by J A Whiting
“She’s been out all day.” Lizzie let the dog sniff around at some bushes. “In fact, Tara’s been away from home a lot. I haven’t seen much of her lately. When I’ve run into her, she’s been hauling stuff out of her place. I wonder if she’s moving.”
“Did you ask her if she was moving out?”
“I did, but she said she had to think it over before making a decision. I wondered if she didn’t want to say anything about moving elsewhere. Why would she be moving stuff out if she hadn’t made a decision?”
“Cleaning out clutter or things she doesn’t want?” Jenna suggested.
“Her place was never cluttered. Tara’s a neatnik. Everything is in its place. You could eat your dinner off of Tara’s floor. She puts me to shame.”
“Did you know Jeremy?” Mr. Finch questioned.
“Sure. The four of us had gotten together a few times for drinks in each other’s places. We were friendly, not best buddies or anything. We’d run into each other and chat. My husband and I were shocked when we heard what happened to Jeremy.” Lizzie shook her head. “So sad.”
“Did you notice if Jeremy seemed like something was bothering him lately?” Angie asked.
“I didn’t really see him enough to answer that question.” Lizzie shifted around from foot to foot. “Tara and Jeremy didn’t seem to be getting along lately.”
Angie cocked her head. “What makes you think so?”
“We could hear some terrific fights going on next door. Not physical fighting as far as we could tell, but some real shouting and angry words. We thought we might have to call the police one night.”
“Was that unusual?” Jenna asked.
“Yeah, it was. It had been going on for a couple of weeks though. I was pretty sure Jeremy would be getting kicked out one of these days.”
Mr. Finch leaned on his cane. “How long have you lived here in the townhouse?”
“Just over a year.”
Jenna asked, “Why did you say Jeremy might be getting kicked out?”
“The place was in Tara’s name. She told me once she was sorry she hadn’t told Jeremy he had to pay half the living costs. Tara paid for the place herself.” Lizzie smiled. “My husband got a different story from Jeremy. Jeremy told him that he’d offered to pay half for the townhouse, but Tara refused. She gave me the impression that she didn’t want any help from a guy or didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. Tara was super independent. Is the crime close to being solved?” Lizzie asked.
“We don’t have that information,” Jenna said. “We interview people and pass our findings to the investigators. The police don’t share details with us.”
“Oh.” Lizzie’s face looked sad. “I hoped someone would be arrested soon for Jeremy’s murder. He was such a nice guy, very thoughtful, kind. I ran into him one day when we were bringing trash out. My mom had died. She’d been an alcoholic my whole life. I was upset. Jeremy talked to me. He said his parents had problems with drugs and alcohol. He was very sympathetic and caring.” Lizzie reached down to pat her dog. “I can’t believe what happened to him. Such a waste.”
“Before the last couple of weeks, did Tara and Jeremy seem close?” Angie asked.
“I guess so. Tara was never demonstrative, not in front of us, anyway. We didn’t see them together a lot. Tara seemed like the boss of the relationship. She was kind of stand-offish, she wasn’t a real warm and fuzzy kind of person, but once you got her talking, she was nice. She seemed like she had lots of friends. People used to stop by all the time. I got the feeling Tara didn’t trust many people. She seemed careful. Who knows what she’s been through in life, and now this. Poor woman.”
“Tara works days?” Angie asked.
“Her schedule changed from time to time. Sometimes she worked days, other times she worked nights.”
“Do you know what her schedule is this week?” Jenna asked.
“I don’t. I’m not sure, but I think she took some time off from her job. It’s understandable. When she comes home, she usually only stays for a bit and then takes off right away.”
“Have you talked to her since Jeremy’s death?”
“Not much. I made a lasagna for her right after we heard what happened. She wasn’t home much and we couldn’t deliver it to her so we ate it ourselves. She doesn’t seem to want much acknowledgment of what happened from other people. I’m sure she’s feeling emotional and is afraid to break down if she talks about it.”
“When was the last time you saw Tara?” Angie asked.
“Oh, gee. I don’t know.” Lizzie thought it over. “At least three days ago?”
“Maybe we’ll stop by the hospital where she works and see if she’s almost done for the day.” Angie thanked Lizzie for talking with them and they started to walk back to the parking lot. Glancing over her shoulder, she watched Lizzie and her dog go inside to her townhouse. “I’d like to take a look around Tara and Jeremy’s property, have a look around the yard. If we can, maybe take a peek in some of the windows, but I don’t want any neighbors to see us snooping around. We can’t stay long. I don’t want Lizzie to catch us poking around Tara’s place.”
“What are we looking for?” Jenna asked.
“I don’t know.” Angie led them the long way around so Lizzie wouldn’t see them from her window. “I got a funny feeling when we were talking to the neighbor. I don’t know why or what it means.”
The three walked through the landscaped flowerbed on the far side of the townhouse’s property so no one would see them traipsing through the yard. They headed for the back deck. There was a high fence between the decks that separated Tara and Jeremy’s home from Lizzie’s.
Quietly, they went up the steps and took a look in a few of the windows.
Angie stood straight, her face serious. “Well, so much for being able to eat from Tara’s floor.”
Finch, Jenna, and Angie stared at one another.
In the kitchen of the townhouse, two chairs had been knocked over and spread across the counters and the floor were shards of broken dishes, cups, a frying pan, and … a knife.
“There isn’t any sign of blood that I can see,” Finch said. “Perhaps Ms. Tara was packing things and they fell out and broke.”
Nervousness gripped Angie’s stomach. “I hope that’s all it is.”
Jenna pulled out her phone. “I guess we’d better contact Chief Martin.”
Angie’s brain swirled with questions. What happened in there? Where’s Tara?
22
Jenna called Chief Martin and reported what looked like it might be the scene of a fight or of an intruder in Tara Downey’s kitchen. After he contacted the Miltonville, New Hampshire’s law enforcement department, Chief Martin said he would drive up to the townhouse to inspect the place and confer with the officers of Miltonville.
Angie, Jenna, and Mr. Finch planned to head to the hospital where Tara worked to see if she was there or to inquire if anyone she worked with knew where she was.
The hospital consisted of several attached three-story, gray-shingled structures built in the New England Cape Cod style. Shade trees, flower borders, and flowering bushes gave the place a peaceful, comfortable feeling. Chief Martin had shared that Tara worked in the cardiac unit of the hospital so the three amateur investigators headed to the nurse’s station on that floor.
When Angie stepped onto the grounds, she’d experienced moments of vertigo and on entering the hospital, the dizziness increased. Feelings of weakness and exhaustion flooded her body and the words of Mari Streeter talking about the physics of time, time travel, the Big Bang, and parallel universes kept replaying in her mind. Time, seconds. Angie’s heart pounded hard and she almost felt like she was going crazy.
Approaching the medical staff’s desk, Jenna said, “Sorry to interrupt. We’re looking for Tara Downey and wondered if she might be working today.” She went on to explain their connection with the Sweet Cove police and offered a number for them to call to verify what she was saying.
>
“Tara has taken a few days of personal time.” The nurse behind the desk told them.
“Do you know if she went away? Did she go to stay with someone?”
“I don’t know. She might have. I didn’t hear her plans. Did you try her townhouse?”
“We did.” Jenna gave a nod. “Is there anyone on staff that Tara was friendly with? Someone who might be in contact with her during her days of leave?”
“Maybe Lynn Bolton. She isn’t working this shift. She’ll be in for the 11pm to 7am shift, if you’d like to come back.”
“Would it be possible to get her contact information?” Jenna asked even though she knew it was a long shot.
“I’m sorry. We aren’t allowed to give out that information.”
Continuing to feel oddly, Angie stood to the side listening. She’d hoped that her weird sensations would disappear, or at least wane, but they remained steady and strong. She had the unusual urge to cry and she had to think about pleasant things to try and distract herself from her feelings of anxiety.
Leaving the hospital, they stepped out into the late afternoon warmth.
“What should we do?” Jenna asked.
“Why don’t we have a seat on the bench over there in the shade and discuss.” Mr. Finch used his cane to point to two park benches set in a small garden off the entrance to the medical facility.
“Are you feeling okay, Miss Angie?” Finch asked after they’d sat down.
“I’m tired I guess. I feel sort of weak. I might be getting a headache.” Angie’s face was pale and her facial muscles looked tight.
“Why don’t we go home?” Jenna looked at her twin sister with concern.
“No,” Angie’s voice was loud and strong. “No, I can’t.” She didn’t have any idea why she said she couldn’t go home. She rubbed her forehead to try and release the tension built up under the skin.
Finch and Jenna exchanged worried looks.
“Why don’t we go get a cold drink or a snack somewhere,” Jenna suggested. “We can sit in a café in the air-conditioning and take a break.”
Angie agreed and as they were about to leave the bench, a woman, in her fifties, skinny, with bleached blond hair came up to them.
The woman seemed hesitant to speak and her eyes flicked between the two sisters and Finch. “Um, hi. I work in the hospital. I heard you asking for Tara.”
Mr. Finch smiled, stood, and introduced himself. “Would you like to sit with us?”
“No, I … I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. If you have time.”
“We do,” Finch said kindly. “We’d be happy to speak with you.”
“I don’t want to give you my name.” The blonde looked over her shoulder back to the hospital entrance. “I’m a nurse’s aide. I’ve been working here for forever. I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. I don’t want to lose my job.”
“We can keep what you say in confidence from the hospital,” Finch said. “We may have to report what you tell us, but we don’t have to report who told us. We can keep your identity in confidence.”
The woman seemed to relax a little. “Okay, thanks.”
“Why don’t you sit?” Finch gestured to the next bench.
“I’ve worked on all floors and units, but I’ve been in cardiac for about a year.” The blond nervously tugged at the hem of her shirt. “I know Tara.”
“What can you tell us?” Jenna asked gently.
The woman sucked in a breath. “I’ve been worried about Tara. She was kind of forgetful lately. She made a mistake on a patient that I caught. It was a mistake with medication. She was angry that I told her she was doing the wrong thing, but I think she was secretly thankful that I kept her from making a big mistake.”
“Has she become forgetful since her boyfriend died?” Jenna asked.
“It was before that. I noticed changes in Tara about a month before he died.”
“What sort of changes?” Finch sat straight holding his cane between his knees.
“Tara was really forgetful. She seemed kind of distracted. Some days, she didn’t have much energy. Other days, she was really witchy and mean.”
“This was out of character?” Jenna questioned. “She didn’t act like that before a month ago?”
“Tara wasn’t that easy to work with. She was demanding. She could be quick. Sometimes she didn’t act that friendly. She was really smart and good at her job. This past month though, she was like a different person, like she was new and inexperienced. It seemed like her mind was somewhere else. I like her. I’m worried about what’s going on with her.”
“Tara took some time off?”
“She did. I think it was the smartest thing to do. You can’t work in a hospital and make mistakes. It could end a career.”
“Did Tara go away? Did she go to stay with someone?”
“I didn’t hear anything about that. I thought she was at home, but that might be wrong.” The woman took a look back to the entrance. “I need to get back to work. I hope Tara’s okay.” She stood to go. “If you see Tara, tell her I hope she comes back soon. Well, tell her someone at the hospital hopes she comes back soon. Don’t let her know I talked to you.” She turned and headed quickly back inside.
Jenna and Mr. Finch discussed the conversation they’d had with the hospital worker and when Jenna noticed that Angie didn’t have anything to say, she took a look at her sister. “Angie?”
“Huh? Sorry. I feel like a zombie. I must be coming down with something. I feel like it will take all of my energy to walk back to the car.” Angie’s phone buzzed in her bag and she dug it out to read the text. “It’s Chief Martin. He’s at Tara’s townhouse. He wants us to come meet him there.”
“Maybe we should go home.” Jenna was concerned about Angie.
“Let’s go see him, and then we can go home.” Angie dragged herself from the bench and plodded towards the car, her legs feeling like heavy blocks of cement.
Angie and Mr. Finch held onto one another’s arms as they followed Jenna up the walkway to Tara’s townhouse. Two police cars were parked in the driveway. Chief Martin’s personal car was parked at the curb. As the group from Sweet Cove entered the home, two officers who were heading out gave them a nod.
Chief Martin was in the living room and when he saw Angie, his eyes went wide. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I think I’m coming down with a bad cold.” Angie’s heart felt like it was racing and the dizzy feeling had returned. She sank onto the living room sofa glancing around the room at the mess. A chair had been overturned, books from a wall of shelves had been knocked to the floor, and papers were scattered over the rug near a desk.
“What a mess.” Jenna looked around.
“Is every room like this?” Finch walked around the space to have a closer look. “Is there any sign of a break-in?”
“None. Someone might have come to the house and Tara knew him. She might have let him in. Maybe the person got aggressive and Tara took off.” Chief Martin removed a notebook from his pocket. “An upstairs room has been ransacked and so has the dining room. It might be a robbery, but we don’t know if anything’s missing until Tara comes home.”
“Any sign of blood?” Jenna looked down the hallway to the kitchen.
“Just a few drops in the bathroom sink. Probably from someone getting cut on the broken dishes.” The chief wrote some notes his small book.
“A woman at the hospital talked to us,” Angie managed to tell the chief. “She’d worked with Tara. She told us Tara had been acting oddly, being forgetful, making mistakes she’d never have made in the past.”
They discussed other things the woman had told them.
Chief Martin stroked his chin for a moment. “What was bothering Tara Downey two weeks before her boyfriend got killed?”
No one had an answer.
Jenna suggested they head home and despite a few complaints from Angie, they got up and said goodbye to the chief.
“Thanks for com
ing up here.” The chief gave a nod. “You found out useful information. It’s a big help.”
“Are you leaving now?” Angie asked weakly.
“Not for a little while. The Miltonville Chief of Police, George Hannaford, has gone to pick up some sandwiches for us. He and I will go over what we know and try to tie some things together.”
“Good luck with it all,” Jenna told him.
Jenna, Mr. Finch, and Angie left the house and walked towards the car. When they got in, Angie collapsed in back, rested her head against the top of the seat, and closed her eyes. Despite her exhausted state, information rushed through her mind and wouldn’t allow her to doze as the car sped along. The words she’d heard Dr. Mari Streeter say kept ricocheting around in her head. Time. Seconds.
Angie broke into a sweat. A few miles from Tara Downey’s townhouse, Angie fell into a fitful sleep, but in less than three minutes, she woke and sat bolt upright.
“Go back. Go back.” Angie was frantic. “Turn around. Hurry.”
As Jenna wheeled the car around and floored it, Angie yanked her phone from her bag and dialed “911” to send an ambulance and the police to Tara’s address.
With her heart pounding in her ears, words swirled in Angie’s brain. Seconds, seconds. Hurry.
She knew.
23
Jenna screeched to a halt at the curb in front of Tara Downey’s townhouse. Chief Martin’s vehicle was still parked on the side of the street.
“Something’s going to happen to the chief,” Angie had told Mr. Finch and Jenna on the drive back. “I don’t know what it is, but he’s in trouble.”
Ellie had texted Angie as their car approached the townhouse asking if they were all okay because the cats were acting crazy, running through the Victorian and howling.
All three piled out of the car and stared, in the darkness, at the house.
“I sense something as well,” Mr. Finch said quietly. “Nothing has happened to Chief Martin yet, but something terrible is floating on the air.”
