Lost in America

by A. S. French

That was possible. ‘Should we tell her?’

  ‘I guess we should.’

  As Astrid considered the best way of doing that, Maggie returned with a tray of biscuits, a small jug of milk, and a teapot. She placed it on the table in front of them.

  ‘It’s terrible what happened to Cat and the children. Is that why you’re here?’

  She poured the tea while waiting for the answer. Campbell asked a question.

  ‘What have you heard, Maggie?’

  ‘About Cat?’ She dropped two sugars and a small amount of milk in her cup. Then she added four more cubes. ‘Someone killed her and the kids on Saturday night.’ She pushed a cup towards Astrid. ‘I’ll let you add your milk and sugar.’

  Astrid picked it up. ‘I’ll take it as it is.’

  Maggie’s expression darkened as she spoke about the death of her friend. ‘The rumour around town is that a stranger murdered Cat and the children.’ She plopped two more sugars into her drink so that the liquid slipped over the edge and on to her fingers. From her cup, Astrid knew how hot it was, yet Maggie Delaney didn’t flinch. ‘Some English woman, I heard.’ She wiped the tea from her hand. ‘Did you bring any friends from back home with you to Bakerstown, Astrid?’

  She ignored her question. ‘What did Cat do when she came to see you? Are you a member of her church?’

  ‘My goodness, no.’ Maggie sank into her seat. ‘I’m a lifelong atheist. But that didn’t bother Cat. She treats everyone with kindness, regardless of who they are.’ The colour drained from her face, and Astrid wondered if she’d processed her grief yet. ‘Cat would sit with me and we’d talk, and then she’d do her work online. Sometimes she’d bring Cathy with her, and she’d go off with Angie. Other times, Cat would use the house while I was out.’

  Campbell sipped at her drink. ‘Use the house for what?’

  Delaney shrugged. ‘She never told me, and I never asked. All she wanted was the Wi-Fi code and cold drinks in the fridge.’

  Astrid drank half of her tea. ‘Can I visit your bathroom?’

  Maggie laughed. ‘You make it sound like a trip to the museum, Astrid.’ She glanced behind her. ‘It’s at the top of the stairs. You pay your visit while I chat with Officer Campbell.’

  Astrid did just that, moving up the steps and wondering what Caitlin Cruz had got up to in the Delaney house.

  11 Sick of Being Sick

  The two of them were drinking their tea as Astrid went upstairs. She checked the bathroom, and then the bedrooms, unsure of what she was looking for. Everything was as spotless as down below, with that faint smell of lavender following her everywhere until she got to the last of three bedrooms. The posters on the walls and the shoes covering the carpet told her it was Angie Delaney’s. A desk sat in one corner, besieged with jewellery, bits of cosmetics, and teen magazines. A few shelves were filled with paperbacks with titles she didn’t recognise. Amongst them were some hardbacks she did, books about Hollywood and film stars of bygone years. She stood in the doorway for a second, questioning if she should enter and search the place. Her hesitation was fleeting.

  She went through the cupboard and a chest of drawers, finding nothing unusual or out of place for a typical teenage girl’s room. She checked over the books, flicking through a few to see if there were any hidden notes inside the pages. It was something she’d done as a girl, writing out her thoughts on bits torn from her notepad and placed in novels she knew none of her family would ever notice. The Bell Jar, To Kill A Mockingbird, and Stranger in a Strange Land were volumes her parents and sister were unlikely to touch, never mind read.

  Astrid bent her knees and peered under the bed, finding old magazines and a few dirty plates and cups. Beyond those were crushed beer cans and the smell of tobacco. She got up and sat on the bed, running her fingers over the cover and staring at the movie posters on the wall. Blade Runner was next to Dune, Chinatown next to Casablanca. Some might have thought them strange choices for a teenage girl, but Astrid knew from experience that not all teenage girls were typical.

  At least the kid’s got good taste.

  She lay on the bed, uncaring of where she was or who was downstairs, and peered at the ceiling. Her eyes glazed over as a long ache ran from her fingers down to the bruises on her ribs. The paint on the walls shimmered in a haze, and it wasn’t Angie Delaney’s bedroom anymore, but Astrid’s from her teenage years. The posters changed to James Dean and David Bowie, Nina Simone and Diana Ross. All of them were youthful and in their prime. Astrid had never decided whether her favourite hairstyle was Bowie as Ziggy or Diana Ross’s magnificent afro. As a teenager, she’d tried to grow both, receiving anger from her parents and ridicule from her sister. But by that time, she’d stopped caring what any of them thought about her.

  At least that’s what she told herself, then and now.

  The bed also changed underneath her, becoming smaller and harder. Opposite it were her shelves stacked with books: volumes of all those places she’d transported herself to, better worlds than hers. She knew where she was, in Angie Delaney’s bedroom, but her mind told her otherwise. The novels were now her collection of Asimov, Alice Walker, Stephen King and Sylvia Plath. There were DVDs and CDs on top of the books, things she’d accumulated from charity shops and car boot sales: Bogart and Bacall nestling next to Prince, Seinfeld rubbing shoulders with Laurel and Hardy, while Nina Simone pushed up against Au Revoir Simone. She was liking the synchronicity of the last combination until she realised she wasn’t the only person there.

  ‘You’re always letting people down, aren’t you?’ Courtney stepped out of the shadows. ‘Are you sure you didn’t kill that woman and her kids, sister of mine? You’ve killed women and children before, haven’t you, so three more won’t make any difference. They’re just more numbers to add to your ledger.’

  Her sister’s smile always had the power to unnerve Astrid, and it was no different now, even if she was a memory turned into a hallucination.

  ‘Get out of my mind, Courtney.’

  Her skull throbbed, and her voice sounded as if she was underwater. The figment of her imagination shook its head.

  ‘Can’t do it, little sis. I’m always with you, just like he is.’ Astrid didn’t look at the other shadow in the room. ‘Plus, you understand you can’t get rid of me if you want to be part of Olivia’s life. You know this.’

  Astrid blinked twice to remove her twisted vision, but it refused to budge. She resigned herself to speaking to it, even though she understood it was her subconscious listening to her.

  ‘Do you know why you’re blackmailing me like this, Courtney?’

  Courtney smirked, a small pouting of the lips, narrowed eyes and tilting of the head.

  ‘I’m trying to help you, little sis, like I’ve always done. But you’re too good for us, aren’t you, too good for me and Mum and Dad. That’s what you’ve always believed. And that’s why he had to discipline you, to control you. Otherwise, you’d have brought us all down even sooner than you did.’

  Astrid grabbed her ribs as she laughed. ‘I’m losing my mind. Either that or the beating I took did more damage to my head than I realised.’

  ‘You keep telling yourself that, Astrid. By the time you acknowledge the truth, Olivia will have grown up, and you’ll have lost any chance you had of bonding with her. Just like you did with me.’

  She leapt from the bed and glared at someone who wasn’t there, unable to stop herself from reacting.

  ‘You’re mad, Courtney. It was you lot who hurt me, not the other way around.’

  The phantom of her sister pursed her lips as if about to blow a bubble.

  ‘You turned Mother into an alcoholic, Father into a criminal, and left me without my parents. The guilt must be killing you.’

  The ache in Astrid’s chest went deeper than the bruises on her ribs. A steam train rushed through her, and she had no idea when it would stop. Her lips trembled as she spoke.

  ‘Mother was an alcoholic well before we were born. As for
him, Lawrence, I’m sure his sadism was steeped in his blood and bones long before he spawned either of us. As for you, I don’t know where your particular malevolence originated from, but I know it had nothing to do with me.’

  The phantom Courtney Snow shook her head. ‘Is it remorse which makes you lie to yourself, sis?’

  Astrid knew what was coming, but still she asked the question. ‘Remorse for what?’

  ‘You got Dad put away right when Mum needed him the most. What you did made things worse for us all, but more so for her.’

  Astrid’s legs wobbled and she reached for the bookshelf for stability, knocking a copy of The Golden Compass onto the carpet. The thump it created vibrated with the echo bouncing off the sides of her skull.

  ‘You lie so much, Courtney. I don’t think you’re a good parent for Olivia.’

  ‘How would you know, Astrid? You’ll never be a mother, will you? Kids get hurt around you, don’t they? Some of them even die horrible, painful deaths. At least Olivia won’t have to worry about that.’

  Astrid gazed at the vision of her sister and understood what she might do.

  ‘I could take Olivia away from you, Courtney. I’m sure she’d come with me, and you’re incapable of stopping me.’

  ‘You’ll never see Olivia again, Astrid. I guarantee that.’

  The heat erupted inside her gut and sped through her veins. She dug her nails into her palm and waited for her vision to dissipate, but it took the phone smashing into her ribs to bring her back to normality.

  ‘You didn’t have to search my room for that.’

  It lay at her feet as she stared at Angie Delaney.

  ‘I’m sorry about this, kid.’

  ‘Sorry for what? Going through my stuff or giving my mother a hard time.’

  Astrid reached down and got the phone. ‘Both. I’m just trying to find a killer.’

  Angie’s cheeks were redder than the sun. ‘Have you tried looking in the mirror?’

  ‘I didn’t kill Caitlin Cruz and her family, Angie.’

  ‘But you have killed before?’

  I’m not getting into this discussion.

  ‘Your mother’s not well, Angie. You can’t stop going to school to look after her. She needs proper care, and you need an education.’

  ‘Who else will do it?’ She stepped further into the room. ‘I heard you talking to yourself, Astrid. I stood there and watched you saying those terrible things about your family. I don’t think you’re qualified to tell me how to care for mine.’

  She’s probably right.

  ‘Do you know what Caitlin Cruz was doing in your house when she wasn’t helping your mother?’

  Angie crossed her arms. ‘There are twenty dollars prepaid on that phone. You can add more yourself.’ Her scowl was sharp enough to cut through steel. ‘Now you and the cop should leave before I complain to her superiors.’

  Astrid did as instructed and went downstairs to find Campbell and Delaney finishing the biscuits with today’s newspaper on the table in front of them. She thought they were reading about the murders, but Maggie pointed at a different story.

  ‘It looks like some of our boys are coming home.’

  She handed the paper to Astrid, who sat next to Campbell and scanned the text.

  ‘The President is planning to withdraw more than half of the sixty thousand US troops in the Middle East.’ She understood how such a thing could add to the instability in some parts of the region.

  Maggie Delaney poured herself another cup of tea. ‘That will make the Hawkestra unhappy.’

  Astrid and Campbell glanced at each other. The Officer asked Delaney the question forming on Astrid’s lips.

  ‘What do you mean by that, Maggie?’

  Delaney started adding a ton of sugar into her drink. ‘Cat would never tell me what she did on the computer, but I overheard her talking on the phone one day, and she mentioned how the Hawkestra were a secret organisation who controlled the world.’

  Confusion spread across Campbell’s face. ‘Are you sure you didn’t mishear her, Maggie, and the word she said was the orchestra?’

  Maggie Delaney shook her head. ‘Oh no; how could an orchestra rule the world? That would be just silly.’ She scrunched her eyes and gazed into her tea. ‘Unless it was the Electric Light Orchestra.’ Her laugh fizzed around the room.

  Astrid smiled at her. ‘What did you hear Caitlin say, Maggie?’

  Maggie cradled the cup in her hands. ‘I listened to her on the phone for two or three minutes, and she said the word several times. I think the Hawkestra are hawks. You know, not birds, but people.’ She placed a hand on her cheek, her eyes turning glassy. ‘There were others, people opposite to them, but I forget who they are.’

  Astrid pushed her spine into the sofa. ‘You’re talking about hawks and doves: Hawks are those who advocate an aggressive foreign policy based on strong military power. Doves try to resolve international conflicts without the threat of force. So yes, I could see why hawks wouldn’t like the withdrawal of US troops abroad.’

  Campbell seemed unconvinced by the idea. ‘You think there’s a secret organisation who rules the world called the Hawkestra?’ She shook her head and laughed. ‘I know you were a British spy, Astrid, but that sounds like something straight out of a James Bond movie.’

  Maggie Delaney beamed at Astrid. ‘You were a British spy? How cool is that?’

  ‘That’s not quite how it was, Maggie.’ She turned to Campbell. ‘Conspiracy theories of a secret new world order controlling the planet have been around for more than a century, from the Freemasons and the Illuminati, through the forged Protocols of the Elders of Zion, right up to QAnon and lizards in human flesh.’

  ‘Lizards in human flesh?’ Angie Delaney stood behind her mother.

  Astrid smiled at her. ‘That’s a particular British invention and not from an old TV show.’

  ‘Why would any of these nut jobs kill the Cruzes?’ Angie appeared to have forgotten her anger towards Astrid.

  ‘I’m not sure, Angie, but I intend to find out.’ As she spoke, she noticed Delaney’s fingers shaking around her cup of tea.

  This conversation isn’t helping her.

  Astrid stood. ‘It’s time for us to leave, Officer Campbell.’ She held out a hand to Mrs Delaney. ‘Thanks for your help, Maggie.’ They shook hands as Delaney beamed at her.

  ‘It was my pleasure, ladies. I don’t get many visitors, so it’s always nice to have company.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Still, Cat will be here soon, so I better put the kettle on. She spends so much time on that laptop, she needs a big jug of java to get through her work.’

  Campbell followed Astrid out and back to the car. It had rained, and spots of water lay over the bonnet.

  ‘Did you speak to the daughter upstairs? Because I heard you talking to someone.’

  Astrid showed her the mobile. ‘Angie got me this.’ She passed it to Campbell. ‘Put your number in it, and this is Detective Moore’s. Do the same with his.’ She handed Eleanor the paper Jim had given her earlier.

  Campbell added the numbers, then returned the phone to Astrid.

  ‘What do you make of Maggie Delaney?’

  ‘She’s confused and has memory issues, but she needs to see a doctor for a diagnosis. There are many reasons for the way she behaved. Even if it is an early onset of Dementia, there’s medication which helps with the problem.’

  ‘You’ve dealt with something like this before?’

  ‘I’ve read about it.’

  ‘What did you make of her claim about this Hawkestra? You don’t seriously believe in a secret new world order controlling the planet, do you?’ Campbell peered at Astrid. ‘Or do you know something from your spy work about this?’

  Astrid held her mobile and messaged Courtney, telling her about the new phone number, trying not to think about the vision and conversation she’d had with her sister in Angie’s bedroom. Then she sent another text, this time to her only friend in the
UK, letting him know she had a new temporary phone.

  Perhaps George is my only friend in the world.

  She stared at Eleanor and understood whatever she felt for her now was only fleeting, and she’d be gone from this town sooner rather than later.

  ‘I don’t know what Maggie heard Caitlin Cruz say in her call, but there’s no such thing as a New World Order. And even if there was, why would they kill a mother and her two children here?’

  Campbell shrugged. ‘So what’s next?’

  They got into the car.

  ‘Did your colleagues find a laptop in the Cruz house?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge. You would’ve thought the kids had computers.’

  ‘What about cell phones?’

  ‘I assumed they did, but I’m not part of the investigation, so I don’t get told these things unless I need to know or I ask.’

  Astrid held her new phone and called Detective Moore. ‘Were there any laptops, computers or cell phones in the Cruz house?’

  ‘Is that you, Snow?’

  ‘You don’t recognise my accent, Jim?’

  His gruff exterior projected itself down the line. ‘Perhaps there’s a British invasion I don’t know about. Or there’s more than one of you here.’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t think you or this town could handle more than one of me, Detective Moore. Now, about that electronic equipment.’

  ‘Give me a minute.’

  She heard his fingers bouncing off a keyboard mixed in with his laboured breathing. Maybe he got little sleep last night. Then his voice shouted across the room with unmistakable anger rippling through the words, before returning to her.

  ‘It’s my fault. I assumed our expert had the devices and was working through them.’

  ‘The police didn’t find any personal electronic devices in the Cruz place, did they?’

  ‘No.’ That one word shot down the telephone line like a comet crashing to earth. ‘Not even a gaming device for the kids. I don’t know how I missed they had no cell phones on them or in the house.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Jim, but perhaps they’re in the same place as mine.’