“Why on earth would they want to show off how embarrassing and revolting they find their husbands?” Henry enquired.
“Consider this…” Scarlet began as she relaxed her back into the high stool, painfully aware she’d maintained a tense posture since Barry’s call. “These women may feel undervalued, belittled, even bullied by their husbands. Here, at this little book club surrounded by friends, they feel liberated and no doubt safe enough to share their feelings.”
A longer than comfortable pause ensued. “Damn, Miss Scarlet, you have an excellent point there. I rest my case. You are perfect for this show. Thank you for listening and for your sound female perspective.”
Feeling elated, Scarlet thanked him for calling and asked him to stay in touch.
Observing there were no more callers on hold, probably due to the length of Henry’s call, Scarlet set the song bed off with Dire Straits’ Money for nothing.
“Someone’s happy!” came a voice from the door.
“I think I just helped someone,” Scarlet said with straightened posture.
“Good for you,” Sylvia said with a playful scowl.
Checking she had eight more songs followed by four commercials lined up, Scarlet focused her attention on the young girl. “So, tell me more about your Thanksgiving.”
Laughing as she scooted her stool towards Scarlet, Sylvia responded, “Your life must be pretty dull, Oaks, if you’re so interested in mine.”
Knowing Sylvia nor anyone else at the station for that matter knew about Stew, Scarlet just smiled.
“Would this be a good time to give you a little bad news?” Sylvia asked.
Scarlet, eyes wide, nodded.
With a grimace, Sylvia went on, “Uncle Brian’s not finding a replacement for me. I know you’re still spooked about Andree and honestly Oaks if you want me to not go, I won’t.”
Suffering through a fleeting moment of panic, Scarlet reassured her friend, “Not go to Hawaii, are you crazy? I’m not spooked by Andree anymore.” Receiving another scowl from Sylvia, Scarlet reiterated, “Honestly I’m not.” Scarlet wondered what Sylvia would think if she knew Andree was small potatoes compared with the real threat looming over her. “I have a couple of very good friends who live just up the hill from my home. They’ll hang with me for sure.”
Eyes narrowed, Sylvia asked, “You’re certain?”
“Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stay,” Scarlet teased. “I mean you’ll be missing mid-fifties versus eighty degrees in Hawaii.”
Smiling broadly, Sylvia said, “I can’t wait. We’re going to the Kohala coast of the big island. Sam and I are going to leave poor Mom with the dufus and be gone all day exploring and shit.”
Scarlet closed the open sites on her computer. “I’m sure your Mom can handle him. You and Sam deserve some time alone. Hand me your thermos, it’s time for us to go home.”
Scarlet faithfully recorded each caller, but Friday arrived and with it, no sign of Stewart.
The surveillance on her was, admittedly, undetectable. Rose and Joe, on the other hand, were not.
Initially, Scarlet had walked up to their car ready to be upset. They’d not listened when she assured them all was fine. But, after hearing her father and grandmother come up with bizarre reasons for finding them in the Bay Radio parking lot, her resolve weakened. She likened the pair to a bad, but sweet and kind, comedy duo.
Now, each night, she’d wave, and they’d wave back. Scarlet would then climb into her cold car and chuckle as Abbot and Costello followed closely behind. Only when she’d opened her front door, put the light on and given a thumbs up sign, would the Honda accord make its way home.
“Happy Friday, Prudence,” Scarlet announced, before apologizing to the pig for the rather frigid house temperature.
Devouring two bowls of cornflakes with warm milk and lots of sugar, Scarlet and Prudence huddled together in bed, almost smothered by every blanket Scarlet owned.
Just when she’d found a position where every part of her body felt covered and warm, the phone rang.
Guilt washing over fatigue, Scarlet remembered she’d forgotten to call Niles and Tom. Since news of San Francisco’s suspected serial killer, it had become a nightly ritual. Reaching for her cell phone with the arm that wasn’t under Prudence’s round belly, Scarlet hit the talk button. “Sorry Niles, I’m home and in bed with a pig.”
“They were by way of a thank you,” the slow voice began, “I just wanted to thank you, yes I did.”
Jolting upright, Scarlet’s skull hit the headboard as Prudence let out a loud disgruntled snort. Frantically looking around her dark bedroom, Scarlet asked, “How did you get this number?”
“You helped me with my problems. Women like flowers, yes they do.”
Scarlet’s heart thumped at a speed she wouldn’t have believed possible. Her hands were trembling so badly she needed them both to hold the phone. Wobbling limbs somehow got her upright and over to the bedroom door. With her left hand, she turned the light switch on and off in quick succession.
In as steady a voice as she could muster she said, “But, why did … I mean you….”
“I’m much happier now, yes I am,” the eerily slow voice interrupted her.
Three loud thumps came at the front door. Prudence let out a high-pitched squeal, and the phone jumped from Scarlet’s shaky hands.
Running to the door and turning on every light switch as she went, Scarlet heard the men, before looking through the peephole.
An unknown male voice asked, “Ms. Oaks, are you okay? This is Sergeant Harraway and Sergeant Collins.”
Leaning against the door, but not opening it, Scarlet replied, “I think I’m okay.”
As one of the men appeared to call for assistance, the other enquired, “Do you need medical attention, Ms. Oaks?”
A lump in her throat and tears in her eyes, Scarlet told them she did not.
“We need to keep our posts as surveillance Mam, but we have two more officers on their way. Their names are Detective Adams and Detective Clark.”
“Okay,” Scarlet said in a feeble voice.
Less than fifteen minutes later came another, less urgent, knock on the door.
Holding identification badges up for Scarlet’s inspection, a man, who looked close to retirement age and a woman who looked not much older than Scarlet, entered the house.
After sitting in Scarlet’s living room, the female detective spoke first. “Sargent Harraway reported seeing your bedroom light flash on and off repeatedly. Taking this as a sign of distress, he knocked on your door and received intelligence you were unharmed.”
Leaning in towards Scarlet, the older detective said, “We can assure you Ms. Oaks, your home is secure. Are you able to tell us why you flashed your bedroom light in that manner?”
Holding her right hand out, palm upwards, Scarlet mumbled, “The phone.” Staring at her empty hand, the detectives patiently waited for her to elaborate.
At length, Detective Clark asked, “Did you receive a disturbing phone call this evening?”
Remembrance increasing her heart rate, Scarlet nodded her head slowly.
“Do you remember where your phone is, Ms. Oaks?” the man continued in a soothing tone.
Scarlet rubbed a hand across her forehead. “I think so.”
Smiling kindly, the detective asked, “Would you be so kind as to lead Detective Clark to where you believe your phone is located?”
The female detective stood and pocketed her notebook.
Receiving an instruction seemed to jolt Scarlet out of shock. Walking the short distance to her bedroom, she pointed to the floor where the phone lay, atop a thick patchwork quilt.
Returning to the living room, the two women found Detective Adams on his phone. Seconds later he hung up, suggesting brightly, “Despite the fact, it’s almost two in the morning, may I propose we all have a coffee or something of that nature.”
Reminding Scarlet of her Grandpa Herb, she smiled at
the man before agreeing to his idea.
“Do we have your permission to view recent calls?” Detective Clark asked as Scarlet began walking into the kitchen.
“Yes, of course,” Scarlet replied over her shoulder.
Reentering the room five minutes later, she found the detectives, heads together, examining her phone.
Scarlet set the tray down and received an appreciative nod from the male detective. While his partner looked through her notepad, he enquired, “Do you mind if this greedy old man has a few of those Oreos?”
Scarlet chuckled, “Please, help yourself.”
Reaching over and taking a couple, Detective Adams gave his partner a playful scowl. “I know, I know,” he began, “these are horribly bad for me, some kind of syrup.”
Smiling, despite her attempt to look disapproving, Detective Clark responded, “High fructose corn syrup.”
Polishing off his first cookie, Detective Adams explained, “Detective Clark is a bit of a health nut, Ms. Oaks. Always encouraging me to eat things I can’t even pronounce.”
Raising her eyebrows and shaking her head, the detective asked Scarlet, “Did you receive any other calls, after the one that alarmed you?”
Thinking for a moment, Scarlet replied, “Not that I’m aware of. I used my main light switch to alert the surveillance guys. Then when they knocked on the door, it gave me such a start, I dropped the phone.”
“Very smart move with the flashing light, by the way,” Detective Adams said through a mouthful of cookie.
Nodding in agreement, Detective Clark continued, “The last call to your cell phone is, hardly surprisingly, an unlisted number. It came in at five minutes after one this morning and lasted two minutes and four seconds. Does that sound accurate to you, Ms. Oaks?”
Thinking it seemed so much longer, but knowing it couldn’t have been, Scarlet replied, “Yes, that sounds right. I don’t remember hanging up, so I presume he did. I think I dropped the phone mid-call and ran to the front door.”
Detective Clark placed the phone on the end table to her right. “Do you remember what the caller said to you?”
Scarlet’s breathing instantly became short and shallow. “He was thanking me again. He’d done that on my show once, thanked me for helping him. He said something about women liking flowers.”
Wiping the underside of slim fingers against his mouth, Detective Adams asked, “You believe it was the same man who called into your show?”
Paling at this reality, Scarlet said, “There is no question, it was Stewart. He said something I’d forgotten to mention to the other Detectives. He does this weird thing where after each statement he kind of adds self-confirmation, as if you’ve doubted his honesty.”
Detective Clark gave her older counterpart a furtive glance. “Did he actually say he gave you flowers?”
Seeing the worried look on Scarlet’s face, Detective Adams added, “Don’t worry if you can’t remember.”
Scarlet rubbed at her increasingly tired eyes. “I think he did. He said something about it being a way of thanking me. Then he talked about women liking flowers.”
Standing up, the male detective declared, “You’re exhausted Ms. Oaks. It’s time Detective Clark, and I let you get some rest.”
Returning her cup to the tray, the younger detective informed Scarlet she and Detective Adams would be conferring with the lead detectives on the case.
Walking to the front door, they offered assurances of Scarlet’s safety. Reaching down and petting Prudence, Detective Adams concluded, “But, purely for your own peace of mind, Ms. Oaks, it might be a good idea to stay with family or friends for a little while.”
Closing the door on the detectives, Scarlet mused over who would fuss less, her Gran and Dad or Niles and Tom. Feeling grateful to have them, she and Prudence fell back into bed and attempted to assume their original sleeping position.
Waking up to the patter, patter of little hooves heading to their litter box, Scarlet groped around the bed looking for her phone.
Falling back onto her pillow, she remembered it was on a side table in her living room. Detective Clark had placed it there and with that recollection came the memory of all that had transpired.
How on earth did Stew find her number? Or maybe it wasn’t even that hard. Was this call a sign Stew wanted to harm her?
Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, Scarlet promised her pig she’d turn up the heat, then, inadvertently, dragged some undergarments with the length of the blanket, into the living room.
Thermostat adjusted and toast procured, Scarlet plugged her phone in to charge and scrolled through the list of missed calls. Deciding her mother’s voicemail sounded most needy, Scarlet hit the callback button, then sunk back into her couch while an apparently still tired Prudence dozed on her lap.
Marilyn professed she was beyond distraught. What was it about her that made the entire family recoil? First Violet, then her husband and now Trent.
Focusing on the positive, Scarlet gave her mother the good news. Violet barely featured in the movie and was certainly never naked. Tentatively, Scarlet enquired after her brother. As she suspected, it was more Lisa than Trent. But, heaven forbid her brother could grow a backbone and stand up to the woman. Through tears, Marilyn said Trent and Lisa had decided to spend Christmas with Lisa’s family. Apparently, Lisa’s parents had joined the same church as them, and Lisa felt it was beneficial for the children to see family members follow the same path. After Marilyn imparted, more than once, how she’d be totally and completely alone at Christmas, Scarlet, agreed to forgo feeding the homeless at St. Christopher’s. She would, instead, spend Christmas with her Mother in Aptos.
Pushing uncharitable thoughts about Lisa from her head, Scarlet readied to call Niles and Tom. Their message had voiced concern at not getting their nightly, I’m home safe, report. If they didn’t hear soon, they’d stop by to check on her. Taking a moment to construct an explanation of last night’s drama that wouldn’t panic them too much, Scarlet was distracted by the doorbell.
“That’ll be Niles,” Scarlet informed Prudence, gently moving the pig’s head from her lap. With the blanket still draped around her, Scarlet opened the front door.
In retrospect, Scarlet couldn’t decide who looked more alarmed, the David Bowie look alike or the detective. Although to be fair, the detective should be getting used to the disheveled look by now. Mortifyingly aware she’d just opened her front door wearing a long t-shirt and a blanket, Scarlet muttered something about expecting Niles and a late night. Noticing the men pull their eyes from her legs to her face, Scarlet frantically pulled at the, maddeningly longer than it was wide, blanket.
Deciding her only option was to turn her back on them, Scarlet began walking towards her bedroom. “Do come in,” she said looking over her shoulder. “Have a seat, and I’ll be right with you.”
Cursing under her breath, she ran into her bathroom and, for the first time that day, looked at her reflection. “Just perfect,” she muttered to herself, “I even have bits of Oreo cookies stuck in my teeth.”
Seeing the humor in it, Scarlet remembered how she’d looked the night of Niles and Tom’s party. Her unfortunate date must imagine he’d come to the wrong house. Ten minutes later, in jeans and a cable knit sweater, Scarlet entered the living room looking presentable, if not date ready.
The detective spoke first, “I was apologizing to your boyfriend for the necessary grilling needed before we’d allow him close to your home.”
Blushing at the term ‘boyfriend’ and being unable to fathom what the boyfriend must be thinking about the situation, Scarlet said, “David, I’m so sorry about all this.”
Her date replied, “No apology necessary.” Smiling, he added, “I’m James.”
Wishing there was a hole she could crawl into, Scarlet became aware the Detective’s cough had a decidedly pantomime quality to it. Smyth, after getting Scarlet’s attention, raised his eyebrows before lowering his chin towards the ground
a couple of times.
Turning in the direction of the chin point, Scarlet became newly mortified by the sight of two pieces of underwear strewn across the living room floor. James politely chose that moment to be enthralled with the view of the bay from her living room window. Hastily stuffing the embarrassing garments under a couch cushion, Scarlet asked,
“Would anyone like a cup of tea?”
Barely disguising a chuckle, Detective Smyth said he had questions regarding the previous evening but would stop by at a more convenient time.
Seeing Smyth out the door, Scarlet turned to face James. Whether it was the kind look in his eyes or the warm and understanding smile, she couldn’t be sure. But, with no warning, her lower lip began to tremble, and tears filled her tired eyes. James, be it somewhat self-consciously, opened his arms to hug her. Scarlet, effortlessly cocooned herself within their strength, and unashamedly, cried into his shoulder.
“What must you think of me?” she asked him, pulling away minutes later.
“I think you’re incredible,” he replied in a low voice.
Laughing as she looked around for a tissue, Scarlet said, “I forget about our date; I call you David and have police surrounding my home.”
Narrowed eyes coupled with a mischievous grin, James replied, “The first two are pretty surprising.”
Scarlet simultaneously giggled and sniffed. “I have to find a tissue.”
James looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I have to go. I brought … well … I need to get going because …. Can we, when you’re …
Squeezing the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger, Scarlet interjected, “Less pathetic, not surrounded by drama?”
Motioning towards the door with his right hand, James replied, “I have to leave, but I’ll be in touch.”
Scarlet forced a smile. “I understand and thank you for the much-needed hug.” Waving her arms in the air, she added, “I’m so sorry about all this.”
Pushing back a wavy blond tendril that had escaped from behind his ear, James, again, motioned towards her drive but appeared unable to vocalize the urgency. “Please, don’t apologize. I’ll call you,” he added, walking out the door.
Scarlet Oaks and the Serial Caller Page 13