“Based on seeing something embedded in the floor,” I corrected. “The dream just sent me to the basement.”
I had intended to tell Detective Timmons the truth, mostly because I didn’t want to get Daniel in trouble. As I called the police, it had occurred to me that Daniel would likely be questioned as well, and I didn’t want him to have to lie for me.
But, as I sat across from Detective Timmons at my kitchen table, a mug of untouched coffee in front of us both, his eyes simultaneously skeptical and irritated, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t get into the Aunt Charlie dreams.
So, I came as close as I could. I told him I had dreamed there was something important in the basement, and when I went down there to poke around, I saw a flash of something green in a crack in the floor. That crack had always bothered me, and realizing there was something embedded in it got me curious … so I went to the hardware store, bought myself a concrete saw, and got to work.
In essence, it WAS the truth. Just because I skipped some details about my dream didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
Detective Timmons narrowed his eyes as he stared at me, drumming his pen on the table. “You honestly expect me to believe this ridiculous story. You, in the middle of a murder investigation, woke up this morning and decided it was a good idea to saw apart your basement floor?”
“I found something, didn’t I?”
He openly glared at me, putting both hands on the table, leaning forward in a menacing fashion. “If you think this is somehow going to distract me from investigating you, you have another think coming. As far as I’m concerned, this actually proves your guilt. Clearly, your whole family consists of criminals ...” He broke off as an approaching police officer bent down to say something in his ear. He waved him away impatiently before turning back to me. “Don’t think we’re through here,” he said, heaving himself out of the chair and following the officer downstairs, leaving his cup of coffee on the table.
I took a drink out of mine, wishing it was wine. Somehow, though, I figured getting sloshed with a house full of police officers was not a terribly intelligent idea. Especially considering I hadn’t had dinner, and by the look of the sad remains of my lasagna sitting on the counter, I didn’t think I’d be eating anytime soon.
I could hear a flurry of conversation and discussion by the front door, and suddenly, Mia burst into the kitchen. “Becca! What is going on? What is all of this about a body in the basement?”
I took her by the arm and steered her toward the back door. “Let’s go outside and talk about it,” I said.
“You need to stay here,” one of the officers said. He was young and good looking, with thick, black hair and big, puppy dog eyes. With a start, I realized it was Trevor—the officer who had helped move my desk up to The Studio and flirted with Chrissy.
“We’re just going in the backyard,” I said.
Trevor didn’t meet my eyes, instead shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Detective Timmons told me you need to stay here.”
“I’m sure he just meant on the property,” I said. “Five minutes. We’ll be right out there.” I pointed out the window to the peaceful looking backyard.
He didn’t look convinced. I let out a loud sigh. “Where am I going to go?” I asked. “This is my house. Where am I going to run?”
Trevor pressed his lips together and gave me a short, curt nod. Before he could change his mind, I dragged Mia into the backyard.
“What is going on?” she hissed. “And what is this about a body?”
I glanced around to make sure we were alone and then quickly filled her in. I could see her eyes getting wider and wider the more I talked, and her face, already too pale from lack of sleep, seemed to get even whiter.
“There’s a body in the basement? All this time?”
“It appears that way.”
Mia put her hands by her temple. “I can’t even ...” she broke off, backing away from me to pace around the yard. I watched her march between the daffodils and roses and brown-eyed susans, noting the contrast between them and the death and decay in that musty, dank basement. The sun was setting, and the dark-orange rays highlighted the already bright colors surrounding us.
“Becca.” I turned to see Detective Timmons heading toward me, along with another officer. “A word?”
I nodded and took a few steps toward him. A moment later, Mia joined me.
Detective Timmons paused. “Who are you?”
“Mia,” Mia said. “Mia Moto. I live here, too. I’m Becca’s roommate.”
Detective Timmons nodded and flipped through his notebook. “You’re on my list of people to interview,” he said. “We need to set up a time.”
Mia nodded. “I’ll call.”
I swallowed hard. Even though I knew part of the investigation required the detective to interview my friends, it still felt weird listening to that conversation.
“While the medical examiner will need to do more tests, his initial findings include that the body has been buried for approximately 30 years.”
I swallowed again. Aunt Charlie was definitely living here 30 years ago. Which meant ...
“Do you know who owned the house before you?”
“My Aunt Charlie,” I said, my voice small. “I inherited it from her.”
He nodded, like he already knew the answer. “So, she is deceased?”
“Yes.”
He made a note. “We’re going to need to ask you more questions, but they can wait until after we’ve had a chance to further examine the body.” He turned as if to go.
“Is there anything more you can tell me?” I asked, my voice coming out in a rush. “Is it a male, a female, how old, anything?”
Detective Timmons paused before turning back and regarding me for a moment. “The medical examiner says it was man, probably late twenties or early thirties. No obvious cause of death by the initial examination, although what he did find is a lot of old fractures.”
“Old fractures?” I asked.
“Yes. At first glance, it seems this person suffered multiple broken bones when he was younger that later healed.”
“What could have caused that?” Mia asked.
“Well, again, we’ll know more when we get the bones to the lab, but maybe he was in a bad accident at some point. Perhaps a car accident. Or maybe he was heavily involved in sports.”
“It’s also possible that it was something more deliberate,” the other man said. Detective Timmons shot him an unreadable look, but the man didn’t notice as he watched Mia closely. I glanced at her myself. Her lips were pressed together so tightly, they were white.
“Deliberate how?” she asked.
The other man shrugged. He appeared to be younger than Detective Timmons, and a lot less handsome with a long, horsey face and thinning brown hair that was already balding. “Abuse.”
Mia swayed on her feet. “Oh my God,” she breathed. She pressed a hand to her chest.
Detective Timmons gave her a sharp look. “What?”
“I think I know who is in the basement.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Jonathan Decker.”
Chapter 28
“Why do you think it’s Jonathan?” Daniel asked.
The cops had finally left, and the four of us, Daphne, Mia, Daniel, and I were all sitting around my kitchen table devouring baked ziti (I was so grateful I had thrown it in the cart after all) and garlic bread and drinking wine. Even Daniel had a glass. Chrissy was spending the night at a friend’s house.
Darkness pressed in against us from the windows, so thick and heavy, the light above the table seemed a feeble talisman warding off the overwhelming blackness. But the dim light couldn’t hide the wreckage the police had left in their wake. Concrete dust and dirt had been trampled everywhere. I was going to need to spend some quality ti
me with a vacuum, feather duster, and mop the next day. Yellow crime scene tape had been plastered across the basement door, although I wasn’t sure why, as it was clear the crime had been committed over thirty years ago. Maybe some overzealous cop had been bored.
“And just to be clear, this is the same Jonathan who my aunt had an affair with,” I said.
Mia seized her wine glass and took another long swallow. Her hands trembled slightly. “Don’t you remember all the whispers?” Her attention was directed at Daniel and Daphne. “When Frank died?”
“Frank?” I asked.
“Are you talking about Jonathan’s stepfather?” Daphne asked. Daniel had a pensive look on his face.
Mia nodded.
Daphne screwed up her face. “That was so long ago, Mia. We were kids. Didn’t he drink himself to death or something?”
“Maybe you didn’t spend enough time at Jessica’s,” Mia said. “Louise used to talk about him. He was one of the few people in this town who agreed with her that something had happened to Jonathan, and it was Charlie’s fault. She regularly brought Frank food, which he barely ate, and which Bill (that’s Louise’s husband) was completely against her doing. He thought it was very unhealthy for Louise to listen to Frank.”
“Yes, I guess I sort of remember that,” Daphne said. “But what does that have to do with how you know it’s Jonathan in the basement?”
“Because Frank used to beat him up,” Daniel said.
Mia touched the tip of her nose. “Bingo.”
Daphne’s face cleared. “Oh. Of course.”
I looked around the table. “How do you guys even know about that? Didn’t this all happen before you were born?”
“It all came out when Frank died,” Daniel said. “He was a mean SOB, especially when he was drunk, which was most of the time. He beat the living crap out of Jonathan for years, until Jonathan finally got big enough to hit back.”
“A lot of people blamed Frank for Jonathan being the way he was,” Mia said.
“What way was that?” I asked.
Mia paused, screwing her face up. “Quiet. Brooding. Not the easiest to get along with.”
“I remember my mom saying Frank was probably the reason Jonathan left the way he did,” Daniel said. “So, the fact that he was blaming Charlie was absurd and laughable.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember anyone taking Frank seriously either,” Mia said. “Except for Louise. It’s just like you said, Daniel. He only had himself to blame. That, or he was delusional, because his brain was pickled from all the alcohol.”
“Or, he was just pissed he couldn’t keep abusing Jonathan, and decided to shift his focus to Charlie,” Daniel said.
“Either way, Louise was the only one taking Frank seriously,” Mia said. “But I think that had less to do with Frank’s persuasive powers and more to do with her wanting to believe Frank. Bill wanted Louise to move on. Jesse was gone, and to keep fixating on Charlie, especially considering there was zero proof Charlie was anywhere near Jesse the night he disappeared, wasn’t healthy. But,” Mia sighed. “Louise wanted someone else to blame, because she couldn’t bear to blame herself. Bill and Louise had some terrible fights about it. Jessica was so relieved when Frank finally died, because the fights ended.”
“I remember that,” Daphne said. “But it wasn’t just Jessica. Everyone seemed relieved when he died.”
“Yeah, no one was mourning him,” Mia said. “Not even Louise. I think everyone was ready to move on.”
“Was Frank married?” I asked. “Where was Jonathan’s mother when all of the abuse occurred?”
The three of them stared at each other, puzzlement on their faces. “What did happen to Jonathan’s mother?” Daphne asked. “I don’t think anyone ever talked about her.”
“I don’t remember either,” Mia said. “How about you, Daniel?”
Daniel shook his head. “It was just Jonathan and his drunk, abusive stepfather.”
“I guess that means you also don’t know what happened to Jonathan’s real father, either,” I said.
“God, I can’t believe none of this ever came up before,” Mia said.
“What about Jonathan’s wife?” I asked. “And his family? They moved after he disappeared, I know, but how did they respond to all of this?”
“No one really talks about it,” Mia said. “I guess she packed up and left shortly after he disappeared. Took both kids and moved. I think she initially went to live with her parents. They lived on a farm somewhere north of here. Or maybe it was in Minnesota. I’m not sure what happened to her after that.”
“I don’t think anyone talked to her about it much,” Daniel said. “I mean, it was sort of an uncomfortable topic, her having been cheated on. I think everyone was kind of relieved when she just left.”
I stared at my friends, aghast. “Are you listening to yourselves? Who was this guy? No mother, no father, his wife takes off, everyone in town is relieved. Other than his abusive drunk stepfather, did no one care about him?”
They didn’t answer right away, instead searching each other’s faces. “I guess ... I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Mia said finally, biting her lips. “But, you’re right, it does seem awfully cold.”
“I mean, is that why Aunt Charlie was able to get away with this?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “Because no one cared about him?”
“Mia clearly remembers him more,” Daphne said. “But, yeah, from what I can remember, it does seem like he wasn’t well liked.”
“Other than Jesse, I’m not sure who his friends were,” Mia mused. “He did of course end up getting married, so there’s that.”
“Yeah, and we can see how well that worked out, what with the affair with my aunt and all,” I said. I sighed and put my head in my hands. “What the hell was Aunt Charlie thinking?”
“About the affair or the murder?” Mia asked.
For a moment, I couldn’t answer. Hearing it spoken out loud, just like that, shook me like nothing else had. “Either, I guess,” I finally forced out. “Or both.”
“Maybe you’ll dream about her, and she’ll tell you,” Mia said.
I eyed Mia. “I can’t decide if that would be good or bad.”
“I guess it depends on what she tells you,” Mia said.
A part of me wanted to laugh, but another part of me felt like I was living in a surreal nightmare. “I can’t get my head around it,” I said. “How could my aunt kill someone? Worse, how could she kill her lover? This is my Aunt Charlie, the woman who welcomed all of us into her house. She cooked for us; she made us tea. She believed in us … told us we could do anything we wanted.” I looked around the table at my friends’ serious faces. I thought about my aunt, her wild hair always sticking up, usually littered with dried flowers or grass. I thought of the smudges on her smocks, how she could never keep track of anything, and was forever leaving a trail of forgotten to-dos behind her. “The woman I remember wasn’t, couldn’t have been, a ... a murderer.”
“Maybe it wasn’t her,” Daphne said. “I mean, we don’t actually know if it’s Jonathan or not. Maybe all this happened before Charlie bought the house.”
“According to the medical examiner, the body was buried while Charlie owned the house,” Daniel said.
“But maybe the medical examiner got it wrong,” Daphne argued. “It was a cursory exam. Maybe once he takes a closer look, he’ll see the body was here longer.”
“It’s possible,” Daniel said, but his face looked doubtful.
“It’s also possible,” Daphne added, getting more animated as she warmed up to the topic, “that Charlie had nothing to do with any of it, even if it did happen while she owned the house.”
“How do you figure?” I asked.
“Well, she was hardly handy,” Daphne said. “She didn’t do any of her own home repairs. Do you reall
y think she was down in her basement pouring her own concrete?”
“So, you think whoever she hired to pour concrete in her basement decided to stick a body down there as well?” Daniel asked incredulously.
“Why not?” Daphne asked. “Does that really seem less believable than Charlie killing someone and somehow managing to pour concrete, all on her own, to hide the body?”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Daniel said thoughtfully.
“How could she not have known, though?” I asked. “How could anyone drag a body through this house without Charlie knowing … without her seeing, or smelling, it?”
“You don’t even know if she was home when it happened,” Daphne said. “Maybe the contractors convinced her to go deliver her teas while they worked.”
“I could see that, actually,” Daniel said.
I could too. The Aunt Charlie I knew would definitely be trusting enough to leave her house open to a couple of strangers while she went gallivanting off to deliver teas.
On one hand, that made more sense than her being a ruthless murderer who buried a body in her basement and took that secret to her own grave without anyone ever being the wiser (well, other than Frank, the abusive, drunk bully, if we went with our previous theory).
On the other hand ...
“Look, I’d rather it be some nameless contractor, as well,” I said. “But then why did Aunt Charlie tell me in my dream to find the jade?”
Daphne shot me a look. “I mean, it could have just been a dream. Maybe you’ve seen that jade before in that crack and subconsciously filed it away. Until now.”
“I guess,” I said. “But that seems like a pretty crazy coincidence.”
“Okay, let’s just say Charlie did it. Why would she have put the jade there?” Mia asked.
“Protection,” Daphne said immediately.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Protection?”
Secrets of Redemption Box Set Page 90