Dearly Departed

by Carly Winter

  I nodded and motioned for him to enter. Ogre O’Malley stood and turned to him. “Her name's Patricia Byrne. She found the stiff next door. Seems pretty shaken up about it.”

  With a sigh, I shut my eyes for a brief moment. They talked about me as if I wasn't in the room, and my frustration grew.

  “Thanks. I'll take it from here,” the guy in the trench coat said, then patted Officer O'Malley on the shoulder as he took the notebook. He smiled, then filled the cushion on the couch O'Malley had just left.

  “I'm Detective Peterson,” he said, removing his hat and setting it on the coffee table. “I'm truly sorry you had to see that horrible sight next door.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, grateful that he appeared to be a little nicer than the hardened O'Malley.

  Pleasant Peterson.

  “Can you tell me how long you've known the deceased?”

  “We moved in about six months ago,” I said. “He was very friendly and quickly fell in love with old Ringo here. He was aware we traveled a lot, so he asked if he could keep Ringo company while we were out of town. It worked out great for all of us. Ringo didn't get angry at being left alone and Charles had a friend.”

  “Just curious... how do you know Ringo doesn't like to be left alone?”

  I met his stare, the color of his eyes reminding me of chocolate milk. “He tears apart clothing or pees everywhere when he's mad. We came home to destroyed garments quite a few times before Charles offered to help us out.” When I glanced around the apartment, I realized my bras and nylons were still strung all over. My cheeks heated in embarrassment. How many strange men would be casting their gaze on them?

  The detective chuckled and shook his head. “I'm glad you found a solution to that issue.”

  “Me too.”

  “I know this is hard, but what can you tell me about your neighbor?”

  Over his shoulder, more police milled about in the hall. For the first time, tears welled in my eyes, and gossip or not, I had to help find justice for Charles.

  “He was a veteran,” I said, wiping the tears tracking down my cheeks. “He served in Vietnam and he told us he had some mental issues because of it.”

  Detective Peterson reached into his coat pocket and handed me a kerchief. I unfolded it and dabbed my face. If I didn't get my emotions under control, my eyes would be puffy tomorrow, which the airline frowned upon, regardless of the reasons.

  “Did he say what those were?” he asked, his voice soft. His kindness only brought more emotion.

  “I'm sorry,” I whispered, the tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “There's nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “You've been through quite a trauma. We can sit here until you're ready to talk.”

  It took a few moments for me to regain my composure while I listened to the hustle out in the hallway. Finally, I could meet his gaze again. “I think I'm ready.”

  “Excellent,” he said with a smile. “Tell me about Mr. Bernard's mental issues.”

  “He really didn't go into a lot of detail, but he did tell me he didn't like loud noises. He also said he didn't sleep well.”

  “Did he seem strange? Or dangerous?”

  “Not at all. He was a lovely neighbor.”

  The detective scribbled notes down on the pad. “Did he have a lot of friends?”

  “I've seen a few come and go,” I replied as I rubbed Ringo's ear. “There was one man I saw more frequently than the others, but I don't know his name. Charles was also seeing a woman... Karen.”

  “What's Karen's last name?”

  I shrugged and shook my head. “I'm sorry. I have no idea.”

  “What about people he didn't get along with? Did you ever witness him arguing with anyone?”

  “Oh, yes,” I replied. “A man in this building... I believe he lives on the second floor. He's been terrible to Charles and they've exchanged some pretty heated words.”

  “What about?”

  “The war,” I said, sighing. “The man downstairs is a huge war protestor. Charles is... was a veteran who believed in the war and was honorably discharged. That neighbor called him awful names.”

  “Like what?”

  “He told Charles he was a baby-killer, that he had the blood of women and children on his hands, that the war was un-American. Things like that.”

  “And what did Charles say?”

  “That he was fighting for the country he loved and doing his duty. It got pretty heated a few times, and they almost came to blows.”

  “Wow. What's the man's name?”

  I couldn’t remember my nickname for him. “I'm not sure. Donna and I usually tried to make ourselves scarce whenever we saw them arguing. I think he lives in 2C.”

  He flipped back through his notes. “Donna being your roommate?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where is she?”

  “She's working,” I replied, dabbing my eyes once again. “I'm not sure when she'll be back.”

  “What about your other neighbors on the other side? Have you seen them today?”

  “No.”

  “And their names?”

  “Dusk and Rainbow.”

  Detective Peterson stared at me a moment, then asked, “Are they hippies?”

  I nodded. “They’re nice people, but yes, they’re members of the so-called counter-culture.”

  As he scribbled more notes, I studied the action in the hallway over his shoulder. So many police had arrived for Charles' death.

  “I was told there was an anti-war protest outside this building today. Is that accurate?”

  “Yes. And then the pro-war people showed up, and then the police.”

  “Do you think it's possible that someone came into the building and killed Mr. Bernard?”

  “I... I don't know. When I got home, the super said they'd lit a trashcan on fire in the lobby.”

  “Protesting the war?”

  “I guess. He was grumbling about the anti-war demonstrators, so I assume that's who he meant.”

  “Interesting,” the detective said. “How does your super feel about the Vietnam conflict?”

  “Well, we've never discussed it, but based on what he's said, he believes it's important that we continue with it.”

  “Hey, Boss?” a policeman called from the hallway, and both of us turned to him. “We also found some unsigned divorce papers.”

  Peterson glanced over at me. “Were you aware he was getting divorced?”

  I shook my head, gasping in shock. “I had no idea!”

  “He never mentioned a wife?”

  “Not once! He only talked about Karen and introduced me to her once. Never did he mention a wife.”

  “Do you think Karen knew he was married?”

  “I don't know. Like I said, I only met her once.”

  More racket came from the hallway, and Ringo jumped from my lap and ran into the bedroom. No wonder he and Charles got along so well—neither of them liked loud noises.

  Three men wheeled out a gurney that I hadn't noticed come in. And just like that, Charles was gone. Tears welled once again and I couldn't believe I'd found myself in such a situation.

  Detective Peterson smiled again and fished out a business card from his coat pocket. “Please give me a call if you think of anything that can help us solve this murder.”

  As he shut the door behind him, I stared at the card. Murder. My neighbor had been murdered.

  For the first time since finding Charles, I suddenly felt very afraid. I glanced around the apartment as voices filtered in from the hallway. How long would the police be going through his things? Had Charles been killed while I was at home, dancing around to the Beatles and doing my laundry? Or had he been dead for some time? If I had gone over earlier, could I have also been a victim, or perhaps even stopped the killing?

  Suddenly feeling very sick to my stomach, I hurried to the bathroom and splashed cool water on my face.

  As I stared at my puffy eyes in the mirror, I could
n't help but wonder... was I safe in my own apartment?

  Chapter 3

  Before I entered the airport, I took out my Mary Quant compact and studied my reflection once again, grimacing at my puffy eyes. Honestly, it was expected. After the police had left, I’d cried more from both fear and losing a friend. Sleep hadn't come easily and I’d woken at every sound, convinced someone had come to shove a knife in my stomach. I'd never been so happy to see the first slice of daylight through the curtains, even if it revealed a cold, wet day.

  “You can do this,” I whispered to my tired eyes, then shoved the compact back into my bag and smiled.

  As I made my way through the airport, I grinned and nodded at those who stared at me. The first time it had happened, I'd found it quite disconcerting. The looks ranged from outright hatred to lust. Thankfully, a senior stew had explained it to me. The men who ogled us wanted to bed us. The women who glared either hated us because they were afraid we'd steal their husbands, or they secretly wished they could have our carefree lives. Once I understood, I had quickly become used to it and now just accepted it as part of the job.

  “Patty!”

  Turning around at the sound of my name, I found Captain Dorchester jogging to catch up to me. A nice man with a lovely wife, he was one of the few who didn't get touchy-feely with the stews. When I’d first met him, I’d dubbed him Doe-Eyed Dorchester because he had the kindest, warmest brown gaze I’d ever seen.

  “Captain Dorchester!” I said as he approached. “What a lovely surprise!”

  “I haven't seen you in a while,” he said as we continued our walk to the airline personnel staging area. “We haven't been on any flights together recently.”

  “That's true. Where are you off to today?”

  “Seattle, then on to Chicago. What about you?”

  “New Mexico to Dallas with a layover and back here tonight.”

  “Busy day for you.”

  “Yes.”

  “I haven't seen Donna around for a while either. How's she?”

  Everyone knew we lived together. “She's fine. Honestly, I haven't seen much of her either. Our schedules have been off.”

  Tears pricked my eyes as I thought of Ringo being left home alone. I hadn't known how to write Donna a note stating that Charles had been murdered, so I'd simply jotted that he was unavailable and hoped I'd catch her to explain before she saw it on the news. Since Donna hated watching anything but Hogan's Heroes (she had a mad crush on Bob Crane) or the Ed Sullivan show, I had faith I could get to her before she saw anything official about it. Besides, I'd lived through the night knowing about the murder, and I didn't want to do that to her. It had been terrifying.

  We hurried through the door off-limits to the general public and down the concrete stairs. When we arrived at our airline's staging area, we were met with a flurry of activity.

  “I'll see you later, Patty,” the captain said, flashing me a grin. “Hopefully we'll get to fly together soon!”

  I waved as we parted, him going over to the captain area while I strode to where the stews had been lined up. After dropping my case, I fell in line next to a woman named Beth. Busty Beth. We exchanged hellos and waited for the head stew, Linda, to make her way down the line as she inspected each of us.

  “Geraldine, your eyeliner is a little off on your right top lid. Please fix it. Victoria, you definitely need a trim. I can see your split ends from here. Judy, I can tell you've lost weight. Nice job.” The critiques and accolades continued as the head stew gave us the once over.

  “Beth, honey, you need to get on a diet.” I glanced over at the woman next to me. She didn't look heavy to me, but I didn't have Linda’s critical eye. “Your buttons are about to burst.”

  In order to get the job, stews had to be pretty, between five-foot-two and five-foot-nine and weigh no more than one-hundred-and-forty-pounds. Our weight was checked weekly and we suffered these inspections at the beginning of each day before we flew. I appreciated the airline wanted us to represent them in a very specific way, but every time a girl broke down into sobs as Beth looked to be on the brink of, anger roiled through me. We were all more than a pretty face and a pert bustline.

  “I'm already so hungry!” she complained. “I'm trying to lose, but I feel like I'm starving!”

  “Maybe you need to take up smoking,” Linda said. “It does wonders for your appetite, dear.”

  She moved her gaze to me and crinkled her nose. “My goodness, Patty. Your eyes are so puffy!”

  “I know,” I said, staring straight ahead and not meeting her stare. “When I got home yesterday, I found my neighbor murdered. It was quite upsetting.”

  All the girls gasped and turned to me.

  “My word!” Linda said, holding her hand over her heart. “What a horrible thing.”

  “Yes, it was. So, please forgive me. Hopefully, I won't be discovering any further dead bodies in the future and you won't see my puffy eyes.”

  “Of course, dear,” Linda said, placing her hands on my waist, then patting me. The gesture probably looked as if she consoled me, yet I knew she was only doing a sly girdle check.

  At no time was there a question of if I was okay to fly, and I was fine with that. I needed to be working, to get my mind off the horrid sight of Charles' body. If Linda had sent me home, I wouldn’t have known what to do.

  She turned to the group. “Ladies, you have your assignments for the day. Remember, Friday is weigh-in, and some of you are coming close to that number where I have to fire you, so please watch your snacking. Smile and be kind and generous to everyone on the plane. You never know, girls... your future husband may be flying with you today!”

  This was one of the things the airline advertised in their hiring. A few of the girls squealed, but Beth and I exchanged glances that indicated neither of us had any desire to meet a husband. However, I did have a three-hour layover in Dallas, and hoped to sneak away and see some of the sights.

  We all picked up our bags and moved along to our planes. “Looks like I'm with you,” Beth said, walking next to me.

  “Very cool!” I said, excited to work with her. We got along famously.

  “Do you think I'm getting fat?”

  I glimpsed over at her as we crossed the tarmac. On second glance, the buttons on her blouse did appear to be a little strained, but no more than usual. “That’s silly,” I said. “I think you look great.”

  “You're always so sweet, Patty,” she replied with a sigh. “Thank you.”

  Once we'd put away our bags and done a quick inspection of the plane, we waited for our passengers. Beth greeted them as they embarked while I stood at the back and helped people put their luggage up and get settled. Our head stew, the one in charge of the flight, had yet to make an appearance and Beth and I whispered a bet that it was Penny. Party Penny. She'd been with the airline a few years and was an even worse party girl than Donna. Penny had her sights on a captain and she wasn't shy about letting everyone know.

  “Can I get a gin and tonic before we take off, sweetheart?” a man asked as he sat down and I pushed his briefcase into the luggage rack above him.

  “Of course, sir. Just give me a moment.”

  As I raced to help people into their seats, fetch cocktails, and have friendly chats with those boarding, men lit up cigarettes all around me. As a fairly new stew, I was forced to work in the back of the plane where the smoke seemed to be the worst, which I didn't mind most of the time. However, Mr. Gin and Tonic was a chain-smoker, so the air became quite polluted fairly quickly.

  After gathering the empty glasses and getting ready for takeoff, I walked the aisle for one last inspection of my passengers to ensure they all wore seatbelts and I hadn't missed picking up a glass. I found an unruly little boy, about four years old, who simply didn't want to sit down. His mother also seemed to be at her wits’ end with him. I did note she wore a lovely shade of coral lipstick that I’d never seen before.

  “Good morning,” I said, squatting dow
n so I was eye-level with the little terror. “Is everything okay here?”

  The mother shook her head, and I noted her eye bags were worse than mine. “He won't sit down.”

  I smiled and looked at the boy. “What's your name?”

  “Mikey,” he said, still refusing to sit and jumping up and down.

  Monster Mikey.

  “Well, Mikey, my name's Patty. I'm a stewardess on this flight, which means I have special access to parts of the plane where the passengers can't go.”

  His eyes widened. “Really?”

  “Yes. Would you like to see some of those areas?”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Well, here's the thing. I need you to be a big boy and sit down with your seatbelt on and mind your mom. If you can do that, then I’ll take you up to see the captain.”

  He thought about my offer for a brief moment, and I worried he wouldn't take me up on it. Finally, he nodded and sat down. “Okay. I'll be good and listen to my mommy.”

  “Excellent,” I said, standing. “I'll let the captain know he's going to have a very special visitor once we get in the air.”

  “Thank you,” the mother said. “I appreciate your help.”

  “Of course,” I replied, laying my hand on her shoulder. “Glad I could assist. If you don’t mind, I love your lipstick. Is that Mary Quant?”

  “Thank you! No, it’s a new shade just released by Yardley.”

  “It looks lovely with your complexion. Excellent choice.”

  I continued my inspection and then took my seat for takeoff while Party Penny's voice filled the cabin with instructions on what to do if the plane crashed. I'd been so busy I hadn't noted her arrival. Although I was trained in saving lives in such an event, I really believed there wasn't much to be done if the plane went down but to pray.

  Once the captain gave us the all-clear, I jumped into action. I took orders in my section, then prepared my tray for their delivery. Even at ten o'clock in the morning, the alcohol flowed freely among the businessmen, the majority of our clientele. Once everyone had been served, I called the captain and received permission to bring Mikey up front.