by M A Comley
By mid-afternoon, Lucy’s mind was frazzled and she’d had enough. With a wave, she left and headed toward Brendon’s office. Everyone knew she and Brendon were in a relationship now, so no one stopped her as she made her way into his office.
“Hi, there,” she greeted him. He was bent over a report he was writing out at his desk.
“Hey.” His voice was distant—an indication he was pre-occupied with his work.
“That the case?”
“Hmm…?” His preoccupation was yet another mental clue Lucy stored away.
“The case from this morning?” she prompted, pointing at the report.
“Oh, Mrs. Stilt—,” he stopped abruptly and then got up to shut the door. “Lucy, forget I said that. You caught me when I was concentrating, and I should never have…”
“Relax, Brendon. I repeat what I said back at Sal’s earlier, I no longer work for the newspaper. Remember?”
He flushed. “Still, my tongue ran away from me, and you shouldn’t have heard that.”
“Don’t worry. I get it.” Inside, Lucy was rejoicing. She had a name, and that would give her a head start. In her mind, she was already composing the opening paragraphs.
Physician under suspicion? It was a grabber, certainly.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Brendon asked, drawing her out of her reverie.
“Me? Ah, oh, yes. I stopped by to invite you to dinner. Nothing fancy. I’m making a pot of chili, and you’re welcome to join me.”
Still hunched over his desk, as though trying to shield the paperwork from her with the bulk of his body, he smiled. “Sounds good. I’ll come over as soon as I’m done for the day.”
“Good. See you then.” Lucy blew him a kiss, left his office and slowly made her way back to the main entrance.
As she walked, she looked at the other officers on duty, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever they were working on at the moment. She listened in on phone conversations, trying to put what they were saying in the context of the dead woman’s case.
Lucy left feeling particularly smug, having combined her natural reporter’s instincts and tools with her need for inspiration for her book.
It had been a fruitful and interesting day so far.
Lucy heard Brendon tap on the pane of glass in her front door before entering the house. “Luce, it’s me,” he called to her.
“Come on through. I’m in the kitchen,” Lucy bellowed.
Brendon appeared in the doorway. He approached her and planted a kiss on her cheek. Lucy, a ladle in her hand, stopped long enough to give him a quick squeeze. “You timed that well. The chili is done so we can eat anytime. In fact, the longer it simmers, the richer the flavor becomes,” she added.
“I love your chili; no matter how you cook it,” he complimented her and hung his coat on a hook in the front hall. He walked toward the small table and chairs set up on the other side of the narrow kitchen snack bar, relaxing with a weary sigh into the chair.
“You look tired.”
“Probably because I am. It’s been a long day.”
“More on the… the woman who passed away?” She was careful not to reinforce the slip of his tongue by using names. She knew that would possibly end up creating an awkward atmosphere between them.
“Nothing but that. It’s like the rest of the world has gone on pause over this thing. I don’t get it.”
Lucy set a bowl of steaming, spicy chili before him and one on the table next to him for herself. She kissed the top of his head before returning to the kitchen to fetch a couple of glasses of cold milk and a dish of sliced mozzarella cheese. “Want cheese on yours?”
“That would be good, thanks.”
She sat down, put her napkin on her lap, and dipped her spoon into the steaming concoction before blowing on it.
“Why is the name being withheld?” she asked, eager to obtain whatever miscellaneous crumbs of information she could. She felt a little guilty, if not even a little manipulative. She told herself that was what good writers had to do. The slice of life view usually came with a significant price.
“Lucy, I know you’re dying to find out all the details, but I won’t fall for this probing inquiry sneakiness.”
She had the grace to blush and said nothing.
“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” he pressed.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. My reporter roots are long and strong.”
He sipped his milk, wiping his mouth smoothly with a sweep of his napkin. “You’re no longer a reporter, remember?”
She blushed further as he took pleasure in using her own words against her. “Let’s forget the whole thing, shall we? I had no right to pick at you for information. If I’m going to be a novelist, I need to find the resourcefulness to come up with my own plot.” Contrary to her words, Lucy had already sourced the phone book for doctors in the area and knew the victim was a Mrs. Stiltson. Victoria Stiltson.
“Very true. What’s on television tonight? Any good movies, or even a boring one? I’d just like to put my arm around you and forget the day.”
Lucy smiled. “I think we can arrange that.”
After dinner, and by the time Lucy had cleared up the kitchen, Brendon had already made himself comfortable and found a movie to watch. He lifted his arm, and she slipped smoothly beneath it, pulling her legs up and beneath herself. He pecked her on the lips. “I like this,” she murmured.
A shrill noise startled her. It was coming from his pocket.
“New ringtone,” he mumbled and reached for the phone. He studied the screen and then slid it back as he stood up. “Sorry, Lucy, I have to go. It looks like this case is going to be time-consuming and problematic from the outset.” He read the disappointment on her face. Brendon leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Sorry about this. Life of a cop, what can I say?”
“It’s okay,” she lied. “I understand that work comes first to someone as dedicated as you.”
He pulled his jacket off the hook and thrust his arms into the sleeves. “I’m glad you understand. I’ll call you when time permits, I promise.”
With that, he was gone into the night.
Lucy circulated through the house, locking the doors and windows and turning off lights with a sadness wrapped around her heart. She thought about poor Mrs. Stiltson while she brushed her teeth. Who could have possibly killed her? She sighed and then climbed into bed.
There was a copy of John Grisham’s book, The Guardians: A Novel on her nightstand. Reaching up to adjust the shade on her lamp, she settled back against the pillows and opened the book where she’d previously placed the bookmark. It wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her evening, but she soon lost herself in the master’s plot. Someday, I’ll write like this, she thought.
That’s when an explosion ripped through the frigid night air, right outside her window. A gunshot!
3
In her scramble to investigate, Lucy accidentally knocked the lamp over, then grimaced when she heard the bulb shatter.
Silence followed.
Keeping to her belly, she rolled to the opposite side of her bed and eased down to the floor. She waited, straining her ears to listen for any noise that would reveal what could possibly be going on.
It wasn’t long before she heard a woman’s voice, shrieking with rage. Again, keeping low to her knees, she crawled to her bedroom door and whipped her robe from the hook on the back of it. Without turning on the light, she slipped into her robe and made her way to her office; there, she glanced out of the window that faced the neighboring house.
Slowly, peeping over the windowsill, she saw her neighbor, Marnie Whitmore, her head hanging out an open window, waving a revolver. Lucy pushed up the window calling out, “Marnie? What happened?”
“Is that you, Lucy?”
“Yes. I heard a gunshot.”
“That was me.” She held out the gun.
Lucy instinctively ducked and shouted, “Marnie, put the gun down. Did you shoot
someone?”
“I don’t think so. I guess I must have missed.”
“Thank heaven for that. Stay there. Let me get some clothes on, and I’ll be over.”
Lucy ran back to her room and hastily put on the clothes she’d worn earlier. Her jacket came next as she unlocked the front door and ran to the side of the house. Marnie pivoted, the gun still in her hand.
Lucy dropped to the grass. “Marnie, for heaven’s sake, put that gun down!”
“Oh, yes, of course. Can you see him?”
“Who?”
“The man at my window.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“No-no, I mean which window?”
“This one right here. I was just going to bed and went to turn out the hall light when I saw his face peering in.”
“Marnie, put the damn gun down. I’ll call Brendon. Just go inside, and I’ll be there in a minute.”
Lucy ran back inside and snatched her phone from its charger. She tapped out Brendon’s number.
“Sergeant Colt.”
“It’s me.”
“Lucy, I’m working. I can’t talk right now.”
“This is work related. Sorry to bother you, but I want to report an incident. My neighbor claims someone was peeping in her window, and she shot at him.”
She heard him tut and heave out a sigh. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Does anyone need an ambulance?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t got that far yet. I thought I’d ring you ASAP first.”
“I’ll send a deputy over and be there myself when I can.”
He disconnected. Lucy went back to Marnie’s and knocked on the front door, standing to one side in case Marnie was still wielding her gun.
“Marnie, it’s Lucy.”
A pair of eyes beneath a smooth forehead with a shock of unruly hair peered around the corner of the front window. The door opened.
“May I come in?”
The eyebrows pinched together. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s really no reason for it.”
Lucy knew Marnie very seldom left her house due to anxiety. “It might help calm you down, Marnie. I’ve called for Brendon, but he’s tied up at the moment on a case, so he’s sending a deputy to come and see you. Brendon will be over later when he’s free.”
“Oh, dear. So many people. In my house? I don’t want that. No, no… it’s all fine. All I want to do is go to bed.”
“But, Marnie, firing a gun within the village limits is against the law. You know that, don’t you?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Lucy chuckled. “I’m afraid lots of people probably heard it and are probably too scared to come to see what’s going on. It’s better to have a deputy come in and check things out. Whoever it was might still be out there, you know.”
Marnie’s hand shook as she tucked some stray hair behind her ear. “You think? Oh, dear. Maybe if you stand just right inside the door… but don’t come completely into the house. And don’t fully close the door, perhaps just enough to keep the cold out.”
“Would you rather put a coat on and come out here to wait with me?” Lucy was unsure what to say to make the woman feel more comfortable.
“Me? Come out? Oh, heavens no. I can’t do that. You know that, Lucy. I never go out.”
“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry things are like that for you. But, Marnie, we need to make sure everyone is safe. So, either you come out, or we’ll need to come in. I’ll be there with you. I’ll even hold your hand, if that’s what you need to overcome your fear.”
“No, no, don’t hold my hand. I want to be free to come and go. No hands.” Sweat instantly beaded on her brow.
“Okay, okay. No hands. I see the squad car coming, Marnie. Why not let me step inside? I know the deputy will want to have a look around outside, and he’ll probably need to check your gun, too.”
“My gun? No, not my gun. I’m allowed to have a gun. It’s my second amendment right, you know.”
“Yes, of course. I’m not saying you did anything wrong, well, except for maybe firing it outside the window.” A vehicle with a red flashing light, but no siren, jerked sharply in her direction at the corner. “Here he is now. I’ll come and be with you.”
As she inched the door open, Lucy smiled gently and slowly eased inside. The deputy was right behind her.
Marnie nudged her arm. “Tell him, Lucy. Tell him about me.”
“Yes, I will. Officer, this is Marnie Whitmore, and I’ve known her for a very long time. I’m her neighbor. She saw a man peering in through her window a short time ago and fired her gun at him.”
“Oh… uh-uh-uh. That’s against the village laws, Ms. Whitmore.”
“Tell him, Lucy!” Marnie urged, her voice rising to a shriek.
“Officer, you see… Marnie isn’t able to let us in or to come out. You see, she never comes out of the house. Marnie lives alone, but her friends and I look in on her from time to time. She’ll get very anxious if you try to bring her out or go into her house. She considers it her safe place, if you know what I mean. I called to report the incident to Sergeant Colt, but only because it’s the law. No one was hurt. At least, I don’t think so.”
“Uh-huh, well, both of you stay right there. I’m going to have a look around. Which window?”
“Right there, ground level on the north side of the house.”
“Stay here,” he ordered authoritatively.
“What will he do to me, Lucy?” Marnie asked as they watched him creep away, his flashlight shooting beams on the shrubbery and expanse of the yard as he walked.
“Calm down, Marnie. He seems like a nice man. I think he’s rather new. Brendon will know him and follow up. He knows all about you and your—problems.”
The deputy was back in a couple of breathless minutes. “Did you fire through the window?”
“Oh, no. I raised the glass so I wouldn’t break it.”
“Was he still standing at the window when you raised it?”
“No. The burglar saw me coming at him with the gun. I made sure my light was on so he could see that. He ran off.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to have to make a report, and the sergeant will follow up on this.”
“Go ahead,” Marnie told him. “Report away. Do what you must.”
Lucy felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. “Hello?”
“It’s me. Has my deputy arrived?”
“Oh, it’s you, Brendon. Yes, he’s here. He’s just making a report.”
“Was there anyone around?”
“No, no one.”
“Okay, are you going to bed now?”
“Yes, it’s late, and I was already in bed.”
“I’ll deal with the report first thing. Get some rest, Lucy.”
“Yes, I think it will wait until the morning. It might be better if everyone’s nerves settled a little. I’ll be here. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. Sleep well.”
The deputy was just handing the report to Marnie to sign and then put his pen into the loop holder on his clipboard.
“Deputy, the sergeant will be by in the morning. Unfortunately, he’s still tied up.”
“Yes, ma’am. I have everything I need. As for you, Ms. Marnie, if you see someone, call us first and don’t shoot unless he comes into the house and is advancing on you with intent to harm. Do you understand?”
Marnie nodded. “If he breaks into my house, he’s on his own,” she said, trying to make it sound like a threat.
As the deputy moved away and got back into his car, Lucy looked around quickly and peered over Marnie’s shoulder. It would appear Marnie found it challenging to part with things. There were boxes and packages, dishes, clothing—anything you could think of, piled high and leaning against the walls in the rooms. Lucy hadn’t realized Marnie was also a hoarder in addition to being agoraphobic. She suspected the two were related. The mounded boxes weren’t a good sign. Eventually, she might
attract wharf rats, and Lucy feared they’d have an altogether new problem on their hands.
“Marnie, do you have any family around?”
“No, none. My sister was the last, but she died last year of cancer. In her chest, you understand.”
Lucy nodded. “I’m sorry. Okay, we’ll leave things there for now. It’s late, and I’m going home. You have my number if you need anything. Why not climb into bed and see if you can get some sleep?”
“I will. Thank you, Lucy. You’re a good neighbor.”
Lucy wanted to hug the older woman, but resisted, knowing that Marnie valued her personal space, so she just lightly patted her neighbor’s arm. “Well then, goodnight.”
Lucy went home; and as she walked, she surveyed the surrounding area, just in case the intruder was lingering still. There was nothing to see in the darkness.
She shivered a little when she got inside. She’d seen her share of dead bodies and certainly was no stranger to gunshots, but there was something a bit eerie about Marnie and the unusual life she lived.
Count your blessings, she told herself as she climbed back into bed and turned out the light.
4
Lucy had a troubled night, too excited to sleep and had ended up oversleeping. She stood in her robe, filling the coffee pot with water before she hit the button and crossed her arms while she waited. Curiously, she moved to the office window that faced the north and Marnie’s house. Other than having her drapes open, Marnie’s place looked just as it had the night before.
Lucy heard the gurgles from the coffee pot, signaling the last of the water had dripped through the grounds. She turned off the machine and went in search of her slippers, but frowned ruefully when she found them cast off by the door. They were still soggy from her trek through Marnie’s snowy yard.
Going straight to her bedroom, she yanked on her jeans and a sweatshirt over which she layered a quilted vest. She pulled on a pair of pastel striped socks followed by her hiking boots. Grabbing a mug of steaming coffee on her way, she left the house and headed toward Marnie’s yard.
