by Willow Rose
Annie looked tiredly at her smiling mother, who was standing slightly tipsy with a glass of bubbling champagne in one hand and Annie’s hand in the other.
Oh, my God. She was enjoying this, wasn’t she? She was happy to see her daughter marry a guy she didn’t love. A guy that could support her. A guy from a good family. A guy with money to secure her for the rest of her life. This was exactly the kind of man her mother had wanted her to marry, wasn’t it? Feeling like the dress was getting tighter, she found it harder to breathe; she pulled out her hand from her mother’s.
“Is something wrong?” her mother asked.
Victor chuckled and shook his head. “No, Mrs. Greenfield. Everything is perfect, he said. “It’s just the pregnancy. It’s wearing her out, poor thing.” He stroked her cheek gently, while looking at her with compassion.
Annie felt like throwing up.
“Oh my,” her mother said and grabbed Annie’s arm. She helped her get back to her feet. Then, she stroked Annie’s cheek as well. Annie felt like screaming.
“We can’t have widdle Annie-bannie get tooo tired-wired, can we now? No, we can’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
January 2015
I left the kids with my parents, then jumped inside my Jeep and raced to Snug Harbor. Luckily, it was only a three-minute drive from my parents’ motel. The medical examiner’s van was already parked next to the van from the Sheriff’s crime scene unit, an ambulance, and several police cars.
“Hey, Jack,” Weasel yelled, as I arrived and parked the car. She seemed tired and her face longer than usual.
“So, what have we got?” I asked, as we walked under the tape and into the house. “Another homicide?”
“It’s on the second floor,” she said, and we grabbed plastic gloves in the foyer, then walked up the stairs. Through the window on the second floor, I spotted the Bennetts’ house that was still blocked by police tape, and wondered if this killer really was so stupid as to strike twice in the same neighborhood.
“Woman, age sixty-seven,” Weasel said, as we walked through the hallway and into a big bedroom with bamboo furniture. We stopped at the body on the light carpet. Her face was unrecognizable; blood was sprayed all over the carpet. A gun was lying on the carpet next to her hand.
“Her name was Rhonda Harris,” Weasel said.
“Looks like she shot herself?” I asked.
The Weasel nodded. “That’s what the ME said.”
“Yes, I said that,” a voice said behind me.
I turned and spotted Yamilla. She was hard to recognize in all her equipment. I moved and let her get closer to the body.
“I will have to examine her further in my lab, but yes, so far, it’s safe to say it was suicide. Shot herself right through the temple.”
I got up and looked around. I looked at her computer, her notebooks, and her many books spread all over the floor and tables.
“Looks like she was quite the avid reader,” I said.
“Sure does,” Weasel said.
“All John Platt books, huh?”
Weasel looked confused. “Well, I hadn’t noticed, but I think you might be right. All the open ones are.”
I threw a glance out the window at the house across the street.
Weasel rubbed her forehead. “Second death this week in this neighborhood, one of the nicest in town,” she sighed. “Gonna be another late nighter for us. If this keeps happening, I’m not going to be so popular around here anymore.”
I patted her shoulder while staring at the Bennetts’ house. The case had started to haunt me…now more than ever. There was no way these two deaths weren’t related somehow.
“What’s going on around here?” Weasel asked, wiping her sweaty forehead with a tissue. It was a very moist evening.
“It never used to be like this,” she continued. “What do you make of it?”
“Let’s just say, I hardly think it’s a coincidence that she is a big John Platt fan,” I said.
“You think she knew something?” Weasel asked. “You don’t think she…she killed Laura?”
I shrugged. “I think she might have known something. Something important. Who was she? What do we know about her?”
“She used to be a reporter for Florida Today, but retired early four years ago,” Joel said as he approached us. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just spoke with her daughter up in New York. She’s on her way down. Caught a late flight out. Should be here late tonight.”
I looked at Joel. He seemed a lot more together than the last time I had seen him. He was still sweating heavily, but we all were.
“Perfect,” I said. “Have her come and talk to me tomorrow morning. And I need everything secured from Rhonda Harris’ house. Every notebook, her computer, everything she has in those drawers. If she has a knife, I want it checked for blood or Laura Bennett’s DNA.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
January 2015
The waves were crashing on the beach when I woke up the next morning. I had slept with my window open to the balcony. They were luring me in. The sound was intoxicating. They were definitely calling for me.
I felt exhausted when I finally sat up. I didn’t arrive to pick up the kids from my parents’ place till around nine-thirty the night before. Emily had gone back to the condo by herself, but the twins were fast asleep, so my mother suggested they stay for the night. They had decorated a bedroom for them with bunk beds and SpongeBob posters and everything, and the kids loved sleeping over, so I told her all right and went back to spend the rest of the evening with Emily. We watched a movie together and I made popcorn. I got the feeling she enjoyed it, even though she didn’t say so. It was just like back in Miami before the twins had come into our lives. Just Emily and me. I couldn’t help looking at her when she didn’t see it. I saw so much of her mother in her, more and more every day now. I missed Lisa. She had been the best colleague and friend I had ever had. I was happy I got to see her daughter grow up.
When I woke up at six, I put on my wetsuit, but left the upper part hanging from my waist, grabbed my board, and ran with it across the beach to my parents’ motel.
“Daaad!” Austin smiled happily when he saw me. They were sitting on the wooden deck eating waffles. I kissed them both.
“Where were you last night?” Abigail asked. “You never came back.”
I sat down next to her and grabbed a waffle for myself. My mother brought me orange juice in a glass. It was freshly squeezed. Nothing beats Florida oranges. “I had to work,” I said.
“Did you catch the killer?” Austin asked, excited.
I shook my head and took another bite of my waffle. My mom brought me coffee. “Thank you,” I said, and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “Dad’s still sleeping?”
She nodded.
“So, did you?” Austin asked again.
“Nope. Not yet.”
The Millers came down the stairs and grabbed the table next to us. I smiled and nodded. My mother brought them breakfast while they discussed Blue Springs State Park, where they were going today.
“We hope to see some manatees,” Mrs. Miller said.
“You should be able to,” my mother replied, while pouring coffee for them. “At this time of year, there are a lot of them up there at the springs. They like that the water stays the same temperature all year around, you know?”
“So, are you going to catch the killer today?” Austin asked with his mouth full.
I chuckled. “I hope so.”
“It’s not that easy, Austin,” Abigail growled, sounding like the true big sister she was with her fifty-eight seconds. “First, they have to gather all the evidence and talk to a lot of people before they can put him away. It’s not all like in the movies.”
Austin made a grimace at his sister. She threw a waffle at him.
“Hey, hey,” I stopped them. “I won’t have you fighting. You hear me? We’re family. We need to stick together. Now, did you have a good time with Grandma and Gr
andpa?”
Austin and Abigail both nodded.
“Good. They will pick you up today from school again. It’s early release day, and I have asked them to step in, since I’ll be busy with the big case. All right?”
They looked at each other, then cheered.
“Yaay!”
I walked them to the school bus and kissed both of them goodbye as Mrs. Sharon opened the doors to the big yellow bus.
“Now, be good today. Don’t get in trouble, all right?” I said.
“You too, Dad,” Abigail said, and kissed my nose as I bent down to look into her eyes. “Stay out of trouble.”
I laughed and waved as the bus disappeared, then I sprang for my board and threw myself into the waves.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
January 2015
“She left a note.”
I looked at Kate Mueller, sitting across the table from me. From the pictures I had seen of Rhonda Harris, I’d say the daughter took more after her father.
I pushed the note in the small plastic bag across the table so she could see it. She leaned over and put on her glasses.
She read it, then looked up at me.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked. “Why would she write this? Why would she write I can’t live with myself? I’m sorry? I don’t quite understand. What did she do, Officer?”
I leaned forward in my chair. My wet hair fell onto my face. I removed the lock and pulled it all back. I thought for a second about my mother, who always wanted me to cut my hair, and now Abigail had started saying it too. But I liked having long hair, even if the girls in my life didn’t think it was suitable for a detective.
My blood was still pumping fast through my veins from the surfing. The exhaustion was gone. I felt more alive than ever and more determined to solve this case than ever. Nothing like a good surf session to clear my brain.
“That’s kind of what I was hoping you would clear up for me.”
Kate Mueller shook her head. Her blond hair was set in a ponytail. Her face looked terrified.
“I don’t believe any of this, Officer. My mother…my mother would never kill herself. She was so happy lately. The last couple of years, she has been so happy. We were going on a cruise next month. She invited us…she was the one who wanted to spend more time with her grandchildren.”
“Can you verify it is her handwriting?”
“Yes. That is my mother’s handwriting.”
“Good. Now, returning to what you just said. I take it you wouldn’t say she had been suicidal?”
“Not at all, Officer. Not at all. On the contrary.” Kate Mueller’s blue eyes stared intensely at me. “I have never seen her happier.”
I wrote her statement on my notepad, then looked up at her again. “I hate to ask this, but I have to. Do you think she would be capable of committing murder?”
Kate Mueller looked at me, baffled. She put a hand to her chest. “Murder? You think that’s what the note meant?”
“Her neighbor from across the street was found killed just two days ago. It does come off a little suspicious.”
“I…I have never…no. Not my mother. She was the sweetest old lady. We might have had our differences, but not…that. She couldn’t.”
I nodded and wrote it down. I wasn’t expecting her own daughter to tell me her mother was a murderer anyway, but I had to ask. I moved on with the interview.
“She used to work at Florida Today as a reporter, you say? But she retired early?”
“Yes. My mother was a writer. Always had been. Before she had me, she dreamt about being an author, but as you know, most people can’t live off of that, so she had to work as a journalist for a living to support me. She was alone with me. My dad died when I was seven. Up until then, she hadn’t worked a day in her life. But then she had to. She was lucky to get the job there, even though she didn’t like it much.”
“Why didn’t she like it?”
Kate Mueller shrugged. “I don’t know. She didn’t like to have someone telling her what to write and what not to write. She wanted to make up her own stories.”
“So, she liked to read as well, I assume. We found all of John Platt’s books in her bedroom. Was she especially fond of him?”
Kate Mueller looked surprised. “Not that I know of,” she said. “She never liked thrillers or mysteries much.”
I showed her a picture of the many books spread on the rug and on her desk. “It seems to me she really enjoyed reading his books, don’t you think?”
Kate Mueller stared at the photo, then back at me. “I don’t know what to say to that. People change their taste, I guess.”
“Okay,” I said, and put the picture away. “You say she retired early. How come?”
“I…she was tired of working for the paper, so she told them she wanted to retire. I think it was good for her. She became a much happier person afterwards.”
“And that was four years ago?”
“Yes.”
“What did she do since?” I asked.
Kate Mueller shrugged again. “I don’t know. I never visited her much. To be honest, we never had a real close relationship. I always sensed that she was bitter at me. You know, for making her quit her dream. It was because of me she had to stop writing books and trying to get them published. She had no choice when my dad died. I guess she kind of resented me for that.”
“But, she did invite you on a cruise?” I asked.
“The last two years or so she has been trying to get back into my life. Last year, we all went to Paris together. She was the one who invited us and paid for everything, so I could hardly say no, even though my husband isn’t that fond of my mother. And I guess I really wanted her to be a part of my children’s lives. And, maybe…maybe I was hoping she would forgive me for ruining her life.”
Kate Mueller sniffled. I saw tears pile in her eyes. I handed her a pack of tissues and poured her some water.
“How did she get the money for all this?” I asked. “A trip for five people to Paris isn’t cheap. Neither is a cruise.”
Kate Mueller shrugged again with a sniffle. “She said she had saved a lot of money up. Maybe her pension? I…I never thought to ask.”
Chapter Thirty
January 2015
“I think I’m going to leave John. I’ve already contacted a lawyer. I want out.”
Melanie Schultz looked at her friends around the table at the restaurant. Sylvia gasped and almost choked on her Chardonnay.
“I thought you were happy with the way things were,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.
Melanie shrugged and picked up a tomato with her fork and ate it. Her two-year-old son, Sebastian, was babbling something from his high chair. She gave him a piece of bread to nibble. It had been two hard years with him. She knew she was throwing a bomb on her friends.
“I’m not sure I can live like this anymore,” she said. “I mean it’s only a matter of time before he finds out about me and Pete, and then it’s all over.”
“But…but isn’t there something we can do? Can’t you solve it somehow?” Sylvia said, looking at the others for backup. “I really didn’t think it would go this far. Maybe you’re just being hasty here. I mean…you have to think it through, don’t you? Have you thought about Sebastian?”
Melanie shrugged and ate another tomato from her salad. She really wasn’t that fond of salads, and would have preferred to have a sandwich or a taco, but all the other girls always picked salads, and she didn’t want to be the only one being unhealthy.
“He’ll stay half the time with me and half with John, I guess.”
“But, John is always traveling,” Molly said. Her face was terrified, her lips tight. “I agree with Sylvia on this. I really think you should think it through.”
“I have thought it through. Believe me. He’ll just have to stay with me most of the time, then.”
“Oh, it’s going to crush John. You do realize that, right? It will completely crush
him,” Molly continued. “He loves Sebastian. And he absolutely adores you. He does everything for you. Do you really want to leave that?”
Melanie felt a pinch of guilt in her heart. Molly was right. That was why she hadn’t left him before now. She knew it was going to kill him. He loved her to death. The problem was that she didn’t love him back. Never had. She married him because it was the sensible thing to do, because he would take care of her, because that was the way her mother had raised her. All of her teenage years, she had told her how important it was to marry well, to make sure you found a husband that could support you so you didn’t have to work. So you could stay home with the children and take care of the house.
But Melanie never really enjoyed staying home with Sebastian. She had liked it when she worked as a secretary at the big law firm in Orlando. She liked staying busy, having colleagues, and having something to do every day…places to be and people to talk to. She never enjoyed just taking care of her baby. She loved Sebastian, of course she did, but it wasn’t what she wanted out of her life. She never wanted a loveless marriage and being a staying-at-home mom. She wanted more. She wanted to work. She wanted to go places. To see the world, to meet interesting people and eat exotic food. She wanted to be with grown-up people every day and talk about other things than her child and how to raise him or how to get rid of a rash or how to lose the baby weight while sipping Chardonnay.
There has to be more to adult life than this!
And now she had met a man she really liked. He made her life more interesting. She knew it was wrong, and felt so guilty about seeing him. But it wasn’t just about the sex anymore. It was more. They had long talks afterwards. She liked talking to him. He was so interesting. Nothing like John. She was falling for Pete. She was starting to see him as her way out of her suburban boredom. She was going to talk to him about it today. Tonight, she was going to tell John. It was like ripping off a Band-Aid…the faster, the better.