Forbidden Entry

by Sylvia Nobel

  Deeply disturbed, I took a picture of the print and laid it on the desk before I methodically began to sort through the receipts a second time. I was disappointed when I got to the bottom of the box. I’d found nothing of significant interest. As I was scooping up the papers, I felt Fiona rub against my leg. I stooped to pet her again, and when I did, one of the receipts fluttered to the floor. I picked it up, noting it was the one for Jenessa’s new cell phone purchase. I gave it a cursory once-over, thinking that she’d badly overpaid, and was poised to return it to the box when one of the items caught my attention. I stared hard as the significance gradually sunk in. Jenessa had purchased two phones. Pausing, I looked up, staring unseeing at the wall. Where was the second one? Wait a minute! What if…?

  I turned around so fast I tripped over the cat, then executed a series of short hops, careened off the dresser and finally grabbed the bedpost to keep from falling. My awkward ballet sent the poor animal into a panic. Fur puffed, her back arched like a Halloween cat, Fiona streaked under the bed. “Sorry, girl,” I called out before dashing towards the living room, my mind whirling. Why hadn’t Marcelene mentioned this very important fact? My breath coming in short gasps, I barreled into the room where Bonnie and Ginger hovered over Marcelene. Obviously taken aback by my dramatic entrance, both women gawked at me before Ginger placed her forefinger to her lips.

  “I need to talk to her!” I said in an urgent whisper. “Right now!”

  Bonnie pinned with me an incredulous look. “You can’t. We just now got her settled down.”

  I waved the receipt in front of Ginger. “Jenessa bought two new cell phones before she left. Do you know where the other one is?” Her blank expression answered my question. I pointed to the sofa. “She’s got to have it. I need to find out where it is. Jenessa may have left a voice message, a text or a photo that could pinpoint her location before her phone disappeared!”

  The two women exchanged a look of uncertainty before Ginger replied in a doubtful voice, “That can’t be right. Marcelene never mentioned nuthin’ about havin’ a cell phone. And even if she had one, she wouldn’t know what to do with it. You know how she is with computer stuff.”

  Consumed with helpless frustration, I said, “Look. You both wanted answers and this could be it.” Ignoring Bonnie’s request, I pushed between them and knelt down beside the sofa. Marcelene was totally zonked out. I shook the woman’s bony shoulder. “Marcelene, wake up! I have to talk to you!”

  “Sugar pie,” Ginger whispered in my ear. “Are you sure this can’t wait until mornin’?”

  “No!” I shook her again. Stirring, her eyes fluttered open and I could tell she was having trouble focusing.

  “What? Whaaaat’s happening?” she slurred.

  “Did Jenessa give you a cell phone?”

  Blinking fast, her eyes kept rolling back in her head. I glanced questioningly at Ginger, thinking the tranquilizers must have been pretty potent. Ginger looked perplexed. “What? Why are you givin’ me the stink eye? You told me to give her two.”

  Sighing, I turned back to Marcelene. “Did she buy you a cell phone? That’s all I need to know.”

  Struggling to keep her eyes open, she licked her dry lips. “I…I…yes, she did. But…I…don’t how to use it. She said she’d…show me. But…she’s never…” Her eyelids fluttered closed again and I decided it was useless to continue browbeating the poor woman. My blood burning with curiosity, I jumped up to face Ginger.

  “We have to find the other phone. Where would she have put it?”

  “I ain’t a mind reader,” my friend complained, her gaze sweeping around the room. “Bon Bon,” she said, addressing her sister, “stay here with her, would ya?” And to me she added, “Let’s start lookin’ in every drawer and cupboard. You take the kitchen and I’ll check out her bedroom. It’s gotta be around here someplace.”

  It took fifteen minutes of rifling around the small house but I finally heard Ginger’s triumphant shout. “I got it! I got it!” We almost collided in the kitchen as she bolted in and thrust a cell phone into my waiting hands. “I like to have never found it! She had it setting up on top of the TV with the remote.”

  Eagerly, I pressed the ON button. Nothing. It was only after repeatedly pressing the power button that I realized that the battery had most likely never been charged. “Rats,” I murmured just as the cuckcoo clock chirped ten times. Suppressing my agitation, I looked up at Ginger. “Do you know where the charger is for this phone?”

  “Oh, good gravy,” she muttered, tossing her head impatiently. “Come on, let’s both look for it.”

  Ten minutes later, we found it underneath a stack of magazines. “Listen,” I said, wrapping the cord up next to the phone. “I don’t have time to hang around here all night waiting for this to charge. I’m going to take it home with me.”

  “Fine by me,” said Ginger, trotting after me as I grabbed my coat and strode to the front door. “You are gonna call Marshall, right?”

  “Yes.” I hated to tell her that without evidence it would be a futile effort, but I did plan to text him the photo along with Marcelene’s suspicion. Armed with the new information, he could decide whether John Higglebottom would now become a person of interest.

  Ginger added, “Let us know what you find out.”

  “Of course.”

  “Hey, Kendie, we didn’t get a chance to talk about the party plans, but,” she lowered her voice and flicked a worried look at Marcelene sprawled on the sofa, “I’m workin’ on it and maybe we can have a little chat tomorrow?”

  Distracted and anxious to get home and charge the phone, I murmured, “Sure, that sounds fine.” I hurried out the door, but Ginger ran after me.

  “Wait a minute. I forgot to mention something.” Even in the deep shadows, I could see her biting her lower lip. “Marcelene wanted to know if you could do her a big favor and…”

  Resentful, I turned back to her, snapping, “I know. I heard. She wants me to take Fiona back to the shelter. Personally, I think that’s heartless. Why can’t you take her home with you?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “I’d love to but I can’t. Churchill’s real territorial. He don’t mind the dog, but he sure don’t much care for other cats. He’d probably skin the poor thing alive. Why don’t you take her?”

  “Ginger, I’ve kind of got my hands full right now. Can’t you find someone else to take her in?”

  “I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried, but nobody wants a three-legged cat.”

  I stood there mired in indecision for long seconds. “Okay. I’ll stop by and pick her up on my way out of town tomorrow. Do you have a carrier?”

  “I’ll get it out for you.” Stepping forward, she hugged my stiff shoulders. “You’re a real peach. I’m sorry to lay this on you, Sugar!” Then she drew back, looking chagrined. “I’m just trying to help simplify Aunt Marcelene’s life. That cat is a constant reminder of Jenessa. She cries every time she lays eyes on it.”

  After promising to do it, I revved up the Jeep and headed home bursting with expectation. Would I find anything significant on Marcelene’s cell phone? Anxious to find out, I floored it. Fortunately, I didn’t meet any other oncoming traffic as I sped through the cold, starry night along Lost Canyon Road. When I reached the house and hurried inside, Marmelade met me at the door, mewing loudly. Flooded with the usual self-reproach for leaving her alone so much of the time, I crooned, “I’m sorry, baby,” and lifted her into my arms. “I didn’t mean to be so late.” Hurriedly, I plugged in the phone and opened a can of cat food. While waiting, I sent a quick email to Tugg explaining what had happened and that I’d need to leave a little earlier than planned tomorrow. Then I sent the photo of Stilts and a text to Marshall. I checked the phone. Still not charged up enough. Impatiently, I stared at the green light in vain before one of my grandmother’s old sayings crept into my head. A watched pot never boil
s. Okay. I headed for the shower. By the time I returned to the kitchen, the phone was charged up enough for me to turn it on. Nerves as tight as a stretched rubber band, I tapped the icons. The e-mailbox was empty, of course, but there were three text messages from Jenessa. I checked my calendar. If I was calculating correctly, the first one had been sent near the beginning of their trip. CELL SERVICE TERRIBLE OUT HERE! ONLY HAVE 1 BAR BUT HOPE YOU GET THIS. HAVING LOADS OF FUN! GREAT HIKING. GORGEOUS MOUNTAIN TRAILS! CAMPED BY A LITTLE WATERFALL LAST NIGHT. She’d attached several photos in separate texts. One showed her smiling, wearing a backpack, standing on the edge of a precipice back-dropped by a pine-filled valley spread out below. No telling where the photo was taken, so that didn’t really help me. The second one looked to be a selfie, and pictured her and Nathan each making a goofy face. I studied the rocky background, but again had no clue where it had been taken. The third one, also a selfie, featured a smiling Jenessa standing beside Daisy, holding one of the sugar gliders. The photos were disconcerting enough, but when I noticed there was a voicemail message, I instinctively tensed. Oh boy. This would be difficult.

  I tapped the screen and listened to Jenessa’s message. “Hi Mom! Did you see… pictures I…you?” The dropped words confirmed poor cell service. After a few more seconds of silence and several unintelligible words, I made out, “It’s easy!” The sound of her tinkling laughter cocooned my heart in melancholy. “You can…it. Tap on…icon and scroll down. Hiked…. moonlight. ……old mine b… we got chased off… some…..trespassing…guys….nd of creepy ….really cold so…leave… early. I love you! Be home soon!”

  I listened to the voice message several more times and my pulse rate ramped up as I interpreted her broken sentences. So, they’d been hiking at night and were chased away from an old mine somewhere. Which old mine? Good grief. The Bradshaw Mountains were pockmarked with hundreds of them. Had they stumbled upon a mining claim on BLM or Forest Service land? But wait. If they’d been chased away for trespassing that meant they’d been on private land. Was it possible that she’d been referring to Harvel Brickhouse, whom everyone described as unfriendly and reclusive? Would he have evicted them from one of his mining claims? If so, I’d be able to pinpoint exactly where they had been the day prior to their deaths. I sent the photos to my cell phone for future reference.

  It was getting late, so I finally climbed into bed and lay there analyzing all the events of the past several days that had so far added up to zero. Wouldn’t it be great if my luck changed and Harvel Brickhouse was able to provide some significant, breakthrough information? With questions circling endlessly in my head like a flock of ravens, I tossed and turned for a long time. I remember thinking just before falling into a deep sleep that tomorrow couldn’t come nearly soon enough.

  CHAPTER

  29

  BIZZ! BIZZ! BIZZ! The irritating buzz of my alarm jolted me awake. I slapped the button to silence it. Marmelade stretched, yawned and planted herself on my chest, purring. “Good morning, you little orange love bucket,” I murmured, stroking her soft fur. What a luxury to sleep in until seven o’clock! I turned towards the window and was treated to a spectacular sight. Dawn appeared as a thin, luminescent ribbon of scarlet on the horizon and swiftly spread across the sky, lighting the mountains on fire and painting the desert floor a luscious rose color. The phrase Red in the morning, sailor take warning—the time-tested precursor to an impending weather change — flashed through my mind. Instilled with eager anticipation, I threw off the covers and hurried through the morning routine, checking the weather forecast online several times. The report confirmed that a winter storm warning had been issued for the high country with predictions that it would blow in later tonight or tomorrow morning, with expectations of a foot or more of snow at higher elevations and up to two inches of rain in the lower deserts. That would be a bummer for my family, who’d been enjoying the warm sunshine. Hopefully, it wouldn’t hang around as long as the previous storm.

  If my day went as planned, I’d get back to town in time to meet up with them and Tally for a scrumptious barbeque dinner, providing he could escape the clutches of his wily mother. Dressed in black jeans, hiking shoes and a flannel, emerald-green shirt, I cinched the leather belt with the turquoise buckle around my waist and surveyed my reflection with satisfaction. Good. This way, I’d already be dressed for the evening when I returned from the McCracken Ranch. After a quick breakfast of toast and oatmeal, I hurried out into the frosty morning air and drove towards town, as always, delighting in the stark beauty of the sun-splashed Sonoran desert. And who could find fault with the glorious weather? But as I drew closer to the Desert Sky Motel, my stomach soured at what promised to be another emotional encounter with Marcelene. Considering her fragile emotional state, I feared her distress level would go off the charts when I shared the messages on her cell phone. Did I really want to be present when she listened to the final voicemail from her daughter? What choice did I have? And when I added to that the heartbreaking chore of transporting Fiona back to Raven Creek, I winced. It was all I could do to keep from turning around. But I didn’t. Reluctantly, I got out and rang the front doorbell. Might as well get it over with.

  Marcelene answered, clutching Squirt in one hand. She looked like hell-clad in a rumpled purple bathrobe, her pinched face colorless, the dark circles beneath her red-rimmed eyes more pronounced than ever. When I stepped inside, the pall hanging over the cottage weighed down on me heavily.

  “I want to apologize for my behavior last night, Kendall,” she croaked, inviting me into the living room. “I…I guess I got a little hysterical when you showed me that picture.”

  A little hysterical? “It’s understandable. I did text Marshall all the information. I haven’t had a chance to touch base with him yet this morning.”

  Looking glum, she sat down hard on the couch, still holding tightly to Squirt for comfort. I reached into my purse for the phone, but hesitated when she said, “Ginger told me you’d be by this morning to pick up the cat.”

  “I was hoping maybe you’d changed your mind,” I said, struggling to subdue my agitation.

  A look of genuine remorse crossed her careworn face. “I know you think I’m heartless, but I’m terribly allergic to her long fur and to be frank, I’m not much of a cat person. She’ll be better off someplace else.”

  Resentment burned my chest. I silently agreed that she was being heartless and waved away her explanation. “I don’t agree with your decision, but I promised Ginger I’d do this.”

  “Thank you.”

  No point in trying to put it off any longer. Dreading her reaction, I pulled the phone out. “I don’t know how much you remember from last night, but…we found the cell phone that Jenessa bought you.” I set it on the coffee table. “There are a couple of text messages, a few pictures and…a voicemail from her.”

  Face blanched ghost-white, Marcelene stared straight ahead, unmoving, not seeming to breathe for long seconds. She pressed one hand against her mouth and I braced for another round of hysteria. But after a minute or so, she seemed to regain her composure. “She was going to teach me how to use it when she got back,” she whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

  “If you want, I can show you how to access everything.”

  “Maybe later,” came her morose response. “Or Bonnie can do it when she gets back. I don’t think I can bear it right now.”

  I really wanted to go over all the particulars in this strange story, but wondered at this point what good it would do. Marshall would more than likely question Stilts again, but to what end if there was no solid evidence of foul play? And if he had somehow played a part in their deaths, how had he carried it out and left not a scintilla of evidence behind?

  “Are you going to be alright?” I inquired, studying her haggard expression. I had never seen anyone look quite as grief-stricken as she did at that moment.

  “I don’t
know if I’ll ever be all right again,” she answered faintly, bowing her head. “Just so you know, I was planning to have her funeral on Saturday, but because of your engagement party, I’m waiting until Sunday to bury my…sweet angel.” her voice cracked and as dismayed as I was with her lack of compassion regarding Fiona, my heart shriveled with remorse, and my earlier exasperation vanished. “That’s really very kind of you. And…I’m so sorry about Jenessa and I’m doubly sorry I wasn’t able to bring some closure for you. It hasn’t been for lack of trying.”

  She locked anguished eyes with mine. “I know that. I appreciate you trying and sacrificing this time you should have been with your family.” She cleared her throat and swallowed hard. “Children aren’t supposed to die before their parents. This will haunt me the rest of my days on Earth.”

  I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to comfort her. “I’ll go get the cat now.”

  She nodded and her empty gaze turned inward. I left her there drowning in her grief, gripping the now-squirming Squirt, who appeared as anxious as I was to escape the somber atmosphere.

  Dragging my feet, I made my way half-heartedly towards Jenessa’s bedroom. The door was open this time and my throat closed up when I spotted Fiona sleeping peacefully on the bed. The carrier sat nearby on the floor. Oh man! Why had I ever agreed to this? As I approached, the cat’s head popped up and when she fixed her luminous eyes on me, I got the distinct impression that she already knew why I was there. I was quickly learning that cats really do seem to possess a sixth sense and noted with wonderment that she didn’t object when I picked her up and lowered her into the carrier.

  As I drove out of town beneath a cobalt blue sky dotted with wispy white clouds, I kept glancing over at her little face. Was I imagining it, or was it possible for a cat to look heartbroken? I tried to ignore the burgeoning guilt gnawing at my conscience as Ginger’s words echoed over and over in my head. Nobody wants a three-legged cat. Why don’t you take her? I made it all the way to the freeway before I finally caved. Wrenching the steering wheel into a sharp U turn, I doubled back towards Castle Valley. There really wasn’t any good reason I couldn’t take her. And the fact that she only had three legs made not a bit of difference to me. She seemed like a sweet and gentle cat. Of course, I had no idea how Marmalade would react, but suspected she might actually appreciate having some company. It cost me an extra two hours by the time I detoured to the pet store. I had to purchase another cat box, more litter and food and some new cat toys, but the warm, fuzzy sensation glowing in my abdomen convinced me that I’d made the right decision. When I finally pulled into the driveway, my heart felt significantly lighter.