DRIP DROP DEAD (Emma Frost Book 12)

by Willow Rose

25

  "John Anderson disappeared on January 25th, 1982. His wife was expecting him home for dinner, but he never made it. His boss told the police that he responded to a job at Fishy Pines right before the end of the day. That’s the last anyone has ever heard of him."

  I looked at Morten while reading from the police report. I had been researching all day since Sophia left me, and without even checking Facebook or Googling my name even once—an accomplishment I was very proud of. Now it was late afternoon, and Morten had stopped by. Maya was in her room as usual, while Victor and Skye played in the yard.

  "His wife told the police that she was waiting at home with pork chops and mashed potatoes, his favorite dish, and she knew he would never stay away from that on purpose. He had promised her he would be home at six and so she counted on it. When he didn't arrive, she thought he had been held up at work; that happened often. 'But he would always come home. Never more than half an hour late,' she said. So as the clock struck ten, she called the police, who came out and talked to her. They calmed her down and told her to wait and see if he didn't show up eventually, but after two days, they started their search of the island. With no results. The guy had vanished. Listen to what she added here: 'I could have understood it if I had served chicken or a salad or something, but John would never stay away from my pork chops. Not my John.'"

  I looked at Morten with a wry smile. He shrugged and drank his coffee. "So what? It's thirty-six years ago. People disappear from time to time, most of them do so deliberately. You know, running from debt or from a life they can't stand anymore."

  "Or…maybe something happened to him," I said.

  Morten scoffed. He glared at me. "Say, exactly where did you get all that information?"

  I pushed the police report that I had printed out aside. "Newspapers and stuff."

  He shook his head. "I don't believe you. You hacked into the police server again? Are you just looking for trouble?"

  I sighed. "The newspapers didn't exactly write much about it. They printed his picture and wrote that he was missing, but they didn't write much else. No details. I needed details. For my book."

  He sipped his coffee and gave me a look. "I can't continue looking away, you know…when you keep doing stupid stuff."

  "I really think there might be a story here," I said, ignoring his threats.

  "How so? You have no body, no crime, no witnesses?" he asked.

  "Actually, there was one. Witness." I pulled out a piece of paper from the report. "I had to go deep into the files to find her, but there was one woman who was there when he arrived at Fishy Pines. She was the nurse on duty, and she let him in."

  "And what did she say?"

  "That's the strange thing. Her name is here, see, but there is no statement. Not according to the records. I can't find it anywhere."

  "It may not be there digitally. Maybe it's in the old files in the basement of the station," he said and put his cup down.

  I leaned forward and looked into his eyes. "And that's where you come in."

  "No, no, no, Emma. I don't have time for this…I am…"

  "I know you don't want to be involved but come on. It's one little trip to the basement. Just look for her statement, and you'll make me a very happy gal."

  Morten looked at me with an exhale. I leaned over and kissed him, then looked into his eyes.

  "Pretty please?"

  He sighed. "All right. All right. Now I have to get home. I promised Jytte I'd have dinner with her tonight and binge watch Stranger Things."

  I made a disappointed sound. "I thought we were having dinner."

  "Please, don't start, Emma. It doesn’t matter what I do; I always end up disappointing someone," he said. "Between you and Jytte, I can't win."

  "All right," I said.

  Morten leaned down and kissed me again.

  "Tomorrow then?"

  "I'll stop by at some point during the day. I promised Jytte I would take her to the movies at night. I can do dinner with you first, though."

  I sighed, disappointed again. I couldn't really be mad at him for wanting to be with his child, but the girl was nineteen and done with high school. How long was she planning on still living at home? She had a job now; she could easily pay for some small condo downtown. It was like she was clinging to her father lately. Maybe because she knew that, as soon as she left, he would probably move in with me.

  Why do you think like that? The poor girl simply loves her father and wants to be with him.

  "All right," I said and blew him another kiss. "But you gotta promise me to spend the night soon. I miss being close to you. I mean dinners and coffee are nice and all, but we need more than that."

  He nodded, then touched my cheek gently. "I know. And we will. It's just between you and her, I feel kind of worn out. Plus, Jytte doesn’t like me staying away at night. Makes her feel lonely, she says."

  "She should get a boyfriend," I said.

  "Yeah, well, I’m in no rush with that part. Right now, it seems she's very vulnerable. Since she finished high school, she's been very isolated and keeping to herself at my house, almost hiding out, only leaving to go to work, a job I found for her because she was just lying there at home on the couch or in her bed doing nothing."

  "What about college?"

  He sighed. It was the worried kind. "I don't know what to tell you, Emma. It's like she doesn’t want to. I keep telling her to apply so she can start after the summer, but she doesn’t even want to talk about it. I think the future frightens her because all of her friends know what they want to do, but she doesn’t."

  "I am sorry, Morten. I didn't know."

  He nodded, smiling. "It's okay. She just needs a little extra attention from me these days, till she pushes through this. Just bear with me, will you?"

  I nodded. "Of course. Our kids come before anything else, right?"

  He kissed me again, then rushed out the door while I stared at the police report in front of me and glared at the name of the nurse.

  "Laila Lund. Where are you now, Laila Lund?"

  26

  He loathed shoveling snow. Christian Staun had woken up at five o'clock this morning to clear off the sidewalk. Why? Because his grumpy old neighbor had threatened to call the police on him if he didn't do it. It was the law, yes, but Christian didn't exactly have much time to uphold it. Between running his own refrigerator business and taking care of his paralyzed wife all on his own, there really weren't many available hours in the day. Besides, it kept snowing, so it didn't really matter if he cleared the sidewalk in front of his house or not. It would only be covered in those traitorous whirling flakes within the next hour again, and he'd have to start all over.

  But the law was the law. Especially according to his nosy and bitter neighbor. So this morning, Christian had finally taken up the fight with the white mass. Just to please his old neighbor. And his wife. Mostly his wife, who wanted him to keep in good standing with the neighbors.

  It was all his fault that she ended up the way she had. They had been at a business dinner, one of those where Christian knew if he gave it all he had, he would land the client. And he had. He had landed the greatest and most lucrative deal of his life, one that would mean millions and change their lives forever.

  They told him there was nothing he could have done differently to avoid the truck. It came out of nowhere, the police said. So fast he wouldn't have been able to react even if he had superpowers. But Christian was the one who had turned his head to yell at his son in the back seat. Christian didn't even remember why he had yelled at the boy, no matter how many times he went through the event in his mind; he simply couldn't recall why it was or what he had said.

  He only knew it had been the last thing he had ever said to the boy. And it hadn't been nice.

  His wife, Brigitte, had told him to let it go. To stop obsessing about it, but he still did. He wanted to know why he had yelled; he wanted to justify his actions…he wanted it to matter. Otherwise, it was just
too unbearable. Unforgivable. He turned his head away, took his eyes off the road ahead. An action that cost his wife the ability to move anything from the waist down and the precious life of his dear son.

  Christian threw a shovelful of snow onto the pile in the yard. He grunted and complained while more snowflakes danced around his head and got thicker and thicker.

  "Great. More snow," he sighed, annoyed. This entire sidewalk, the area he had cleaned off, would be covered again by the time the sun rose.

  He stared at it, then looked at his neighbor's house. By the time the old man woke up, the snow would have covered it all again, and Christian would be at work. The old geezer wouldn't even see what he had done, would he? Of course not.

  I'll make him, dang it. I'll make him if I have to.

  Christian threw the shovel on the pile of snow, then walked with angry steps up the neighbor's driveway, then placed a finger on his doorbell. He knew the old man was probably still asleep, but Christian didn't care. The geezer was going to see what he had done if it was the last thing he ever did.

  When no one opened the door, Christian took to knocking. He knocked harder and harder.

  "Sven!?" he yelled while hammering on the door. "Come out here and see what I’ve done. I want you to come out here, dang it!"

  Christian panted, agitated and angry, as he kept pounding on the door. The old man was going to see this whether he liked it or not. No matter the hour.

  Finally, Christian grabbed the handle and turned it and, much to his surprise, the door opened.

  "Sven?" Christian yelled. "Come out here!"

  Thinking he'd have to go into his bedroom and wake the old man up, Christian walked into the living room, then stopped. He didn't have to walk any further. The old man was sitting right there in his recliner.

  "Sven?"

  Christian knew before he even approached him. He had seen a dead person up close before. He had found his own dad after he had killed himself back when Christian was eleven and came home from school. Not that Sven looked anything like his dad, who had hung himself. But they had one thing in common—no make that two:

  The smell and the flies.

  27

  I woke up early since so much was on my mind, and I decided to walk the dogs before everyone else woke up and all the chaos that was called my life erupted. The snowing had picked up again, so I decided to walk on the streets instead of on the beach. I liked the quietness of the mornings, and the thick snow made it so quaint. I also enjoyed the fact that I was awake before most people.

  I continued out of my neighborhood and across the street into another neighborhood. Brutus followed closely behind me as always, while I kept Kenneth II on a tight leash since he was known to run into people's yards and bark at some squirrel or bird or someone's trash can (yes, it happened before). Kenneth was pulling me forcefully ahead, tugging so hard on the leash that he almost ran out of breath.

  "Easy there," I said to him. "You're gonna choke yourself."

  He did his business in someone's driveway, and I hurried up and removed it before anyone saw it, then rushed ahead.

  I walked past a house, then stopped at the sidewalk and stared. It was completely cleared from snow.

  Who in their right mind had been shoveling snow at this hour?

  Kenneth pulled me past it and into the neighbor's driveway when the door opened, and someone ran out. This person was not looking where he was going and slammed into me so hard I fell backward into a pile of snow.

  "Hey!"

  Kenneth took to barking at the guy, then attacked the man's boot and bit into it while growling like he was trying to rip it off him.

  "Hey, get your stupid dog off me," the guy yelled.

  I managed to get up from the ground and brushed the snow off my clothes. The man grumbled at Kenneth and tried to kick him. I grabbed Kenneth and pulled at him, but the crazy dog wouldn't let go no matter how much I scolded him.

  "Kenneth! Dang it, let go!"

  I had to stick my fingers inside of the dog's mouth like I did when he had accidentally eaten something he wasn't supposed to on the beach, and I had to pull it out. I forced his jaws to open and, finally, he let go. I held the growling and barking dog in my arms as the man looked at his boot.

  "Great. Now it's completely ruined. They're supposed to keep water out and now…look at those holes."

  "Hey, mister. You're the one who stormed outside without even looking where you were going. The dog only tried to protect me."

  I couldn't believe I was actually making excuses for Kenneth. There really was a first time for everything, wasn't there?

  "Yeah? Well…well…you were…period."

  "What?" He was making no sense. That was when I realized the man was paler than the snow surrounding us. "Are you all right?"

  He looked into my eyes. "You know what? No, I’m not. I really am not. I just found…my neighbor…" the man pointed at the door he had left open.

  "Something happened to your neighbor?" I asked, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

  "He's…I found him…I was just going in there because he is always, always on my case about the snow shoveling and I wanted him to see it…I just wanted to make sure…it was all in vain…"

  I didn't want to wait for the guy to make any sense, so instead, I walked up the driveway and into the house. I spotted the man in the recliner, then walked up to him. The man from the street followed me and came up behind me.

  "What do you think happened to him? I mean, he was old and all," he said. "You think he just had a heart attack?"

  I sighed, then shrugged. "I don't know. Let me call the police."

  I put Kenneth down, then grabbed my cell phone. As I dialed Morten's number, I realized I was standing in a puddle of water. Waiting for him to pick up, I reached down and touched it. It seemed to be water, it even looked like water, but it felt a little thicker, and it had a slight smell to it. One I recognized from my own bathroom.

  28

  Maya woke up when something hit her window. She sat up, feeling slightly woozy as her dream left her body and she returned to reality. What was that? A bird?

  She walked to the window and looked out when something else hit the window. It was a snowball. It left a lump of snow that slid down the glass. Baffled, Maya looked down in her yard where she spotted Alexander.

  What the heck?

  She opened the window and shuddered as the icy breeze hit her face.

  "Maya," he said.

  "What are you doing here? What time is it?" she asked and looked at the clock by her TV with a light gasp. She had overslept.

  "I wanted to walk to school with you," he said. "But you didn't open your front door when I rang the bell."

  "Shoot. I’m late. I didn't wake up. My mom usually wakes me up!"

  "Well, get ready fast, and we'll walk to school together."

  Maya closed the window as fast as she could and grabbed her phone. Her mom had called seven times. She had left a voicemail, and Maya listened to it while finding her clothes. Her mother babbled something about her having to stay somewhere where they found a dead body. They had to wait for the police to arrive, so Maya would have to get herself and Victor ready for school. Maya sighed. So typical of her mother. Now she had to take care of herself and Victor?

  Maya stormed into the hallway. She peeked inside Victor's room. Victor and Skye were already awake. They were sitting on the carpet, both in the lotus position, floating just a few centimeters above the ground, eyes closed and holding hands.

  Maya shook her head. She had no time for this.

  "Victor!"

  He fell to the floor.

  "Your bus is coming in a few minutes," Maya said. "Get ready!"

  Maya didn't wait to see if he heard what she had said. She stormed to the bathroom and took the fastest shower she had ever taken, then got dressed and ran downstairs, then grabbed a banana, just as Fishy Pines' bus drove up into the driveway.

  "Victor! The bus is
here!"

  Victor came down with his backpack on his back. Maya handed him a banana as he walked out, not wearing any shoes. Maya didn't realize he was only in his socks till he had gotten on the bus. She ran outside with his shoes in her hand, but the bus had already departed. As she turned around to go back in, she spotted Alexander.

  "Rough morning, huh?"

  "Oh, dear Lord. I completely forgot about you. Have you been out here all this time? You must be freezing!"

  He shrugged. His nose was red, and he had snow on his eyebrows. Maya was filled with a deep embarrassment. Maybe she had been too tough on the guy?

  "Come on in," she said. "I'll make you some tea."

  "Really? I'd love to, but we'll be late for school."

  "We will be anyway," Maya said. "I think we can skip the first class of the day without anyone noticing us. We'll blame it on the snow, how about that? What do you say?"

  Alexander's face lit up. "I say I'd like a little milk in my tea, please."

  29

  "How do you constantly manage to get yourself involved in these types of things?" Morten asked.

  I shrugged. "I was just walking the dog."

  He shook his head with a chuckle. "You are something, Emma. You truly are."

  He had come about fifteen minutes after I called him. He had been asleep, and it took a little while for him to understand exactly what I was telling him. Now we were sitting in the dead man's living room, staring at him while waiting for Dr. Williamsen to arrive. Dr. Williamsen was an old man, and the island's only doctor, but he didn't move fast. Not that there was any reason to rush. The man was dead, no doubt about it.

  Christian Staun, the man who had bumped into me, was there too, and Morten had taken his statement. I was slightly worried about his condition since he kept mumbling weird things. I feared he might lose it, so I had told Morten it might be a good idea for Dr. Williamsen to have a little chat with him before he rushed off to work as was his intention.