must not be an emergency. They hadn’t run the siren or flashed the lights. It was a lone car with two officers. Surely, an emergency would warrant more pizzazz than that.
As I watched Louis open the door for the officers, I realized that my feeling hadn’t gone away. The last time, it had gone away as soon as the accident was over. Whatever was the cause of the feeling today wasn’t over yet.
I remained seated at the window, waiting.
82 Carla
I’d never really thought of myself as a brave person. I’d had to be brave for my kids a few times with spiders and bogeymen, but that was about it. No, I’d never had to face down a murderer. With any luck, this would be the last time.
I walked into the room praying that this went well.
Owen was standing beside Andy, who had regained consciousness. They both looked at me when I entered the room.
“Did you call?” Owen asked.
“Yeah. They’re on their way,” I replied. It was a lie.
I walked around Jill’s body to the men. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to vomit. I realized I was holding my breath. I took a deep gasp, my last one before I became a killer.
I stepped closer to him. He looked at me. It would be the last time.
I put my hands behind me and leaned in closer. With his eyes locked on mine, he didn’t see it coming.
I brought my hands around quickly and stabbed him. With an eighteen inch long aluminum knitting needle in each hand, I stabbed one in each side of his neck. I pushed them as deep into his flesh as I could, to do as much damage as possible. I had them each about one-third of the way in him before he reacted.
He instinctively grabbed the needles.
He yelled, he cursed, and he cursed more when he pulled the needles from his neck.
I’d always told my kids that if anything should ever happen and they were to be impaled, they shouldn’t remove the object which had impaled them. They wanted to know why. I’d explained to them that removing the objects from their body would allow the wound to bleed. This would surely cause them to bleed to death, which is what was happening now.
83 Jenson
Suddenly and without warning, the feeling that had plagued me all day vanished. It didn’t go silently, as I would’ve liked. It went with a violent chill and a severe wave of nausea, one that I was sure would win and cause me to vomit. I persevered, though.
I sat at the window a few minutes more to make sure it was really gone. I saw nothing outside to indicate that anything was different. There were no additional police at Louis’, there was nothing different on the street that I could see from my window. Yet, something was different. Something had made the feeling leave me.
Just before I left the window, I saw the door open across the street at Owen’s house.
I watched as a man and a woman walked out of the house. He appeared to be wounded, and I thought I saw blood. She looked shocked and dazed. I wondered what had happened in there. I watched as they saw the police car next door. They walked to Louis’ house, toward the safety of the police.
I wanted to help them, but I didn’t feel that it was my duty. If there had been anything I could’ve done to help them or to prevent whatever it was that had happened, it was too late now. It was over.
I watched as they rang the doorbell at Louis’ and waited for him to answer the door. The man leaned heavily on the woman as they waited. When the door was opened to them and they disappeared into the house, I knew that whatever had happened had happened at the moment my feeling had left me.
I didn’t understand the feeling. I never would. At my age, I’d probably never experience it again. At least, that’s what I hoped.
I left my post at the window. There was no reason to keep watch there now. It was over.
84 Carla – 6 months later
I held the key in my hand. It was the key to Owen’s house, the one he had given me. That seemed like another lifetime to me now. I watched as the sun gleamed off the key, creating a dazzling little light show in the palm of my hand.
I looked up and down Hewitt Street, taking note of the changes that had occurred.
I looked over at Bernie’s house, which was now occupied by a married couple with a toddler. They appeared to be nice people, but I hadn’t visited with them or ga
ve them any indication that I wanted them to visit me. I didn’t trust them. It wasn’t personal. I didn’t trust anyone now. Especially my neighbors.
Louis had sold his house also. He’d said he was going to anyway, but the events that had taken place that day certainly made him go about it quicker. I hadn’t seen him in months, and I was certain I never would again.
Jenson hadn’t moved. Neither had Hazel.
I looked down the street at Owen’s house. It was only about the third time in six months I’d been able to look at it. It seemed to beckon me. I walked off my porch and across the street.
It broke my heart to make this short journey.
I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t, mainly because I wasn’t sure about the cause of the tears. I wasn’t sure what I would be crying for.
As I passed the house that Andy and Jill had shared, I couldn’t help but think of them. Poor Andy had been devastated by Jill’s death. The fact that Owen was the one who had ended her life only made his grief worse. He’d thought so highly of Owen. And then Owen took from him the one thing he loved more than himself. More than life, even.
Had it happened at any other time, perhaps it wouldn’t have been as bad as it was for Andy to accept. But it had happened just as he lost his mother. He was already sad about having no parents left in this world. He had taken comfort from having Jill and Owen by his side. And then, before he’d even been able to deal with the loss of his mother, he’d lost both of them.
And the realization that Jill had been pregnant sent him over the edge. It was far too much for Andy to handle. He couldn’t live in a world where everything he’d loved and held dear was gone.
The Good Neighbor Page 18
