by P. J. Burgy
“I’m sorry, Margo. Did the police come here too?” Lizzie asked, pushing Margo’s hair away from her face.
“This morning. I’ve been in bed since. Sorry, I didn’t call you but…” She wiped at her face, scrunched her nose, and devolved into wretched sobs again. “Tinaaaaaaa.”
“What did they ask you?”
Her pitiful whimper paused, and she inhaled sharply. “Asked… if… they were… a happy couple.”
“They think he murdered her?”
“They haven’t found him, so… but he wouldn’t. Never. Frankie is such a sweet guyyyyyy!” Margo wailed.
“Did they say, ah, how… she died?” Lizzie phrased her question carefully, her heart skipping a beat.
“No. They wouldn’t tell me.” Margo sniffled.
Lizzie comforted her friend for a little longer before they opened a bottle of wine and shared it. Margo eventually passed out in her room around seven, sprawled across the bed and breathing deeply.
After covering her friend in a blanket, Lizzie left her house, making sure the front door was locked, and went to the little red Honda parked in Margo’s driveway.
She drove home, feeling sick to the stomach.
Tommy was napping before work, flopped on the futon as his game’s idle music droned on, and Lizzie sat at her laptop in the other room. She could have been working on the paintings in the basement, but she didn’t feel especially creative. The same applied to writing; her head wasn’t in the game today.
Instead, she scrolled through the internet, looking up news articles about the murder.
‘Decapitated Woman Found in Yocum County Game Lands’ one headline read. Lizzie clicked on it and after the page loaded, she saw a picture of Tina and Franklin Summerset appear before her.
“Decapitated…” Lizzie whispered.
The article about the previous woman – a ‘Phoebe McEntire’ from Upper Darby – whose body had been found in the river down in Hipswichum, popped up in the search results as well. She’d been a pretty young woman with brown hair and delicate features. Last seen leaving the antique booth in Mayberry Market on the line between Upper Darby and Puhtipstie – she’d walked out at closing time, eight PM. She’d never made it home. Her car had never left the grass lot.
Lizzie spent some time reading about other similar murders, specifically the woman being mostly undressed when found. Finding a slew of results spanning the course of many years and from many different states and locations, Lizzie read a few articles before she couldn’t stand it any longer.
She closed her laptop and exhaled slowly.
Thursday morning, she woke up and went for her run, same as usual, save for the taser in her back pocket. If there were a serial killer loose, they’d regret making a go at her, that was for sure. As she ran around the neighborhood, she started at the shadows between houses and watched carefully as she turned corners. Her music wasn’t blaring; she wanted to be able to hear a car coming if one suddenly careened down the street toward her.
Halfway home, Gary appeared, and his three dogs came running at her. Lizzie, not feeling especially social, waved weakly as she ran to the other side of street. He called out to her while his dachshunds yipped madly, giving up on the chase after she’d put many yards of distance between them.
Was it rude? Sure, but she didn’t feel like talking to him that morning and that sort of behavior had never dissuaded him from trying to talk to Tommy if he’d been caught outside at the same time as the dreaded Wiener-man.
She did another loop, passing Mrs. Hempstead’s house. This time, the old woman sat outside, staring daggers at Lizzie as she jogged toward her lawn along the sidewalk.
Lizzie blinked curiously and slowed down to a walk as the woman stood and waddled over to meet her.
“You shouldn’t be out before the sun is, young lady.” She clutched her thick housecoat at the neckline. “Dangerous. You read the news, I’m sure.”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Hempstead.”
“There’s a killer loose. Young woman like you shouldn’t be out all alone,” the woman said. “Should be inside.”
Lizzie smiled patiently. “I’m headed home now, okay? I’ll be fine. Thank you, ah, for your concern.”
Mrs. Hempstead glared at her one last time before scuttling back toward her porch, mumbling to herself all the way. She slammed her front door shut behind her.
Lizzie went home too.
After a shower, Lizzie took a drive into town and parked in the lot next to Kat’s Corner. It wasn’t a workday, but she felt the need to go in and talk to Kate about what had happened and what she’d found.
She pushed open the door, the bell tinkling, and stood there silent as it tinkled behind her. The Miller kids were both near the counter and Kate sighed loudly on the other side, apparently trapped in one of their conversations.
“Lizzie,” Kate said.
She walked up to the counter, eyeing up the kids warily. “Oh, Helena… Teddy…”
“I said there’d be another body, didn’t I?” Helena asked, squinting. She shook her head. “Same as last time.”
Lizzie raised a hand. “Decapitated, yes, but-”
“Drained of blood again,” Teddy hissed. “Kyle’s dad confirmed it. Another victim of the vampire.”
“Jeez, guys. Please,” Lizzie said. “The victim, the second one, ah, it was Margo’s friend, okay? Please don’t do this.”
“She came in here, didn’t she?” Helena asked. “She was in town. She and her husband. So, this is where the vampire nabbed ‘em. Somewhere in Puhtipstie.”
Kate coughed. “You’re getting kind of macabre now, kiddos. Drop it. It’s upsetting.”
“It should be upsetting.” Teddy glared at her. “It means that the monster is here. Stalking us in our own hometown.”
“I came by to talk to Kate,” Lizzie said. “Unless you kids are paying customers today, could you please just give me a minute alone with her? Please.”
Teddy and Helena both stared at Lizzie before they nodded solemnly and wandered off into the store to browse through the books in their favorite section. Lizzie sighed, rolling her shoulders, and adjusted her purse on her shoulder. Her eyes met Kate’s.
“How’s Margo?”
Lizzie shrugged. “Not good. Thank you for yesterday though. I’ll be fine for tomorrow at four.”
“I’m changing your schedule…”
“Huh?”
Kate closed her eyes. “As least for the rest of the winter. At eight, it’s so dark out. I already have altered hours on the days I open and close by myself. Why not just play it safe? Do an eight to four everyday til’ spring, right? We’ll just alternate a bit.”
“Are you that worried?” Lizzie asked, brows knit.
“Getting that way. Two young women in just over a week? Lizzie, you need to be careful. There’s a psycho out there.” She shook her head. “Starting Sunday, your shift is going to change, and I don’t care what Tommy thinks of it.”
“I understand.”
“You need to stop your morning jogs too. I know you get up before the sun rises and go running around your neighborhood. Knock it off for now, okay?” Kate opened her eyes again and stared at Lizzie intensely.
“I will, sure.” She nodded.
“And don’t let Tommy send you out all alone to pick up food at night. Either he goes with you, or he goes by himself.”
Lizzie feigned a smile. “Now that’ll be the harder sell…”
“Tell him I’ll kick his ass if he gives you a hard time over that. I’m not joking. I’ll beat the shit out of him,” Kate said, eyes narrowing.
“Maybe I’ll grab some dinner now from Danno’s. Have a good, long talk with Tommy before he leaves for work. Explain the situation to him,” Lizzie said. “He has this bad habit of not locking the front door, you know.”
“Say whatever it takes, but make sure he understands how important this is.” Kate nodded.
Lizzie assured her that it would be taken ca
re of, and she left soon after, waving to the Miller kids before they waved in return. The two had been whispering to one another, sparks in their eyes, and she couldn’t help but feel that they were planning something.
She stopped at Danno’s across the street. He made small talk, his accent thick and perplexing to her ear. If she nodded and smiled, he reacted well, and he never asked any questions. It was a subtle art, listening for the raised lilt at the end of a sentence. He made declarative statements and laughed as his sole employee, a skinny little man with greasy hair and thick glasses, took her order.
Lizzie left with deli meat and sandwiches: turkey and cheese, ham and cheese, whatever mix-and-match Tommy might accept as an offering.
He was awake when she got home. He hadn’t left the house once; the front door was still locked when she reached the porch. Lizzie went in, put most of the food in the fridge, and had herself some lunch. She yelled out to Tommy asking if he wanted what she’d brought home. He didn’t. He wanted something else. Of course.
Fortunately, he settled for chicken tenders from the freezer. Lizzie hadn’t needed to go out for anything again.
She sat and watched him play his game, the two eating in the same room together. The living room was where they shared most of their meals. Even in the old apartment that had been the case. The kitchen table solely existed to hold soon to expire coupons for the grocery store in town proper. That and fruit, or maybe a box of cereal.
Lizzie washed some dishes after lunch.
While Tommy napped, conked out on the futon, she slipped downstairs to paint again. Suddenly, it made sense why Martin considered his cellar a safe place. Lizzie found solace in hers, after all. A place away from the stress upstairs. A place away from the world.
Hours might have passed. She paused on a stroke along the canvas, considering that evening she’d spent with Martin. The nervous tension. The panic attack afterward. Lizzie touched her chest, eyes narrowed, and stared at the painting. Somehow, subconsciously, she’d started a portrait. His bright blue eyes floated in a sea of pale green and bone white. Her jaw clenched. No portraits. No. That would be weird. She imagined showing Martin. He would have grinned in that perfectly lopsided little way and said, ‘Grand!’ Her heart skipped a beat.
But then she frowned.
Alone in the basement, painting for him. For Martin. Thinking about him as well. Lizzie wondered if he thought of her. His anxious grimace in the kitchen. His words of flattery. His consideration. Polite compliments. Sincere expressions on his handsome face. Passion in his eyes.
As if to punctuate her thought, Tommy belched loudly from upstairs, close enough to the basement door in the kitchen that Lizzie heard it. She scowled.
For a few minutes, she imagined herself dressed nicely and sitting across from Martin at The Blue Room sharing a drink and laughing – genuinely laughing. His hand would reach out and cover hers. He’d smile at her. She’d smile at him. Maybe the next day, he’d take her to the art museums – hours away but worth the drive – in the city. Maybe he’d be amenable to going antiquing.
Guilt pricked her heart.
Tommy went back to gaming, the music soft but audible through the floor.
She spread a thick swath of black across the canvas to cover those blue eyes. No portraits. She’d start over. Her mind was already rife with ideas for this painting.
At eight that night, while Lizzie sat at her laptop – she’d scheduled some time for her book before bedtime – her phone rang, and she saw Martin’s name. “Hello, Martin!”
“Hello, Lizzie! What are you doing?”
“Ah, writing.”
“You can share it, yes?”
“Ah, sure.”
“Grand! I hate to interrupt the creative process, but if you’re free, would you care to come over again? I’ve a proposition for you and I’d much prefer to make it in person.”
“A proposition, eh?”
“Hah! Strictly business, I assure you.”
She chewed on her lip. “Well, tonight would be bad. Tommy needs the car in half an hour for work.”
“Well, I can come pick you up then!”
“Ah…”
“How about a nice merlot? I don’t drink, but if you’d like, there’s wine in the cellar.”
“You mean in your bedroom?”
“Ah hah, yes, there’s wine in my bedroom, but I’ll bring it upstairs. Less awkward that way.”
“Well, I might like a glass…”
“Have you eaten? Are you hungry?”
“I forgot to eat dinner, so if you’re, um, offering…”
“If you don’t mind take-out. I’d rather not sit and talk in a restaurant, if it’s all the same. What do you say? Let me get your address and I’ll swing by and get you in half an hour, eh?”
“I suppose that might be nice. Sure, I’ll get you my address. Do you have a pen?”
Martin hummed. “Go on then.”
Tommy appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. Mirthless. Red in the face. “No.”
Lizzie glanced up, shocked to see him for some inexplicable reason. He’d ceased to exist for a few moments and had suddenly come screaming back into reality. Her bottom lip trembled. “Tommy. It’s Martin. It’s business. You, ah, need the car, for, ah…”
“No need to worry, huh?” Tommy clenched his teeth, hissing his words. “Why were you whispering then?”
Martin spoke on the line. “Ah, is that Tommy?”
Lizzie answered, “Yes, but there’s been a misunderstanding. Martin wants to pick me up-”
Tommy shook his head. “I can see that. Tell him no.”
“It’s fine,” she said.
“No, it’s not. I was okay with you going over once, to talk about this job you’re doing. But I’m hearing you mention dinner and wine. And a bedroom? What the fuck. That doesn’t sound work related. You tell him no.” Tommy pointed at her.
“It’s not a big deal, look…” she pleaded.
On the other line, silence. Not even breathing.
“I’m calling out of work. I can’t go in like this. My chest hurts,” Tommy stated, clutching himself near his shoulder. “Hang up the fucking phone, Lizzie. Tell him no and hang up the phone.”
“Martin, I’m sorry, I…” Her hand shuddered, her fingers cold. “I’ll call you back.” She hung up on him, not waiting for a response. “Tommy, what the hell?”
“I don’t like it, Lizzie, okay?” He stomped through the kitchen and back to the living room. When she didn’t immediately chase after him, he paused and leaned against the wall closest to the front door. “I can feel us drifting apart more and more every day, and I’m scared. This guy, Martin, you care more about him than you do me. Admit it.”
She pushed her chair out and followed, coming to stand near him. Swaying, Lizzie frowned and lowered her head. “It isn’t like that with him. He’s just… very polite. It probably doesn’t even register to him…”
His eyes closed tightly, and he sighed, hands at his sides. “If you can promise me that you’re not attracted to him… that he’s not a threat to me…”
“I’m not attracted to him, I promise. And he doesn’t want me like that. He said it himself,” she said.
“Why did he tell you that?”
“I told him about you.”
Tommy relaxed a bit. “Still… dinner and wine?”
“Like I said, he’s polite. To a fault.” She shrugged.
“I have to think about this,” he said. “I’m not comfortable with it. He calls a lot, doesn’t he? For a client, I mean. He’s a bit clingy…”
“Tommy…”
“I’m going to go for a drive, Lizzie. I need to clear my head.” He exhaled and then opened the closet for his jacket. He grabbed for the keys on the hook next to the door. “Do me a favor and don’t see him for a little bit? Please?”
Her insides turned cold. “Sure.”
He kissed her cheek and left. She watched him walk down the sidewalk to the little red H
onda. He got in, started the engine, turned on his music, and drove away, the car belching thick white plumes of exhaust in the cold dark.
Lizzie called Martin back.
As soon as he’d answered, she spoke. “I’m so sorry about that. So sorry.”
“He’s a jealous man, that one. Are you free to talk? Are you in any trouble?”
“Ah, not in trouble. He’s gone out. Didn’t think he’d lose his mind like that. I told him it was just business. Sorry, Martin.” She leaned against the wall, face flushed, and pulse quickened.
“So,” Martin said. “Another time then?”
She swallowed thickly, eyeing the ceiling. “I’m sorry.”
Silence on the line.
Lizzie shut her eyes, frustrated beyond words.
Martin spoke again, voice softer. “Then I suppose the phone will have to do for now. I wanted to offer you full time employment, Lizzie. I’m going to sponsor you. A contract between the both of us.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’d work for me. I’d pay you to paint and write,” he said. “Your sole focus would be on your art. Your craft. You’d have to quit the bookstore, of course…”
She pressed her back against the wall, blinking rapidly as she processed his words. “Ah…”
“I’d pay you very well. Make it worth your while.”
She stumbled over her words. “Are you serious? Martin, that’s… that’s crazy. Do you mean that?”
“I mean it. That’s why I wanted to ask in person. I wanted to see your face.”
“I want to say yes,” she said. “And I probably will! But, ah, I need to talk it over with Tommy…”
“Is this something you want, yes or no?”
Her eyes clamped shut. “Yes, but…”
“You need to ask Tommy for permission?”
“No, but… we should talk about it. And the bookstore. Kate!” Lizzie exclaimed. “Kate runs that store all by herself. I couldn’t just up and quit on her. Not like that.”
