by Alex Marcoux
“Hello,” Taylor answered.
“Hi, Taylor.”
“Hi, Mark. How are you today?”
“Great. I’m getting ready for my trip. Did you happen to ask Jessie about the camping gear? I’m shopping tonight for the things I need and I’m just trying to finalize my list.”
“Yes. I did speak with her. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know; it slipped my mind.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know you’re under a lot of stress.”
“Actually I haven’t been. Being at Jessie’s has been good for both of us. But anyway, she said she has a bunch of stuff, including a solar shower and a daypack. Would you like me to find it and perhaps you can swing by and look through it?”
“That would be great.”
“Let me look and I’ll call you back and we can make further arrangements.”
“That’s fine.”
Taylor went back to work on a new song. When she was finished, she decided to look for Jessie’s camping equipment. She looked in the obvious places like the garage and workroom in the basement. When she didn’t find the equipment in the workroom, she opened the door to the crawl space. The room was dark and Taylor searched for a light switch along the side of the door, but found none.
She retrieved a flashlight on the workbench, turned it on and pointed it into the room. A lighting fixture hung from the low ceiling in the middle of the storage area. Taylor stepped into the crawl space, hunched over so she didn’t hit her head on the low beams. She shuffled along the tarp-lined dirt to the hanging light string. A heavy musty smell filled the room.
She yanked at the string and the light bulb lit the dank storage area. She looked around the small room. Boxes were neatly stacked along the walls, each labeled with its contents. There were boxes labeled as tax records with years. Then boxes were labeled with titles of Jessie’s novels. A corner of the room had sporting equipment. It was here Taylor saw a tent rolled up. Next to it, there was a garbage bag labeled on the outside “Sleeping Bag.” Beside the sleeping bag, there was a box labeled “Camping Accessories.” Taylor was a bit envious that Jessie’s storage area was so neat and effectively labeled.
Carefully, she picked up the box and brought it toward the workroom, leaving it near the crawl space entrance. Wondering about the daypack, she turned back to search for the bag. She didn’t find it, but she was curious about an unlabeled box that sat next to the box labeled “Deceptions.” She looked closer and found the initials “T.A.” on top of the box.
“T.A.?”
Taylor opened the box, but the light was too poor to see its contents. She clumsily picked up the box, and carried it directly below the light. She opened the box and saw what was inside.
“What the hell…” she whispered as she caught sight of her own image. Here she discovered a set of her CDs, magazine articles, downloaded Web articles, notes, lyrics, drawings and a journal. Everything related directly to her. Taylor’s heart began to race and her face heat with anger.
“What the hell is she doing collecting these things? Was she obsessed?”
Taylor turned back to the wall and searched the titles of the boxes starting with “Deceptions.” She recognized the titles of her books, with the exception of the first three boxes. Then she felt her heart pound wildly when she saw the initials “I.D.” below the title on the three boxes.
“It can’t be,” Taylor told herself. But she picked up one of the boxes and placed it beside the other box, beneath the light. Inside she found notes clearly written by Jessie, and a manuscript titled In Her Way. The title page of the manuscript said, “A Novel by Ivy Deverell.”
“Ivy Deverell? Who the hell is she?” Could it be one of Jessie’s ex-lovers? She wondered.
Taylor dug through the box searching for clues. She pulled a folder and opened it. Taylor’s world started to spin when she recognized the stationery with the initials “I.D.” on top. The letter was signed by Jessie. “Oh my God!” She skimmed the content of the letter. It was only then that she realized that Ivy Deverell was Jessie’s pen name.
Taylor’s anger mounted. Vicious thoughts spun in her head. Feelings of betrayal, deception and misjudgment haunted her.
Then, she clearly heard whispering. “There is someone from a past life that is involved in some type of karmic debt.”
The whisper startled her. She spun around looking for its source. No one was there. “There is real danger with this person,” the voice became louder.
It was then that Taylor recognized the words from Karen, the psychic, from her reading the previous year.
“This person has an enormous amount of love for you. But it’s misguided.”
Taylor covered her ears with her hands to stop the words. But they kept coming.
“Their intentions are not healthy and this is what is causing danger. The cycle must be broken…”
Taylor’s hands started to shake. “I’ve got to get out of here.” Carefully, she folded the letter with the “I.D.” letterhead and stuffed it in her jeans back pocket. She pulled the string of the light fixture and bolted out of crawl space, leaving the boxes displaced and the camping gear by the door.
She ran upstairs to the bedroom, pulled a small duffle bag from the closet and started throwing her clothes into it. Taylor hesitated when she saw the wooden ankh lying on the nightstand next to the bed. She didn’t understand its draw; she picked it up and placed it in the bag. Glancing at her watch she knew she had thirty to forty minutes before Jessie returned…unless she came home early.
Within fifteen minutes, Taylor had a bag packed and in the trunk of the Porsche. She got in the car, opened the garage door, and started the ignition. As she backed out of the driveway and into street, she saw Jessie’s Lexus heading toward her.
“Shit.” Taylor resisted every temptation to bolt, because she knew Jessie would follow. Instead, she lowered the window and drove just a bit to clear the driveway. Then she waited for the Lexus to approach.
Jessie’s car pulled alongside of Taylor. She also lowered her window. “Where are you off to?” Jessie asked.
“We need some stuff at the grocery store.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
It was hard, but Taylor smiled. “No. I’m fine. I’ve got to start getting out eventually. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”
“Okay. Be careful,” Jessie smiled.
Taylor waved and drove away. In the rearview mirror, Taylor watched Jessie pull into the driveway.
Once inside the house, Jessie went to her office. She removed a file folder labeled “Hopkins” from her attaché and placed it in the filing cabinet, right in front of a file labeled “Peanut Allergies.”
When Taylor reached the San Gabriel River Freeway, she started to feel better with every mile placed between herself and Jessie. She wasn’t sure where to go. None of this made any sense to her. She needed time to sort it all out. But where do I go?
She discarded going to the police right away. Then she picked up her phone and punched in the numbers.
The phone was answered on the second ring. “Rutledge Management.”
“Hi, Theresa. Is Mark in?”
“Sure, Taylor. Hold on.”
A couple minutes later Mark picked up the phone. “Hi, Taylor. So what do you have for me?”
“I need to see you right away.”
Mark detected unease in Taylor’s voice. “Where are you?”
“I’m about a half-hour outside of LA.”
“Are you okay?”
Taylor wasn’t sure how to answer that question. “No. I’m not okay.”
“Can you make it to the Harrison’s? It’s across the street from my office.”
When Taylor arrived at the bar, Mark was waiting for her. He quickly claimed her at the door and escorted her to a private table. A beer sat in front of Mark and within seconds, a waitress asked Taylor what she wanted. She ordered scotch.
Mark knew Taylor was upset. “What’s wrong?”
> Taylor reached into her back pocket, pulled out the folded letter and handed it to Mark.
He opened the document and gasped. “Jessie is I.D.?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“I don’t believe it. I’m sorry Taylor, I just can’t buy into this.”
“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. I’m so confused.”
“Where did you get this?”
“In her crawl space. I went looking for her camping gear, and I found this box filled with stuff about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mark, it was scary. There were pictures of me, articles, drawings, a collection of my music. The entire contents of this box relates to me.”
“Really?”
“And then I found this.” Taylor pointed to the letter.
“Well, I have to admit the stationery sure looks like what your harasser used…but I just find this too difficult to believe.”
“Tell me about it. All the way here, I’ve been questioning myself. There’s got to be some logical explanation. But…what the hell is it?”
“I agree with you there. There has to be a logical explanation. Did you talk with her about it?”
“No. I just bolted. I saw her on the way out and told her I was going to the grocery store. She’s probably expecting me back any minute, now. You didn’t tell anyone you were meeting me, did you?”
“No. But I left the office shortly after I spoke with you, and Theresa knew I was speaking with you.” Mark appeared thoughtful. “Let me call Theresa and tell her not to say anything if Jessie calls.”
While Mark spoke with Theresa on his cell phone, Taylor withdrew. The events of the afternoon kept replaying in her head. Then she heard the voice again. “There is real danger with this person…their love is misguided…the cycle must be broken.”
“Go away,” Taylor said holding onto her ears.
Mark hung up the phone. “You want me to leave, Taylor?”
“No. I’m sorry. I was thinking aloud.”
“I just spoke with Theresa. Everything is fine. Taylor, I think you should bring the letter to the police station. Let them check it out.”
“I don’t know. I need to sleep on it. It’s the strangest thing, Mark.”
“What’s that?”
“I became so angry when I saw the box of stuff about me, but…I’m still in love with her. I’m afraid of her, but damn it…I’m still in love with her.”
“Taylor, it’s possible that all this is a misunderstanding.”
“God, I hope you’re right.” Taylor hesitated and then changed the subject. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
“Wow. Now there’s a change in direction.”
“No. Not really. There are so many things about Jessie that I just don’t understand.”
“Like what?”
“For one, my attraction to her. I know I’m not gay, yet here I am in this same-sex relationship. Up until this afternoon, I’ve never been happier in a relationship. Yet, I’m not attracted to other women, just her. And I still find men attractive.”
“Maybe it’s a phase, Taylor.”
Taylor shook her head. “No. I know it’s not a phase. There’s something about her. You know what déjà vu is, right?”
Mark nodded.
“I have déjà vu all the time when I’m with her. And there’s something about her eyes. I had this psychic reading…she said that somebody from a past life would cause me danger and I should break a cycle.” Taylor realized how senseless she must have sounded to Mark. “I’m sorry, Mark. You must think I’m crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy at all. I very much believe in past lives, and that we’re here to learn certain lessons.”
“I need to call her,” Taylor said abruptly.
“What?” Mark saw the spell Jessie had cast on Taylor.
“I should have been back by now. She’s going to start getting worried.”
“Taylor, think about how you’re sounding. You have evidence that implicates Jessie as being Kurk’s murderer, and yet you’re concerned that she’s going to be worried?”
Taylor looked at Mark. “You’re right,” she admitted. Then she pulled out her phone and punched in Jessie’s number. “Shh. Don’t say anything, okay?”
“Hello,” Jessie answered.
“Hi, Jessie.”
“Oh, Taylor. I’m glad you called. I was getting worried. Where are you?”
Taylor tried to focus. “Jessie, I’m calling because I need some time away from us right now.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Please, let me finish. This is hard enough.”
“Okay,” Jessie whispered.
“I don’t know if I can do this gay thing much longer. I hate living in the closet and yet I realize the other choice is too much of a sacrifice to my career. I need time away from you. Being with you is clouding my judgment.”
“Okay, Taylor. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.” Taylor disconnected the phone ending the conversation.
“Do you think she believed you?” Mark asked.
“I just need to buy a little time to figure out my next move, right?”
“Where are you going tonight?”
“Back to my house.”
“Do you think that’s safe? I mean after everything that happened last time.”
“I changed the security password and she doesn’t know it. I’ll be fine.”
Mark hesitated. “Look, I don’t want you to think this is inappropriate, but I have a guest room that you are welcome to use. Actually, I would prefer it if you did. I don’t think you should go back to your home until this blows over.”
Taylor smiled then laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“That’s what Jessie told me.”
Chapter 25
Both Jessie and Taylor had a sleepless night. Jessie lay in bed wondering what went wrong, and Taylor pondered her next move. The following morning, Taylor was up before dawn. She had made her decision—she would go to the police.
At eight o’clock, Taylor phoned Detective Bradley and told him she was on her way in. Mark escorted her to the police station. Taylor struggled with whether she was doing the right thing as she handed the letter to the detective.
“I found this in Jessie Mercer’s crawl space.” Taylor waited while the detective read the letter.
“So you believe that Ms. Mercer is Kurk’s murderer.”
“I didn’t say that. I was hoping you could compare this stationery with the notes that were sent to me.”
Bradley picked up his phone. “Reynolds, I’m sending something down. Compare this document against those sent to Ms. Andrews, in the Kurk Warner case.” Bradley flagged down another detective. He handed the letter to the woman. “Get this to Reynolds, now. He’s expecting it.”
“Did you find anything else?” Bradley asked.
“There’s a box in her crawl space. It’s full of stuff relating to me: pictures, articles, lyrics, audio cassettes, CDs. You name it.”
“Where’s the box, now?”
“It’s still in her crawl space.”
Bradley took notes. “Is that it?”
Taylor nodded. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“Okay, we’ll call you and let you know what we find out.”
“No. I’m not leaving until I know about the letter. I have my whole life on hold. I’m not leaving,” Taylor said defiantly.
“It might take a while before we have an answer.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Suit yourself,” Bradley said.
“You don’t seem surprised by all this, Detective Bradley.”
Bradley hesitated. “Ms. Mercer is one of our suspects in the Warner murder. We already have some evidence that implicates her.”
“She is? How come you never said anything?” Taylor’s voi
ce rose.
“Motive.”
“What?”
Bradley looked at Taylor. “We don’t understand Ms. Mercer’s motive. After all, you’re the one who inherited the Warner estate.”
Taylor stared back at the detective. “I’m a suspect also?”
Mark knew this was upsetting Taylor and moved to her side. “Don’t worry Taylor, this is going to get cleared up soon.”
Taylor and Mark waited in an interrogation room for forensics to report on the stationery. An hour passed. They spoke little during this time; occasionally Mark would offer some words of comfort.
“I can’t believe they suspect me.”
“Don’t be insulted, Taylor. I think the spouse or partner is always suspected. Statistically, the incidence is high that they did it.”
Bradley walked into the room. “The preliminary report is finished. First, the letter you brought in is a copy. It is very possible that the original was on the same stationery that was used by your harasser.”
“It’s possible, not definite?”
“No, we can’t be 100% certain without the original. We’re contacting the publishing company now to see if they have the original letter.”
“Now what?” Taylor asked.
After her sleepless night, Jessie sat at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee. She could not take her mind off Taylor. She had tried to work on her new project earlier that morning but could not concentrate. Jessie knew she needed to do something to take her mind off Taylor. She needed to do something mindless. She always loved working in her yard so she decided to prune her trees and hedge the bushes.
In her garage, she collected an assortment of gardening tools then went to the basement workroom to fetch other items. Jessie took pruning shears and a branch saw from the wall behind the workbench. She was about to leave when she noticed the displaced flashlight on the bench. When she picked it up, she noticed the light was on, though barely noticeable. The batteries were almost dead. She knew she hadn’t used the flashlight in six months, and she knew she’d never leave it where it was. As Jessie stood in the workroom, she sensed that something was terrifyingly wrong. Why would Taylor have used the flashlight? With that thought, she turned and stared at the door of the crawl space.