by M A Comley
She went from shelf to shelf, only to be disappointed at the lack of saddle shoes in the store. Darn. Those are the hardest to replace. Instead, she settled on a pair of Mary Janes in red and black patent leather with bows affixed with elastic on the side. While she was there, she found towels printed with kettles and a bright yellow chenille robe.
She left satisfied, knowing that it would be an adventure to add to her collection as time went by. She hoped Brendon knew what he was letting himself in for.
Then came the moment she had been dreading. Lucy turned onto her street, feeling the familiar ridges and bumps worn into the tarmac from neighbors turning into their drives. Her mailbox stood upright and defiantly white, guarding mounds of charred lumber; the remnants of what used to be her beautiful home were still smoldering slightly. There was no yellow tape tied to the tree to tell her she could venture inside. She would be taking a risk doing that by what Mrs. Roberts had told her anyway.
Lucy parked in front of the house, checked the mailbox and found it empty. It was a symbol of what she felt inside. She wished she’d brought either Jenny or Brendon with her—it was almost too much to bear. An ache began in the base of her throat as it swelled. A moan soon developed into something far worse as the grief rose up from the ashes surrounding the truck. Lucy bent over the steering wheel as the pain she could no longer contain emerged, the realization dawning on her that all she had built in her life had been taken from her. In that moment, she was orphaned by the destruction of the possessions she’d cherished.
She let the tears flow and then wiped her face with the tissues in her plastic bag and climbed out of the truck again. A walk to the back of the property did little to improve her mood, but she snapped off dozens of pictures with her phone. She would review them later with Brendon and force herself to battle the demons of loss that had descended.
A noise startled her, drawing her out of her own self-pity. It was a scream and it had come from Marnie’s house. She waited for the usual raucous laughter to follow, but instead, a second scream came, one of genuine terror.
Lucy rushed to Marnie’s house and thumped on the door. “Marnie? It’s Lucy. Marnie? Answer the door, please?”
She saw the handle turn and the door inch open. A pair of eyes peered through the gap. “What do you want?”
It was Winnie, her tone uninviting. “I’ve come to see Marnie.”
Winnie glared at her and then let out an exasperated sigh, “She’s busy.”
“I’ll wait.” Lucy stood firm, unwilling to be cast aside.
“No, not today. Come back some other time.” The door slammed shut. Lucy looked for the curtains to move in the front window, but there wasn’t a flutter. The situation sucked, but there was nothing she could do. She shrugged, walked back to the truck, and left.
Brendon smelled fried chicken when he walked in the door. “One of my favorites, you know.” He bent to kiss her. “Only thing better would be mashed potatoes and corn.”
Lucy lifted two lids. “I must have read your mind.”
Brendon grinned. “I think I’m going to like this being married lark. This place has never felt like a home, until now. Listen, I’m a mess. I’m going to shower and put on some sweats. Do I have time?”
“Sure. This can tick over to keep warm.”
Brendon disappeared into the bedroom, so Lucy turned the heat down to the minimum and settled herself on the sofa to wait for him. While she was waiting, she extracted her phone and began swiping through the pictures of her house, trying hard to hold back the tears pricking the back of her eyes. She was so distracted, she neglected to hear Brendon come up behind her. He gave her another kiss on the cheek and startled her. “Oh!”
“Woah, sweetheart, sorry. I thought you’d heard me. What are you looking at?”
“My ex-house,” she groaned.
“You weren’t supposed to be poking around out there.”
“I know. I stayed away from the debris, but took pictures as I walked around the yard. I stopped by the insurance company this morning and they asked me to take some.”
“I know it’s gotta be tough, but we’ll get through it. Hey, word is that Sal is back.”
“Yes, so I saw when I went to Roberts Insurance. Old Mrs. Roberts told me one of Sal’s daughters was involved in a car accident and that’s why they disappeared during the night. That’s why they didn’t tell anyone beforehand.”
He inclined his head. “Huh. Is she okay? The daughter, that is?”
Lucy got up from the sofa and walked around the corner to finish plating dinner. “Not so great is what I heard. In fact, she may lose the use of her legs. I didn’t go in to see Sal. The place was swamped. Gossipers, you know. I’ll go tomorrow or the next day.”
“You two have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes. I know. Without her knowledge, I wasn’t a good friend to her, was I?”
“Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve had a tough time and with the evidence on offer, it was only natural to think the way you did. I get it.”
She sighed. “But I feel so guilty. Did you hear anything today?”
He moved closer. “I went back and talked to the neighbor. She said there was more than one woman who showed up at the doctor’s house. Apparently, he was anything but loyal to his wife. I’ve seen it before.”
“But did any of that make sense as to who might have killed her? Did the doctor do it? Maybe to get rid of her so he could sow his oats with these other women?”
“Right from the word go, he’s stuck by his alibi. With good reason too, it’s airtight. The coroner placed the time of death during the time when he was with a patient. We questioned the patient. She confirmed it. Nowhere to go there. We’ll just keep sniffing around. Something is sure to turn up sooner or later.”
“I hope so. I admit I still feel spooked by all this.”
“There’s no need. You’re safe here. I’ve got your back.” He squeezed her shoulder.
“I know you do, and I’m grateful. Hey, what do you think of this jumpsuit?” Lucy turned a pirouette to model one of the outfits she’d bought that day.
He let out a low whistle. “Looks fabulous, Lucy. It fits well and the color shows off your complexion to a tee. Did I say that right? I’m not used to women asking for my opinion on fashion.”
She sniggered. “Yes, you said the right thing. Thank you. You do know I’m not a fashion icon.”
“You don’t say. You’re absolutely unique and that’s one of the reasons I love you.”
“And here I was thinking it was for my fried chicken.”
“That, too.”
“Oh, and while I was at the house, I heard a couple of screams coming from Marnie’s house. I went to the door to check on her, but Winnie answered and said Marnie was busy. She wouldn’t even open the door fully. Those two are getting very weird.”
“No offense intended, but they both sort of started out that way. They’re well matched if you ask me.”
“I guess so.”
24
Brendon had found a hockey game on television; Lucy wasn’t into sports, but rather than spoil his end of a long working day enjoyment, she sat at the other end of the sofa and snuggled under a blanket. She picked up her phone and scrolled through the pictures for the umpteenth time that day. Old Mrs. Roberts had suggested she take pictures to help identify the possessions destroyed in the blaze. At the same time, she made a list of items in a notepad app on another screen—it was an emotional job and she needed to swallow down the lump lodged in her throat several times. There was no point putting it off any longer while Brendon was close at hand for support.
One by one, she swiped at each shot. One in particular she’d taken from the side of her house caught her attention. Something stood out that she hadn’t noticed before. Using two fingers, she stretched the image to make it larger. Her eyes hadn’t deceived her after all. There, standing out in the snow, was a pair of large footprints. They were definitely not hers; and to her
knowledge, the firemen had used the hydrant at the front of the house. These were close to Marnie’s.
“You tired?” Brendon asked, tapping her on the leg.
“A little. Just going through the photos I took earlier. Old Mrs. Roberts asked me to make a list of all my possessions for the claim. She said taking pictures would help to remind me. My head is still all over the place.”
“Good thinking,” he replied absently, his attention already drawn back to the flashing skates and the whizzing puck.
Something nagged at Lucy—something fighting to surface from her memory. Suddenly, the piece fell into place. “Brendon?”
“Hmm…?”
“The neighbor you interviewed. Did she give you a description of any of the women?”
“Not really. She said there were several. Why?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“Try me.”
“You know how I sometimes get these feelings about people? And how you always make fun of me and tell me I’m being ridiculous.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Hey, sometimes I’m right. Well, more often than not.”
“It usually comes down to a process of elimination, you mean, Luce.”
“If you say so. Listen to me, something important has just occurred to me.”
He lifted the remote and switched off the game. Laying the remote on the table next to the sofa, he turned toward her and said, “Okay, you’ve got my full attention, out with it.”
“Would it be possible for me to go and talk to the neighbor?”
He frowned. “Hang on, you mean the doctor’s neighbor?”
“Yes.”
“No. Absolutely not. You need to leave the investigation to me, a serving police officer,” he reminded her, rolling his eyes.
“I know, I don’t need you to tell me that. You could take me and stand beside me while I ask her questions.”
Heaving out a sigh, he asked, “What are you getting at? Just tell me what you need to ask and I’ll do it.”
“No, you can’t. I have to do it. I’m the only one who knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Look, Brendon. There’s something bothering me, and I’m not going to put it out there until I know a bit more. Trust me and go with the hunch I have, please.”
He leaned forward and massaged her foot peeking out from beneath the afghan. “I’m tired, can’t it wait?”
Lucy held back her disappointment, not wishing to get on the wrong side of him about something she wasn’t a hundred percent sure about. “Yes. If it must.”
He groaned and dropped her foot, then turned to stand up. “Okay, I’m beat. I need sleep. Tomorrow morning, I’ll run you over there, but only for a few minutes. We’ve pestered that poor woman enough already.”
“That’s great. I’ll get up with you and we can go first thing.”
“No, I have to go into the office first. I’ll come back and pick you up about eleven.”
Lucy nodded and began swiping through the pictures again. Brendon smiled and turned off most of the lights before going to bed. Lucy kept swiping.
While Lucy waited for Brendon to pick her up, she felt jittery and yet calm at the same time. To occupy her mind, she decided to visit Mary for a few minutes. It was a nice day, warmer than winter, and the fresh air would be welcomed. Putting her phone in her plastic bag, she made the decision that once she’d finished with her visit with Brendon, she’d run into town in search of a new purse. After all, it wasn’t practical for her to walk around with the plastic bag forever.
“Mary? Mary, are you home?” Lucy knocked and the door opened promptly.
Mary wore a concerned frown. “Hello there. Nice of you to come by again. Is everything okay?”
“I swear I won’t make a habit of this, I’m feeling a little anxious. I suppose I’m trying to ward off another panic attack.”
Mary opened the door wider to allow Lucy to enter. “Come in. I’ll make some tea.”
“No, I can’t. Brendon is coming to pick me up so I need to stay out here where I can see him.”
“Can’t you just message him, tell him to pick you up from here?”
“Huh, I guess I could. I’ve only just replaced my new phone, and it slipped my mind that I’d got it.” Lucy scrolled through for Brendon’s number and typed out a message. “There. He’ll know where to find me now.” She followed Mary inside, careful to take off her shoes, her soles likely covered in mud from the front yard. She studied the shoes sitting there, side by side, and a strange sensation surfaced once more.
“Is something wrong?”
Lucy’s head snapped up. “No. Nothing’s wrong. It’s just a feeling I get. You ever have a moment when there’s a word you want to use, but you just can’t recall it to save your life?”
“All the time,” Mary laughed. “It’s called getting older.”
“Oh, gosh, don’t say that. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t think straight. Brendon would trade me in for a younger model and I’d be left alone, like a recluse…” she stopped suddenly as something sparked in her mind.
Mary laid a concerned hand on her arm. “What is it?”
Lucy stared at her and shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Is it another panic attack?”
“Yes, I mean no, not really. Oh my… Mary, I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Right now.”
“Sure. Come back when things are better, okay?”
“Yes, yes, I will. Sorry. This is important.” Lucy slipped into her shoes and dashed down the steps and toward Brendon’s house, her fingers wildly texting as she walked.
She’d almost reached the front door when the squad car came around the corner. Lucy waved wildly and jumped in the passenger side. “Hurry, you need to take me to that neighbor’s house. Right now, please.”
“Lucy, slow down. I was going to grab a quick sandwich before we left.”
“There’s no time for that. Brendon, just drive. We’ve got to get there quickly. I think I know what’s going on… and someone might be in great danger.”
25
Brendon knocked on the door of the pretty blue house decorated with window boxes. A woman opened it and Brendon spoke to her for a few moments before he motioned for Lucy to join him. “Lucy, this is Mrs. Michaels. I told her you only have a few questions to ask and she’s more than willing to do that.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Michaels. We don’t need to come in. The ground is muddy out here. I’ll be very quick. I know that Dr. Stiltson may not have been faithful to his wife and that you might have observed some of the ladies who came by to visit.”
Mrs. Michaels looked at Brendon, who nodded that she should answer. “Yes, that’s true. Look, I hope you don’t think I’m a busybody or anything. I happen to sew a lot sitting right next to the window for the light and well… I see things, sometimes things I shouldn’t.”
“Of course not,” Lucy assured the woman who already seemed a little defensive. “It’s only natural to look out of a window. That’s why they’re there, isn’t it? I’m the same, my desk is in the same position at home…” she paused, her throat closing up with emotion which she coughed away. “Anyway, maybe you’d cast your mind back, see if you recall seeing a woman visit the house who might be unusually tall, very thin, have blonde-ish hair with gray that’s very fuzzy?”
Mrs. Roberts looked downward in thought. “No, no, I can’t say I do. I don’t remember anyone like that coming to see him.”
“Oh.” Lucy’s shoulders slouched in disappointment. “That’s all I needed, Mrs. Roberts. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
Mrs. Roberts began to shut the door as Lucy retreated down the sidewalk to the squad car. “Wait, Lucy…”
Lucy spun around. “Yes?” she responded, hope in her voice.
“The doctor never had anyone like that, but now that I think of it, Mrs. Stiltson used to have a woman visit her matching that description.”
“She did?” Lucy
walked back toward the door. “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes. She came quite often, but only when he was out. I believe she was a friend of Mrs. Stiltson. A companion, of sorts. She even stayed over sometimes when the doctor was away. I think Mrs. Stiltson was an invalid in some way, you know.”
“She was? Did you ever meet this woman? Talk to her?”
“No, there was no one to introduce us. Mrs. Stiltson always remained indoors. However, I did hear this other woman’s voice when she called back to Mrs. Stiltson one day as she came from the house into the carport at the side. She was laughing. Very loudly and high-pitched. In fact, I seem to recall her having a British accent.”
“Oh, my gosh. Thank you. Thank you very much,” Lucy said, rushing down to the car.
“Luuuuce, what are you thinking?” Brendon asked, chasing after her.
“We have to get back. Now.”
Brendon snapped on his seatbelt and threw his right arm over the seat as he looked backward and put the car into reverse. “Okay, you win. But I refuse to be kept in the dark about this. I insist you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours as we drive.”
“Fine, fine, but first, call the station. Send that deputy you sent before, Carl, isn’t it? Tell him to go to Marnie’s house and make sure she’s okay. He’s not to accept any excuses. He must see her and make sure. Do it, Brendon. It could be a matter of life or death.”
26
Brendon tried to get out of Lucy what she suspected as he topped the speed limit back to the village, to Marnie’s house. When they arrived, the deputy’s car was in the drive, its lights flashing. He was beating on the door. Lucy and Brendon jumped out of the car and raced to the door.
