by Maya DeLeina
She parked the car in the driveway and the recurring thought made its appearance again.
Why did I mean so little to a man that I pledged my life to?
She made her way straight to the kitchen as she entered the house. She threw her purse on the kitchen counter and filled a glass with tap water. Taking a hearty gulp of the water, she headed to the kitchen island. Biting down nervously on her pinky that she slipped between her teeth, she leaned against the island and examined the laid-out bills. She sifted through the stacks of papers in an attempt to occupy her thoughts for a bit. As she organized the bills by due dates, the telephone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hello. I’m calling for Mrs. Anya Evans,” a woman’s voice spoke on the other line. A faint echo reverberated from the line. The silence had a loud, airy quality. Anya realized she was on a speaker phone.
“This is she.”
“Mrs. Evans, this is Detective Doyle from CSPD’s Violent Crimes Unit. I also have Sergeant Stemper with me in the office.”
“Mrs. Evans,” a male voice greeted.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mrs. Evans. We have reason to believe that a body that was discovered in a well may be that of your—”
“Husband? Ryan?” Anya interrupted and began to cry.
“No, Mrs. Evans. I’m talking about your sister…Anise,” the detective said. “I truly apologize to have to inform you of this news in this manner, but we feel that immediate notification to family members may help with leads in the case and we’re in need of a positive ID on her belongings.”
The line went silent for a few seconds.
“You thought I was about to refer to your husband? Is something wrong with your husband, Ryan Evans?”
“He left me. Abandoned me, just a few weeks ago, without warning. Actually, it looks like he had been planning it for months and I just never…” Anya started to ramble and caught herself. “Anyway, I thought…Never mind.”
When the detective’s words finally registered, Anya lowered herself to the barstool at the kitchen island.
“Anise? What is going on? You said body? What happened?”
“Mrs. Evans, when did you last talk to your sister?”
“Anise and I have not spoken since after my husb—” Anya corrected herself. “I mean, Ryan and I kicked her out of our home over a year ago.”
“Mrs. Evans, I would like you to come down to the office for an interview process as standard procedure in any active case. There’s a lot more I would like to go over with you.”
Chapter Five
Anya sat motionless in her chair.
Inside, her thoughts were restless, searching for answers. As if the state of her marriage and finances hadn’t given her enough to consume her thoughts, her mind was now in a free fall. It was like adding another rung or two to the ladder that ascended from grief and depression, the ladder she had been trying to scale since her parents’ deaths.
With swollen, cried-out eyes, Anya took in her surroundings.
Everything about the place was harsh. The white walls glared with unflattery, the plastic chairs uninviting, the scuffed linoleum floors lent to the unsightly decor, and the room sat at a frigid-cold temperature.
She couldn’t help but to make the comparison.
The precinct’s reception area was worse than that of a hospital waiting room. At least the hospital had the occasional magazine and wall art to admire, a trail of medicinal disinfectant to linger over. Here, no style, no charm, and no life existed. Everything was stark. How hard was it to spruce up the area, give it a little character, a plant here, a decorative dish there?
This was the last place on earth she wanted to be.
Without a doubt, the waiting triggered it. Anya’s unoccupied moment allowed her thoughts rampant and cyclical, eating at her core. She had wished to stay numb to everything, at least for the time being, but her mind didn’t afford her any leeway in deadening her full-fledged reality. With Anise now gone, she had no family, no identity. Her life was the epitome of emptiness. She gripped the arms of the chair in attempt to compose herself as it hit her.
Her surroundings were a direct reflection of her life.
“Mrs. Evans?” a receptionist greeted Anya “I will take you back now.”
The receptionist led her through a maze of hallways, doors, and offices to the glass door entrance of the Violent Crimes unit. As they made their way to Detective Doyle’s office, Anya glanced into a room that projected Anise’s driver license on the overhead screen. She couldn’t help but notice the stares from the people in the room, as if she’d interrupted their discussion.
“Have a seat.” The receptionist motioned to the chair that sat in front of the desk. “Detective Doyle will be in momentarily.”
Merely seconds after the receptionist left the room, Detective Doyle stepped through the door.
Anya stood and turned around to greet the detective.
Their eyes met and the detective let out a gasp. With a bombshell look in her eye, the detective took in a deep breath, delving deeper into her examination of Anya.
“I’m sorry. It didn’t dawn on me to mention that we are…or were…identical twins,” confessed Anya, realizing her resemblance to her sister was the cause for the commotion.
Shaking her head and trying to regain her composure, the detective said, “I–I don’t know why any of us didn’t pick up on that by the birthdates…”
“It’s easy to overlook. We were born in different years. She on December 31st and I on January 1st,” interrupted Anya.
“Interesting. Please, take a seat,” said the detective as she took her seat and continued. “Thank you for coming down so quickly. We like to interview family members early in the case. Learning about the victim…I mean, Anise, from a close family member can sometimes help to uncover leads that the evidence couldn’t.” Detective Doyle folded her hands together on the desk and continued openly. “I apologize, Mrs. Evans. This type of meeting is never easy for me. I’m good at stating facts and evidence. I’m not good with the human aspect of it all. Forgive me if I seem straight to the point. I’ll share with you the basic facts that we have at this point and then I’ll have questions for you.”
Anya nodded.
The door to the office slowly opened, and a male voice spoke, “Sorry I’m late, I just got things wrapped up.”
“Mrs. Evans, this is Sergeant Stemper. He was on the line when I phoned you earlier.”
“Mrs. Evans,” greeted the sergeant.
He took a chair from the corner of the office and placed it next to Detective Doyle as he handed her a manila folder.
Turning back to Anya, the detective continued, “Sergeant Stemper is from our criminalist unit. He’s in charge of the evidence in your sister’s case.”
Anya gazed at Sergeant Stemper, noting his handsome face. Although absent of any noticeable accent, he had a slight foreign quality to his features, aristocratic by sorts. Anya nodded in understanding as she inwardly evaluated the sergeant.
“Mrs. Evans, please call me Alex.” He flashed a smile at Anya. “So, let’s start with what we know. The owner of the cattle ranch found Anise’s body in an old well as he was checking the fence lines. Shortly after the discovery, he found her belongings scattered near the well. Her purse was found not far from its contents.”
The detective opened the manila folder that Alex had given her and placed evidence photos of the purse’s contents on the desk for Anya to examine. Anya recognized much of the contents as belonging to Anise.
All of Anya’s early attempts at composure faded, and she started to cry.
“Her body was in the well? She fell in? Why wasn’t the well covered or something?” Anya managed to get out her sentence in between her bouts of crying.
“Mrs. Evans, Anise’s body was placed in the well and burned,” Alex explained.
“Burned? Oh my god, Anise!” Anya sobbed heavily at the thought of her sister’s demise.
&nbs
p; “Do you know if your sister had any enemies? You know, jilted lovers, angry coworkers, someone she may have owed money to?”
“No.”
The detective flipped through papers in another manila folder. “You and Anise were the only surviving members of your family, is that correct?”
“Yes. Our parents were killed in a crash. They were vacationing in Kauai. On their last day on the island, they decided to take a helicopter tour of the island…” Anya trailed off in a vacant stare. “My mother hated flying.”
“I’m curious, how was the relationship between you and your sister in the past, since it was just the two of you?” probed Detective Doyle.
“We always had a strained relationship. We were supposed to be so in sync with each other, but we were complete opposites. But after our parents died, we really made an effort.” Anya paused, feeling a faint smile develop. “Ryan was the dynamic that really changed everything. He had lost his parents, just like us, and understood our pain. Once he was in the picture, he made our interactions…better. It was easier to have her around. It made our communication stronger. Most importantly, he made Anise and I laugh again.”
Detective Doyle and Alex exchanged a quick glance.
“But, again, she was back to the same old Anise and expectant of our handouts. This was the longest stretch that I had gone without hearing from her. In fact, I had no way of making contact with her. I had no current phone number or address. The last I heard, she’d moved to New York. I had no idea she was still in Colorado.”
“Do you have any other family to call on for support at this time? Anyone that you want to be here with you?” asked the detective.
“No.”
“Friends?”
“Michelle. I called her right after you phoned. She’ll be staying with me this evening. She offered to come here with me, but I didn’t want her to close the shop. I’ll be okay.”
“Mrs. Evans, are you sure? You’ve been through a lot.”
Anya reached for her red jasper stone and clutched it. “I’m okay.”
“The next set of questions, they will be more…intense.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Detective Doyle looked at Alex for reassurance before continuing with her line of questioning.
“Do you have any reason to believe that your husband’s recent actions had anything to do with Anise?”
“Absolutely not!” Anya barked, not realizing the intense part of questioning was going to involve Ryan.
The detective showed no emotion as she made notes of the conversation. She flipped through printouts from an internet page.
“Your husband, Ryan, is the owner and hedge fund manager of RPE Investment Advisors. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And what does his firm do?”
“Commodity futures, they specialize in trading energy products.”
“And you?”
“I’m a music teacher.”
“Anise?”
“Last job she had, she was a waitress at one of the restaurants at the resort.”
Alex shot a curious look at the detective as she jotted down Anya’s responses.
Detective Doyle continued, “Any recent financial issues that you know of?”
“Well, what aspect are you talking? Personal or business finances?”
“Whatever you know.”
“Well, since Ryan left, of course there are financial issues! I’m broke. He’s left me with next to nothing, and bills that I cannot pay for are still coming in while he’s somewhere out there wining and dining the woman he left me for!” Anya stood and started to pace the office. “I don’t understand how this has anything to do with what happened to Anise. Why aren’t you looking into her finances to see if there is something to uncover there? Maybe she pissed off the wrong person. Took advantage of the wrong person, I don’t know…”
“Mrs. Evans, that’s exactly what we did. Your sister had recently completed a living will and purchased a lavish residence up in Ambrose Heights. Do you know anything about this?”
“Ambrose Heights? Yeah right! She couldn’t even make rent in a rundown apartment! That’s why Ryan and I had no choice but to take her in for awhile. I couldn’t let her live where she could afford.”
Anya shook her head, looking at both the detective and the sergeant who sat still with somber gazes.
“Ambrose Heights? How? With whom? That’s where we should start looking!”
“Yes, we are still looking into it,” Detective Doyle said with a tinge of disappointment. “We hoped you could shed some light on the recent purchase.”
“I have no idea! Why would I have any knowledge of this? Ambrose Heights? Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” said the detective as she motioned with her hand at someone peering through the glass in her door.
The door opened, and an older gentleman in an expensive suit walked into the office.
“Mrs. Evans, this is the executor of Anise’s will. Alex made contact with him after we collected Anise’s belonging as evidence. We found his firm’s card and appointment dates in her…”
Alex’s phone went off and interrupted the detective in midsentence. He looked down at the phone. “I have to take this.” Alex excused himself as he scurried out of the room.
Detective Doyle continued, “I am sorry, where were we? Yes, when Alex made contact with Mr. White, it was discovered he was trying to locate you and we informed him you would be in the office this afternoon.”
Anya turned to the man in the suit who now sat next to her.
“I’m Mr. White. Mr. Alan White.” He held his hand to her. “Mrs. Evans, I am truly sorry for your loss. My office helped Anise with her living will, and she named my firm as the executor. I’m responsible for the administration of your sister’s estate until final distribution of her assets is made to the beneficiary. Her estate includes a residence, bank accounts, and investments. Mrs. Evans, your sister named you as the sole beneficiary to her estate.”
Mr. White opened his briefcase and handed Anya a copy of Anise’s will.
“The will does contain funeral instructions and explicit instructions to do a consultation with you prior to any arrangement decisions.”
“When? When did she do all of this? I don’t understand. It doesn’t sound like something she would do. It’s not something that would cross her mind. She had nothing!”
“Your sister started working with our office…” Mr. White looked down at notes he had written down on a legal pad in search for the answer. “…just about a month ago, according to the file.” Mr. White reached back into his briefcase and retrieved stacks of paperwork.
“And, was there anyone else with her, a friend or boyfriend maybe, advising her to do this or something?” Anya questioned.
“Not that I recall.” Mr. White stopped shifting through the stack of legal documents now strewn across the table. “I apologize, Mrs. Evans, for not looking very prepared in such a delicate matter as this. The truth is that when I received the call from Sergeant Stemper, I had to research everything from your sister’s file. Now, I admit I never remember every detail of every client, but I normally have some recollection of a conversation or discussion we had, especially on a fairly new client like your sister. But I’m at a complete loss here. The office staff cannot place her as well. Rest assured, however, we have documentation that clearly expressed Anise’s wishes. And now that I have located you as the sole beneficiary, we can begin the administration of the estate.”
Anya glanced at the detective. Her face was riddled with skepticism. It was clear in Anya’s mind that the detective had orchestrated the meeting with Anise’s executor to evaluate the situation. More specifically, to assess Anya’s reaction to the news, making notes on every emotion, every gesture, every fluctuation in her voice.
“Anise had no mortgage on the property and no outstanding bills, so this process should go smoothly,” stated Alan.
“Wait. What are yo
u saying exactly?” Anya shot glances back and forth between the detective and Alan. “Are you saying I’m inheriting a property in Ambrose Heights free and clear?”
“Well, here’s the process. I will be applying for a grant of probate to administer the estate. I will file all the necessary legal documents at the registrar of probate along with Anise’s will, death certificate, and a statement of all assets and liabilities. Barring any unforeseen setbacks from the courts, probate should be granted. So, to answer your question, yes. You will inherit the property in Ambrose Heights. Free and clear. Now, we would need to discuss capital gains tax liability as a result…”
Alan continued his explanation, but it fell on deaf ears. Anya was frozen in shock, her mind in a stupor, her body unresponsive to her surroundings. She was about to inherit a piece of property in the most coveted neighborhood in the town of Manitou Springs.
Anya’s eyes traveled to the illustrated map of the city that sat pinned to the detective’s wall. The pastel-colored map was detailed, clearly depicting points of interest and changes in elevation in the towns that sat along the mountain range. Her heart raced as her eyes traced the illustration, searching for it, hunting it out.
There it was. Ambrose Heights.
Mysterious.
That is what the locals would say about the neighborhood, but even this didn’t fully amount to what Anya was feeling of about the property now.
Ambrose Heights just became mystifying.
The next hour was filled with further discussion and signing of legal documents with the attorney. After he left the office, the detective wrapped up the meeting with a few more lines of questioning. Anya tucked away the business cards she’d collected in her wallet and gathered the stacks of papers. She made her way out of the office and followed the detective’s escort down the hall and back through maze of offices and doors.
“Anya, we’ll update you on the case progress and share what we can. In the meantime, if you think of anything that might have a bearing to Anise or the case, please contact me.” The detective handed her card to Anya. “And please, call me Madeline.”
