Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (36 page)

“Troy,” he answered briskly just before his voicemail picked up, startling me.

“Hey. Sorry I missed your call.”

“Are you home? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I was sleeping.”

“Ella, something’s happened.” His voice was very quiet and a little hard to hear.

“Okay . . .”

I waited for news, bracing myself for the worst. The receiver hummed an uncomfortable silence in my ear, before he said, “I can’t tell you. I shouldn't have called—I'm interfering in an investigation.”

“What?! What investigation? You can’t set me up like this and not tell me. What's going on?” My questions were followed by more silence. “I'm coming to the station if you don't tell me.”

“Turn on your television to a local channel.”

“Why? What's going on?”

“Jesus! Just do it—for once do something without questioning it.”

I did as he said, flipping on the TV. At first, all I found were commercials, then the local news interrupted my regularly scheduled programming with a breaking story. A reporter stood in front of a blurred out house, officers and paramedics swarming the yard behind her. She didn’t have many details, but that didn’t stop her from repeating what she knew over and over again as if it were new information.

She knew there had been an incident, but was unclear on whether the person had died or was badly injured. She was also unclear about the circumstances of the crime. Watching the events unfold reminded me a lot of Danny’s death, the silent ambulance lingering outside squashing all hopes of survival. Why did Gabriel want me to see this?

“Okay, so someone was killed. Why is this important to me? I don’t mean to sound cold—it’s terrible and all, but—”

“Look at the house.”

I took a closer look. It seemed familiar, but without a clearer picture, it was hard to distinguish from any other house in a number of the neighborhoods in this town. My eyes narrowed and I leaned closer to the TV, trying to see what I was missing. Something small caught my eye—something that would have been easily overlooked had I not been studying the screen so intently: a pair of garden gnomes. I had helped pick them out. I had helped paint them. I knew the house. . . . 

“Oh God.” My hand instinctively covered my mouth.

“Do you understand now?”

“Susan or Doug? Why didn’t you just tell me?” Again my question was met with silence. My stomach churned.

“It’s reminiscent of your husband’s homicide. I can’t give you any more information. I shouldn’t have called.”

“Are you saying I'm a suspect?”

“I don’t know for sure—if it was my investigation you would be.”

“Why isn’t it yours?”

“I'm too close. I knew the victim and you … I couldn’t remain impartial.” Gabriel’s voice suddenly became even more muffled. “They know nothing about the affair. If anyone questions, tell them nothing and call your attorney.”

“I have nothing to hide.”

“It doesn’t matter. Almost anything, no matter how innocent it seems, can be used to strengthen a case.”

“Was it Doug or Susan?”

“Susan,” he said in barely a whisper. I had to sit down; my legs would no longer support me. I’d been so angry with her the night before. Now, yesterday seemed like years ago. I would have never wished this on her, no matter how angry I was. I understood why Gabriel was advising me to do nothing and say even less. My position was getting worse by the second. Of course I should be a suspect. I had motive and opportunity. I was the last one to see her last night. Two horrific homicides in the last twenty years in this town and I was at the center of both of them. I would be surprised if the people didn’t come after me with the pitchforks and torches I had joked about earlier.

“How did it happen?” My voice softening to match his.

“I'll talk to you later. Now’s no good.”

“You don’t think I did this . . . do you?”

“No. I was with you last night. You didn’t have time to do anything like this—it would’ve taken hours.”

“That’s the only reason?” Gabriel sighed, but I continued, “Why can’t I tell the truth? I don't feel right about hiding anything.”

“It isn’t going to look good. This … this doesn’t happen in this town. Now it’s happened twice, to two people who were close to you. You write novels about killing people, extremely well thought out novels. Does any of this sound good to you?” I could almost hear him mentally counting to ten. “You don’t have anything to hide, just get a lawyer to make sure your rights are protected.”

“Have you seen Doug? He must be . . .  It's so hard  . . .”

“No, I'm not sure about their progress on that. I know he wasn’t in the house, and he didn’t call in the murder. Someone was sent to the store to find him.”

“I don’t envy that person.”

“I really need to go. I’ll talk with you later.”

“Okay.” I hung up the phone and headed for the kitchen, needing to be busy doing something, anything. I’d just put on a kettle to make tea when the phone rang again. I rushed to answer in case it was Gabriel maybe he’d found out something new. Or forgotten something. I heard nothing on the other end except breathing. Heavy breathing. I placed the phone back in it cradle, goose bumps climbing up my arms and down my spine. The phone rang again. I slowly picked up the receiver, this time not saying hello. There was a voice.

“Get out of the house. He's in your house.” Static hissed at me.

I slammed the receiver down and backed against the wall. Should I believe the voice? My mind spun as I stood unable to convince my legs to move. Who was in my house? Who was calling me? Was this trick to lure me out? I was stuck in a wave of helpless panic. I could feel myself succumbing to the emotional undercurrent of the events. Susan’s death had impacted me deeply despite my anger. It drummed up so many emotions. New and old. Memories only recently suppressed, a new string of regrets and doubts began to wind around my heart and mind. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could continue to stand, but I fought to keep the grasp I’d recently gotten on my world. Letting myself slip, as I so easily and often did, was not a choice this time. I was close to the truth, closer now than I'd ever been, I could feel it. I had to be strong, if not for myself, then for everyone else. I took a few deep breaths.

A chiming noise echoed through the house. My mind leapt to the idea that it could be a ghostly echo of some sort because I didn’t have any clocks that chimed—then a loud official sounding knock came from the front door and I realized what the chime was. Walking slowly towards the door, knowing it would be the police coming to break the news to me so they could see my reaction, I tried to collect myself and make my face blank of emotion. The knocking impatiently persisted.

I opened the door to two men dressed in suits and cheap sunglasses. The thought struck me that they were dressed as someone who watched too much TV would dress if they were pretending to be a cop, almost like children on Halloween. Something about the way they wore their clothes that didn’t fit. I didn’t say anything to them and I didn’t open the screen door that they’d let close after knocking. Instead, I lifted an eyebrow, knowing full well I didn’t have a reputation for being friendly—why disappoint them?  I waited for them to speak.

“Mrs. Reynolds?”

“Yes.”

“
Ella
Reynolds.”

“Yes.”

“I am Officer Jones and this is Officer Winn. May we come in ma’am?”

“Why not?” I motioned them in. Given that last phone call, I was glad they were there, even if it meant I was a likely suspect. I led them into the living room inviting them to take a seat on the uncomfortable furniture and again waited for someone to take the lead.

“Mrs. Reynolds, can you tell us your whereabouts last night?”

“Of course I can.” The officers looked at me expectantly, but I just looked back at them.

“And where were you?”

“Let’s not play games. You're here about the Daniels, yes?” The officers exchanged a glance as if I had given away some important detail.

“You know of the situation with Mrs. Daniels?”

“It was Susan?” I asked quietly pretending this was the first I had heard of it. “I was watching television this morning.” My voice cracked as I choked back real emotion.

“The names were not released.”

“I recognized the house, more specifically the lawn gnomes.” They both nodded and I could see the wheels turning behind their eyes, processing everything I said to use against me later. They dealt with the disappointment of not getting to break the news to me admirably well. The detective in the ugly yellow tie was the first to move on with the questioning.

“And your whereabouts last night?”

“As I'm sure you are aware, I was here. I had dinner with Susan and Doug, which is probably why you’re questioning me now.”

“What time did they leave your house?”

“Doug left around nine or nine thirty—he had inventory to do. Susan left around ten, she took a cab.”

“What did you do after that?”

If the situation hadn’t been so tragic I would have smiled at how they could believe anyone would tripped up by this painfully obvious line of questions. The detectives in my books would never be this stupid, with their weak obvious questions.

“I cleared the dishes, then spoke with Detective Troy on the phone before he stopped by around ten thirty.”

“And what is your relationship with Detective Troy?”

Immediately I regretted bringing him up. His words, “They don’t know about the affair,” came back to me. Did he mean Susan and Danny’s affair or was he somehow referring to me and him? I sighed as if the cop’s question annoyed me. “He investigated my husband’s death. Does that qualify as a relationship? We keep in touch. No one was ever caught and I’d like to see it resolved.”

“Why did he come to your house?”

“Strange things happen here, I trust him.”

“Your relationship is purely professional?”

“We've recently become friends. What does this have to do with Susan? If you have any more questions about the nature of my relationship with Detective Troy, please feel free to ask him.”

The idiot in the yellow tie held up his hands as if he didn’t mean to pry though that was exactly what he meant to do.

“What time did Detective Troy leave your house?”

“This morning,” I said unable to think of a way to dodge this question.

“He stayed all night?”

“Obviously.”

“Why is that?”

“As I said weird things happen here.”

“Could you elaborate?”

“I could give you a hundred examples. Phone calls, hang ups, objects moving, disappearing, reappearing, banging, thumping, crashing, appliances turning off and on, strange files on my computer, do I really need to go on?”

“What happened last night?”

“While I can’t speak for Detective Troy, I don't think he believes I'm safe here. Now, I'll answer no more questions in regards to Detective Troy. If you need any more questions answered ask him.”

“Do you own a car?” The yellow tie detective asked me.

“Yes, but I don’t have a license. I never learned how drive. It was my late husband’s vehicle.”