The Listener

by Christina Dodd

“Then why do it?” he asked.

  “For the insurance money, they said.”

  He clicked and held. “I meant—why do you read other people’s texts if you don’t know who they are?”

  “It’s frequently interesting; an insight into human behavior.” He seemed to expect more, so she added, “And if I can figure out who the texters are, it’s a brainteaser.”

  He stared with a fixed gaze.

  She added, “Bonus points to me.”

  “So you have hacked into a conversation where a couple of siblings —”

  “Or a husband and wife, either straight or lesbian. They seemed unnaturally close, and very fond of each other. Me and my siblings aren’t like that, but I know some are. One of them seemed mildly reluctant, but the other was determined.”

  With awesome patience, Sheriff Foster started again. “You hacked into a conversation between a couple of people who intend to off an old lady, and you are reporting this as a crime.”

  Was he not taking this seriously? “That’s right. As a law enforcement officer, I would think you’d want to apprehend the perpetrators.”

  He shut his notebook. “I ought to arrest you as a hacker.”

  “But I discovered a crime.”

  “You committed a crime! You eavesdropped on a conversation between two unknown people who may or may not be thinking of killing another unknown person. It was a conversation. If I arrested everybody who said they wanted to kill someone, I’d have half of Virtue Falls in here!”

  Had he not been paying attention? “But they’re going to poison her!”

  He took a breath, then started again, and spoke more slowly. “The crime here is hacking, and you did it. If I turned you in to the FBI, do you think you’d still have your superimportant government job? I don’t think so!”

  He was right. The government frowned on hackers.

  Sheriff Foster continued, “So I’d suggest you get up and go home, and forget this stupid shit about people who are going to kill their mother.” He turned away, muttering, “Dumbest goddamn thing I ever heard.” He looked at the grinning officers hanging over the counter. “Go back to work!”

  They scattered.

  Sheriff Foster disappeared into the back.

  Cornelia seldom felt humiliation. She seldom felt confusion.

  She felt both now. She had done the proper thing, socially speaking, by reporting a crime before it happened, and she had been the object of mockery.

  She groped for her backpack, walked outside, and checked her cell phone. The time was four thirty-six. She looked across the square. Mason pulled up in front of the Oceanview Café, a full minute early.

  She would tell Mason. Mason would know what to do.

  She walked across the square and to the driver’s-side door as he was getting out of the car. “I’m here,” she said.

  At her unexpected appearance, he jumped in surprise and looked toward city hall. “Where were you? What were you doing?”

  She walked around to the passenger side and waited.

  As always, he first kissed her on the cheek, then opened her door.

  She slid into the car and, as always, watched him walk around the hood.

  As always, he was a very handsome man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with black, wavy hair and dark blue eyes. She particularly admired his chin, which appeared to be chiseled from stone. It had a dimple in middle, which softened the effect.

  He got in, put the car in gear, and headed toward their home on the outskirts of Virtue Falls. “So—what’s up? Why did you change your routine?”

  “I just had a very odd experience.”

  “Why don’t you tell me over dinner?” He smiled rather tightly. “I would like to have some interesting conversation over dinner.”

  Because of the day’s events, she felt moved to examine his comment with more intensity than she would normally. “Am I not a stimulating conversationalist over dinner? I am sorry. I will endeavor to do better.”

  He glanced at her in seeming alarm. “It’s not that. We … um, it’s okay. We talk enough.”

  She nodded. “Tonight I will offer up more than that usual report on my work, I promise.”

  “Okay. I can’t wait.” He drove into the driveway, activated the garage door opener, pulled in, and shut the garage behind them. “I’ve made a great meal tonight.”

  Cornelia’s stomach growled. “Excellent. I have an appetite.”

  Mason hurried around and took her backpack. “That’s one of the charming things about you. You enjoy your food. A lot.”

  They entered through the kitchen.

  She smelled garlic and rosemary.

  “You go get ready.” He put a large pat of butter in a skillet, placed it on the stove, and turned the burner on high. He got out another skillet and did the same thing on a different burner. “I’ll finish up in here.”

  She went into their bedroom, put her electronic equipment away, went to the bathroom, washed her hands for the appropriate amount of time, and returned to the dining room. She sat at her place at their square table and listened as Mason rattled the pans. She didn’t know what she wanted most: the food or the chance to explain what had happened and ask what to do.

  He came in, smiling tensely, holding a plate with a potholder. With a flourish, he placed it in front of her. “Be careful. The plate is hot.”

  He went back to the kitchen and got his plate. He seated himself.

  She picked up her knife and fork, and looked down at her meal.

  “Tonight we’re going to enjoy ourselves,” he said. “T-bone steak, mushrooms, and rosemary garlic potatoes.”

  Cornelia stared at the food. Stared, then lifted her gaze and stared at Mason.

  Mason. Handsome, pleasant, shallow, vapid, lazy, easily influenced. She knew all those things. She also knew he liked her. Maybe loved her.

  So … what was the probability he loved some other woman, too?

  Unfortunately, in the circumstances, the probability was high.

  She reached for her water glass, hit it with the back of her hand, and knocked it over.

  Mason made a grab for it.

  Water spilled all over the Italian linen tablecloth.

  “I’m so clumsy!” she lamented. “I’ve made a mess. I’m so sorry! Can you forgive me?”

  He was on his feet, clutching her water glass. He looked at her as if she was some kind of exotic animal, then he kissed her on the top of her head. “No problem. I can easily fix this. Now … go ahead and enjoy your dinner. I’ll be back with another glass of water, and you can tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s okay. I may have figured it out.”

  “Right. You’re smart. You don’t need me for much. You figure out everything on your own.” He headed into the kitchen.

  She waited until he was out of sight.

  Then she switched the plates.

  ***

  The next afternoon, Kateri sat at the lunch counter.

  Rainbow leaned an elbow against the chrome napkin holder.

  They both stared at Cornelia Markum.

  Half the town was in the Oceanview Café, staring at Cornelia.

  Cornelia, who sat at her usual table, frowning at her laptop.

  “What’s she doing?” Rainbow asked.

  “She looks like she’s working,” Kateri said.

  “Her husband died last night,” Rainbow said.

  Kateri looked at Rainbow. “He poisoned himself.”

  The two women returned to staring at Cornelia.

  “Word is,” Kateri said, “she tried to tell Sheriff Foster someone was going to murder someone, and when she couldn’t come up with the names, he threatened to arrest her for hacking.”

  Rainbow looked sheepish. “She asked me who to tell about a murder. I asked if she was writing a book.”

  Both women laughed semi-hysterically.

  “As I understand it,” Kateri said, “she looked down and recognized the menu. She distracted Mason and switched the p
lates. She figured it wouldn’t matter as long as he hadn’t added poison to her food.”

  “But he had.”

  “And he’s dead.”

  “And there she sits, working.”

  Silence.

  “I mean … they were married for a long time.” Kateri looked at Rainbow. “You said she loved him.”

  “I think she did.”

  “He tried to kill her. Couldn’t we have some angst? Or melodrama? Or … something?”

  “Not while she’s working.”

  “Not ever.”

  Silence.

  “Did you hear about the other woman?” Rainbow asked.

  “Karrin Ventura.”

  “The children’s librarian.”

  Kateri couldn’t believe it. “She wears cotton socks and organic cotton shifts.”

  “She’s pretty and sweet.” Rainbow leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And apparently she knows how to research poisons.”

  “The poison didn’t take effect right away. I heard he cleaned the kitchen and watched some TV before he started cramping. Then Cornelia called 911.” Kateri swallowed. “He died in agony.”

  “Poor, cheating, murdering bastard.”

  “Cute, though.” Kateri shoved her coffee cup toward Rainbow.

  Rainbow filled it up.

  It had been a soy latte, but a little straight coffee wouldn’t hurt.

  Rainbow moved through the diner, filling everybody else’s cups, too.

  No one was talking.

  Everyone was whispering. In fits and starts.

  No one was behaving normally … except Cornelia.

  When Rainbow came back, Kateri said, “This morning, Sheriff Foster, the dumb shit, arrested Cornelia. By then Karrin had heard that Mason was dead.”

  “I was working.” Rainbow indicated her view of the Virtue Falls town hall. “I couldn’t believe it when Sheriff Foster drove up, lights flashing, and pulled Cornelia out of the car in handcuffs. I was headed out there to tell him what I knew when Karrin ran up, screaming, and slashed Cornelia’s face with her nails.”

  “Like a cat.”

  Rainbow nodded. “Then Karrin collapsed, sobbing, and confessed right there in the street. It was the most dramatic scene I’ve ever seen in my life. Foster had to take his handcuffs off Cornelia to put them on Karrin.”

  “So he looked like a fool. Good. That guy hasn’t done anything except give parking tickets since he solved the Banner murder case, and that was twenty-three years ago.”

  Silence.

  “What did Cornelia do then?” Kateri asked.

  “She went in and gave her report. The phone company’s cooperating with the investigation, so Cornelia is free and expected to testify in Karrin’s trial.”

  Silence.

  The timer beeped in Rainbow’s pocket. She pulled it out, looked at it, went to the refrigerator, and took out the whole milk. She put it in the microwave for fifty-three seconds, went to the pie, measured the crust, cut it at exactly the right angle. Taking the warm milk and the pie, she walked to Cornelia just as Cornelia’s computer pinged. Rainbow put the pie and the milk on the table. “Milk’s at 140 degrees. Today the pie is cherry, two inches at the crust.”

  Cornelia looked at her. Just looked at her as she always did.

  Rainbow delved into her pocket. “Look. This is a restaurant. We use knives a lot, so I keep antiseptic ointment here …” She pulled out the tube and showed it to Cornelia. “That scratch on your face looks painful. Want me to put some on your cheek?”

  Cornelia blinked in surprise. “Yes.” She tilted her head.

  Rainbow smeared ointment on the slash left by Karrin’s nails, capped the tube, and turned back toward the counter.

  “Rainbow?” Cornelia spoke in a monotone as always.

  Rainbow turned back to her. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Now Rainbow blinked in surprise. “You’re welcome.” She sidled back to the counter.

  Kateri had watched the whole scene. She offered Rainbow a fist bump. “You won that round.”

  “True …” Rainbow grinned. “Now if I could get her to leave a tip.”

  “Good luck with that.” Kateri stood. “Gotta get back to the harbor and see if I can whip any sense into Landlubber.”

  “If anybody can, you can.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you’d met him.”

  The door opened, and both women turned to face the Oceanview Café’s newest customer.

  The woman who stood in the doorway was breathtaking. Blond hair, blue eyes, porcelain complexion, and a curvaceous body that quivered like Jell-O on springs.

  The guys from the Virtue Falls Canyon science geological study followed close on her heels, and were practically tripping over their tongues.

  Kateri turned to Rainbow. “Holy shit. Who is that?”

  Rainbow straightened up from the counter and stood, arms straight and stiff at her sides. She stared at the newcomer through bleak and bitter eyes. In a pained tone, she asked, “She looks just like her mother… . Don’t you recognize her?”

  Kateri shook her head. “Should I?”

  “That’s Elizabeth Banner. That’s the girl who watched her father kill her mother with the scissors.”

  Read on for a sneak preview of

  VIRTUE FALLS

  the new novel from Christina Dodd

  Available September 2014

  Copyright © 2014 by Christina Dodd

  CHAPTER ONE

  Virtue Falls, Washington State

  August 14

  6:15 p.m.

  If Elizabeth Banner noticed the interest with which the townspeople talked about her in low tones behind her back, she gave no indication. And in fact, she didn’t notice. For as long as she could remember, she had always been the girl who had watched her father kill her mother with the scissors.

  Although Elizabeth hadn’t set foot in Virtue Falls for twenty-three years, the memory of Misty Banner’s murder was still fresh in many people’s minds. That made Elizabeth a local celebrity of sorts, and the news of her return swept the small community as vigorously as the tsunami those crazy scientists were always predicting.

  Townsfolk speculated that Elizabeth had come back to reunite with her father, but after one brief visit to the Honor Mountain Memory Care Facility, she hadn’t gone back. Instead she spent her time at the ongoing study of Pacific Rim tectonic plates and subduction zones, researching alluvial deposits.

  Or something.

  Which made sense—her father was Charles Banner, the man who had pioneered the study, and now here she was, a chip off the old block, a respected geologist at age twenty-seven with lots of official-sounding letters after her name.

  A few nasty people in the town darkly muttered that they hoped she didn’t follow in her father’s footsteps in any matter beyond the sciences.

  Most folks didn’t think she would; Elizabeth resembled her mother, not her father, with the same white-blond hair, the same wide blue eyes, the same curvy body and a walk to make a man abandon all sense.

  Every straight guy in Virtue Falls had tried to catch her attention; she stared at them blankly, and talked about igneous rocks and cataclysmic earth events until even the most determined would-be lover conceded defeat.

  Her online profile said she was divorced.

  Most men said they knew why; she was boring.

  Perversely, most men considered the guy who had let Elizabeth Banner get away to be the biggest dumbshit in the history of the world. It didn’t matter what she said. It was the way her full lips formed the words when she said them.

  Now she sat at her usual table by the window at the Oceanview Café—when she first arrived, she had noted with interest that the ocean was nowhere in view from this part of town—reviewing her notes from the dig and occasionally sipping on a Fufu Berry Jones soda and wondering why she had ordered it.

  She thought she had ordered a root beer. And what was a fufu berry, anyway? Somethi
ng pink …

  “Here you go, Elizabeth.” The waitress slid a plate under Elizabeth’s elbow. “Eat up while it’s hot.”

  Elizabeth had finished work at the dig, gone home and showered, and changed into her brand-new Tory Burch sandals and her baby blue cotton jersey summer dress that was one size too big. She wore it like that on purpose. If she didn’t, men had a tendency to stare at her boobs.

  Well. Men had a tendency to stare at her boobs no matter what, but when she wore loose-fitting clothes, they were sometimes able to meet her eyes.

  Rainbow wiped her hands on her apron. “Are you missing your team?”

  Elizabeth paused, a fry halfway from the ketchup to her mouth. “Why would I?”

  “They’ve been gone for three days to that conference in Tahoe, and you’ve been working alone at the site. Three days in that isolated canyon with no one to talk to. Don’t you get lonely?”

  “No.” Elizabeth shook her head for emphasis. “At any rate, the team will soon be back covered with accolades for their research. Andrew is a very capable, if not brilliant, scientific leader.”

  “I don’t know that I would tell him he’s not brilliant,” Rainbow said.

  “He knows that, or he wouldn’t lean so heavily on the intuitive suggestions of others.” With great precision, Elizabeth spread mustard to the edges of the homemade bun.

  “Trust me on this one, honey. There’s a world of difference between knowing it and admitting it, and Andrew Marrero is already touchy about the fact he worked for your father and stands in his shadow.”

  Elizabeth considered that. “Yes. I have read my father’s work. Charles Banner was, in fact, a gifted scientist, and I say that without prejudice of any kind. But why that would influence Marrero’s opinion of himself, I do not understand.”

  “I know you don’t, honey. But take my word for it, I’m right.”

  Elizabeth observed Rainbow, head tilted.

  Rainbow sighed. “Okay, look. Marrero is a good-looking son-of-a-bitch. Dark hair, dark eyes, swarthy skin, the image of a Latin lover. But he’s short. He says five-nine, but he’s five-seven, maybe five-eight. Maybe. He’s well hung, but he can’t tell everybody that, so he wears lifts in his shoes. Short guys just have this attitude.”