The taxicab idled in the driveway in front of the closed electric gate. Chris had paid the man and asked him to wait until he got inside the complex.
He heard a voice though the intercom static: “Yes?”
“Um, floral delivery for you, Mrs. Corson,” Chris said, keeping up his lie.
“C’mon in,” she said. “Second building, second floor, unit 2-F.”
The lock to the tall gate made an obnoxious buzzing sound. Chris pushed at the handle and then waved at the cab.
At the second building, he found an alcove and stairway marked UNITS E — H. He went up the stairs to Unit 2-F, and saw her name handwritten and taped above the doorbell: J. Corson. He adjusted the mum plant, took a deep breath, and rang her bell. The door must have been pretty cheap and thin, because he could hear her coming.
The lock clicked and the door swung open. The woman in 2-F stared at him. She looked skinny in her oversized long-sleeved henley T-shirt and sweatpants. She had shoulder-length, frizzy brown hair, a fair complexion, and a birthmark on her cheek. Chris thought she looked a bit older than Mr. Corson. “Are you Mrs. Corson?” he asked.
Nodding, she held out her hands. “I’ll take that, thanks.”
Chris carefully handed the plant to her. She didn’t look as if she’d been crying or anything. He lingered in the doorway. He could see a stack of unpacked boxes in the front hall.
She looked like she was about to shut the door in his face, but then hesitated. “Am I supposed to sign for it or something?”
He shook his head. “Um, no, I. .”
“Were you expecting a tip?” she asked, adjusting the plant in her grasp. She seemed a bit impatient.
“Mrs. Corson, I’m Chris Dennehy,” he said finally. “I–I’m very sorry about Mr. Corson. He was a really good man.”
She stared back at him and blinked.
“I apologize about coming to see you this way — under false pre — pretenses.” He struggled to get the words out, he was so nervous. “You — you know who I am, don’t you?”
She nodded.
He wished she’d say something. “It’s mostly my fault that Mr. Corson had to leave school back in December. It was all just a misunderstanding. Mr. Corson never did anything wrong. You should know that. I’m not sure if he ever mentioned it to you, but I tracked him down a few months ago, and told him how sorry I was. But I–I never got a chance to apologize to you, Mrs. Corson.”
“Is that it? Are you finished?” she asked.
“I guess,” he said. “Only I hope you don’t think anything — inappropriate ever happened with Mr. Corson and me. He was always — very kind to me. He helped me get through a lot of stuff. . ”
She just kept staring at him over the top of the mum plant in her hands.
“I thought you should know,” he went on, a tremor in his voice. “I mean, you didn’t come to his wake, so in case you’re mad at him or anything, I wanted to tell you he never did anything wrong. He was a nice guy. I miss him.”
“Are you done now?” she asked. Her eyes were dry.
Chris swallowed hard. “Yes, I’m sorry, Mrs. Corson.”
She set the plant on the floor, and wiped her hands on the front of her sweat pants. “Listen. . Chris,” she said in a very quiet voice. “Because of you, my husband lost his job. More than that, our lives were destroyed. All of your sniveling apologies aren’t going to change that. So — leave me alone with my grief. I’m moving to the East Coast soon. But while I’m still here, I don’t want to see you ever again. You make me sick. Is that clear? Do you understand?”
She didn’t wait for him to answer. She shut the door in his face.
Stunned, Chris stood there for a moment. Through the thin door, he listened to her walking away. He felt as if someone had just sucker punched him in the stomach. He didn’t know what he’d expected. He only knew what he’d wished for. He’d hoped to feel some connection with her, because they were both so close to Mr. Corson.
But there was nothing — just the feeling he’d intruded on an angry stranger.
She was right. All his stupid apologies weren’t going to change anything.
Wiping his eyes, he retreated down the staircase and headed toward the exit. He slowed down as he approached the high gate. Something was dangling from one of the gate’s crossbars — at chest level.
Chris stepped closer, and a chill raced through him. He recognized the eighty-five-dollar pair of Ray-Bans.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I didn’t want to be alone in the house tonight,” Kay Garvey admitted, over her third glass of cabernet. “I’ll admit it, these cul-de-sac killings have made me a nervous wreck.”
Molly sat on the other side of the sofa from her. Between them was an open Pagliacci Pizza box — with three pieces remaining. In front of them, the big flat-screen TV had the frozen images of Paul Newman and Eva Marie Saint. Kay had gabbed throughout the first forty-five minutes of Exodus until Molly finally put the movie on pause.
She’d planned to work on a new painting and then treat herself to pizza and a movie to keep her mind off being alone that Saturday night. Jeff had a seminar in Denver, and Chris and Erin were at their mother’s boyfriend’s house in Bellevue for the weekend.
Molly felt even more isolated and anxious, because she’d said good-bye to Hank and Frank that morning. Her only true friends on the cul-de-sac had moved away. Hank had been her designated Neighborhood Watch “Call Me If You Get Scared” buddy. They’d shaken hands on it two weeks before, during the potluck at Lynette Hahn’s place.
Now, Hank and Frank were gone. Their house at the end of the cul-de-sac stood empty and dark.
Kay had phoned her this afternoon, “just to chat,” mentioning several times that she was all by herself, because Madison had gone to her dad’s and stepmother’s place for the weekend. Of Angela and her two gal pals, Kay was the easiest to tolerate. At least, she came across as friendly enough. Molly figured a surface friendship was better than nothing. She just wouldn’t share anything personal with Kay.
That had been her resolve when she’d halfheartedly invited Kay over for dinner. “I’m by myself tonight, too,” she’d admitted. “I rented Exodus, and was about to order a pizza. You’re welcome to join me, Kay.”
“Paul Newman’s in that, isn’t he?” Kay had replied. “Well, I’m all over that! I’ll bring some red wine. We can have a regular slumber party.”
With a little red wine in her, Kay had started talking during the movie about the brief period when Angela’s and Lynette’s kids had dated. Apparently, when the class heartthrob had dumped her, Courtney set her sights on Chris. He wasn’t as popular as her ex, but Chris was handsome and well-liked. It seemed like a pretty good match. But all the while she and Chris were dating, Courtney shamelessly flirted with their guidance counselor.
“Madison told me that Courtney used to come on to Ray Corson like gangbusters,” Kay had said while slouched in the corner of the sofa, finishing her second glass of wine. “She thought it would be really cool to hook up with a teacher, especially one who was so popular. But old Ray wouldn’t give Courtney a tumble. He kept their counseling sessions strictly professional. I used to think he had morals, but — well, obviously, he preferred teenage boys to teenage girls. I think that’s why Courtney really let him have it with her Facebook postings. Hell hath no fury like a teen queen scorned. . ”
At that point, Molly had put the movie on pause. “I noticed Madison had a few choice comments about Mr. Corson on her Facebook page, too,” she’d pointed out.
Kay had just laughed. “Oh, that daughter of mine certainly has a wicked sense of humor!”
“Well, personally, I thought Ray Corson may have gotten a raw deal,” Molly had said, frowning.
That was when Kay had poured a third glass of wine and changed the subject to the Cul-de-sac Killer. She was pretty inebriated. “When’s the last time he killed somebody?” Kay asked.
Molly knew — exactly two weeks ago, when he
’d murdered that Madrona couple. But she didn’t want to admit she was keeping track. She felt silly enough checking the NO OUTLET sign at the end of the cul-de-sac earlier tonight. She just shrugged.
“He’s probably overdue to strike again, isn’t he?” Kay said.
“Let’s hope the police catch him before that happens,” Molly replied. She got to her feet and took the pizza box. “Last call before this goes into the fridge.”
Kay shook her head. She turned quiet for a few moments while Molly put the pizza in the refrigerator. “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” Kay said, glancing down into her wineglass. “But I have a feeling someone’s been in the house while Madison and I aren’t there.”
Her hands on her hips, Molly stepped into the family room again. “What do you mean?”
Kay gave a pitiful shrug. “I’m not sure. It’s just a feeling I get. I know for a fact someone has been through our garbage. I’ve double-checked. I can see stuff has been rearranged in the bins.”
“Are you sure it’s not just raccoons?”
Kay frowned. “Raccoons don’t put the trash bin lids back in place.”
“Well, when I was living in an apartment building in Chicago, we used to have these Dumpster divers.” Molly sat down on the sofa again. “They look for credit card or bank statements or anything with a Social Security number on it for identity theft — stuff like that. Maybe that’s what’s happening.”
“Lately, I’ve been getting these really strange phone calls, too,” Kay murmured. “This woman with a scratchy voice has been calling me and saying these weird things — and then hanging up.”
Molly squinted at her. “What kind of weird things?”
“The last two times, she asked me, ‘Kay, do you think you’re a good mother?’ Just like that, she said it. I don’t know who she is or how the hell she knows my name. I think it might be Ted’s wife — or a friend of hers. From what I hear, Madison’s new stepmother doesn’t think much of my parenting skills. Well, screw her and the horse she rode in on.”
Molly didn’t say anything. She was thinking it was a very valid question. Kay wanted everyone to like her — including her own daughter. As a result, she was a pretty ineffectual mother. She spoiled Madison rotten and let her do whatever she wanted.
“Anyway, thanks for having me over tonight,” Kay said. “I’d just as soon not be home in case that creepy bitch calls again.” She drained the rest of her wineglass and sighed. “So — this apartment you had in Chicago, were you living there alone or did you have a roommate?”
Molly hesitated. “I — ah — I was living alone.”
“No boyfriend?”
Molly shook her head.
“With your face and figure?” Kay pressed. “I can’t believe it. What were you doing there, your art thing?”
“Parttime,” Molly said, nodding. “And parttime temp work wherever I could find it.”
“Aren’t you from Chicago originally? Do you still have family there?”
“Not anymore,” Molly said. She picked up the remote and switched off the TV. “You know, speaking of my painting, I really need to work on this new piece. I hate to be a party pooper, but it’s getting late. . ”
Kay just stared at her, looking a bit confused. “What about the movie?”
“Oh, it’s an epic. It has another three hours to go. I think I’ll finish it up tomorrow.” Molly stood up. She took the empty wineglass from her. “Anyway, I’m really glad you could come over, Kay.”
She stayed seated. “Will you be okay by yourself in this big house? Because, listen, I could crash in Erin’s room tonight—”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I’ll be fine,” Molly said.
With a defeated little shrug, Kay got to her feet.
“You’ll be okay, won’t you?” Molly asked, walking her to the door. She knew Kay was a bit scared to go back to her empty house. She wondered how Madison being there could make much of a difference in how secure she felt. Maybe Kay was just lonely. It would have been neighborly of her to invite Kay to spend the night, but Molly just didn’t want her there. She didn’t want to answer any more questions about Chicago.
“You’ll be okay?” Molly asked again.
“Oh, sure, I–I’m hunky-dory,” Kay said.
Molly opened the front door for her, and Kay gave her a hug. It seemed sincere, too — unlike the phony hugs she’d seen Kay share with her pals, Angela and Lynette. “Thanks, Molly,” she said. “Let’s do this again, okay?”
She nodded. “Of course, that would be nice.”
Kay teetered a bit as she stepped down the front stoop and continued along the walk.
Her arms folded, Molly stood in the doorway, looking after her. The night air gave her a chill. “Kay, listen,” she said. “Call me if you get scared or anything, all right?”
Stopping near the end of the driveway, Kay turned. A streetlight was behind her, and she was just a silhouette. But Molly saw her nod.
“We’ll be Neighborhood Watch buddies,” Molly said.
“I’d like that,” Kay replied. Then she moved on.
Molly watched her from the front stoop. She could tell Kay was drunk. She weaved a bit as she walked up the darkened cul-de-sac.
For weeks, someone else had been carefully watching Kay Garvey. And Kay had no idea. She was clueless — as were her neighbors on Willow Tree Court. None of them knew how vulnerable they’d become after a month of constant observation.
The intruder on their cul-de-sac had already figured out that Kay Garvey kept an extra key under the flowerpot by the screen-porch door in the back. That was just one of many things this uninvited visitor to Willow Tree Court knew about its residents.
Kay drank a lot, too. Her daughter, Madison, had once confided in Mr. Corson about the woes of having an alcoholic mother. Ray Corson had taken extensive notes on his sessions with Madison, who had repeatedly gotten into trouble and been sent to him for guidance:
When she has an “audience” of any kind, Madison too often lapses into a Catskills comedy routine — full of bile about her classmates & teachers. She’s very insecure, probably due to her borderline gawky looks. Madison must know, at some level, that if it weren’t for her close friendship with Courtney Hahn & her affectation of wearing Converse All Stars 24/7, no one might notice her at all. There must be some truth to Madison’s claim that her mom has a drinking problem & tries too hard to be her best friend. . Madison loathes her stepmother (often the brunt of her comic quips). I believe this “bitch on wheels” isn’t at all cruel, but rather stuck with the thankless task of correcting years of unchecked bad behavior. More time with the stepmother might help Madison become a better person, but that would mean she would have to move away from her indulging mom & attend a different school. Her whole social identity is wrapped up in being Courtney’s best friend. Without that, I believe Madison would see her popularity plummet & she’d be utterly miserable. .
At this very moment, Kay Garvey had no idea someone planned to make her daughter, Madison, a better person — and for a while utterly miserable.
Kay started up her driveway and glanced back at Molly, still standing on the front stoop of the Dennehy house. It was sweet of her to make sure she got home safe.
Kay kind of felt guilty for all the nasty things she’d said about Molly to Lynette and Angela. She really never had anything against Molly, but had to go along with the others. Until last year, when Angela and Jeff split up, Kay’s two best friends had treated her like a second-class citizen, because she was a divorcee. Both Angela and Lynette had considered themselves happily married — as deluded as that notion might have been. Poor, pathetic Kay, seemed to have been their attitude. But since Angela and Jeff’s marriage had gone kaput, the second-class citizen on Willow Tree Court was Jeff’s new wife. Anything Kay could say to tear down Molly to her two friends raised her stock with them.
“You should see how she fawns over Erin,” she’d told Lynette two weeks ago. “I have a view
of the bus stop on the corner. Honestly, she acts like Erin’s her own child. I want to tell her, ‘Hello, you know, her real mother is still around!’ Angela would be livid if she saw how Molly smothers that little girl. It’s creepy.”
Now, Kay felt bad for saying that — and for all the other embellished bits of gossip she spread about Molly Dennehy.
At the front stoop, she paused by some bushes that blocked her view of the Dennehy house. She heard Molly step back inside and close the door.
With the sound of that lock clicking, Kay suddenly felt all alone.
She’d left a few lights on inside the house — as she always did when she stepped out. Pulling her keys from her purse, she put the key in the lock but realized the door was open. “What the hell?” she murmured.
She was almost positive she’d locked it when leaving for the Dennehys’. But that had been a few hours and three glasses of wine ago. She wondered if Madison had come home from her overnight. Kay warily stepped inside. “Madison?” she called. “Maddie, honey, are you here?”
No answer.
For a moment, she stood in the front hallway, listening. The lights were on in the living room and kitchen. She didn’t see any movement in either room, nothing out of place, either. “You’re fine,” Kay told herself. She closed the front door and double-locked it.
Heading into the kitchen, she went right for the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of wine. “A dose of courage,” she murmured, taking a hearty gulp. She always hated it on these rare occasions when Madison spent the night at a friend’s house. Usually, it was Courtney spending the night here. The Garveys’ house got to be known as Party Central. Kay actually liked having a lot of teenagers around. She didn’t mind the noise.
It was being alone in a deathly quiet house that she hated.
Disturbed Page 13
