Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

  “Here he is.” The majestic animal was lying on his side, barely alive. “Oh, how sad,” Nick said. “Stand back.”

  Paula put her arm around Liz’s shoulder and turned her away from the scene as Nick drew his gun and aimed it at the back of the buck’s head. One blast and he was gone. In spite of the end of his misery, a fresh torrent of tears from both women erupted. Nick was saddened, too.

  “Come on, ladies, I’m taking you home, but I’m coming back for him. That’s a lot of fresh meat, and that rack of antlers is a trophy. It would be senseless to leave it there to rot.”

  “Nick’s right, honey,” Paula said.

  Liz nodded. It did make sense to save the meat. Oddly, it made her feel better about its death. “Okay, but how are you going to manage alone? It’s huge.”

  “My brother is going to help me whether he likes it or not,” Nick said.

  Liz laughed. “Good luck with that one,” she said as they got into the truck again and drove back to the house. Liz poured coffee while Nick went back to find his brother.

  “Feel better?” Paula asked.

  “About the deer? Yes. About the situation here, no.”

  “Things have a way of working out,” Paula said gently. “The gray areas come into play.”

  “Paula, no offense, but I could never live the way you do. And even if I could, at least Nick is charming. John is an unpleasant prick.”

  “No offense taken. I know I’ve made a choice that many women wouldn’t be able to abide by. My husband, my ex husband is a philanderer. Oh well, too bad. I didn’t want to start over, and he didn’t either. I like my life. I like his family. I like this; what you and I are doing right now. How easy would it have been if I wasn’t with him? Nick would’ve come here tonight with some thirty-year-old. Do you think she’d hike through the frozen woods and hold on to you like I did?”

  “No, probably not. But I don’t even like John. I should’ve divorced him years ago.”

  “Our life would’ve been so lonely without you. Can you imagine Joan and Peter without the four of us? No, you did the right thing. You loved your husband and always tried to make him happy. That is a successful marriage.”

  “What a bunch of shit,” Liz said, laughing. Paula didn’t know the real problems, the deeper intimacy issues they had. Liz had confided to her about a small detail in a weak moment and then discovered Paula was telling everyone else what she’d been told. That was the end of using her as a confidante.

  “Look, we all have our own limitations. I’m at the end of mine. I don’t want to live the rest of my life having to leave John alone to do his own thing. I want a companion.” She stopped talking when Nick’s voice echoed down the hall. He was placating a reluctant John.

  “Oh, come on. There’s one hundred pounds of venison for the taking. I’ll call my buddy at the DNR tomorrow and tell him what we did. It’s legal.”

  “It’s too late now,” John reasoned. “Let’s do it in the morning.”

  “No. The meat won’t last that long without me gutting the carcass. I’m here to clean up after your shoddy attempt at deer slaying. Just help me load it onto my truck.”

  Liz read John’s body language and it didn’t bode well for her. He’d give her the silent treatment for days after this assault. Maybe it was for the best. If he acted personable, breaking up would be more difficult to do. Right now, all she wanted was for him to be gone.

  “I wish there was something I could do for you,” Paula said.

  “There really isn’t. Just be there for me when I need you.”

  “Of course, but you’ll have to let me know when that is,” Paula said. “I can’t read your mind.”

  “I’ve never kept anything from you before, and there’s no reason for me to start now,” Liz said, sighing.

  Joan and Peter were among the last guests to leave Greektown. “Whew! What in God’s name was wrong with everyone tonight?” Joan asked.

  “You’ve got me,” Peter replied. His family at large was only tolerable in small doses. Brothers Nick and John were a different story; he could live next door to them if he had to. But all the chaos of everyone together, with his sister and the kids and Gus’s new girlfriend, it was too much. “We have to go next weekend, too. The girls expect it, so we won’t be getting out of the whole shebang, from Christmas Eve to New Year’s Day. You asked for it, girly.”

  Joan had successfully isolated her two children and herself from Peter’s family for most of her marriage. For thirty years, she kissed Peter goodbye and watched him drive off to godforsaken Greektown, leaving her home alone with two children every Sunday and most holidays. Then out of nowhere, her daughters accused her of denying them their Greek heritage, and since then they’d been at every Greektown family function, which included Sunday dinners, birthdays, the meal after Sophie’s funeral, and now the holidays, starting with Thanksgiving. So far, she was relieved that the get-togethers were no different from any big, noisy family meal. The food was good if you liked Greek, and the people interesting. Now that Peter’s parents, Nick and Eleni, were dead, Joan didn’t feel so out of place. Her mother-in-law had been a strange woman; she’d dressed in modern clothing and was intelligent, but she’d had some old country ways that were scary. Joan had never taken her children to Greektown when they were babies because she was so afraid something evil would be transferred to their tiny bodies. Now she realized her own ignorant superstitions caused her to deny the grandparents access to their own flesh and blood. Peter never complained, but Joan wondered why he didn’t force her. Men.

  “Did you figure out what was wrong with John and Liz?” Joan asked.

  “Nope, he wouldn’t open his mouth. My brother is getting a little odd in his old age,” Peter replied.

  “Ya think? Liz said she’d call tomorrow. I’m almost afraid to hear what she might be planning.”

  Peter glanced at his wife. “What do you mean? Do you think one of them is sick?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I wouldn’t be surprised if they split up after Liz’s outburst at the dinner table.”

  “I don’t think I’ll survive if they divorce,” Peter admitted, laughing. “My brothers and their antics are getting to be too much for me.”

  Joan took his hand. “How’d you turn out so normal?”

  “I’m the middle child,” he said. “Ignored for the most part, so the real damage is done to the first and last of the kids.” They both laughed. “It’s in every family.”

  “What’d you think of Maria’s little pre-dinner speech?” After everyone sat down, Maria asked for a moment of silence in remembrance of their late sister, Sophie.

  “Oh, I appreciated it, actually,” Peter said. “We need to remember her in some way, I think.”

  Joan thought it macabre to mention a dead person before a meal, as if she was a saint or a goddess. But she didn’t believe in arguing with Peter over his family. She never complained all those years when he left her at home to be in Greektown because it had been her choice not to go. She sighed, and he looked at her, concerned.

  “You okay?”

  “I will be once the holidays are over,” she said.

  8

  Maria spent the night in the third-floor apartment in Greektown. She’d leave for home after coffee in the morning. She drank a lot of retsina at dinner, now smelling it on her breath, coming from her pores, even her body waste. It made her sick. The family whispered behind her back that Maria had a drinking problem. Her husband, Jim, who’d refused to come to Greektown after they were married, was always angry with her because of the drinking. Her adult children were estranged, but not formally. She pretended their absence was bad behavior by unappreciative children. The only respite she got was coming home to Greektown. Gus loved her and depended on her, and never asked her to curtail her drinking, just not to do so when she was going to drive.

  Her alcoholism didn’t effect her day-to-day life; she ran a successful bookstore in the little resort town where she li
ved, and she had the reputation of being a character. She’d close up shop at nine every night and go to one of many bars, sit on a stool in the back and drink until closing. Someone would always be on hand to get her home, and the next day her husband would drive her to her car. “Why don’t I just take you to work everyday?” he asked. She never answered. It would mean admitting that she was in no shape to drive instead of pretending that a Good Samaritan wanted to see her home after dark. She might slur her speech a little bit right before she called it a night or talk a little louder. But that was the only outward sign.

  After every dinner in Greektown, she took over at the kitchen sink. Drunk and satiated from food, she was comforted by the big porcelain sink with the window overlooking the back alley and the lights of the city beyond. She never tired of that view, washing pots and pans and, as the dishes came in, rack after rack of dishes. Sophie used to dry for her, and then after she died, Jill helped. She’d dry the dishes and put them back on the shelf in silence. On the Sunday before Christmas, Jill brought a guest, so Maria’s sister-in-law Joan took over. She didn’t talk, but she did prompt Maria with questions, and Maria spilled her guts about missing Sophie and the whole mess of the affair, the man who she had been involved with killing her. Joan wiped a stray tear from her eye from time to time with the sleeve of her shirt until Maria saw her. Not wanting to get maudlin, she said, “Don’t use the dish towel to wipe your eyes, now.”

  “I won’t, I promise,” Joan said. Joan lost contact with Sophie after she and Peter introduced her to her husband, Joe, years ago. They were never sure why it happened, but Peter thought Joe might have been a snob for all his wealth. Joan felt guilty for allowing it to happen.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Maria said when Joan confessed. “Sophie didn’t like Greektown either. It reminded her of our childhood that she believed we spent in poverty. It wasn’t that bad, really. Our parents worked hard, and we had to work, too. There wasn’t the extra money for frivolous things.”

  “What’s going on with her children?” Joan asked.

  Maria put her dishcloth down and looked out the window. “Now that is really sad. Her daughter, Patty, stays in touch. She’s in California with her husband. But the twin boys, who look like a pair of Greek gods, don’t know us and don’t care about us. They’re away at school, and since daddy is loaded and doesn’t want to be hampered with their presence, will probably send them to a warmer climate for the holidays.” She looked at Joan. “I guess I could invite them here.”

  “You could do that. They might not take you up on it now, but I bet when they grow up they will, like my girls did.”

  Maria lay on the hard mattress, looking up at the ceiling. Sunlight dappled, but it was freezing outside in spite of it. She thought of home, of her house on a sand dune overlooking Lake Michigan, and how in cold winters, icebergs would build up on the shore. Suddenly homesick, she got up and got into the shower to wash the stench of the night down the drain.

  She’d stay up in the apartment for breakfast; in the past she loved going down to the grocery and having coffee and fresh pastry. Now that Estelle was always around, it had lost its memory value. The ghost of her mother and father wouldn’t lurk behind the counter like they used to, her mother’s hands covered in flour and her father sitting on a stool behind the deli case, reading a book. Now it was all about Estelle yammering away. How did Gus stand it? It had to be about the sex.

  Sex? When was the last time Jim and I did it? Knotting her black hair into a bun, she noticed the gray getting more pronounced. It was okay. Lipstick on, she buttoned up her jacket and put her hands in her trouser pockets to straighten them out. Not bad for sixty-something. Walking out to get coffee, she discovered Gus in the apartment kitchen pouring water into a drinking bottle.

  “Why aren’t you downstairs?” she asked, concerned. Her brother was never away from the store.

  “Jill had a small accident early this morning at a murder scene,” he explained. “She’s in the ER. Stitches to her mouth and a broken rib. I’m headed over there now.”

  “What happened?” Maria was shocked. Jill had never before been hurt in the line of duty.

  Gus shook his head. “I have no idea. I’m just glad she called me. She said she’s starving, and they won’t feed her, so I’m taking her breakfast.”

  “Gus, they might have a reason for it. In case she needs surgery or something.”

  “Why would she need surgery?” He put the bottle on the counter and looked off into space. “I never thought of that.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” She closed the bookshop on Mondays, so it wouldn’t be a big deal to wait to leave until he got back.

  “Would you mind? Estelle’s down there, but I’d feel better if you were around to help Andy when it gets busy,” he whispered.

  Her heart sank remembering Estelle was there, but this was an emergency. She’d do it for Gus.

  An orderly pulled the back of Jill’s stretcher up so she wasn’t laying flat. The pain from the blow to her back made it difficult to breathe. An X-ray revealed a cracked rib that might cause pain on deep breathing. So far, the area on her back was red, but not bruised. Whatever was thrown at her was done so with enough velocity to break a rib, and a bruise would come to the surface eventually.

  Although Jill didn’t want to alarm Gus, she called him in case the press picked up the story.

  Albert was back at her side. “Tell me again what happened,” he asked.

  Explaining to him, she admitted that at first she thought it was a ghost trying to get her attention.

  “It was so strange to get knocked down and then find no one behind me. I should’ve called for help right away.”

  The CSI team was back at the scene to find what whacked Jill across the back. A police cruiser noticed Jacob Parker’s Cadillac cruising down Jefferson, and he was taken in for questioning, locked up, and his car impounded. The directions to Belle Isle’s lighthouse were on his GPS. A police scanner was in his car; he could have heard about the body and the chance Jill would be there. Jacob Parker was in trouble again, now a possible suspect in the murder of Cynthia Caldwell and in the attack on Jill.

  “I need to get out of here,” she said to Albert, pulling her sleeve back to look at her watch. “What’s the holdup? And I’m starving.” The words were barely out of her mouth as Gus walked in. He took one look at her face, at her bruised jaw and big bandage over her chin, and moaned. Albert put a protective arm around his shoulder.

  “She’s okay,” he said, angry with himself for allowing her to go back to Belle Isle alone. Jill reached for the bag he carried.

  “Mikro arni. How can you eat with your mouth taped shut?” Gus asked.

  “Just give me the food, please,” Jill replied. Just then, a nurse walked in. “Can I eat?”

  “Is this from Gus’s?” the nurse asked, staring longingly at the paper bag.

  “Yes, and this is Gus,” Jill said.

  The nurse looked at Gus. “My family’s dinner comes from your place at least twice a week.” She leaned forward to shake his hand. “You can eat,” she answered. “You’ll be discharged in a few more minutes. The radiologist is looking at your films again. Any headache, dizziness, ringing in your ears?”

  “No,” Jill answered, biting into a pastry. “Can I have that coffee?” Gus uncovered a cardboard cup with a blue and white image of the Parthenon decorating it and handed it to her. She drank it down, anxious to get back to Belle Isle. She knew the experiences she was having were from more than simply an irate defendant. It had to be karmic in the spiritual realm, trying to warn her of something. Even if it was Jacob Parker, he seemed like a distant threat to her. Why didn’t he just kill her on the spot? What was with the childish blow to the back? And why not her head if he wanted to do her real harm. It was something that transcended Jacob Parker’s creepiness.

  Gus returned to the grocery when he was satisfied Jill was going to be okay. Maria was leaning against the counter, chattin
g with Estelle. Pleasantly surprised that Estelle’s love for Gus was obvious, her previous animosity lessened. Maria was pleased that Gus would finally have a companion after being alone for so many years.

  “Is she okay?” Estelle asked, sincerely concerned.

  “She’s like the beast who survives the apocalypse,” Dido shouted in English.

  Ignoring her, Gus nodded his head. “Just fine; ornery and complaining to get back to work.”

  “Like I said,” Dido replied.

  Gus frowned at Estelle and pointed over his shoulder. It was time to get Dido back to her apartment. Maria turned aside to hide her smirk. Gus confided that Dido was becoming a nuisance, and he would put up with her nonsense unless customers were in the store or she insulted his family.

  Estelle touched Dido’s arm. “Mother Nick, you’ve done it again. Let’s go.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” she said, crying out in Greek. “I’m an old woman. Let me enjoy my sarcasm.”

  When they were out of the store, Maria whispered to Gus, “Are you going to marry her? She alluded to marriage, and it took me by complete surprise, because you have never mentioned it. I’m hurt.”

  Gus frowned. “No, no, no. You will be the very first to know if I get married again, all right? Is that a deal?”

  Maria nodded her head. “I suppose. I like her as a person; I really do. She fits in well with the family. Last night was the perfect example. She let us do our thing and was pleasant and accommodating. I just don’t ever think we’ll be friends.”

  “That’s okay, sister. You don’t need to like her that way. It’s enough that you see her kindness and her adaptability. She’s always liked our family. If we got married, I suspect that would continue.”