Journaled to Death

by Heather Redmond

  Vellum swallowed a mouthful of banana. ‘What about your extra one?’

  ‘I’m thinking I’ll do a reading log.’ Mandy liked to create one new spread idea with her stickers for each month. Last month she’d done a movie tracker.

  ‘Is April a reading month for most people? How about a garden log instead?’ Vellum put the last bite into her mouth and set her plate in the sink.

  ‘You know, honey, that’s a great idea. And it fits perfectly with my idea of different flowers for the stickers. We can do garden stake stickers too. Our customers will love that.’

  Vellum smiled with satisfaction. Although she occasionally complained about working on Mandy’s business, Mandy did pay her for her time. And it beat having to babysit or mow lawns. ‘I’m on the clock right now?’

  Mandy took her food from the microwave. ‘You got thirty seconds, kid. I’m going to eat some dinner and we’ll get going in a few minutes, OK?’

  ‘Yep.’ Vellum put her earbuds in her ears and fiddled with her phone. Her head started bopping to some music.

  Mandy hoped some of Vellum’s income went into her savings account instead of purchasing entertainment. But there were only so many important thoughts she could have in the course of one long day. She’d add talking to Vellum about money management to her goal list for the month. Cory used to manage all the money matters. In the long run, she realized it had been a mistake to let him take charge.

  The basement door slammed below them. Ryan must be home from work.

  After she’d eaten and done the dishes, Mandy thoroughly washed and moisturized her hands, then took a quick look through the bills while her hands dried. Utilities, mortgage, internet, divorce lawyer. ‘Blech.’

  She dropped the envelopes on the counter and walked through the dining room into the art studio. It was perched over an open space that held gardening tools. Cory had been the family gardener, and Mandy hadn’t found the time to take over her ex’s duties. Ryan had promised to mow as part of his rent as soon as the grass began to grow.

  As always, her shoulders relaxed and her soul sighed with happiness as soon as she entered the space. She went around the room turning on lights, then switched on the fireplace. She couldn’t afford to make any permanent upgrades like the recessed spotlights she craved, so she’d chosen a variety of tall and short lamps, which created a clear glow and a shadow-free filming area around the worktable. One thing she did to be different from the other journaling vloggers was work with Vellum in tandem. It helped her followers see that every artist had a different style, and their work didn’t need to turn out just like hers. It also expanded their range, with both student- and working-mom-oriented journal spreads.

  ‘Is the tripod set up?’ Vellum asked, coming into the room.

  Mandy checked her phone, the newest model, to make sure she was filming the table properly. ‘Check. Hands pretty?’

  Vellum waved her fingers. Her manicure was yellow with tiny cartoon stickers.

  ‘Very cute.’

  ‘Since your manicure isn’t very mature, I figured I’d better go even sillier,’ Vellum explained. She sat down at her spot on the left and pulled her journal off the windowsill.

  Mandy had already taped down a piece of drawing paper the same size as the journal with some pretty pink washi tape. She added pencils and a couple of hard-tipped pens. ‘Let’s quickly get down a pencil sketch so we know what we’re doing, then I’ll start the recording.’

  ‘Where’s your sample?’ Vellum asked.

  Mandy opened her hard-cover sketchbook to the right page and leaned it on the wall between them.

  ‘Nice,’ Vellum said. ‘When did you get that done?’

  ‘About two a.m. when I couldn’t sleep,’ Mandy explained.

  ‘Mom. You have to take better care of yourself.’ Vellum used her annoyed teenager voice.

  ‘At least I used my insomnia wisely.’ She picked up her pencil and lightly sketched the image on her drawing paper. This would be the copy she’d scan and sell in her online shop. Customers could buy the image as is or she would add a small calendar on demand.

  Vellum watched her, then attempted to copy the design in her own journal.

  ‘Don’t worry if it isn’t perfect,’ Mandy said. ‘It took me at least five tries to get my sketch right.’

  ‘What was the hardest part?’

  ‘Making the branches look natural,’ Mandy said. ‘I wanted a perfect oval around the Space Needle, but still naturalistic.’

  ‘The Space Needle looks like a spaceship. How natural is that?’

  ‘I’m adding the mountains in the back, along with some of the skyline.’

  Vellum wiggled her pencil. ‘It’s pretty ambitious.’

  ‘That’s why customers pay us the five bucks to get our copy,’ Mandy said.

  Vellum smirked. ‘You’re making it hard on purpose?’

  ‘We have to make it ambitious.’ Mandy defended herself. ‘Or what is the point of calling ourselves experts?’

  Vellum stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she concentrated on reproducing the sketch. Meanwhile, Mandy’s pencil glided effortlessly up the middle of her paper, building her Space Needle, then filling in the tops of the mountains behind it, then back to the office buildings below before starting on her branches and cherry blossoms.

  Twenty minutes later, Vellum dropped her pencil and stretched out her hands. ‘I’m good.’

  ‘OK.’ Mandy cleared away the pencils, leaving just the pens. ‘We’ll ink on camera, then let it dry before working on the color.’

  ‘Don’t you want to check mine?’

  Mandy grinned at her daughter. ‘It’s art, honey.’ She turned around and switched on the video app on her phone. Later, she would add a voiceover and music, completely erasing the audio track from the original filming at times. They had a setup in the corner where she could record her face under proper lighting for the intros and outros, but the phone camera worked perfectly for table work.

  At her nod, she and Vellum both put their hands on either side of their work and drummed their fingers on the table, displaying their manicures. ‘Today we’re going to work on the calendar page for our April monthly spread. I’m really excited about this image. We’re Seattle girls, and I’ve been waiting for the chance to fit in our local landmark, the Space Needle.’

  ‘Love it,’ Vellum said encouragingly. ‘But we had to add in flowers, too, because it’s April!’

  ‘You’re so right,’ Mandy agreed. ‘We’ll start with our Tombow Fudenosuke hard-tip markers. If you aren’t experienced with them, I’d suggest a Micron fine-tip marker. As you can see, we’ve already penciled in a lot of our plans. We can erase our mistakes before they become permanent.’

  Vellum laughed. ‘But even if you make mistakes with ink, you can always incorporate them into your designs. If that doesn’t work, cover them with a white pen. I always like—’

  Vellum was drowned out by a loud noise in the house. Mandy stayed rooted to her chair, knowing she’d ruin the take if she started moving around. But the noise continued, like Bigfoot was walking down her uncarpeted basement stairs.

  She frowned and turned to shut off the recording.

  ‘What is that?’ Vellum asked.

  ‘I set the laundry basket by the basement door this morning and forgot to take the load to the washer. Maybe Ryan knocked it down the steps?’

  ‘It didn’t sound like the laundry.’ Vellum bit her lip.

  Mandy jumped to her feet. What if something had happened to Ryan? ‘Stay here. I’ll go check.’

  She dashed to the basement door in the hall between the main areas and the bedrooms. The laundry basket was still by the door. Not only that, the door was closed. She heard another thump, then all went quiet.

  ‘Ryan?’ Her hands itched suddenly. She closed her fingers around her palms.

  No one answered. She called her cousin’s name again as she put her hand on the doorknob. ‘Please be OK.’

 
; TWO

  The basement door wasn’t locked. Mandy pulled it open easily. The lights were off, making it too dark to see.

  ‘Ryan? Are you there? Hello?’ she called down the steps, her voice getting increasingly frantic.

  No answer. She flipped the light switch and peered into the brightened space. The stairwell went straight down for most of the distance to the basement, then turned onto a landing, blocked in from the main part of the room by a built-in bookshelf facing out.

  Blinking, she started down the stairs, calling for her cousin again.

  Then she saw it. A shape, pressed against the back of the bookshelf. A long shape. She put her knuckles to her mouth, unable to translate what she was seeing.

  Ryan’s body stretched out flat on the floor, his eyes staring up at her. She could smell the booze wafting off him. Typical, at any hour when he was off shift.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘Ryan.’ He’d fallen down the steps. She knelt next to him, calling his name again, and tentatively put her fingers to his neck, then his wrist. No pulse pressed against her, but then she didn’t really know what she was looking for. Besides, his eyes were open. Vacantly open, and partially covered by an overlong fringe of graying brown bangs. Her cousin was dead.

  She moved into a crouch, surveying his body. He still wore his janitor’s uniform from the hospital. His mouth hung open, his tongue protruding slightly. She put her hand on his chest but felt nothing moving. Oh God.

  Then she saw a teal rectangle poking out from under his lower leg.

  Her stomach lurched. ‘No!’ she cried.

  She recognized the teal journal. When had she last seen it? Had he slipped on one of her discards? Had she inexplicably left it on the stairs?

  She stumbled to her feet, tears blinding her. What if Ryan had fallen because of her carelessness? The walls tilted as she zig-zagged up the stairs with legs that wanted to fold into the fetal position. Her fingers poked through her pockets, trying to find her phone. Help, she needed help.

  Then she remembered it was still on the tripod. Vellum. Her daughter couldn’t know. But Mandy didn’t have a landline. She ran into Vellum’s room and grabbed her phone to call 911.

  ‘Please state your emergency,’ said a pleasant voice on the other side of the line, once Mandy’s fumbling hands had made the connection.

  ‘My cousin. He’s dead,’ she blurted.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘I’m sorry. He’s on the staircase landing,’ she said.

  ‘What is your name and address?’

  Her thoughts seemed to be covered by fog. Slowly, she pulled them through the gray, strand by strand. ‘Amanda Meadows.’ She stuttered through her address.

  ‘Is your house clearly marked?’

  ‘Yes. I should go check on my daughter.’

  ‘Please stay on the line,’ the woman said. ‘Can you identify the deceased?’

  ‘Yes.’ A sob rose from deep in her chest. Mandy pushed it back down. Lock it in a box. ‘My cousin, he lives here.’

  ‘His name?’

  ‘Ryan Meadows.’ Mandy realized she was breathing hard, like she’d been in a race. Black spots danced across her vision. ‘He’s only forty-two.’

  ‘Mom?’ Vellum appeared in her bedroom. ‘What’s going on? The basement door is open.’

  ‘Shhh.’ Mandy pulled her daughter completely into the room by the arm. She put her hand on Vellum’s shoulder.

  ‘Why are you using my phone?’ Vellum asked, bewildered, pulling away.

  ‘Shhh,’ Mandy said more loudly.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘Yes, I’m still here.’

  ‘Emergency services should be there soon,’ the operator said. ‘You will hear the sirens.’

  ‘Sirens?’ Vellum squeaked.

  ‘Ryan died, honey,’ Mandy said.

  Vellum’s eyes grew wide. ‘In the basement?’

  Mandy nodded. She wanted to vomit.

  Her daughter’s lips trembled. With her lower lip pressed out, she looked eleven again. Mandy was reminded of how young her daughter was, just fifteen. Not even old enough to drive.

  Just then, Mandy heard the sirens. ‘I have to let the police in.’ She pressed her fist against her stomach. ‘We don’t want them to break down the door.’

  Vellum sat on her desk chair. ‘I can’t go out there.’ She picked up her old stuffed Winnie the Pooh from her bookcase and clutched it to her chest.

  ‘OK, honey,’ Mandy said. ‘Stay put.’

  Mandy lifted the phone to her ear again as she walked through the hallway to the front door. Luckily, she didn’t have to pass by the gaping door to the basement.

  She looked through the peephole out to the front walkway. A police car, lightbar flashing, had pulled off the street next to her raised front lawn. As she watched, uniformed police officers exited the front seats. She saw the driver say something into his mic. The lightbar turned off. Another whine resounded in the cloud-covered winter sky, an ambulance signaling its approach.

  The two uniformed officers rang her doorbell. She arched back in shock. Why hadn’t she simply opened the door when she saw them? Her hands shook as she turned the deadbolt and opened the door.

  ‘Ma’am?’ A dark-skinned, muscular police officer twitched his lips at her. ‘I’m Officer Jones. We had a report of a death?’

  ‘Yes, Officer. My cousin. He rents from me.’

  ‘You can terminate your call now,’ said the voice in her ear.

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ Mandy disconnected and thrust the phone into the back pocket of her jeans.

  ‘Officer Martinez, ma’am. Did you find him?’ asked the second officer, a burly Hispanic female, several inches shorter than Mandy but probably matching her in weight.

  ‘Yes, Officer. On the basement landing. We heard thumping noises, louder than normal steps.’ She rubbed her roiling stomach.

  ‘We?’ asked the male officer.

  ‘My daughter and I. The three of us live here. Me, my daughter and Ryan.’

  The female officer took out a notebook. ‘Ryan is the deceased?’

  ‘Yes.’ Mandy pressed her lips together. ‘He drinks. I think he slipped and fell.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’ the first officer asked.

  Mandy’s chin trembled. ‘One of my journals is under his leg. I must have left it on the steps.’

  ‘Is that common?’ the second officer asked.

  Mandy shook her head. ‘No, but why else would it be underneath him?’

  ‘Did you touch the body?’ the first officer asked, his voice growing kindlier.

  She wiped her eyes. Tears had dripped down her cheeks without her even noticing. ‘I touched his neck and his wrist. I didn’t move him. My daughter didn’t see him. Oh, I touched his chest, too.’

  Officer Jones nodded. ‘Where is your daughter?’

  ‘Her bedroom. We were both in the art studio, and then I went into her bedroom to get her phone so I could call nine-one-one.’

  ‘We’ll need to come in now,’ Martinez said. Her tone stayed aggressive.

  Mandy stepped back from the door as an ambulance pulled up in front of the house.

  ‘You’re sure he’s dead?’ the female officer said acidly.

  Mandy’s voice shook as she answered. ‘His eyes are open.’

  ‘Where is this landing?’ she asked.

  ‘Down the hall. The basement door is on the right around the corner.’

  ‘We’ll take a quick peek then come back for the EMTs,’ said the first officer.

  The two officers came into the house, the woman hoisting her belt as she stepped in. They disappeared from view for a couple of minutes while Mandy stayed at the door, feeling like her feet were bolted to the small floral rug on the hardwood floor. She heard light footsteps, then Vellum was beside her, wrapping her arms around Mandy’s waist.

  ‘The police, the EMTs,’ Mandy murmured. ‘We just have to get through all this.’

  Vellum said nothing, just buried
her face into Mandy’s neck. Mandy kissed her daughter’s cheek, narrowly missing a mouthful of Vellum’s thick dark blond hair. She’d inherited Cory’s abundant straight hair, so unlike Mandy’s fluffy dark brown curls.

  Officer Martinez reappeared and walked into the living room. ‘Why don’t you take a seat?’ She pointed to the couch.

  Mandy pulled her daughter across the room while the officer went outside. Two EMTs came into the house. Mandy could hear them going down the steps. No one spoke to them for several minutes. She listened to the rain pounding on the roof and remembered she needed to repair the gutters this year. Ryan would have helped her. He liked handyman jobs. She couldn’t afford to keep up the house without him.

  She bent her head. A sob escaped her. Vellum leaned against her shoulder. She could feel her daughter’s slim body shaking.

  ‘We’re a mess, aren’t we, honey?’

  Vellum sighed. Mandy closed her eyes, only opening them when more people came into her house. The patrol sergeant introduced herself and asked them to stay put for now. More time passed. A lot of time.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  Mandy glanced up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Since Cory had left, she hadn’t seen any man as attractive as the speaker. On another day, he would have been worth a second look. He had thick dark brows about the same color as her own, above slightly narrowed eyes of a piercing light blue. A long, straight nose, jutting cheekbones covered by tanned skin. His five o’clock shadow came perilously close to a beard, but she could still see his bowed upper lip and long, full lower lip through the scruff.

  The man held a badge in front of her nose, then clipped it back on his belt. A gray jacket and slacks hung over a triangular body. The shoulders of the jacket were spattered with rain. No tie, but a blue dress shirt that didn’t have the intensity of his eyes. ‘I’m Detective Ahola, Homicide. I’m going to take your statement, then you will have to leave the premises so the crime scene can be processed.’

  Mandy frowned. Vellum’s head lifted. ‘It must have been an accident,’ she protested. ‘We heard him fall down the steps.’

  ‘Please, Miss—’