by Stevie Day
“Oh, nobody,” Aunt Penny said matter-of-factly, and left it at that.
“Barry, can we come in?” Alice asked before he had any time to ponder her odd aunt. “I wanted to ask you a couple of things.”
Barry continued looking at Aunt Penny for a long moment before stepping aside and letting them in.
“Kitchen okay?” he asked, already plodding down the hallway with one sock hanging loosely off his foot.
“Sure,” Alice said, her brows knitted with worry.
“Coffee?” he asked both women as they followed him into his kitchen. “I’ve got to make it, but I think I have a couple of Keurig cups left.”
Dirty dishes were piled up everywhere. Access to the sink was impossible. How he would ever dig out from under the mess, Alice did not know. She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“I’m making some anyway,” he mumbled, clearly needing a distraction.
As he shoved dishes around, Alice asked, watching him closely, “Why didn’t you tell me Janet was having an affair with Able Johnstone?”
The loud clatter suddenly stopped, and he froze. “What?”
“Barry, I know. I know she was having an affair, and I know it was with Able. Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you think that would’ve been important information for me to know?”
He turned slowly, his face an unreadable mask of pain and conflict. “It was nothing,” he mumbled. “A fling. She’d broken it off months ago. But he just kept coming at her. Wouldn’t leave her alone. Kept stalking her relentlessly, texting her at all hours of the day.”
“Why don’t the texts reflect that?” Alice asked. “If he was stalking her and harassing her, why weren’t there a bunch of texts from him in her phone?”
“I didn’t delete anything,” he said meekly.
“Of course you did. And I understand some of why you would do it. But don’t you see how much harder that makes it to find out the truth?”
“Unless that’s what you wanted,” Aunt Penny interjected. “For Alice to not find the truth.”
His eyes widened in shock.
“But then why hire me?” Alice continued, still looking at Barry. “Why hire someone to investigate your wife’s death if you didn’t want them to find the truth? Did you want me to pin this on the wrong person instead?”
Barry’s eyes darted back and forth, and Alice felt sure he was scrambling to come up with some kind of explanation that made sense. “I do want the truth. And the truth is that lowlife scumbag slept with my wife, then she rejected him, then he killed her! And the police didn’t believe me. So I needed you to prove it.”
“Yet you deleted some texts before I could see them. I assume those were texts from Able.” Alice carefully studied his face.
“I deleted his texts to her long before I thought to hire you. They were just despicable. And so were her responses to them. She didn’t realize how he was manipulating her, and I didn’t want that to be the way she was remembered. I didn’t want her to be remembered as a cheater. She was taken advantage of by him, that’s all.” He looked down at the floor in shame.
Alice tapped her foot, hoping that while his eyes were looking down in that general direction, he’d see her ire reflected in her tapping feet. “Did you not think I’d find out about the affair?”
He looked back up, not quite making eye contact. “I did think you would. But I wanted you to find out for yourself—not take my word for it. See for yourself how Able lies, how he would even lie to you. I knew you’d uncover the truth.”
Alice considered Barry’s confession. He had an odd logic, but with him deleting the texts earlier than she thought he did, she could see how he was trying to hide the truth of the affair even from himself. Perhaps there had been no malice or lies intended on his part. He might have just been hiding from the truth, hoping for someone stronger than himself to uncover it.
“All right, Barry,” she began. “So I’ve discovered the truth, as you knew I would. The logical conclusion now would be to assume he killed her because she changed her mind about leaving you for him. Is that how you think it went down?”
Barry sighed and put up his hands. “I can’t prove if he did it or not. It’s true she had slept with him in the past. We’d had our problems, and I guess a year or so ago they slept together a few times. But that was a while ago. She realized what she was doing was wrong and confessed. It was hard; we almost didn’t make it. But in the end we fought through it and stayed together. And we were happy again, these last few months. It was like a second lease on life. Right up until her last day, we were happy.” He leaned against the counter behind him, forgetting his scrambled task of making coffee.
“Yet Able didn’t get the memo, you’re saying?”
“He wouldn’t leave her alone until only recently. She threatened him, telling him she’d go to Dr. Dalton and get him fired if he didn’t stop. And Able didn’t want to lose his job. He makes too much money, and Lord knows he loves money.”
Alice and Aunt Penny looked at each other, both unsure whose story to believe.
Alice started, “I’m sorry to do this but… I can’t represent you anymore.”
“What?” Barry said, standing back upright, startled.
“What?” Aunt Penny echoed, equally surprised.
“It’s just that I’ve gotten very invested in this case. I feel like… like I know Janet.” Alice did know her, in a way, even if she had only met Janet’s spirit. But Alice chose to leave out that part.
“I know she was murdered,” Alice continued. “You’re not wrong there. But I also know you haven’t been entirely truthful with me. And I feel like, more than just solving the case you’ve hired me for, I have a responsibility to bring justice to the woman who died.”
“Are you… Is this a joke?” Barry asked, looking back and forth between Alice and Aunt Penny.
“No joke,” Alice continued. “So I’m going to keep investigating her murder, but on my own dime. I’m going to find her killer, no matter how long it takes me. I’m also going to return the money you’ve already given me.”
“Alice,” Barry said, running his hand through the tangles of his hair. “Please don’t leave me out of it.”
“I kinda have to.” She started to back away.
“But I trusted you!”
“Did you?” Alice asked, staying calm despite Barry’s growing alarm. “You trusted me, how? Trusted me to do what? Find what you wanted me to find?”
Barry tried to stammer out words, but failed, finally falling silent. He looked at Alice and she could sense something new growing within him, his pain rising forward somehow. His eyes reddened, tears pooling on his lids.
“I’m going to find out the truth, Barry. I’m going to dig, I’m going to ask questions, and I’m going to make sure Janet’s killer is brought to justice. She deserves that. Don’t you think so?”
They all stood silently in the kitchen, save for Barry, who was now sobbing heavily. Aunt Penny looked at Alice in wonder. Alice’s eyes never left Barry.
“You don’t understand,” Barry whispered through his tears.
Alice took a step toward him. “Understand what, Barry?”
He slumped to the floor, his back against the counter as he continued to sob. Alice bent her knees and went down with him, waiting for his answer.
He continued to cry, holding his hands in front of his face. Then, like a child, he peeked one eye out between two fingers. “I loved her. So much. You can’t… You have no idea.”
Alice remained silent, simply nodding.
“I never wanted this to happen. None of this was supposed to happen…”
“What, Barry? What wasn’t supposed to happen?” She placed her right hand on his shoulder in encouragement, then moved it away.
He groaned, and Alice saw he was gathering the strength to say something. She stood back up and reached out her hand. He reached up and took it. Alice was surprised at how little strength the man had and how much effort she
had to put into helping him to his feet.
He steeled himself, inhaled deeply, looked Alice in the eyes, and confessed.
“I did it. I killed my wife.”
Aunt Penny gasped audibly and took a couple of steps back. Alice remained stoic, as shocked as she was deep down. “Okay, Barry. Why don’t you stop there for now?”
He lowered his head and muttered weakly. “Okay.”
Alice pulled out her phone from her back pocket and handed it to Aunt Penny. Leaning up to her ear, she said, “Look through my contacts for Emmitt or Eve. They’re cops. Call them and tell them what’s happened. And where we are.”
“Which one should I call?” Aunt Penny asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Alice answered. “They’ll be together.”
She turned back to Barry, who was leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at the floor. He’d stopped crying and seemed to be in shock.
Alice had a decision to make. From the moment she met him, Barry Lombardi had come across as a timid man in immense pain. Even now, after having confessed to murder, she could still see and sense that same pain.
But Janet Lombardi didn’t deserve to die. Whatever happened between the two, no matter if she’d been unfaithful or not, she had a whole life ahead of her that she deserved to live. It was shortsighted and unfair.
Could Alice have sympathy for a monster? Did it dishonor the lost soul by offering comfort to her killer?
What it came down to for Alice was this: who was she now and who did she want to be going forward? What kind of person had she been raised to be? Right or wrong, how could she be true to herself in this moment?
She reached out, put her hand on Barry’s shoulder, and squeezed gently.
“It’ll be okay,” she said, though she wasn’t sure if she was saying it to him, or to herself.
23
The rest of the day drifted by slowly. Alice felt like a zombie, a thick haze of surreal unrealism surrounding everything she did.
There were questions from Emmitt and Eve, who effortlessly shifted into professional mode once they arrived at Barry Lombardi’s house. Barry confirmed his confession to them and they promptly placed him under arrest. After that, he shut down in a manner that was, frankly, frightening. It wasn’t as if he was unwilling to expand on his confession; instead, it was as if he had lost the ability to speak at all.
Alice considered comforting him further, but ultimately decided against it. She did feel sympathy for him, but it was right that he go through this part alone.
Janet Lombardi was never far from her mind.
The meeting with her “ghost,” if that was what it was, had been horrifying. The second time had been nothing but a dream, of that Alice was now sure. But now, and maybe ever since, Janet felt very close. Was she here, watching? Was she happy or, more importantly, at peace?
Alice didn’t know and fought the rising thought to contact her again. At one point, with the temptation at its heaviest, Alice simply reached out and took Aunt Penny’s hand. Aunt Penny wasn’t clairvoyant, but she was intuitive enough to have known to simply squeeze back and offer a reassuring smile.
The two finally made it back home late in the afternoon, all conversation between them limited to small talk. Alice showered for a long time and might have stayed in there forever had she not been interrupted by a concerned Aunt Penny knocking on the door.
“How about some dinner, kiddo?” she asked.
“That’d be great, Aunt Penny. Thanks.”
Alice toweled off, threw on a pair of black house shorts, picked out one of her many comfy t-shirts, then headed into the kitchen.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked, sitting at the square dark mahogany kitchen table that matched her cabinets.
Aunt Penny turned from the counter with a flourish. “One of your all-time favorites. A classic. An iconic meal of spectacular taste, of epic flavor, made with love and exceedingly good grace.”
“Hot dogs!” Alice exclaimed, and couldn’t remember ever being happier than she was in that single moment.
Aunt Penny placed two fully dressed hotdogs in buns on a paper plate in front of Alice, then leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, which Alice delivered with a laugh. Then she returned with two ice cold bottles of water, placed one in front of Alice, then took the other with her to her seat.
“My compliments to the chef,” Alice said. Aunt Penny smiled, already munching on her food.
“Hey,” Aunt Penny began. “Good work today, detective.”
“It’s okay if I don’t feel especially good about it, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not okay. You were impressive, prepared, and ready. You handled that better than any gumshoe I’ve ever seen in the movies.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Alice said between bites. “But thanks.”
“Did you know? I mean, did you know for sure? Because it sure seemed like you were aiming for a confession in those final moments.”
“Not for sure, no,” Alice answered. “But the suspicion was obvious. Barry and Able’s stories were so different, there was no way one of them wasn’t flat out lying. I suppose if Barry had stuck to his story, I would’ve just gone back to Able with more questions.” She twisted the cap on her water bottle and started drinking.
“Yeah, I get that. But don’t sell yourself short. It was still impressive.”
“I don’t know, though.” Alice stared down at her food. “Something doesn’t… I’m not sure how to say it… I guess something still doesn’t sit right. Like we’re not quite done yet.”
“Is it Janet? Because if you’re thinking about contacting her—” Aunt Penny’s face took on a stern expression.
“I’m not,” Alice said quickly. “I wouldn’t. Lesson learned, trust me. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind… But I’m not even sure that’s it. Not all of it, at least.”
“What, then? It makes sense to me: His wife was cheating on him, she was going to leave him, and he couldn’t handle that. So he killed her, then made up this narrative in his mind that Able did it. Went so far as to delete the texts between her and Able that would’ve proven she planned on leaving Barry. Isn’t that what happened?”
“Maybe. Probably. Why else would he confess, right?”
Aunt Penny nodded and squinted her steely eyes in thought. “Right. That’s not something you do casually, confessing to murder. I think the guilt just finally overwhelmed him. You saw how he was after he confessed? I’ve seen that before in the hospital, when people are brought in for psychological evaluations after enduring a traumatic experience. The way he shut down was very similar.” She looked down and realized she had one bite left of her second hotdog, smirked, and downed it with the remains of her water.
“That extreme, though?” Alice asked. “It seemed like he lost the ability to speak at all.”
“Yes. And worse.”
Just then, Mr. Ploppers hopped up into Alice’s lap. She gasped and held up her hands so as to not disturb him. He sat his considerable bottom on her legs and looked into her eyes.
“Meow?” he asked.
She placed her fingers behind his ears in the spot he couldn’t resist, and his eyes closed immediately, the purring going from zero to ninety in under a second.
“Not yet, buddy,” she said. “Can’t hear you yet. But I’ll keep working on it.”
He seemed content with that, letting out a short mew before curling into a cat ball for a nap.
She looked up at Aunt Penny, who was smiling warmly at her.
“All’s right with the world,” Aunt Penny said.
“At least for this moment,” Alice said. “And I’ll take that.”
It was just about dark when Alice sat down to meditate in her magic room. She was exhausted, emotionally drained, and really didn’t have the will or energy to meditate, especially when it had become such a struggle since losing her magic.
But she was never going to get her mojo back if she didn’t put in the time. It’s call
ed meditation “practice” for a reason, she thought for the billionth time.
So she sat, breathed, and focused as best she could. It was hard, again. Still. But the panic that seemed so all-consuming just a couple of days ago had now faded into a dull, tolerable anxiety.
The case was solved, the messy business of murder over with. Now was the perfect chance to get back to the calm and peacefulness that had so long permeated her being.
Except something still wasn’t right. Something still nagged at her. Exactly what, she couldn’t say.
So she breathed in, then exhaled out, focusing on the rise and fall of her belly. And eventually, she got there. She felt calm, focused, and at peace.
With her eyes closed, she sensed the change in the air. The idea of magic swirling around her was a visual she’d had since she was a child. And it really did feel like that, the way it glided over her skin, danced through her hair, brushed against her face. She felt it now, for the first time in days, and she felt elation.
Was her magic returning?
Unable to contain her excitement, she opened her eyes.
And there was Janet. Ghostly, yet also nearly solid. She sat crossed-legged in front of Alice, looking at her with a pained and desperate expression.
This was no dream, of that Alice was sure. Janet, in her own way, was really here. And the nightmare apparition she’d been a few days ago, when originally conjured using dark magic, was instead replaced with this more static and stable form.
They stared at each other for a very long time. Alice felt a little fear… but not much. This version of Janet meant no harm. Instead, she was seeking something. She was seeking for Alice to understand something.
“I’m sorry, Janet,” Alice finally said. “I don’t understand.”
Janet didn’t speak, although her expression somehow grew even more pained. Alice felt sure she was, in fact, unable to speak. That somehow it was against ghost rules.
But Janet did speak during their nightmarish first encounter. A single word, which Alice had been unable to remember. Somehow that was the missing piece, the thing that had been nagging at her, the reason she’d felt something still was not settled.
