Murder Comes Calling

by Raven Snow

  “Well, you should. I do.”

  “I know.” Eric went around the sofa and sat down. “So, what’s that feeling of yours telling you? Do you think someone in that family murdered the old lady?”

  “Don’t patronize me.”

  “I’m not… Well, I’m not right now anyway.” Eric dropped the smirk and gave his wife a hug when she didn’t smile at his little joke. “Come on. I’m serious. Tell me. You know I believe you about this stuff. Maybe I can help.”

  Rowen felt the tension in her shoulders release a little. Eric was right. He had been with her long enough to know she was usually right about these sorts of things. That and he was genuinely helpful when he wasn’t busy being overly concerned about Rowen’s safety. Still, she wasn’t quite sure what to say. She looked at the screen for a little longer before speaking up. “I don’t know if they did anything wrong,” she admitted. “It’s just… something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Do you think one of them murdered her?” Eric asked.

  Rowen leaned in a little closer to the computer screen, really studying the jovial man in the picture with his hairy arms and ugly brown flip flops. “Not really,” she admitted. “He doesn’t look like the type. She wasn’t noticing any of those gut feelings toward the man either. She clicked away, going to the wife’s page. Apparently, she took care of horses, running a stable out where Lainswich was less populated. There were a lot of pictures of her riding horses, grooming them, teaching people how to ride. Her kids weren’t in too many of those pictures. Other photos showed that Ty and Kate had other hobbies. “Ty at the skate park!” read the caption of a picture where a blur was grinding on a rail. “Kate’s first car!” read another picture. This one had Kate shielding her face with her hands while teenage girls around her grinned. The car doors of a classic-looking, low-riding vehicle were open, like she and her friends were planning a group outing.

  “Are those the only family members in Lainswich?” asked Eric.

  “I don’t know,” Rowen admitted. “They were the only ones looking after her, from the sound of it.” Rowen chewed at some loose skin on her bottom lip. She looked to the wall opposite her, replaying everything she knew so far. “Maybe I should give them a call. I can ask if they want to give me an interview.”

  “You told Ben—”

  “He didn’t tell me anything the whole world won’t know after Julia does her interview.”

  “Then why not just watch Julia’s interview?”

  “Because I want to meet them in person.” Rowen thought that should be obvious. She could get a better feel of them that way.

  “Don’t call them,” Eric said quickly, like Rowen already had her phone out or something. “Maybe… e-mail them first or something.”

  That did sound like a better idea. “All right. That might do the trick.” She began scrolling through Shane’s social media page again, searching for a proper e-mail address. All she could really find was the site’s messaging system.

  “Maybe you should talk with Rose before you do this, too.”

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job,” said Rowen, though she didn’t mean it. She had said those words in jest and gave her husband a playful shove for good measure. “Seriously though. It’s like you don’t trust me all of a sudden.”

  “All of a sudden?” Eric repeated, raising his eyebrows at her. “When have I ever trusted you when it comes to stuff like this?”

  Chapter Three

  It was Rose who composed the e-mail. She didn’t trust Rowen either, it seemed. Rowen really didn’t mind. Rose was a lot better with words and compassion than she was. Maybe that was why Rowen was so surprised to get a call from her in the afternoon. “They don’t want to do an interview,” she had said, putting it bluntly.

  There wasn’t anything to be done about that. Rowen supposed it was perfectly reasonable. They were already doing an interview with Channel 2. She couldn’t fault them for refusing a second interview in such a short amount of time. They needed a break to breathe and plan the funeral, assuming those things were their responsibility. Rowen still couldn’t figure out whether there were any other relatives of the woman in Lainswich. If there were, surely Julia would have found them by now.

  “Your dad came by again today,” Rose said, after they were finished discussing the Trainer family.

  Rowen didn’t respond at first. She had nearly forgotten about that man. Maybe she didn’t have a gut feeling at all. Maybe she was just trying to distract herself. “What did he say?” she asked, finally.

  “He was checking in again, trying to see if Tiffany was there.”

  “They told him last night that she wasn’t.”

  “I’m not sure he believes that,” said Rose with a sigh. “He seemed convinced they had some way to get in contact with her.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck to him with that.” If Rowen couldn’t get her mother to return to Lainswich on command, Desmond wasn’t going to have a lot of luck with it either. Something else occurred to her then, a question she couldn’t help but ask. “Does he look anything like me?”

  Rose didn’t answer her at first. She probably didn’t know what to say about something like this. Even Rowen wasn’t sure what sort of answer she was hoping to hear. “Kind of,” said Rose. “I don’t know. I think you look more like your mom. His hair is a lot darker than yours, and his nose is different.”

  “All right.” Rowen wasn’t sure what to do with that information. “Thanks for the heads up,” she said after an awkward length of silence. “I’ll see ya later.”

  “See ya.”

  Rowen hung up the phone and looked out the window. Snow was falling. She watched it for a while. She was done with things to do for the day. Instead, she looked out the window and thought about things. She might not have any responsibilities left for now, but she had plenty of things to think about.

  ***

  The next day, the roads were a lot safer. They had finally been cleared and salted. Rowen didn’t find this out for herself until there was a knock on the door. Chester started barking, which was what woke her up. She got out of bed while Eric turned over with a groan, pulling a pillow over his head. There was a police car outside. Rowen could see it from the window. She heard a sharp knock, a sound that was immediately followed by Chester barking some more. Some more.

  Quickly, Rowen threw on a robe and hurried downstairs. She had no idea what this was about, but it made her nervous. “Hang on! I’m coming!” she shouted from the landing, just in case they could hear her over Chester’s barking. She felt a bit silly after opening the door. She was terribly out of breath and the cops were just standing there, staring at her like she was a mad woman or something.

  “Sorry,” Rowen managed. “I was asleep. I didn’t know how long you’d been knocking and… yeah.” She threw up her hands, giving up on explaining herself. It turned out it wasn’t necessary.

  The cops looked at one another. Rowen didn’t recognize either officer, but it was unlikely that she would. She didn’t spend too much time around them, and they weren’t the biggest fans of her.

  “Rowen Greensmith?” asked the taller of the two cops.

  Rowen wasn’t sure why he had to ask. Surely he knew who she was already. Just about all the cops in Lainswich knew who the Greensmiths were. “Yes,” she said anyway. “That’s me.”

  The cop nodded. “I’m here to let you know that your great aunt passed away last—”

  Rowen’s heart sank. She stopped listening. Which aunt was it? Who had—Wait. Great aunt? “I don’t have a great aunt.”

  The tall police officer stopped talking. He frowned and looked at his partner. “Bertha Trainer,” said the short cop. “Maybe you saw her on the news?”

  Rowen nodded dumbly. She wasn’t following any of this. Bertha Trainer was related to her? How was that possible?

  “Your father is Desmond Trainer?” asked the tall cop.

  Rowen felt herself nodding again. “I guess… Maybe… His name
is Desmond.”

  “Yes, well, Bertha Trainer was his aunt. It seems his mother died young. Bertha adopted him for legal reasons or some such, making him next of kin. Trouble is, we can’t find Desmond anywhere, so…” The officer motioned vaguely to Rowen. “Do you think you could get in touch with your father for us, Ma’am?”

  “I… I guess so.”

  The officers hesitated on the doorstep, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with an answer like that. Fortunately, Eric made it to the door in time to give her a hand. “We can get in touch with him,” Eric assured them.

  The tall officer nodded. “Good, well… We’re very sorry for your loss. You might want to check in on things at the funeral home. From the sound of it, the Trainer family is as confused by all of this as you seem to be.”

  ***

  Confused was an understatement. A lot was happening all at once. It was like Rowen was only now noticing holes in the structural integrity of her life, holes that had always been there but that she’d been blind to before now. Never mind the convenience of everything. Desmond returns to town just as his adoptive mother dies?

  “Coincidences like this happen all the time in Lainswich,” Eric reminded her. He was right, of course. Even so… all of this felt undeniably strange. Strange even by Lainswich’s standards. Then again, maybe it was just everything overwhelming her. Her father appears out of nowhere. She hadn’t even properly met him, and now she learns she has a great aunt and adoptive grandmother who was dead? It was a lot. Those were the only words for it. A lot.

  After spending a long time just sitting there thinking about it, Rowen made up her mind. “I’m going to go meet him at the hotel.”

  Eric had been sitting on the sofa with her, a cup of coffee in hand. He had been watching television, though Rowen wasn’t sure how much of the morning talk show he was actually absorbing. The entire time it was on he had been glancing in her direction. “Do you want to call him first?” Eric asked immediately. He was trying to be supportive. Rowen appreciated that.

  “No.” Rowen definitely didn’t have the nerve for that. Plus, a part of her was afraid that if he knew she was coming he would try to avoid her.

  “I can call for you.”

  “No.” Rowen had made up her mind.

  “I’ll drive you then.”

  Rowen nodded. “Okay. That sounds good.”

  ***

  Rowen put on a soft green turtleneck and her favorite pair of jeans. She took a long time getting ready, spending enough time in front of the mirror that even Margo would call it excessive. There wasn’t a whole lot to show for it either. Her auburn hair fell wavy across her shoulders and her makeup was minimal. She had changed both several times, cursing herself each time she cleaned her face off. This wasn’t a guy who deserved all this extra effort.

  Finally ready, Rowen headed down the stairs. Eric raised his eyebrows when he saw her. “You look nice.”

  “Thank you.” Rowen felt certain he was just saying that to reassure her and get her out the door, but she gave him a kiss on the cheek anyway.

  “I already called Rose,” Eric continued, pulling his coat off a peg near the door. “She said that everyone has things handled. It’s a slow news day so, if you need help from any of your cousins, they’re more than happy to lend a hand.”

  “Why would I need help?”

  Eric shrugged. “Some added muscle in case Julia Martinez tries to ambush you with a camera and microphone?”

  That was a valid concern, though Rowen knew her cousins were offering to be emotional support. Rowen really didn’t want to drag them away from work. She didn’t want this to disrupt things any more than it had to.

  Rowen accepted her own wool coat from Eric and shrugged it on. It was almost too warm for the thing. The nights were still cold in Lainswich, but the sun was starting to come out between the clouds. It got awfully hot when it was beating down on you only to get freezing again once it vanished.

  ***

  The people that owned Lainswich’s only hotel were not fans of Rowen Greensmith. She had caused a scene there ages ago, when her husband had been attacked by a ghost in his sleep. Fortunately, it appeared that the front desk was being staffed, not by the elderly couple that lived there, but by a young man. He was slouched over and bouncing his shoulders. He wore headphones and all his attention appeared to be on his phone.

  “Hey,” said Eric, tapping the desk so that the boy would notice them standing there even if he couldn’t hear them.

  The boy jumped. He raised his head, eyes wide. The headphones fell around his neck. “Uh… hi. Can I help you?”

  Eric nodded. “We’re looking for someone who might have checked in a couple of days ago or so.”

  “Oh.” The boy looked over at the sign in book. “Well, I mean, we only have one room occupied right now, so…”

  Rowen looked behind the boy. The key to twenty-three was gone. That had to be it. “All right,” she said with a nod. “Thanks.”

  “I can’t tell you what room it is,” the boy said quickly. “It’s against the rules. Hey, you can’t—”

  “It’s all right,” Rowen assured him as she headed up the stairs. “It’s my dad. I know which room he’s in.”

  “Oh. Okay.” The boy probably didn’t want to make a big to do about all of this. He seemed happy enough to go back to his music.

  The stairs creaked as Rowen continued up them. She heard more creaking behind her. She stopped and turned. “Hey, do you think you could wait for me in the car?”

  Eric didn’t answer at first. He studied Rowen for a long time, like he was appraising her state of mind. It was a little insulting. Rowen was about to say as much before he nodded. “I’ll be out in the car. Call me if you’re uncomfortable or… anything. Call me if you need me, all right?”

  “Don’t blow this out of proportion,” Rowen said, doing her best to sound exasperated even though she felt anything but. Her heart was pounding and her head was swimming. One hand on the bannister, it took all of her willpower just to keep herself from swaying on the steps.

  “I’m right outside,” Eric reminded her one last time, sounding uncertain as he turned to go.

  Rowen continued up the steps. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two. With each room number she passed, her heart pounded a little stronger. There were black spots dancing in her eyes by the time she was standing in front of the door labeled twenty-three. That would be a sight. Her first proper visit with her father and she passed out right in front of his door? She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and knocked.

  No one answered. Okay. Rowen hadn’t prepared for that.

  With another deep breath, Rowen knocked again. There was still no answer. Her anxiety was leaving her and annoyance was taking its place. She knocked yet again, turning her fist sideways and using all her strength this time.

  “You had the key!” shouted someone from inside. It was a woman’s voice, a fact that kept Rowen from knocking again. Her immediate thought was that she had the wrong room somehow, even though the boy had mentioned only one room being occupied. “Don’t tell me you lost the key!” The door was flung open. A woman in nothing but a towel stood in the doorway, her dark hair dripping. Her face was scrunched up in a scowl, but that changed immediately after a moment. Clearly, she had expected someone else. The woman cleared her throat and managed to fix her startled expression into something more serious. “Who are you?”

  “Who are you?” Rowen countered, still wondering if she had the wrong room.

  “A guest here,” snapped the woman. “Now why don’t you move along?”

  “Is Desmond here?” Rowen asked, rushing the words out as the door closed.

  The woman pushed the door open again, more slowly this time. She regarded Rowen with a frown. “Why?” she asked, eyes narrow, wary.

  “I’m Rowen Greensmith. I believe I’m his daughter.” Rowen didn’t like saying those words. They felt wrong. Saying you were someone’s daughter felt like it shoul
d carry certain positive connotations. She had no positive thoughts of her father.

  The woman stood there a little longer, looking Rowen up and down. “Oh,” she said, finally. “I, ah, I thought you… He said you didn’t live here.”

  Rowen shrugged. “I moved away as a teen. I moved back to Lainswich, though. I’ve been here for the past few years.”

  “Oh.” The woman kept staring. Suddenly, she looked down and clutched her towel a little tighter. “Sorry. Come in, come in.” She stepped back from the door, allowing Rowen room to enter. “I didn’t think… Geez, this is awkward. Give me a minute.” The woman snatched some clothes from the bed and hurried into the bathroom.

  Rowen closed the door behind her. She walked to the middle of the room and looked around. There was one bed and a sofa with a suitcase on it. A table was positioned near the room’s only window. She needed to sit down, and that seemed as good a place as any.

  The woman emerged from the bathroom after a minute or so. She was in a red cardigan and floral print skirt. There was a towel around her still-damp hair. She was pretty, Rowen decided. It was the only thing she had decided. She still didn’t know what to make of the woman.

  “My name is Coreen,” said the woman, pulling out the chair opposite Rowen and taking a seat. “Sorry again about before. Um, Desmond is out getting coffee and something for breakfast. He should be back here any minute… Do you want me to call him back? Have you eaten yet today? I can ask him to grab you something.”

  Rowen shook her head quickly. Beyond how awkward that would be, she couldn’t imagine eating anything right now. Her stomach was in knots. “No, thank you.”

  “So…” Coreen took a deep breath before focusing her attention out the window. At least this was awkward for her as well. “You’re his daughter, huh?”

  “Well, I’ve never actually met him, but… yeah. I mean, I guess so.”

  “You never met him?” Coreen didn’t seem like she expected a response to that. She was just thinking about the implications. “Not even when you were little?”

  “Not to my memory.” Rowen didn’t really like how Coreen had framed that last question. What? Did she not believe her? “I didn’t even know his name until he showed up at my aunt’s house.”