by B. T. Alive
“Definitely,” I said, trying to be encouraging but wondering where this was going.
“So when I saw that man’s performance yesterday, I certainly thought that he must have crossed the line. Even for Lee, this had to be too much. But it wasn’t. Not until last night.”
“Last night?” I said. “What happened?”
“They fought,” she said, her voice sour and taut.
“Like… physically?”
“No. That wasn’t necessary,” she said. “The exact details are irrelevant. The upshot was, Lee came knocking at my door. Devastated.”
“Wow,” I said. “When was this?”
“About eight,” Frannie said. “So, yes, Lee and I had time to talk for hours.”
“Had he kicked her out?”
Frannie barked another short name. “That, at least, would have been beyond his legal reach. All that property was in both their names… if I’d had my way, she’d have held the title free and clear, but she was so besotted that I couldn’t insist. She hadn’t really smiled since before she lost Gary…” She scowled, her face crumpling with a compassion she couldn’t keep submerged. And a sadness, too… her cousin wouldn’t likely be smiling again anytime soon.
“Are you sure the fight itself isn’t relevant?” I said, gently. “It could be a clue as to what he did next… who he might have met, why he was even out there.”
“It was always the same fight, and always different,” Frannie snapped, bitter. “The tiny shift, the one real change, was that this time, after she’d actually seen with her own eyes how far he was willing to use her, she took her first infinitesimal steps toward setting a boundary. Demanding respect. Fighting her addiction.”
“Addiction?” I said, confused.
“You can get addicted to all kinds of things,” Frannie intoned. “Gambling, shopping, working, sex, romance… your relationship…”
“So what happened?” I cut in. “Why’d you go back to their house on the island? Did Lee want something?”
“No, no,” Frannie said. “When we’d talked it all to death, I finally convinced her to lay down, in my guest bedroom, and then I let her rest in peace. Cried herself to sleep… I could hear it downstairs.” She grimaced. “And all I could think about was Dante Radcliff, sitting there smug and lord of the manor in that beautiful old house on his very own island, all bought and paid for by women. It ate me up. I couldn’t sit still; I just had to go and have it out with the man.”
Her pale face was flushing again, and she was looking right at me and Tina now, the silly stamp forgotten. I realized that even though Dante might be dead, she’d never had the chance to tell him off.
“And then?” I said. “What exactly did you see?”
“Headlights,” Frannie said. “Up on the slope. It was dark, and there was a thick fog, so I didn’t even see them until I was nearly on Haven, crossing the concrete bridge. White headlights, and red brake lights, and a dim gray pile that felt like it shouldn’t be there. So I marched right up.”
“Really?” I said. “Weren’t you nervous?”
“I was angry,” she said. “I recognized the truck; it was a clunky old farm-sized dump truck that had come with the property. Why the old owners thought they needed a dump truck is beyond me; you could fit that whole harvest in a biggish pickup, and they had one of those too. But some people accumulate vehicles like strays; that old barn there is full to bursting with rusted-out nonsense… ATVs, a backhoe, decrepit tractors—”
“So you thought it was a thief?” I said.
“I thought it was Dante,” she snapped. “Up to who knows what. Playing at being a farmer, or maybe even doing a little sabotage himself before he took off. I had to get pretty close before I put it all together—that pile was the grapes, and they’d used the dump truck, first to store them, and then to bring them… back.”
“Who’s they?” I said. “Who did you see?”
Frannie shook her head. “No one. By the time I got up there, the driver door was slamming. The truck roared past me, flying down the hill.”
Elaine cut in. “Did you see where it went? I can’t believe no one would have noticed a strange truck like that clattering through town, especially at that hour.”
“I don’t know,” Frannie said. “I only watched it as far as the slope. Then I thought I… heard something.”
Tina put her hand to her mouth.
“I must have imagined it,” Frannie said, firmly. “That medical examiner woman told me he would have had to already be dead. Absolutely. But I didn’t know that then. It was dark and I was alone with that enormous pile and… well, when I could think again, I decided it must have been some animal. But the truck was stolen, so I called the police, and that was that. I told them what I thought I’d heard, but it wasn’t till this morning that they gave me the… news.”
She closed up, her lips clamping in a firm line.
And then… her face twisted with a strange, sudden passion. She recovered herself almost at once, but beside me, Tina winced hard. I gave her a questioning glance, but she shook her head.
“Thank you, Frannie,” I said. “I really appreciate it.”
Elaine patted Frannie’s arm. “It’s so good to talk about it.”
Frannie grunted. “And that’s all I’ll say.” She eyed me. “So how about it, Summer? Who was that? Who killed my cousin’s fiance?”
“We’ve got some ideas—” I started, but Tina cut in.
“Nothing definite,” she said. “We’d better hold off so we don’t start any gossip.”
“Any more gossip, you mean,” Elaine said, giving Tina a significant smirk. “I heard you weren’t too thrilled with this wedding yourself.”
I wanted to face-palm. Really, Elaine? Sometimes she had the social skills of a ten-year-old.
“Tina was with me last night,” I said sharply. “I can vouch for her.”
“Oh, of course,” Elaine said hurriedly. “I’m sure everyone would agree that the very idea is preposterous. And it certainly helps that she had you… even if you are close friends…”
She trailed off, eyeing Frannie. To my shock and dismay, Frannie was giving Tina a thoughtful frown.
“I don’t believe this!” I said. “Seriously?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Frannie said quietly. “I’m very tired, Summer.”
“It’s just that Arthur told me that all the other, ah, wedding guests were at his place,” Elaine said quickly. “It’s just worrying.”
“Not all—” I growled.
“It’s fine,” Tina said. “We’re all still in shock and it’s all going to be fine. But Summer and I have to go.”
Summer was not at all ready to go, but Tina gave me a stern look that was positively mommish, and I gave in. I mustered up as gracious a smile as I could for those two suspicious old women, and then I escaped outside.
“You don’t have to take that!” I exploded, the second the door closed behind us. “We don’t have to take that! How can they even imagine—”
“I’m the only ex who lost my temper in public,” Tina said, with a placid shrug. “And then bugged out for days.”
“No, Fiona lost it at the funeral,” I said. “But apparently she’s off-limits, because she promised she’s innocent. Which still leaves Rhonda.”
“I know,” Tina said. “But I just don’t see it.”
“Why not?” I said. “There’s something off about the woman. That whole thing with the hair? She even did it to Noreen Quigg! It’s like she has to do it, even with total strangers.”
“That doesn’t make her a murderer.”
“Fine, then who?” I said. “Who’s left?”
Tina frowned.
Then her phone vibrated, and she dug it out of her jacket pocket. She swiped the screen… then gaped.
“What? What is it?” I said.
“A text. From Sheriff Jake. He got a confession.”
“A confession?” I said. “Someone just told him they k
illed Dante? Who is it? Where are they?”
“He’s got her in the jail at the station,” Tina said. “Rhonda.”
“I knew it!” I said, even though, honestly, I was stunned. “Tina, it’s over!”
But Tina frowned.
Part IV
Chapter 28
“I see you brought Keegan,” said Sheriff Jake, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“Go home, little girls,” chirped our mind-reading parrot.
“I didn’t think little,” rumbled the sheriff, giving the bird the evil eye. But his cheeks still pinked above his burly mustache, and he cast a nervous glance across the police station lobby toward his secretary, Imelda, at her desk. She affected not to have heard, but her crow’s feet seemed to deepen with amusement.
Keegan is our family’s African Grey parrot, and he’d be a beautiful animal, with his intelligent eyes and his gray-and-white feathers, with their accents in red, except that he reads minds. And he doesn’t read silently; he’s got to share it with the class, in his thin, high-pitched voice that’s so human it’s creepy. I’d have been way more comfortable with at least the standard piratical squawk. Actually, I’d have been way more comfortable if we’d left him at home.
“I just don’t understand what you’re hoping to accomplish,” said the sheriff, glowering at Tina. “She confessed. You really think she’d lie? Whom would she be hoping to protect?”
“You said whom,” I put in. “Nice.”
“I don’t know whom,” Tina said. “It just all feels wrong.”
The sheriff frowned. He was physically blocking the door to the hallway that had the cells, standing there with arms crossed. Now he flicked another glance at Imelda, then leaned in closer to Tina. “When you say feels—”
“Yes,” Tina said.
The sheriff groaned. “All right. Ten minutes. But I’ll be right there with you.”
“Stupid empathy,” Keegan chirped.
Now the sheriff flamed up beet red. Tina cocked an eyebrow, genuinely affronted.
“On second thought,” he said, “you’re two very accomplished young women, and I trust you both implicitly.” He stepped away from the door, giving us an elaborate wave to proceed.
“Thank you,” said Tina, and she breezed past him with prim satisfaction.
But before I could follow, the sheriff caught me eye. “I expect you to tell me everything.”
“Of course,” I said.
“Hmm,” he muttered. “Good luck.”
I wondered why he thought we’d need it. Hadn’t Rhonda just given him a free confession?
Then we walked into her cell, and I saw what he meant.
The cozy little room and cell hadn’t changed much since I’d been in here to see Tina—maybe Imelda had swapped in some fresh wildflowers. But Tina, standing beside me with Keegan and looking in on Rhonda with pained compassion, seemed like almost a different person from the bedraggled, disturbed Tina that had been under attack on the far side of those bars. And now Rhonda too looked like a different version of herself… haunted and miserable and staring with haggard eyes.
She was fiddling with the bedspread on the little bed, nervously pulling the comfy quilt in tiny little tugs, adjusting first one side and then the other.
“Rhonda?” Tina said, soft and kind. “Can we talk?”
Rhonda whirled up to face us in a flurry, as if we’d caught her doing something shameful.
“Tina!” she cried, her voice strained with fake cheer. “And your friend… Winter?”
“Summer,” I said flatly.
“Seriously?” chirped Keegan.
“And who is this little fellow?” Rhonda said, poking her hand between the bars at Keegan.
Keegan squawked in alarm and drew back, flapping away and struggling to escape Tina’s hold. Only when she stepped out of Rhonda’s reach did the bird relax.
(I guess he can make a parrot squawk when he wants to. But his talking voice sounds like he’s a wispy little professor.)
“Oh dear,” Rhonda said, crestfallen. “Even the animals are wiser than you know.”
“Rhonda,” said Tina. “I don’t know exactly what you told the sheriff—”
“Stop. Please.” Rhonda held up one hand with a flourish… she was so relentlessly dramatic, it was hard for me to take anything she said seriously. Even a murder confession. “I have already said what I had to say,” she continued. “Let us speak of kinder things.”
“Kelvin,” chirped the parrot.
I cringed. Had that come out of me? That dang parrot. I wasn’t even thinking about that dude…
Then I saw Rhonda. She had blanched quite pale.
Tina caught her breath, and her eyes went wide. “Oh no,” she breathed. “Him?”
“Kelvin. True love,” chirped the parrot. “Kelvin. True love. True love. True love.”
“What did you do to it?” rasped Rhonda. Her face was distorted with fear. She raised a crooked finger toward Keegan, arm shaking, as if to ward off an evil spirit. “Is it possessed?”
“Keegan, shush,” Tina cooed, patting the bird but edging nervously farther from Rhonda. “He’s fine, Rhonda. It’s okay.”
But Keegan kept chirping. “Kelvin. Kelvin. Kelvin. Kelvin. True love acts. True lovers do. What would a true, true lover do? What would a true, true, true, true, true—”
“Get it away from me!” screamed Rhonda. She lunged through the bars, jutting out both arms as far as they’d go, reaching with hands like claws. “Make it stop!”
Tina tried to shush him, even cover his beak, but Keegan ground on, incessant. “Kelvin? True love? Kelvin? True love? True? True? True?”
Rhonda howled and covered her ears.
The door slammed open and the sheriff burst in. “What in the blazes?” he cried. His bright eyes darted, taking in the scene, and then he crossed to Rhonda and firmly took her arms. “Ms. Cameron!” he bellowed. “I’m going to need you to calm down.”
But she shrieked and reached again toward Keegan, even with her arms locked in his fists.
“Am I true?” Keegan chirped.
“Get him out of here!” the sheriff snapped at Tina.
“It’s not him, it’s her!” I said.
“It’s possessed!” Rhonda shrieked. “Demon bird! Get it away!”
“Imelda? We’re going to need a sedative!” the sheriff called. Still struggling to hold Rhonda steady, he twisted back toward Tina. “I want that bird out!”
“Are you hearing what he’s saying?” I cried.
“I don’t care,” the sheriff grunted. “If he doesn’t stop, this woman’s going to hurt herself.”
“He can’t stop. She’s got to stop,” I said. “Rhonda!” I yelled, forcing myself to meet her wild eyes. “Stop!”
Rhonda screamed. She yanked hard on her arms, clawing for her own ears like she might rip them off.
The parrot went ballistic, screeching at the top of its lungs, “AM I? AM I? AM I? AM I? AM I–”
“Stop!” I thundered, and I grabbed both of Rhonda’s hands.
The zap blasted up both my arms, searing and white hot.
Rhonda sagged backward, limp, and the sheriff dropped to one knee and dove a hand through the bars to catch her shoulder and ease her to the ground. I was breathing hard, shuddering with the intensity of the pain, and it took me several moments to realize… it was silent.
Keegan was perched on Tina’s hand, calmly preening himself like nothing had happened.
At the door, Imelda rushed in with a syringe, her bracelets and necklaces jangling. She cocked her head, confused, as she surveyed the dazed Rhonda, who was seated on the floor and slumped against the bars. “How’d you already sedate her?” Imelda said.
“She calmed down,” said Sheriff Jake. “On her own.”
Imelda frowned, and gave me and Tina a shrewd look.
“Thank you, Imelda,” the sheriff said, raising his eyebrows.
Imelda sniffed and clacked away.
The sher
iff then turned his bushy eyebrows toward me. “A little warning next time?” he snapped. “If you’d touched me, this would have gotten real interesting.”
“Sorry,” I said, with a little shudder. Not my favorite memory. “But it did work. Look at her.”
Indeed, Rhonda was already looking a little less dazed. She was still tranced out, but she had a look I’d never yet seen on her face, not any time I’d met her… peace. She actually looked decently happy.
“Poor woman,” the sheriff muttered. He sighed and heaved himself from the floor. “I should have seen it earlier.”
“Seen what?” Tina said. She sounded a bit dazed herself.
“Her condition. We’ll have to get her looked at, but I’m pretty sure she’s got OCD.”
I frowned. “What is that? Obsessive… something…”
“Obsessive-compulsive disorder,” the sheriff said. “I’ve seen it before. Obsessive, tormenting worries, that the person tries to placate with various compulsions. She hides it pretty well.”
“Until Keegan starts saying her thoughts,” I said.
“Shh,” Tina said, and she nodded toward Rhonda.
She had sat back from the bars, and she was rubbing her eyes and blinking. Then she looked up, eyeing us each in turn with a mild, questioning smile. Even her eyes looked changed.
“Help you up?” the sheriff said. He extended a hand.
She took it and stood, and her grateful smile was so natural that she looked downright friendly. She wasn’t just peaceful… she was present. It was like all the time I’d known her, she’d been bolted inside behind an iron door and talking through a mail slot. Now she’d stepped out on the porch to join us. Now she was just here.
She dusted herself off, then looked around at the bars with a rueful smile. “My goodness,” she said. “I’ve done some stupid things in my time for ‘romance’, I can tell you… but this takes the cake.”