Taryn busied herself with packing her bags. It always took her at least a day to pack since she was notorious for bringing everything but the kitchen sink. She knew how to pack lightly; she just preferred not to.
Leaving out only two changes of clothes and a few toiletries, she set her bags by her bedroom door. The fees for checked luggage had become so ridiculously high it had cut down on the number of suitcases she packed when she flew. It didn’t cut down on how much stuff she brought, though. She’d just learned how to pack better and really stuff it in there.
She did need to talk to Delphina. She wanted to ask her if she could take her breakfast on the road since she’d need to get up early and wasn’t much of a morning person to begin with. She hadn’t seen Delphina much over the past few days, just here and there. Delphina had been even quitter than usual. Taryn wondered if Delphina would miss her when she was gone. Having basically lived with her for the past month, she thought she might miss the older woman. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together, but it was comforting to know she was there.
Delphina wasn’t out in her gardens, on the porch, or in the kitchen. Her bedroom door was standing wide open, the bed made with military precision. Taryn wandered around, calling out her name, but nobody answered. She had to be there, though, because her car was in the driveway and Delphina never walked anywhere. It was too hard on her hips and knees, thanks to her arthritis.
She was about to give up and head back up the stairs when she noticed the basement door, usually chained and locked, was cracked open just a little. A thin ray of light shot out from around it. Opening it a little wider, Taryn poked her head inside and called down, “Delphina! Are you down there?”
There was no answer. The stairs were steep, and though illuminated by a naked light bulb dangling from the ceiling above them, they were still dark. She worried Delphina might have lost her balance and fallen. She didn’t like nosing around, at least not in a house that was actually lived in, but what if she was down below, unconscious? Making an executive decision, and hoping she wasn’t prying, she hurried down the stairs, making sure to hold onto the rickety bannister as she went. “Delphina?” she called again. Silence.
The main room at the bottom of the stairs was large and strangely empty. It had to be the cleanest basement she’d ever seen. There was a peculiar scent in the air, something strong and powerful, and Taryn couldn’t put her finger on it. It made her eyes water a little and the further into the room she got, the more pungent the odor became. Still, it was clear Delphina wasn’t in this room.
Noticing two closed doors off the main room, Taryn walked over to the first and opened it. This room was packed with gardening supplies: top soil, gloves that still had price tags dangling from them, spades, pruners, and rakes. Everything was neatly stacked on a large wooden table up against the wall or hanging from pegs. The floor looked neatly swept and recently cleaned. When she saw the carton of bleach on the table she realized that’s what she was smelling, what was making her eyes burn. “Dang, she even bleaches her basement floor,” she muttered aloud. “I had no idea she was such a germaphobe.”
She quietly shut the door behind her and moved to the next. It took a few tugs to yank it open and when she did she was met with almost total darkness. This room lacked a window so she had to wait for her eyes to get adjusted. When they did, they settled on the large wooden table pushed into the corner.
“Jesus Christ!” Taryn screamed. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart thudded against her chest, and she grabbed onto the door handle to steady herself, sure she’d faint dead away. As she lurched, footsteps resonated behind her and a frail, old voice cried, “Oh dear.”
For what seemed like an eternity, Delphina and Taryn stood looking at each other, neither making a move. Delphina held a large shovel in her hand. It was raised high above her but the arm holding it was trembling. Still, if she brought it down hard enough it could do some real damage and Taryn wasn’t taking any chances. She wanted to rush back upstairs and forget the two bodies stuffed under the table in the little dark room, but there was no going back from that.
“Delphina,” she uttered with dismay. “What happened? What have you done?”
Jamie’s light blond hair was well-lit now that the soft light from the main room had trickled in and settled on his head. His face was pale and his body was scrunched up at an awkward angle but she made no mistake– it was him. His eyes were closed, thankfully, and except for a band of dried blood streaking his face he looked like he could’ve been sleeping.
The other body was little more than a rumble of clothes. Only a skeletal hand reached out and grazed the floor. She couldn’t see a face. She was thankful for small favors.
Delphina raised the shovel a little higher and Taryn sized up her opportunity. She could definitely outrun her, but she might still get in a good swipe as she passed her on the way to the stairs. Taking her chances, she leapt into action and sprung past the old woman, moving with speed she hadn’t felt in years. The shovel clamored to the floor with a loud “bang” and when Taryn reached the bottom stair she turned around and looked behind her. Delphina was crumpled on the floor, her head in her hands.
“Well, shit,” Taryn muttered. She stopped moving and stared at her hostess. “Did you kill him? What have you done?” She was in shock now, feeling nothing but fear. But the sight of his face was still etched in her mind and she could feel the tears streaming down her face.
“I didn’t mean to,” Delphina sobbed, her voice muffled by her hands. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” She rocked back and forth, her gray hair a blur in the shadowy light.
“What did you do?” Taryn wasn’t about to go any closer, even now that Delphina was defenseless on the floor, but her desire to sprint was gone, too. She felt defeated. Oh, Jamie. And he’d been so beautiful, so nice.
“He was looking for me, just like you were. And I wouldn’t have hit you, I swear! I thought you were a burglar!”
“Did you kill him on accident?” Taryn asked. “Then why didn’t you call the cops?”
“Not an accident,” Delphina whispered meekly. “I’d left the door open. I heard him on the stairs. I knew he’d find it. He was looking for me, or for you. Maybe he thought one of us was in trouble. I came up behind him and panicked. I pushed him. His head, oh his head, it hit the bottom stair and then his neck…”
Taryn could see it now. He’d lost his balance, faltered, and broken his neck on the way down–what she thought might have happened to Delphina. “But why didn’t you just call out for him? Bring him back up?” She was crying openly now, little sobs escaping with each word.
“I know, I know,” Delphina replied, her voice frail. “I should have done that. I wasn’t thinking. I was just thinking about what he would find, how people would know…”
“That’s your husband, isn’t it?” Taryn asked as it dawned on her. “Did you kill him too? You killed him and kept his body down here!”
“No!” Delphina shouted, adamant. “No, I would never do that. I loved him. He…he died of a heart attack. He’d had a bad heart for years. I just dragged him down here. I kept up a vigil, though. I brought him flowers, took care of his body. I visit him almost every day.”
“But that’s…” Insane, she thought to herself. Crazy. “If it was a heart attack, why not just call an ambulance? Isn’t that the logical thing to do?”
Delphina nodded, biting her lip. “It would’ve been, if there wasn’t a complication. The thing is, we were never married. Nobody around here knows that. There were reasons in the beginning why we couldn’t and then, as the years went by, we didn’t see a reason to. It was just a piece of paper we told ourselves. Only, we hadn’t thought far enough in the future. His pension, his social security. We depended on that. The B&B wasn’t doing well enough for us to live on. Without his money, we wouldn’t have made it.”
Taryn could see it all now. “And if he was dead, you would stop drawing that. The money wou
ld be gone?”
“And what would I do then? He was my life. I only knew him and this house. I couldn’t support myself, not on my social security alone. I know so many old women who end up in state nursing homes, barely living. Just surviving. I wasn’t ready to give up yet.”
“So you let people believe he left you, ran out, so that you could continue to draw his checks?” Taryn asked softly.
Delphina nodded miserably. “It was a terrible thing to do, but I didn’t know what else. We have no children, no family. I would’ve lost my house, my livelihood. I might look like an old woman but I still feel forty most of the time. I didn’t want my life to be over so soon. He would’ve understood,” she said, looking in the direction of the room where his body lay. “He would have. He wanted to take care of me and this way he was, even in death.”
“You have to report this, Delphina,” Taryn said gently. “Jamie’s parents don’t know what happened to him. They deserve to know their son is dead and not out there, somewhere, hurt or afraid or being held prisoner by some psycho.” She winced at her choice of words but went on. “And your husband…he deserves a proper burial. You know he does. This isn’t fair for him or for you.”
Delphina rose to her feet and gently shut the door to the small room that contained the bodies. “I know. The guilt has eaten me alive, like a cancer. I can’t do it any longer. Will you help me?”
Taryn walked to her and put her arm around her thin shoulders. “We’ll call the police together.”
Hours later the police were still swarming the house, taking pictures and turning things upside down. It made Taryn said to see the immaculate house in disorder. She knew it was the last thing she should be thinking about but Delphina always tried so hard to keep it neat and organized.
Taryn was interviewed twice, once at the house and once at the station. Since Delphina had admitted to everything, though, there was no real investigation. Still, because the house was a crime scene now she’d had to move her belongings to the nearest motel, a motor inn. Her bed actually vibrated for fifty cents.
She was still in shock. She would never get over the sight of Jamie’s dead body or Delphina’s husband’s outstretched hand. She could still feel Jamie’s kiss on her cheek, see the way he’d smiled at her…
But maybe even more, she’d never forget the look of sorrow and dismay as the police gently led Delphina from the house and helped her into the cruiser. She had killed, but she wasn’t a murderer. In some ways, Taryn couldn’t fault what she’d done with her husband. There was no excuse for what she’d done to Jamie, but her husband was a different matter. You heard horror stories about those nursing homes. Where else would she have gone? Maybe government assisted apartments? The ones based on income? She guessed that was a choice. But the thought of giving up her beautiful home, her job, most of her furniture to live in a small one bedroom apartment, alone? She could see how that idea wasn’t an enticing one.
Daniel was shocked. He’d offered to come over and bring Willow but Taryn declined. She wasn’t in the mood to socialize. She felt somewhat responsible for Jamie’s death. If she hadn’t gone out with him, he wouldn’t have been over there. Two deaths of two men she’d cared about and she’d been at the center of both.
Taryn alternated between crying and staring numbly into space. Maybe they’d been wrong. They’d thought Permelia was attracted to her because of the whole “single woman on her own” bit. But maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe Permelia’d been attracted to her because she was responsible for Andrew’s death, and now Jamie’s, the same way Permelia was for the drunk guy who attacked her.
Maybe she saw a murderer in her.
But that couldn’t be right. She hadn’t killed Andrew; she was just feeling sorry for herself. And Jamie, poor Jamie, with his love of old houses and gentle way with horses. He was gone and would never ride again, never explore anything, never listen quietly with those big eyes…she hadn’t even gotten to know him well and his life was just starting.
She knew grief would come later, maybe not even for months. But that didn’t stop little moans and whimpers from escaping now.
Taryn sat on the slick generic bedspread and punched in another message to Matt. He still hadn’t called her back or answered her texts. She was emotionally drained and needed him. It was starting to rain outside and the wind was picking up. A storm was coming.
She was sorry for Delphina, sorry for herself. She’d left her bags in the car and only brought in a change of clothes. The grimy motel bathtub didn’t exactly scream bubble bath, or even shower, and there was nothing on television. She felt lost, abandoned.
What people did to survive…
Well, she’d survived on Andrew’s insurance money after his accident. If it hadn’t been for that she would’ve been out on her ass, the house probably foreclosed on. She’d depended on both their incomes to sustain the life she knew. With him gone, she’d had to learn a new way. Delphina had found a way to carry on as well, albeit a morbid one. And Permelia. She, too, had found a way to endure.
Taryn laid back on her bed and listened to the thunder rumbling. She hoped the tarp on the inn would hold out the rain water. Not that it would matter since it was probably going to get torn down anyway.
Taryn let the images of the day play through her mind again, a kind of movie reel of the horrible events. She could see the door opening into the dark room, Jamie’s hair glistening in the light, Delphina standing before her with the shovel raised above her head. The police cars, their lights. Delphina staring out the cruiser window, a grief-stricken look on her face as she watched her house fade out of sight.
It was one for the books.
Then her mind fell to Permelia. That story was harder to visualize but, with the help of the letters, she could try. She saw her attacked, saw the attacker falling to the ground when her husband came in and caught him, dragging the body to the sinkhole after everyone was asleep and in bed, going through his room and searching for the money he kept…Then she saw her pregnant, giving birth, carrying around an infant dressed all in white while the guests cooed over her, waking up and finding her lifeless in her bed, getting the news her husband had fallen to his death, rejected by her family…
Taryn sat up with a start, blood draining from her face.
“Oh my god,” she cried, slapping herself on the forehead. “How did we not see that before?”
The rain was coming down in torrents now so she slipped on a college hoodie and grabbed her flashlight and rain jacket. She should wait until morning but she might miss her flight if she did. Not making the same mistake she made last time, she picked up her phone and first called Daniel, telling him what was going on, and then left a message for Matt. Daniel and Willow promised to meet her at the house.
“If I’m right,” she told him, “then this could be a VERY good thing.”
“Let’s hope so,” he declared. “Let’s hope so.”
It took her more than half an hour to get to the tavern since the motel was in the next town over. She was sure Daniel would beat her but when she pulled up the property was vacant. She could barely see the inn through the rain. It was almost pitch black outside. Trying to curb her excitement and nervousness, she turned on some music and sang along, hoping the up-tempo song would help the time go by faster.
By the time the first song was over, though, and there was still no sign of Willow and Daniel she decided to take matters into her own hands. It wasn’t like anyone was going to try to kill her this time. The only thing she had to fear was the dark. And the rain. And maybe a ghost. But the ghost wanted her help; she wouldn’t hurt Taryn.
Shrieking from the wind and rain she ran to the porch, hunching over as though being closer to the ground would help her dodge the drops. It was different being there at night. Her mother told her that houses are different in the dark and that if you want to live in one you should always look at it in the afternoon and around midnight before you made your decision.
Gi
ving the door a little shove, she stepped inside and turned on her flashlight. Despite her rain jacket, she was soaked through to the skin and cold. Miss Dixie was shoved down inside her hoodie and she pulled her out and got her ready. “We have some work to do, old girl,” she declared. She could barely hear herself speak; the rain was deafening.
There wasn’t any use heading towards the tavern (since it was no longer there) or even the sitting room. She knew where she needed to be.
Taking the stairs two at a time she loped up to the second story and entered the first bedroom, the small room where she’d seen the bloody handprint. “Do your thing,” she advised as she turned on the camera, held her breath, and took a shot. The room instantly flashed with light and then darkened again. For a second, though, before the light dimmed Taryn was sure she saw the outline of a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand.
She took a few more steps into the room and this time turned and faced the door. “And one more,” she pronounced and pushed the button. The flash was like lightning as it streaked across the room. The burst of it and sudden disappearance made the room feel even darker and Taryn shivered. She’d put her flashlight in her rain jacket pocket and now she took it out again as she walked to Permelia’s bedroom.
Standing in the middle of the room she closed her eyes and allowed the energy of the past to soak into her. “I’m here to help, here to help,” she chanted. She tried to see Permelia, tried to feel the furnishings of the past around her, tried to hear the noises of the tavern below her. The lightning struck again and the roll of thunder that followed was so loud it shook the house. Her feet rocked under her and she parted them to gain her balance. The storm was right on top of her.
In this room, she took half a dozen pictures. Between her flash and the lightning the room lit up with a dizzying pace until she felt like she was on a dance floor with strobe lights. With each new burst Taryn felt more out of touch with herself, less grounded. She was in a dream again, a part of the darkness, a part of the room. “Show me what you want!” she shouted above the earsplitting thunder and rain. “You have to help me help you!” Another shot and a glance down at her LCD screen had her screaming and jumping backwards. Permelia was standing mere feet from her; her sad, beautiful face streaked with tears (or rain) and her nightgown bloody and torn. Her outstretched hands were covered in mud and reaching for Taryn.
Griffith Tavern (Taryn's Camera Book 2) Page 19
