“You bet. There was a whole group of us you can be mad at. Or better yet, take it out on your grandma, who was just trying to make her daughter look respectable. Not only that, but you could for just two seconds look at things from my perspective.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“How about I met a guy.”
“Oh, that’s original,” Jake interrupted.
“Shut up and just listen.”
I was surprised when Jake did just that.
“I met a guy who I thought was really great. Who I wanted to be friends with, if not something more.” I felt my fair features flush and looked down at the ground. “The only problem was, the guy didn’t know my name, and I was asked not to tell him. No big deal, I told myself. He’s not sticking around, and besides, all you were trying to do is help his family out. You’re not looking for anyone. He’s probably not looking for anyone. There’s no harm in being a friend.”
“Friends don’t frickin’ lie about who they are.”
“You’re not going to forgive me for that? Tell me this: Did you only like me because you thought I was your aunt’s friend? Or was it because of me, the real me, because other than my name and occupation, the rest was the truth. I still can’t stand my parents, acting is my passion, and I thought Biltmore had the most beautiful gardens I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Jake was silent.
"You know, if you don't stop being so self-absorbed, you're going to end up just like your mother." My words stung, and I knew it, but it was the truth. I didn't mean it wasn't nasty, what I said. I held up my hand. "I'm sorry, you just really set me off. I apologize for lying to you. Please know that it was never my intention to hurt you, and I sincerely regret that I hadn’t been able to fess up to you sooner.” I wanted to add, but you need to get off your pedestal, but I didn’t. Instead I said, “Now if you don't mind, I have dessert to serve."
"Wait."
I cocked my head to the side, waiting to see what Jake was going to say. He cursed under his breath and then sighed, seemingly annoyed with himself.
"I'm mad because I wanted it all to be true, but I just knew it was too good."
"What do you mean?"
"You and Roseanne. I wanted to believe that she had started to get her life in order. You heard my mom and everyone else. The woman was a train wreck. She did horrible things to people. It wasn't just some recent trait. She'd lied and used people her entire life. But for whatever reason, and I have come to suspect it was to spite my mother, she took a liking to me. I had just hoped that, I don't know, maybe she would've finally turned the corner."
"I know. I only met your mom once or twice and I could see how you would have wanted that to be true." That seemed like the nicest thing I could say, given how nasty Roseanne was when I met her.
"I guess I'm just taking all that frustration, all that hope, out on you."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Listen Jake, I'm serious. I was so close to telling you the truth at Biltmore. You have no idea how much I wanted you to be with the real me. I mean, you were for the most part, meaning everything I said to you was the truth. I’ve told you only two lies—my name and my relationship with your aunt. The rest of it," I touched my hand my heart. "It's all me, the real me." I patted my hand for emphasis.
"I believe you. I'm sorry. I’ve been such a jerk."
"Truce?" I stuck out my hand. Jake shook it in return. It was the same warm, calloused handshake I remembered from the funeral home, and it felt good for things to be right between us.
When we came back inside, I was surprised to find that Gwen had already put on the coffee and she was getting ready to set out the tea. Jake just gave me a wide-eyed expression as if to say I have no idea.
"Why don't you guys go have a seat, and I will bring out dessert."
Gwen was going through Gran’s silverware drawer, taking out the dessert forks. I had to laugh when I saw her hold one of the forks up to the light as if inspecting it for water spots. It seemed like just the sort of thing she would do. She might not look as polished as she usually was, but her mannerisms were.
Jake sat down at the dining room table, and I sat on the end of the table. Harold had both Gran and Hazel laughing about heaven only knew what. Gran caught my eye and winked at me. I rolled my eyes in response. Thankfully, it was all lost on Jake, who was now talking to Harold about some sports team or another.
Gwen brought out the tea set and set it down on the coffee table in front of the couch and then returned with the coffee and the matching cups. Little by little, she brought the makings of dessert out and set up a nice little spread, the star of which was Greta's black forest cake. None of us could resist it, even if Greta was sick with a cold.
Gwen had been playing hostess, serving up the cake, when she froze. I watched her face turn sheet white, the color just draining from her. I thought she was going to hit the floor any second.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Oh my heavens, I knew he was familiar, but I couldn’t place him. It had been too long. He looked different. But those eyes, they were still the same.”
“What are you talking about?” Jake asked. Everyone grew quiet. Hazel, Gran, and Harold had been eating their cake and sipping their tea, but now they watched Gwen.
She looked off in the distance as if replaying a scene in her mind. “It was him, I’m sure of it.” Gwen said to us as if we knew who “him” was.
“Gwen, honey, what are you talking about?”
“Hank. He was at the police station. They had just brought him in when I was walking out. My mind was so full. I saw him just for a brief instant. It was one of those, he looks familiar, but I don’t know from where-type situations, but I’m sure of it now. He needed a shave and he’s about fifty pounds heavier than I remember, but I know it was him.”
Harold and Gran were still at a loss.
“Roseanne’s ex-husband,” Jake filled in.
“My word, I had no idea.” Hazel seemed in disbelief. “I should have suspected just from Roseanne’s attitude. He always brought out the worst in her.”
"We actually had heard that, didn't we?” I looked to Jake for confirmation.
"One of Roseanne’s friends, Stormy, said that Hank was back in Roseanne's life. Only I didn't realize that she meant that he was actually here in town."
“Wasn’t he driving trucks out West?” Hazel asked.
“I have no idea. I was just glad she gave him the boot once and for all, or so I thought. The drunk. Even for Roseanne, she could have done better, maybe not by much.” Gwen slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, it’s going to take me a while to think before I speak where she’s concerned.”
Yes, you heard that right, I thought to myself. Gwen was going to have to remind herself not to speak ill of her deceased sister. That’s just how far off track her moral compass had taken her.
“Last I heard, he was running goods down the I-75 corridor. Maybe he had a routine stopover in Tampa. That was where she was staying before moving back up here, right?” Jake seemed to be questioning if any of my backstory was true, but as far as I knew, Roseanne had been living in Tampa up until recently.
“I’m surprised Sheriff Evans didn’t tell us he had another suspect,” Hazel said.
“Maybe he didn’t want to come to you before he had something concrete to say,” I said. “It could just be a routine procedure. I’m pretty sure the police interview spouses, or you know, people of significance, when it comes to murder investigations.” At least they always did in the television shows I’d watch.
"I don't know. They did have him handcuffed,” Gwen said. I raised my eyebrows in response.
“Well, in my day, they didn't handcuff someone unless they thought the person was dangerous," Harold said to the group. Gran nodded in agreement. I thought that was pretty solid reasoning myself.
“I wouldn’t put it past him. No siree. That man always had the look of the devil in his eye,” Hazel said. “I’d say that
in court, too, if they asked me to testify.” She was dead serious, and we all knew it.
9
As I went to bed that night, I thought all in all that the day had been a success. Jake no longer hated my guts, Gwen had become a better person—well, for now anyway—and it sounded like the police had arrested Hank for Roseanne’s murder. I was optimistic that they had more evidence on him than they did on Gwen.
Of course, that didn't account for who attacked Gran or why, but I was also optimistic that they’d have a suspect soon. As far as I knew, Gran had never even met Hank, so it wasn't likely that he had been the one to attack her. From Gwen’s description, it sounds like if Hank had, Gran wouldn’t still be alive.
I was just settling into bed and tucking the blankets over my shoulder when my cell phone rang. I immediately reached for it on the nightstand and was surprised to see that it was Jake calling.
"What's up?"
“Someone broke into Hazel's here while we were at your house. We didn't catch it at first, but Roseanne’s room is trashed.”
I sat right up in bed and looked around the room in alarm, even though there was no threat here.
"Give me a few minutes, and I’ll come down. I'd like to hear what Sheriff Evans has to say."
"Yeah, Grandma called him directly. He is on his way."
I quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a fresh T-shirt and went out into the living room, where Gran was sitting on the couch with a blanket watching Game of Thrones.
"Change your mind? This season is so good."
I glanced at the screen, where it appeared some epic battle was going down. “No, Jake just called me. Someone’s broken into Hazel's house while they were here. They hit Roseanne’s room.”
"My word.” Gran sat up on the couch. She took the remote and paused the show. “Just give me a minute and I’ll walk down with you."
I walked over to the front door and slipped on my ballet flats. I resisted wearing heavier shoes and socks for as long as possible. In New York, that was usually until the end of September. I wondered how long I could push it here? That thought was so random that I realized I must be nervous. What in the world was going on in this tiny retirement community? It had my stomach in knots.
Gran was true to her word. She came out of her bedroom a minute or so later and slipped on her sandals.
"Let's take a flashlight with us just in case we see something." She walked back to the kitchen to retrieve the flashlight she kept in the pantry. Some people liked to keep flashlights on the top of cupboards, or above the refrigerator, but neither Gran nor I would ever be able to reach that. No sense in breaking your neck trying to find a flashlight in the dark.
“Maybe we should drive?" I didn't think it was likely, but I suppose there was a chance the intruder could still be lurking somewhere. I’d hate to run into them in the dark. I knew Gran wouldn’t back down if I brought up that point, so I went with something a little more rational, and even more true. “You did just get out of the hospital. It probably would be best to save your energy and drive.”
“My energy is just fine. Besides, it’s harder to spot clues from the car.”
“Gran, I don’t know if that’s the safest—”
“Hogwash. I’m not worried about safety. I want to find this guy. I've had about enough of this."
"You’re thinking the same thing, that it's the same person who attacked you?"
"It's too coincidental." Gran tested the batteries in the flashlight, aiming it at the living room wall and down the hallway. The beam looked plenty bright enough, but it did little to calm my nerves.
“You’re probably right.” I found myself wondering if Hank was still in police custody. I said as much to Gran.
“Could be the two aren’t connected. I mean, the murder and the break-ins. We could have a burglar targeting our community. Think about it, someone taking advantage of some nice old folks. We don't even lock our doors around here.”
“That would be a risky move, targeting the same neighborhood two nights in a row,” I pointed out. “Especially seeing they assaulted you last night. You’d think they’d want to lay low.”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m just mad that now I need to think about locking my doors. Never had to worry about such nonsense in all my years.”
I had yet to tell Gran about the home security system and I decided now was a good time to do just that.
"I have a security system being delivered sometime tomorrow." Gran started to balk as I knew she would. "It's nothing too crazy and it’s something you can operate with your phone, but at the minimum it would tell you if someone comes into your home when you're not here. You have to admit that’s smart." We started walking down the street.
“Did you lock up?” I asked.
“Shoot. I forgot.” Gran seemed content to let it be. It wasn’t that she was dim. She was just that stubborn.
I gave an inward sigh and jogged back up to the front door, grabbed my keys from inside the door hook, locked the door, and jogged back down to meet her. I had a feeling I would be the one setting and managing the alarm system for the time being.
It must’ve been a new moon because the night was as dark as could be. The air held the slightest chill to it with the promise of the cooler fall temperatures that were sure to come. Goosebumps peppered my skin, but I wasn’t sure it had anything to do with the temperature.
Gran’s flashlight bounced down the sidewalk as we walked. Gran kept chatting about this and that, but truthfully, I wasn’t listening. My senses were on high alert.
"Wait, what's that?” Gran squeezed my arm.
I froze trying to figure out what Gran was referencing. “Where did it—”
“Sshhh, I hear something. Right there." Gran beamed the light under a neighbor’s azalea bush. I scanned the darkness but didn't see anyone. The moonless night was not helping.
Then the bush next to it, the one just out of the flashlight’s beam, moved. Holy cats, was someone back there?
I took a step forward to get a better look. Gran held the flashlight steady. Without taking my eyes off the bush, I reached in my back pocket for my cell phone, thinking of calling 911. Inside I prayed there wasn’t a psycho hiding behind the bush, just waiting for me to take one more step closer before making their move. My palms became sweaty, and I’m pretty sure I quit breathing. Something was back there, I knew it.
"What are you guys looking at?" Harold's voice came from behind us.
"St. Joseph!" Gran slapped her hand over her heart. I jumped practically out of my skin, with a scream to match.
Gran blinded Harold with the flashlight. "Don't ever do that again!” she scolded him.
The bush rustled again. The three of us all turned our attention to the motion and saw an orange and white tabby cat come sauntering out from underneath it. The feline stretched out in the grass and rolled over onto his back, pawing the nighttime air.
“Dang cat,” Gran said. I couldn’t agree more.
"What are you ladies doing out here?" Neither one of us realized we had stopped in front of Harold's house.
"Someone broke into Hazel's. We are going over there to meet the police."
"Well, you shouldn’t be walking out here by yourself. Let me just lock up and I'll head down with you."
Sheriff Evans had already arrived when we got there. I thought it would be smart if we stayed outside in the front yard. He didn't need us in there compromising any evidence or hindering the investigation. I was surprised when he came out shortly after we arrived to talk to me. Oh yeah, the sheriff had a full-blown cold. Dark circles under his eyes, a rubbed-raw nose, hoarse voice. I didn’t get too close.
“Jake reminded me that you’d helped him clean out Roseanne’s room. Mind coming inside and having a look?”
“Um …” I looked back at Gran for confirmation, not wanting to leave her outside alone. That stupid cat had scared me more than I’d like to admit.
But Harold was with her.
"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on her,” he said, reading my hesitation. Gran was a strong woman, as she proved last night and throughout today, but there was such a thing as overdoing it, a concept she wouldn’t acknowledge until she found herself back in the hospital. I was going to have to keep that in mind. For now, I said a thanks to Harold, ignored Gran’s scowl, and walked up the porch steps to follow Sheriff Evans inside. I guess Gran had had enough doting on for one day.
Jake and Gwen were standing in the kitchen, where Hazel sat at the table.
“I just wish we were allowed to clean. I don’t like the thought of someone in here, touching all of Mom’s things,” Gwen was saying to Jake. She eyed the washrag in the sink behind him.
Jake didn’t respond. If I had thought he was angry earlier, that was nothing compared to now. His jaw was set hard from clenching his teeth, and his eyes were a stony gray, darker than I had ever seen them look before. His fists clutched the counter behind him, as if he was going to break off a chunk of the granite. His expression softened when he saw me, but when it did, all I saw was worry there. I knew the feeling. Imagine if she had been home, I thought to myself.
Hazel’s house was almost a carbon copy to Gran’s, the only difference being that Hazel's bedroom hallway was to the right when you entered the living room and Gran’s was to the left. Jake left his post at the kitchen sink to follow us down the hallway. Gwen was still babbling about wanting to clean, and Hazel looked like she was working up a good temper tantrum. I couldn’t make out what she was mumbling under her breath, but it didn’t sound very lady-like.
"I know you've been in Roseanne’s room before and I just wanted you to take a quick look and see if anything jumps out at you. Something that you think should be here that's missing,” Sheriff Evans instructed.
“Okay.” That might have been what I said, but that statement was easier said than done once I saw Roseanne’s bedroom. The Barbie dolls? They had been knocked down to the ground, their boxes stepped on and crushed. Baseball cards littered the bedspread, and the stamp collection was thrown unceremoniously onto the bedroom floor. It was as if someone had opened nightstand drawer and dumped the contents out without much thought as to the contents or their value. It was impossible to know if anything was missing. We’d have to start going through everything, reorganizing it, and then maybe something would jump out, but that was a big maybe.
Mourning After Page 12
