A Fatal Romance

by June Shaw

  After some time she glanced at my pad. “Nice pathway.” She met my eyes that mirrored her pleasure.

  “Thanks.” I leaned closer to see what she worked on. Her drawing was almost as crude as my own. “Cute building. Reminds me of our old garage.” Great memories. We had worked inside it with Dad.

  She gave me a warm smile, studied her work, and nodded.

  I gave her a one-armed hug. “I’m going to fix supper. You keep on with that. You’re doing nice work.” What she did with the sketchpad wasn’t fantastic, but if we were ever able to compete for work in this town, we’d have professionals create our final drafts. For now, playing around with drawings and colors worked fine to help both of us keep more pressing concerns at bay. It was also keeping her inside.

  Placing a frozen package of boneless chicken pieces under cool running water in the kitchen sink, I thought about Miss Hawthorne and shut my curtains. Drapes in the dining room were closed, just like in every other room of the house. The only way a person could see in here now without opening the door would be to set up a ladder to stare over the bottom curtains above the sink. Nobody would be so obvious as to do that. And nobody, I hoped, except Mom and my neighbor a couple of doors down, knew Eve was here.

  I hummed a mindless tune, not about the holiday season, while I worked at the counter, chopping seasoning, and then at the stove. From time to time I glanced in at Eve. The telepathy we’d often shared over the years seemed to draw her attention to me looking at her during those times, and we gave each other heartfelt smiles.

  “Need help?” she asked.

  “At the stove? No thanks. Make me a picture.”

  Her grin widened. I was pleased to resemble her warm blue eyes, thick red hair, and fair complexion. The depth of her heart shown in her eyes.

  I prepared a chicken and andouille sausage gumbo. When I heated the rice I’d cooked a day or so ago, I thought of when I’d borrowed noodles to get Eve to come over the first time a few days ago for shrimp creole. Had so much happened during that short time? I refused to look in on her again, figuring she’d know that concern for her remained foremost on my mind.

  At the stove, I didn’t hear her come into the room. A flash of her hand to my left caught my notice. She moved around, set the table, and poured our drinks.

  Our jovial mood had passed. We ate in silence, except for her to mention how good the gumbo was. It was only after we set our spoons down on our bowls that, like air from a pin-ruptured balloon, our real thoughts poured out.

  “Who could have done it?” she asked.

  “What, all of it? The couple’s deaths and the threats to you?”

  Her lowered forehead hooded her eyes. “Take one at a time. Who would have killed Zane?”

  I nodded. “No question, Daria did it.”

  She kept her gaze steady on me. “Because?”

  “Zane had two lovers, Daria’s sister and Lillian who wears a bikini to cut her grass.”

  Eve’s intent stare into the space between us let me know she was mulling on that probability.

  “And then Daria found out about them and learned he was leaving her, but she planned to leave him first. Maybe right after she located his fortune?”

  “I believe so. And Daria told him she also had a lover, one much better than him.”

  “Who would be—?”

  “I have no idea.” I carried my plate to the sink.

  Eve brought hers. “If Zane really did have a grandfather involved in organized crime, maybe that’s where all the money came from.” Using her elbow, she scooted me over and squirted liquid soap into running hot water. “I’ll wash. You dry and put things where they belong.”

  I brought her used glasses and silverware. “Okay, then who murdered Daria?”

  She shut off the water and looked at me. “One of those two women? The man she was seeing?”

  “You think her own sister could do that?” My hands gripped my twin’s forearms, my gaze going deep into her eyes.

  She shook her head. Broke eye contact and turned to the sink. “But I don’t know why a boyfriend would have murdered her, or for that matter, Lillian either.”

  I stood silent, inner vision going back. Struggling, I pulled my focus again into now. “It’s difficult for us to imagine anyone wanting to kill someone, isn’t it?

  “Yeah.”

  She washed, and I buffed items dry. No one had ever been able to solve the case involving our oldest sister. A senseless drive-by shooting, police concluded.

  I wouldn’t stop trying until I knew Eve would remain safe. “Okay, so we told the police what we knew about Daria and Zane and those other women. And I brought Detective Wilet the nail file that might have dried glue on it, so maybe he considered checking into that and maybe not. And he took my jacket.” I blew out a sigh. “Your neighbor’s son Royce probably lost a lot of money to big-time gambling, and he might have lied to me about knowing the Snellings.”

  She stopped rinsing a pot. “What makes you think that?”

  “Crayfish omelets.”

  She stared at me a long minute. I emptied the rest of the food into containers and gave her more pots. She slid them into the water to soak.

  “What about whoever’s been threatening me?”

  I hesitated only a second. “Maybe one of those other people is somehow involved. Or how about Melanie? Do you know whether Jacques heard from her?”

  She wiped the counter. “He said he didn’t.”

  I considered something else. “Has he called you since he dropped you off here?”

  She shook her head.

  “Eve, maybe Melanie came back here alone after they drove you to Texas. She said she didn’t mind all the things of value her husband gave you, but do you believe that’s true?”

  Scrubbing the largest pot, Eve tightened her lips. “I would mind.” She sucked in a breath, released it, and stared at the next pot she attacked. “Who else could be after me?”

  “There’s the man who went running down my street soon after someone shot at you.”

  Water dripped from her hands to the floor as she faced me. “I don’t know about that.”

  And you wouldn’t want to know everything I think. “Miss Hawthorne told me she heard a pop that day, like maybe a backfiring motor. Right after that, she heard someone running on the street with a different sound from most runners. She noticed what she believed were men’s black dress shoes. Oh, and black cuffed slacks.”

  “This is the lady who keeps telling you all the men around here are also running around commando, right?”

  “Yes, I guess so. At first she even had me checking out the priests’ shoes.”

  Eve grinned. “They the only guys you know who wear that style shoe?”

  I met her eyes. “So does Dave Price.”

  Her head did a slight bobble. “Don’t tell me you’ve checked?”

  “I didn’t mean to, but he came around to inspect your alarm when I was at your house. He knew it was me. And I looked at his shoes. Black, dress type.”

  “Sunny, I can’t believe you’d really considered him trying to shoot me.”

  Words tumbled from my mouth. “His sister is engaged to Stan. She’s Dave’s only sibling, and he adores her, and she’s immobile in a wheelchair.”

  Eve’s mouth dropped open.

  I continued. “Her boyfriend left her after an accident crippled her, and now she has little of anything left.”

  Deep folds entered the area between Eve’s eyes. “Poor thing.”

  “Yes, I truly sympathize with her.”

  “So do I.” Eve dried her hands. “How do you know all this about her?”

  “Dave told me.” I wasn’t going to mention I’d met with him to question him at the coffee shop.

  Both her hands went to her chest. “How sweet that he cares about his sister so much. Do you know if he helps her?” Now she was loving him even more.

  I grabbed her han
ds. “Do you realize what this might mean? Even since you divorced Stan, he’s given you expensive jewelry and other things of value. What if his fiancée wants those items?”

  Her chin tucked near her neck when her head drew back.

  “I don’t want to think it either, but somebody broke into your house and then tried to kill you.”

  She was pulling back from me, eyes wide. “You can’t be serious thinking Dave would do this.”

  “Eve, suppose his sister convinced him to get into your place to find the items Stan gave you and locate other valuables, including cash. We don’t know her. We sympathize with her, but she could believe she deserves them since she’ll be marrying Stan.”

  My twin’s face went cold. “Don’t even say that.”

  I stepped closer. “You know I wouldn’t suggest or even think something like this unless—Sis, I need you safe.”

  She straightened, her chin lifted, eyes hard. “I am not the sister who died beside you. We’re both grown up now. We can take care of ourselves.”

  My words blasted out, bypassing the hum wanting to thrum in my throat. “I know Dave’s attractive, but just think of it. He knew your house didn’t have an alarm. He showed up there soon after your break-in occurred. Think of the words on the wall. Where is what’s his surely could have been him wanting to know where Stan’s gifts were, and he hadn’t been able to get to them farther past the locked door on your art room. He installed a system in your house afterward that worked—maybe—or maybe I had put in the correct code the day someone pointed a gun at you, and he went in later and changed it. Who knows what the man might be able to do since he’s the one person who’s now supposed to keep you safe at your house? And then there are the shoes. Miss Hawthorne says—”

  But Eve wasn’t staying around to listen to anymore. She whipped past me, brushing hard against my arm, stomping toward the hall.

  “Where are you going?”

  She didn’t reply. Until five minutes later while I sat with elbows on the dining room table, hands gripping my chin. Eve stormed through the room, grabbed her sketchpad and some of her pens, and threw them in a bag. With this bag in one hand, she lifted a small suitcase with the other. “I’m going where people aren’t so doubtful.”

  Before I could push up to my feet and confront her, she swooped past me.

  “No, don’t,” I said.

  “I called a cab.” The front door slammed behind her.

  Chapter 24

  I didn’t dare rush out after her. Eve and I shouldn’t be in front of my house at the same time. Few people here took a cab. I hadn’t seen one in months, yet as I watched through the window, an older-model gray car marked Ray’s Taxicab rolled near. Eve didn’t glance back when she yanked the rear door’s handle and, with her bags, slid inside.

  Grabbing my phone, I punched in her number.

  She glanced toward her lap, probably at her purse holding her cell phone that I kept ringing. Head raised, she set her face forward while they rolled off. I kept the taxi in sight as long as possible. At least Miss Hawthorne wasn’t outside anymore since darkness had dropped in.

  I left a message on Eve’s cell. “Come on back, Sis. I’m sorry. I didn’t know I’d make you so upset. It was just an idea, a thought about who might be after you. Come home. Let’s talk.”

  She didn’t answer me or call back. Again, she didn’t when I made my second frantic call, my second petition to her. “Where are you going? Come on, you’re right. It probably wasn’t Dave or his sister who wanted anything from you. I really want you here. Please come back.”

  Since she didn’t answer, by now she must have turned off her ringer. I left two more messages stating almost the same thing, pleading with her to return, and received the same silent response.

  Where would she go? I dashed to my truck and went off the way the taxi did, hoping I could spot the vehicle carrying her, and cut it off. Scenes from car chases in movies no doubt made me believe I could track down the car she left in. I sped down my street that was nearly empty of cars and rushed toward the highway. Worry about Eve and someone attacking her filled my mind, making me almost miss the siren wailing behind. A glance in the rearview mirror showed a bright blue swirling light closing in on me. I pulled to the side of the street to let the cop pass.

  Instead, he pulled over a few feet behind me.

  I stared in the mirror, wishing away the light circling above the police car, waiting a moment for him to rush into one of the houses near us to arrest someone or discover why they called him. Using the time, I pressed in Eve’s number again. Once again, she didn’t answer.

  The policeman stayed in his car, watching me. Time was throbbing by, I noted by the pounding in my head.

  I got out and scooted to him.

  The deputy was blond-haired, blue-eyed, pimpled, maybe just out of high school.

  “You didn’t want me, did you?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. Did you know you were going thirty-six in a twenty-mile speed zone?”

  “No, I didn’t. But I’m in a rush. I need to get somewhere.” And I didn’t need all these people coming outside or peeking out their windows. If they saw me here, which was highly likely with the glaring blue calling everyone’s attention, they’d know Eve was also in town if she went out anywhere now, which was highly likely. I ducked my head to hide my face from spying eyes, but the light over his car made certain anyone who looked would notice my height and red hair. At least he’d shut off the siren.

  “Could you please just let me go this time? I promise I’ll pay closer attention to speed zones. I really am in a hurry.”

  “So is everyone else, ma’am. Normally they say they need to reach a bathroom. Would you step to your truck and get your registration and license and bring them to me?”

  I stared at this boy, my sad eyes and drooped lips pleading for him to relent.

  He did not. By the time I dug out and carried those items to him, another police car pulled up behind his.

  “Thank you. You can get back in your vehicle while I check on this,” the officer who’d stopped me said. Another young deputy stepped out of his squad car and moved to the window of the first one while I shuffled back to my truck. More of the people who lived near me came out on their front lawns to see the criminal caught in their neighborhood.

  While I sat in my truck, mortified but mainly concerned about Eve, I checked my phone, hoping she’d returned my call, disappointed that she had not. Concern for her safety thrummed through my body, knotting my muscles, keeping my face tight.

  By the time the officer trusted me enough for him to walk to my truck window to hand me a ticket, I knew I’d never catch up to my sister. I thanked the young man for giving me the piece of paper that would cost me more money that I didn’t have and started my truck. Easing it out of park, I drove right under the speed limit to the highway. From there I went to the place I’d decided she might have gone—to see our mother, maybe to get some advice or comfort.

  Lights shone outside the manor. I parked and rushed in. Most of the interior lighting had been dimmed. The entrance floor was shiny. A sign warned that it was wet. Only a few residents sat or wandered in the wide foyer and main visiting area. Not Mom.

  I scurried down the hall leading to her room.

  “Hi, Eve. Or Sunny,” a trim nurse with rimless glasses stepping out of a room said.

  I stopped short. “I’m Sunny.” I needed to stop my tongue from asking the question stamped on my mind. Is Eve here?

  “Your mother’s already gone to bed. She wasn’t feeling well, so she wanted to rest.”

  My apprehension spiked. “Is she sick?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe just a little upset stomach.” She lifted a medicine bottle from her wheeled cart and glanced at the doorway to the next room.

  Trying not to show my other concern, I asked, “Did Mom have any company this evening?”

  “Not that I know of. But I just ca
me on duty.”

  “Thanks. I’ll check on her tomorrow. Or let me know if she feels worse during the night.”

  “I will. But I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  Still uncertain about leaving, I said, “I might just go take a peek at her now.” The nurse couldn’t argue, so I concentrated on keeping my footsteps light as I scampered toward Mom’s room. Some doors were open, most were shut. My mother’s door was closed tight. Maybe she was still awake. Maybe Eve sat in the recliner beside her. I eased the door open and peered in the room.

  A faint light fell through the sheer curtains. The nightlight between Mom’s bed and bathroom cast a brighter glow. A serene expression held my mother’s face while she slept on her side, the covers pulled to her neck. Eve was not in any of the empty spaces. Making my steps extra light, I moved to Mom’s bed, watched her in sleep, and touched my lips to her cool forehead, moving away right before she stirred. Still asleep, she drew the top sheet tighter up against her neck. Satisfied that she wasn’t deathly ill, I swept out of her room and softly shut the door.

  If I found the nurse on my way out, I would ask exactly what time she came on duty tonight. Was it minutes ago? Had enough time passed from when the cab brought my sister away and I got stopped for speeding for Eve to have come for a brief visit with our mother?

  It was probably a good thing I didn’t see the nurse again, I figured, making my way out. With the kind of questioning I was ready to ask, she might get suspicious. No one needed to determine Eve could be in town since word spread from here, and I had no idea who we could trust.

  Aware that she might have gone to her house, I drove there, tension biting my shoulders. Maybe she thought she could hide out at home until the person after her was arrested, but her house was where she’d been attacked. I made sure to drive under the speed limit, especially once I neared our neighborhood. With drapes drawn, most houses were dark with security lights outside lit. Few cars moved on the street.