Deadly Diaries

by C. E. Waterman

  “So talk me through your morning, right up to when we arrived.”

  A deep breath cleared her head. “I bought some lamps at Fine Designs this morning. We were supposed to meet here at noon, and they were a surprise.” Tears welled up and overflowed. Wiping them away seemed useless.

  “When you drove up, was Esther’s car parked in the driveway?”

  Her gaze shifted to the empty driveway. “No. I didn’t park there either because I thought I might have beaten her home. In fact, when she didn’t answer, I went inside to wait for her.”

  “So the front door was unlocked?”

  She shook her head. “I used my key.”

  “Can you remember if there were other cars on the street?”

  So many vehicles surrounded her van now, Maggie had difficulty picturing it earlier. “The Johnsons’ red car was across the street—they’ve lived there forever.” She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. “I don’t know the neighbors on the right. But they had a black car in front of their house, and a white one was in the Carsons’ driveway.” She opened her eyes and pointed to the left. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at makes and models.”

  “It’s OK. Picture the street. Are there any pedestrians?”

  She stared at the Sunshine Interiors logo on her van, remembering her excitement when she’d parked. Another tear pooled in the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. “I don’t recall seeing anyone, but I wasn’t watching.”

  Peter nodded and jotted some notes on his pad. “Now lead me into the house. What did you see?”

  Maggie thrust the image of Esther, lying in a puddle of blood, out of her mind and described what she’d seen.

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “No, but I was making a lot of noise.”

  “Did you touch anything?”

  She described what she could remember touching and answered a few more questions.

  Peter scribbled on his pad and grunted as he stood. “Why don’t you let Robin drive you home? We have enough to go on for now.” He reached down and helped her to her feet.

  Robin scrambled up beside her, her dark curls bouncing. “I’d be happy to take you.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be OK. I just need some time alone.”

  Robin walked her to the van, holding the door while she climbed in. “Promise you’ll call me if you need anything?”

  Maggie agreed. “I’ll be OK. Don’t worry.”

  Robin furrowed her brow as if she didn’t quite believe it, but she pushed the door shut and stepped back.

  Maggie maneuvered past the police cars and sped off. The taste in her mouth, and the smell drifting up from her pants sent her stomach into flutters again. Rolling down the window, she gulped fresh air as she made her way home. The car seemed to drive itself into the alley behind her house and into her detached garage.

  Honey jumped on her the minute she went through the door to the backyard, gluing her nose to Maggie’s legs. “Down, girl.” Maggie shooed the golden colored cocker spaniel off her knees. “Why don’t you stay here while I get out of these?”

  She hurried across the yard and slipped into the house, ignoring the sad whine when she shut the little dog outside. Resting against the door, she exhaled. For the first time since she’d walked into Esther’s house, she felt safe. Familiar maple cabinets and cool black, granite countertops soothed her, but the fresh, clean scent of her kitchen was losing the fight against the stench drifting up from her clothes. She wrinkled her nose and dropped her purse on the small wooden accent table by the door. Her keys slid into their accustomed spot in the tulip-patterned dish next to her purse.

  A shower was mandatory, but before going upstairs, she grabbed a garbage bag from the pantry. Even if they came clean, she never wanted to wear this outfit again. Using two fingers, she stripped to her undies, bagged her bloody clothes and tennis shoes, and set them next to the island. The bag could wait to go outside later. Her feet slid on the wood floor as she headed for the stairs.

  In the shower, she took extra time sudsing up, wishing she could scrub the memories from her mind as well. Feeling better, Maggie took the bag outside, leaving them there to take to the garage garbage can later. At Honey’s whimpering, she let the dog follow her inside. Some company would be nice right about now. Hoping to sleep, she lay on her bed and closed her eyes. Her furry friend curled up beside her, offering the only comfort she knew.

  Maggie’s brain wouldn’t shut down, replaying the morning events, culminating with Esther on the floor. Giving up, she hauled herself to her home office to clear the clutter from her desk. If she worked on the Star Lake designs, maybe she could replace the horrible images with better ones. She flipped on some soft music. Comparing fabric swatches with color chips, she kept trying until she produced the right effect and pinned her choices to the design board.

  Honey yipped a few seconds before a tap sounded at the back door.

  Maggie lowered the fabric sample she’d been studying, rubbed her eyes, and pushed to her feet. She shuffled around the staircase, skirted the dining room, and hurried through the kitchen.

  Greg stood on the stoop, holding a large bag from Wong’s Mountain Terrace. He placed the Chinese food on the counter. “I took a chance you wouldn’t have eaten dinner yet.”

  Maggie’s stomach growled as she reached into an upper cupboard for plates. “I didn’t think I was hungry, but something in there smells good.”

  He fished the individual boxes out of the bag and arranged them on the table. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got sweet and sour chicken, sesame beef, and egg drop soup.”

  She leaned back against the black granite countertop, cradling the plates against her stomach as he opened the cartons. “What did you find out? Is it the same guys from the other robberies?”

  Greg upended the sack and shook out the napkins and chopsticks. “It appears so at first glance. Her car’s missing—do you know if she had any trouble with it? Could it be in a shop somewhere?”

  Maggie pictured the empty driveway and shook her head. “It wasn’t there when I arrived, and she should’ve driven it home from the club this morning unless someone gave her a ride.” She cocked her head and eyed his profile. “And what do you mean, ‘at first glance’?”

  He wadded the bag and shoved it into the trash. “Nothing. You should be able to go into the house soon. But for now, please ask if you need anything, and I’ll get it for you. Once we finish, I would appreciate it if you could go in and list what’s missing.”

  Was he avoiding the question? Maggie tilted away from the counter and set the plates on the table, scrutinizing him. “I’m still stuck on ‘at first glance.’ What did you mean?”

  The tantalizing smell became stronger when he opened the cartons. “We found some disparities between this crime scene and the other robberies, but they might be explained by her interruption. Since we don’t know if anything’s missing, we’re not positive, but burglary is our assumption for now.”

  “What disparities?”

  He stopped fiddling with the take-out and gazed into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard, but that’s all I can tell you for now. I’ll let you know when we have more.”

  Maggie busied herself plucking serving spoons out of the drawer, trying to stifle a sniffle. She couldn’t handle sympathy right now. If he trained those gentle baby blues on her again, she’d lose it for sure.

  “By the way, the back door was unlocked, and one of those collapsible ladders was hanging out of an upstairs window.” He kept his voice brisk, as if he knew the fragility of her control, and he smiled as he took the spoons from her and stuck them in the containers. “It hung all the way to the ground. She didn’t keep it there, did she?” He dished a portion from each onto his plate, picked up a fallen piece of chicken with his fingers, and popped it into his mouth.

  “No, but I remember when she bought them. One summer a house a few blocks away burned down, and she worried it could happen to us, so she b
ought one for every bedroom.” Maggie chuckled at the memory of her aunt swinging from the ladder. “We tried them out, and they moved so much, Esther said the ladders might be more dangerous than the fire.”

  “Do you suppose she was testing one of them again? If it was down, the burglar could have climbed right in.”

  He waited for her to sit before sinking into the chair across from her. After saying a quick blessing, he chased a piece of beef around his plate, pinching it between his chopsticks. “The guy could have lowered the ladder to get out, but it doesn’t make any sense unless he was caught upstairs when you came in. Did you hear anything?”

  She scooped some rice into her mouth and searched her memory. Images of her aunt lying in a sea of red flashed front and center. She blocked them again and cleared her throat. “Peter asked me that, too. I made so much noise I wouldn’t have heard an army leave the house. She wouldn’t have tested the ladders again, I can tell you that. I remember her reaction the first time.” She offered a wry smile. “Saying she hated them would be an understatement. I have to tell you the thought of him being in the house when I came in seriously creeps me out.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean to upset you. He was probably long gone by the time you arrived.” Greg opened his mouth to take a bite, and a sloppy piece of beef fell off the chopsticks and into his lap.

  She laughed and handed him a napkin.

  They finished the Chinese food, and Greg cracked open a fortune cookie. “I hate to ask, but what did you do with the clothes you had on?”

  Her mind went blank. “My clothes? I put them outside.”

  “Can I have them? They need to be tested.”

  “Tested? Tested for what?” They didn’t suspect her, did they?

  “We need to check for anything you may have picked up on your pants or your shoes.”

  “Oh. They’re in a trash bag. I haven’t taken it to the garage yet, so it’ll be right by the back door.” Her chair slid across the wood floor. “I’ll get it.”

  He rose in a fluid movement, and his arm caught her halfway to the door. He swung her into a hug. “No. Don’t worry. I’ll get it on my way out.” He kissed her then cupped her cheek, gently stroking with his thumb. Her mind went blank and her body relaxed into his.

  “I want you to get some rest, OK?”

  She waited at the back door while he picked up the bag of clothes, and then trailed him outside. Warm air caressed her bare arms while brilliant stars sparkled against the dark sky. The light of a full moon shone on a statue of a woman spilling water from a pitcher, causing the face to glow. Crickets thrummed until Honey growled and flew into the bushes, chasing some shadow Maggie hoped wasn’t a skunk.

  Greg gave her another quick kiss, crossed the yard, and exited out the gate and into the alley.

  Flipping on the fountain, she sank into a lounge chair, enjoying the sound of water splashing from the woman’s pitcher into a basin. The scent of lilacs lingered in the air. “Lord, I know I haven’t been serving You long, so maybe I’m speaking out of turn, but I don’t understand why You didn’t protect Esther. You know how good she was. With so many bad people in the world, why her? It doesn’t seem right. I hope You’re not mad at me for asking, but I can’t help it.” She lay silent, waiting for…what…a billboard to appear in the sky? She dozed off.

  A ringing woke her. What was it? Oh, her business line. Too many dropped calls in the mountains made having both a cell phone and a landline easier. She hauled herself up and switched off the fountain. “Time to go in, Honey-girl. Come on.”

  The dog ran toward her.

  Inside, Maggie plucked the phone out of its holder, glancing at her watch. Eleven o’clock, who’d be calling at this hour?

  “Where is she?”

  Maggie jerked the phone away from her ear, fully awake from the screaming voice. “Where’s who?”

  “Don’t try to hide her from me—I’ll find her.” The voice was no longer screaming, but violence vibrated through the handset.

  “You must have the wrong number.”

  He started cursing, and she hung up. The phone rang again. She checked the caller ID, wishing she’d done so the first time. It read Unavailable, as did the number above it. She stared at it for a second, and then flipped the ringer off.

  In bed, staring at the ceiling, the voice played again in her head. Just a kid’s prank. But his voice sounded older, deep enough to be an adult. Maybe a wrong number. But what if it wasn’t? Could it be Esther’s murderer? And who did he think she was hiding?

  3

  A few days later, Greg called to tell her they were finished with the house, and she could go inside.

  Maggie held the phone long after he’d disconnected, reeling as it hit her again. The woman who’d taken her in when her mother couldn’t be bothered—the woman who’d loved her when she was a horrible teenager, the woman who’d taught her how a Christian should act—was dead.

  She’d just returned from the lawyer’s office, and nothing felt real. She didn’t know how long she stood there, phone in hand, until a knock at the back door dragged her from her thoughts. Every movement felt sluggish as though she was deep in a dream. She staggered to the door. Another of her close knit group of friends, Peter’s wife, Libby, stood on the porch, a picnic basket swinging from her arm and her brows furrowed.

  Maggie swung the door wide. “Who sent you, Greg or Robin?”

  Libby laughed, and the lines in her forehead smoothed. “Both. I had to fight them off, but I wanted to see for myself if you’re OK.”

  Would she ever be the same again? “I wouldn’t say I’m OK, but I’ll make it.”

  “Is this a bad time? Were you going out?”

  “I just got back.” She beckoned Libby into the kitchen. “I had an appointment with the lawyer this morning.” Tears she thought were dried up spilled down her face. “She left me almost everything, Lib.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s a lot, right?”

  Maggie nodded. “Yeah. Uncle Ron had no children, so she inherited his fortune.”

  Libby placed her load on the table and brushed the fiery red hair out of her face. “What about your dad?”

  “I asked, but the lawyer said she took care of him earlier. Whatever that means. She probably didn’t want my mom to get it.”

  Libby shrugged. “I brought lunch. Have you eaten anything?”

  “I haven’t been very hungry.”

  “When was the last time you ate a meal?”

  Maggie pictured the sporadic energy bars she’d consumed in the past few days. “Greg brought Chinese food Saturday night.”

  Libby shook her head, her hair falling in her face again as she removed tortillas, tomatoes, and a carton of eggs from the basket, and reached inside for more. “You must be starving. Why don’t you relax while I fix us something to eat? Food will make you feel better.”

  “Are you sure? I can help.”

  “No, you relax. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  Maggie allowed Libby to take over the kitchen. Upstairs, she changed out of her business suit into jean shorts and a cotton blouse. Her bathroom’s cool colors soothed her as she drew a comb through her hair and twisted it into a ponytail. A wonderful aroma wafted up from the kitchen, making her stomach growl. As she started to leave the room, she noticed her engagement ring glittering next to the sink. She’d forgotten it again this morning. Placing the heavy stone on her finger, she headed downstairs.

  “You’re right. I am hungry,” she said as they sat down to breakfast burritos. The egg and potato melded with the bacon and cheese. She wiped bacon juice from her mouth before she could talk. “Mmm, these taste fantastic.”

  After they finished, Libby pushed away from the table and carried her plate to the sink. “Did Greg call you yet?”

  Maggie rose to help. “Yeah.”

  Libby waved her off. “Please, let me do this.”

  Maggie settled back.

  “So he told you? Peter said you can go in now,�
� Libby continued.

  The maple cabinets in front of her faded to white, and her aunt lay in front of them. A red pool enveloped Esther’s body, and the black handle of a knife extended from her back as if to wind her up. Maggie shivered, and her kitchen came back into focus.

  Libby must have observed the shiver, because before Maggie knew it, she stood beside her, one hand rubbing her back. She reached for Maggie’s plate. “Greg sent someone in to clean the kitchen, so you won’t have to face that again. Whenever you’re up to it, we can get started. If you don’t want to do it tomorrow, we can wait a few days.”

  Maggie’s gaze trailed her to the sink. “Doesn’t Peter need to know what’s missing?”

  “Yes, but he can wait ’til you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready.” Once the words were out, Maggie wondered what prompted her to say them with such conviction. She wasn’t ready, not now anyway. Warring emotions tugged at her. An almost physical need to be in her aunt’s house chased away the desire to escape. How could she distance herself from the pain, yet feel the comfort of Esther’s house? There may not be a way to do both. Did her conflicted emotions show on her face?

  They must not have, because Libby shifted her gaze and flipped on the water. “As soon as I leave, you’re going over there, aren’t you?”

  Normally she would have. But now she wasn’t too sure.

  Libby rinsed the plate and tucked it in the dishwasher. “OK, let me call Robin, and we can all go now.”

  What? Now? Panic surged into her chest then settled as dread in her belly. “No, y–you both have your kids,” she stammered. “I can call Maria and get her to meet me over there later.” Much later.

  Libby stopped cleaning. “Funny.” The corners of her mouth curved up. “You thought we’d let you do this alone? That’s not how we roll, baby.” She wiped her hands on the dishtowel and picked up her phone. “Asking Maria to join is a good idea though. With four of us, we should be done in no time.”

  She called Robin, and Maggie listened to her agree to meet at three. Once Maggie’s kitchen was clean, Libby paused at the door, empty basket in hand. “I know you’d like to get in and get things done, Maggie, but I don’t want you to face this alone.”