by Dale Mayer
“Why?” she asked.
He gave her a shake of his head. “We’ll talk once I get everything cleared up.”
“Fine,” she said, “so what do you need to know here?”
“Who cashed out at the end of the day?”
“I did or he did,” she said. She walked over to the till, opened it up, and said, “It doesn’t look like he even got that far on his last day,” she said, “because the money is still here.”
He walked over, took a look, and then he pulled out the money, counted it, and put it into a bag.
She watched it wistfully. “Look. This is awkward, but it would be really nice to be paid sooner rather than later,” she said. “I’m pretty desperate.”
“Give me twenty-four hours,” he said.
She brightened at that. “I can make it through that. Thank you.”
“I also have to deal with his apartment upstairs,” he said.
“I haven’t ever been up there,” she said. “He worked hard to keep the business part down here. I asked him at one point about renting the room at the top of the stairs because I was so desperate after the murders, but we hadn’t quite come to an agreement about it.”
“Well, now it’s not an issue anyway,” he said.
“What’ll happen to this place?” she asked, looking around. “I suppose it’ll get sold.”
“Maybe. It will be up to the new owner,” he said, again that weird tone in his voice.
“I guess,” she said. “I hate to see it sold though. But not everybody has a passion for books, like we did.”
“Well, I’m sure he appreciated that,” he said.
“I think so. We talked about books a lot,” she said with a smile. “I’m not sure it was his passion as much as it was his wife’s, but I appreciate the fact that he kept it open. It’s a great spot for commercial development, but argh.”
He just nodded and said, “I know you’re dealing with the loss of your job and Jerry. So I’ll head into the office and get busy on this. Thank you for your help.”
She took that as a dismissal. She nodded and said, “Will you call tomorrow then?”
“I will,” he said. She looked at him, and he smiled and said, “I promise. I just need to get the finances sorted out. I’ll figure out the accounts, where the money is, and who all needs to get paid.”
She nodded. “Okay, thank you then.” And she had to walk out. It was really all she could do.
Outside, she stood here for a long moment, but at least she knew the joy of getting paid soon. She would have to wait for that check to buy more groceries, but she could probably scrounge enough at home to get through until tomorrow.
She needed to get a job that would give her so many more options right now, even though, at the moment, it seemed impossible. She understood that Aspen was closing down for a season, but surely some of the world functioned that way. She groaned as she headed home. By the time she got there again, her phone rang. She pulled it out to see Damon calling. “Hey.”
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Well, once I get paid tomorrow,” she said, “I will be. I walked to the bookstore and caught the lawyer just going in. He was looking at the state of affairs of the business itself, and he said he would pay me within twenty-four hours.”
“Good,” he said. “That’s great news.”
“Yeah, but just so you know, twenty-four hours is still twenty-four hours,” she said with a sigh.
“That bad?”
“No,” she said, “there’s still coffee at your place and some leftovers.”
“Well, there can’t be very much,” he said. “That was a few days ago.”
“I haven’t been eating a whole lot,” she said. “I’ve been trying hard to find a job but not getting anywhere so far.”
“No, Aspen is a place that’s hard to crack this time of year,” he said. “Have you got any plans to leave yet?”
“You told me that I couldn’t leave,” she said.
“Exactly. I just wondered what you were thinking.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t really have anything to go back to. If I could find a good job here, I would stay. I’ll borrow Wendy’s board and go up the mountain and just take a day to clear my head. That’s what I came for, and I need to remember why.”
“You’re not going alone up on the mountain though, right?”
“Why not?” she asked in exasperation. “Now you sound like Wendy. She seems to think I’ll go off the damn cliff again.”
“Well, it did cross my mind,” he said.
She glared into the phone. “I didn’t do it. Remember?”
“Maybe not,” he said, “but it happened, so what’s to stop it from happening this time?”
She winced. “Well, I can’t spend my life in fear. I mean, whatever that was,” she said, “it could happen here and now as well.”
“That’s not making me feel any better,” he said.
She groaned. “I’m going stir-crazy,” she said. “I’ve got no job, and it seems like I’m spinning my wheels and can’t get anywhere.”
“I hear you,” he said. “I’ll be home early today. Maybe you can come over and have dinner. We can talk through some issues.”
“Depends on what issues,” she said. “You’re not a shrink.”
“I meant, the case,” he said, laughing. “Have you seen any more ghostly apparitions?”
“Not really,” she said. “Thankfully it’s been quiet on that front.” Other than those two shadows earlier, one behind Wendy and one at her laptop. Should she mention those?
“Good,” he said, “that’s good news.”
“Or whoever and whatever this thing is, it’s just building up power.”
“That’s not what we want to hear,” he said.
Happy that she’d at least rattled him out of that complacent attitude, she smiled and said, “Maybe, but I don’t know if anybody can do anything about it anyway.”
“So maybe you should be running out of Aspen screaming then,” he said, “and looking to get the hell away.”
“Yet I’m oddly content here,” she said. “And that’s a little disconcerting too.”
“Very,” he said. “Anytime you feel out of the ordinary, you must consider that maybe it’s that thing again.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but how does one even know?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “but we need to make sure you stay safe.”
“There’s been no other news?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s good, I guess,” she said.
“Yes, but, at the same time, it feels like something’s building there too.”
“Don’t say that,” she said in alarm.
“Too late,” he said, “and, if you were listening, you’d be feeling it too.”
She glared down at the phone. “I am listening,” she said. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to listen to.”
Yet, … for Damon, for him, it was all about whatever this apparition was. Am I willfully being blind and not seeing what was going on? That was an upsetting thought. It was possible. Gabby wasn’t unaware of her surroundings, but neither had she been very aware of what was going on either. It was easier to blank it all out, relegating it to the back of her mind, as if nothing to be concerned about. She didn’t know; it was all just so frustrating. “Anyway,” she said, “I’m supposed to meet Wendy, but that doesn’t mean that I will. Or that she will,” she amended.
“Why don’t you just go home? Find a good book and relax?”
“Where will I find a book?” she asked. “Just forget about it. I’m almost home again.”
“I’ll be there in a few hours,” he said, and, with that, he hung up.
She finished the walk back to the garage apartment, enjoying being out in the fresh air. At the last moment, she decided to head over to the bridge, where she’d been acting so weird. She didn’t know what the hell it was about that place. She felt something special out there w
ith the water half frozen but still running underneath and the beautiful ice patterns being made.
It was a gorgeous day, and, as she walked onto the bridge itself, she stopped, stared down at the river, and smiled. Some of the ice patterns were starting to melt, but a lot of it was still stunningly beautiful. She looked around and said, “This is an absolutely gorgeous location.”
Really, Damon was so blessed to have his aunt’s house nearby. Gabby didn’t have a clue how to get him to fully figure that out. But to have the house on his own was something, and then to have the garage suite that one could rent out to help with the bills was another stroke of luck entirely. To think that he got the house without a mortgage just added to it too. “Some people have all the luck,” she murmured, “and don’t even realize how lucky they are.”
She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun. She let go of several deep breaths slowly, trying to ease some of the tension quarreling inside her. The last thing she wanted to do was to ruin the last few days that she had here, but, every time she said that, even thought that, she felt this resistance inside at the thought of leaving Aspen. She had nothing to go back to. That was the real problem. It was okay for Wendy to go home—she had friends and family.
But Wendy was leaving friends here too. Apparently Wendy made friends easily, and apparently Gabby did not.
Over time, Gabby had noticed that it seemed that people liked her if she was around for a while, but nobody kept contact with her afterward. Maybe she was just difficult, or maybe she was just too weird, too different. She didn’t know, but it was frustrating.
She wouldn’t have thought that a problem, but apparently she just didn’t have the same kind of friend base or ability to make friends that other people did. Sad, yet aware that she couldn’t do a whole lot about it, she headed back to the apartment. She was just short of reaching it, when she heard a vehicle.
She turned around to see Damon coming toward her. She lifted a hand, as she stepped off to the side, and watched as he drove in. He pulled up to the front of the house, hopped out, and said, “I got off earlier than expected.”
“This isn’t getting off early,” she said. “It’s like skipping out entirely. It’s only ten in the morning. Surely you’re not done.”
He laughed. “No, I came back to go over some of my notes that I’ve got here.”
She nodded. “Right, I guess that makes sense.”
“Come on in,” he said. “I picked up food for lunch.”
“You don’t have to keep looking after me, you know?” she said.
“You’re in a tough spot right now,” he said. “It’s just human decency.”
She thought about how many other people she hadn’t experienced such decency from and shook her head. “Not so sure about that,” she murmured, as she followed him inside. Once there, he opened a bag and took out big take-out containers of what could be soup.
“This is from Chef Tom Hengie,” he said. “He and I have been best friends for a long time. He told me that he had leftovers from yesterday and, if I wanted something, to come and get it.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Wow. Your family gives you a house,” she said, “and your friends give you food.” She marveled at that.
He laughed. “Well, I don’t think he would look at it that way. He hates throwing out food, so, if he can get me to take some, he doesn’t feel guilty.”
“Yeah, well, you could pass on my name, you know?”
“I told him that I was helping you out. It’s one of the reasons he gave me this.” And Damon lifted a second bag off the floor that she hadn’t noticed.
She looked at it, frowning. “What’s that?”
“That,” he said, “is enough food to feed you for a couple more days. We got chicken cordon bleu with Greek potatoes, some leftover rice pilaf, a bunch of veggies. By the way, everything’s microwavable.”
She stared at the stockpile in front of her in shock. “Oh, my God,” she said, “I can eat meat now.”
He laughed. “Not only that but it also won’t keep, so dig in.”
She shook her head. “But it’s for you too.”
“There’s more than enough for the two of us,” he said. “I thought we’d have the soup today because it’s fresh and would go down very nicely, and Chef Tom already heated it for us.”
“Thank you. And thank the chef too,” she said.
Damon nodded and opened up a cupboard, pulled out bowls, and slowly poured some thick potato soup into them. Next he reached for a loaf of bread sitting off to the side and cut thick slabs.
“This looks divine,” she said, her stomach growling.
“Did you get any breakfast?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Honestly I was saving it for lunch.”
“Things aren’t that bad, I hope,” he said.
“Says you,” she said with a laugh. “But, if I don’t get paid, I don’t have any food money. Plus the rent has to be paid on our apartment, even though we can’t live there.”
“Right. I keep forgetting that. Well, at least you got to talk to the lawyer today. You should call your landlord and ask him if he has insurance coverage for the last month’s rent.”
“All right, I can try. Why does the world always function at a slower rate than I do? I could use the paycheck today.”
“I hear you there. I have a similar complaint all the time,” he said. “It seems like when the world says it’ll be two days, it’s four, and, when I expect something in one day, it comes in three. Nothing is ever quite on time.”
“No, it never is,” she said. “Even the lawyer today, it’s his first time being in the store. He didn’t know where the cash was or even how to open the till or anything.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“No. Just that he would do my paychecks right away and would talk to me when he got through with the proceedings and got the death certificate and everything cleared up a bit. He needed time to check out the bank accounts, figure out the bookkeeping system, and figure out who he needed to pay.”
“Right,” he said. “Well, he should get the death certificate today. And I can confirm your boss died of natural causes.”
She beamed at that. “Well, that’s great news. It also means that hopefully the attorney could fast-track some of this through,” she said, rubbing her hands together.
He placed a hot bowl of soup in front of her and pushed over the board with the slabs of bread and said, “Eat up.”
“That won’t be a problem,” she said enthusiastically, as she lifted her spoon and took a taste. “Oh, my God,” she said, staring at the soup. “This is excellent.”
“Well, he is a chef,” he said, “so, when he tells me there’s food to pick up, believe me. I go pick it up.”
“Yeah, I would too,” she said. “Oh, wow,” she said, and, murmuring happily to herself, she polished off the bowl of soup. When she looked up, he was only half done. She flushed. “I’m sorry. That’s incredibly ill-mannered of me.”
He looked at her, surprised, and then laughed. “I hardly think we need to worry about manners,” he said. “Go ahead and get yourself some more.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, but, if you don’t mind, I’d love another slice of bread?” she asked hopefully. He pushed the board her way again and said, “Go for it. There’s plenty. Eat up.”
So she had two slabs of bread buttered in no time.
He jumped up and brought out a block of cheese from the fridge, then, cutting a few slices, said, “Try putting that on top.”
Happily adding the cheese, she asked, “So, what are you working on?”
“Cold cases still.”
“There were rumors about something weird happening way back when,” she said. “I was trying to look into it online and in the books from the store. Jerry wasn’t happy about it though.”
“Probably because one of them was his wife’s death,” he said.
She nodded. “No doubt. I feel te
rrible I didn’t know about it until so late in his life. I had no idea how sensitive he still was to it all.”
“Makes sense to me,” he said. “I don’t think there’s a deadline for when one stops grieving.”
“I know,” she said. “I just, now that I’m sitting here thinking about it, I wonder how much of it was actually born of guilt for not saving her.”
“A large part of it, I’m sure,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’ve all considered whether it was guilt because he killed her.”
“I don’t know,” Gabby said. “We have to almost consider that, since it’s an automatic thing to question, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “It just makes good sense to look at everything with an open mind.”
“How long ago did Jerry lose his wife?”
Damon checked his notes. “Thirty years ago.”
“Wow. He has mourned her loss for a long time.” She frowned. “Can I look at those old cases with you?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ve already done a summary about a lot of them. Let me just grab those notes,” he said, looking around, as she munched on the bread. He walked off to the side and pulled the notepad to him as he sat again. He checked his notes and read, “We have four women, all between the ages of twenty and thirty.”
“There were four cases from back then when Jerry’s wife died?” Her gaze widened.
“Yes,” he said. “And the question is whether it’s really a repeat now because we still only have two cases.”
“But how quickly did those four cases happen back then?” she asked.
“Good question,” he said. He checked his notes, looking for the dates, then said, “So, the first two were fairly close together, and then the last two were a week after that.”
“I wonder if that was random?” she said, mentally counting how long since her first roommate had been murdered.
“Again, we don’t have any reason to believe one way or the other.”
“Except that, if it is repeating this pattern,” she said, “we’re coming up on the seven days later, when the other two would have died.”
He looked at her, surprised, then checked the calendar and nodded. “You’re right. Sunday would be the earliest. If it’s repeating, that is,” he emphasized.