A Short Time to Die

by Susan Alice Bickford

  Next, Marly brought out the duffels. She sorted through all the clothes and all the pockets. Underwear and torn clothing went into a discard pile. The rest of the clothes were repacked into the duffels and the duffels went into garbage bags.

  The clothes and shoes Troy and Louise had been wearing received special attention and were stuffed into a separate bag. Marly also set aside some of Louise’s clothes.

  Helen turned and raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m not sure what we’ll do about the van. I might need to look like Louise if we return it,” Marly said.

  Helen sorted the boxes and tools, separating which items could be tossed without a problem and those—like the chain saw—that would require some creative thinking.

  From time to time, Marly and Helen paused to watch video that Elaine wanted them to see. Marly was horrified to realize that Louise and Troy had been so close, watching and waiting. Helen had to sit down for a long break after watching the scenes in the van and the final fight at the top of the cliff. Marly went outside to throw up.

  “I’m glad I couldn’t see any of this at the time,” Elaine said.

  Helen put her arms around Marly. “Over the years, I’ve grown very fond of you, Marlene Shaw, but from this day forward, you are as dear to me as any daughter could be.”

  Until her tears subsided, Marly kept her head buried in Helen’s chest. She couldn’t remember the last time her mother had comforted her like this, patting her back, rocking side to side. Marly could have stayed that way forever, but Helen sniffed and gave Marly a quick squeeze and her bottom a brisk pat—time to get back to work.

  When the back of the van was almost empty, Helen scrubbed the outside and Marly went over the empty rear of the interior. She found a few receipts, which she put into the pile to scrutinize later.

  Moving to the front, Marly emptied the glove compartment, picked up everything on the floor, looked under the seats, and pulled down the sun visors. Harmless trash went in one pile, potentially interesting receipts went into another. She found a rental agreement for the van, scrawled by hand on a piece of stationery from a place named Johnson Garage in South San Jose. Louise had rented the van for cash, twelve days before, leaving a hefty deposit. Her fake name was on the papers, as well as Troy’s fake name as an additional driver.

  Helen had plopped the watch and jewelry in a bowl of bleach and water. Marly now took those pieces out, rinsed them off, and put them into a small sealable bag. Along with SIM cards from the phones and the cameras, these were among the few items they would save.

  “I’ll make a copy for you from the cards,” Marly said. “I intend to keep mine in a secret bank box.”

  “What a nice idea. I’d like one of those too,” Helen said with a wink.

  “These things can be arranged.” Marly winked back, thinking of the identities she had stolen long ago.

  * * *

  Marly spent a restless night. At six, she crawled out of bed and dialed Tony’s number in England. As the distinctive double ringtone began, tears threatened to overwhelm her and she hung up. Much as she needed to seek comfort and reassurance, she knew she would spill all her secrets if he asked her what was wrong.

  After a trip to the kitchen for coffee, she tried again. This time, she kept her voice casual and let Tony do most of the talking about all the things he had planned for her upcoming visit. She let the sound of his voice fill her head, driving out memories of Louise and Troy, if only for a few minutes.

  Refreshed and calm, at seven, she drove to her office, where she loaded her abandoned bike onto her car rack and retrieved her phone, laptop, and keys.

  By the time she returned home, Elaine and Helen were up, puttering around the kitchen. Helen and Marly assembled scrambled eggs and muffins, pretending not to watch Elaine as she fumbled with the coffeemaker.

  Once she had wrestled the machine into production, Elaine turned to the other two. “Give it a rest, you guys. My depth of field vision is crap and I hurt like hell all over, but I’m fine.”

  Helen studied a printout of Louise and Troy’s travel itinerary and the small stack of two false driver’s licenses and credit cards. “They were going to fly out tomorrow, at eleven from San Jose. Their names were Henry Leonard and Alice Haynes.” She chuckled, pointing to the picture of Louise as Alice Haynes. “You know, I may have found my long-lost twin. Look at this. With green contacts and red hair, this could be me.”

  “I can help you with that,” Marly said. She went to her closet and came back with a box of wigs and cosmetic contacts in a variety of shades. “Just part of my stash.”

  “I’ll use these this afternoon when we return that van,” Helen said. “After that I’ll dispose of the IDs and credit cards. Leave that to me.”

  Marly pulled out the pieces of Louise’s clothing that she had set aside and added dark glasses and a cap for Helen’s disguise. Helen gathered up the rest of the clothing and headed to a coin laundry over on Calderon to wash everything so that no traces would be left at Marly’s house. Elaine was sent to re-mop Marly’s garage.

  While the clothes roasted in the hot dryers, Helen went to a nearby self-service car wash to scrub the van again, paying special attention to go over all the places the would-be assassins might have touched without gloves.

  * * *

  Loaded up with excuses for Elaine, Marly went to work at their startup. Long sleeves, a bit of makeup, and some colorful braided bracelets covered her injuries quite well.

  Their company was still small. Elaine was their CEO and head of marketing. Marly ran engineering and operations. Their old friend Steve handled sales, and they employed four engineers, plus Katy, who took care of the office and organized events, part-time.

  Marly announced that she needed a few days off and Elaine would be out as well with a bad cold. She called their venture capital contact and pushed their meeting out one week. As soon as she was certain that Steve knew what to do, Marly headed home.

  At two that afternoon, Helen donned Louise’s cap, sunglasses, and jacket, supplemented by the green contacts and reddish blond wig. Louise had been much heftier, but Helen had broad shoulders and was almost as tall. Success hinged on Helen passing for Louise at the rental garage where the crew had seen Louise only once.

  Helen drove the van with Marly and Elaine following in Marly’s car. Their caravan made a stop at Goodwill to dispose of all the remaining clothes, mattresses, pillows, and sleeping bags before proceeding to the address on the van rental agreement.

  Marly and Elaine slowed to watch Helen turn into the garage lot, continued another block, and parked around the corner off the busy four-lane road. Marly wanted to walk back to check on Helen, but Elaine insisted that Marly stay put.

  Twenty minutes later, Helen hustled around the corner and jumped into the car. Marly wasted no time on small talk until they were well away and headed back to Mountain View.

  “Well now, that was quite a place,” Helen said, her face beaming from relief and the adrenaline rush. “It’s just a garage, not a genuine rental place. No surprise. The boss was out, but a very nice man accepted the van and worked out the figures. He gave me all this money in cash from what was left of the deposit. Twelve hundred dollars.”

  “I was tied in knots waiting for you. Are you sure they didn’t realize that you weren’t Louise? Did they ask about Troy?” Elaine asked.

  “Nah. They didn’t speak much English and I don’t speak much Spanish, so we kept things simple. I just scowled and glowered a lot,” Helen said, overcome with nervous laughter.

  Marly dropped Helen and Elaine at Elaine’s house and headed home. Mother and daughter Fardig lived a block apart, a short distance from Marly’s house. They agreed that Marly would return to Helen’s house for dinner.

  Marly stopped at home long enough to find a special key in a hidden envelope before she walked to the local Wells Fargo bank to visit her secret life. She did her personal banking at Bank of America, several blocks away on Castro Street, but
Wells Fargo was where she stored the identity documents she had stolen. Over the years, she had created false accounts and driver’s licenses—a silent, secret army, waiting to be summoned.

  Marly took her bank box to a private stall. Evidence bags went in, a driver’s license for Edith Martinson and credit card were pulled out, along with a wad of cash. Time to make your move.

  * * *

  As Helen fixed dinner, they reviewed the remaining items that needed attention. Marly laid claim to the watch and jewelry.

  “I need to take them with me tomorrow.”

  “Where are you going?” Helen turned from the stove.

  “I’m flying into New York. To the Springs. I need to attend to some family business.”

  Helen turned off her stir-fry and sat down. “Marly, we’ve got as much of a reason to want Rosie dead as anyone. But she will die soon enough, even if she’s had some improvement.”

  “I’m not going to kill Rosie,” Marly said. “Not that I wouldn’t love to. But I need to check on my mother. And warn Carl. If others are about to pounce, he needs to know about all this. It’s not something I’m going to talk about on the phone.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Helen said. “We’ll talk to Carl together.”

  “No, Helen. That’s not how it works. Even if he believes me about Louise and Troy, I cannot bring in an outsider. For that, I’ll get no thanks. In fact, quite the opposite.”

  “Marly. Don’t do this. You haven’t murdered anyone. Louise and Troy were killed in self-defense. Del and Zeke made their own destinies. This would be very different.”

  Marly smiled. “Relax, Helen. I’m not going to kill anyone.”

  After dinner, Marly went home to pack. She wouldn’t need much—a small backpack with one change of clothes and her toothbrush, the bag with the watch and jewelry, and a prepaid cell phone.

  * * *

  Helen insisted on taking Marly to San Jose Airport at six the next morning. Waving good-bye, Marly headed for check-in. She had used a blond wig for her original Edith Martinson ID. For this trip, she pulled her hair back into a tight bun and prayed. Her heart was pounding.

  The TSA screener squinted. “Your hair is different.”

  “It’s a chemical thing,” she said. He laughed.

  As a rule, Marly hated flying to Central New York. It took so long, since she had to change planes in Pittsburgh or Chicago. This time the long flight suited her.

  To push away images of Troy and Louise, she daydreamed of a savior. Much as she cared for Tony, he didn’t fit that mold. She wanted to believe in a redeemer. She ached for someone who would take over managing teenage children, sweep away adversaries, come home and take her in his arms and . . . Ah, but that was what my mother wanted and look how that turned out.

  Marly landed in Rochester in the midafternoon and—as Edith—picked up a rental car. She had selected Rochester over Syracuse to reduce the likelihood that she might be recognized. The drive from Rochester would add at least ninety minutes to her commute to the Springs, but that also suited her plan.

  She drove with the windows down and the air-conditioning off, even though the day was hot and humid. She soaked in the sight of soft, rolling hills, lush with tall trees and green pastures, so different from the rugged California landscape, now turned brown—golden to the natives—until the winter rains started again.

  A few minutes after seven, the sky still bright, Marly worked her way on back roads toward her mother’s house and slid down a wooded logging road parallel to her property. She eased out of the car and stretched. Unlike California weather, the evening was warm and close. A short walk in the dense woods confirmed that the summer foliage would hide her presence.

  Marly returned to the car and lowered the back of the passenger seat until it was flat. She needed some sleep before she visited Rosie.

  24

  Vanessa: Mountain View Connections

  February 8, 2013

  Although she lived in Mountain View, Vanessa could not claim to know the so-called Old Mountain View section well. Many of the oldest houses in town were inside that area, and it reserved a certain status with charming streets and close proximity to Castro Street, the central part of town, crowded with shops and restaurants.

  Vanessa eyed their destination—a one-story bungalow—as Jack pulled his car to a halt along the opposite curb. Nineteen twenties, she thought. She had always loved the Craftsman style. This house with its low lines, big windows, fine details, and deep porch made her sigh. The light sage green color with white trim and the cherry red door spoke to her, and the garden oozed professional attention. She suspected that the inside had gone through a tasteful renovation as well. This was the house she wanted for herself.

  The house belonged to Helen Fardig, Elaine’s mother. On the phone, Helen had made it clear that her job as a nurse practitioner meant that she would not be available until after three, at the earliest. Elaine was more flexible. A meeting time with Helen and Elaine had been set for three thirty.

  Jack and Vanessa arrived early and planned to sit in the car, but a woman with gray hair came out onto the porch and waved for them to come inside.

  They walked straight into a modest-sized living room with an adjoining dining room. Through a glass door, Vanessa could see a generous kitchen with French doors leading to the backyard. She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of a bathroom and the hint of bedrooms on the other side of the house.

  Helen was a tall, big-boned woman, with broad shoulders and hips. Her wiry gray hair was cut to accentuate natural waves, and her brown eyes snapped with intelligence. Through her brisk handshake, she exuded a clear-eyed vitality and energy that made Vanessa envious on behalf of her own parents.

  “My daughter will be here in a minute,” Helen said, showing a toothy half smile. “Please sit. I’ve already made tea.”

  Vanessa thought to object but realized that this was not an option. She and Jack sank into comfortable wing chairs framing the brick fireplace.

  Helen came back with a tray, which she placed on the mahogany coffee table, and gave Vanessa and Jack each a saucer holding a delicate china cup of tea—no milk, no sugar—before she took her own seat on the couch, facing them.

  “Helen,” Jack said, about to start his speech. “May I call you Helen?”

  Helen consulted the business cards they’d handed her. “Only if I can call you Jackson. If you want to be Detective Wong, then I’m Ms. Fardig or Mrs. Fardig to you. I prefer Ms.”

  Jack blinked rapidly. Vanessa hid a smile as she scrutinized her blank notepad. Way to go, Jack. Lose control of the interview right up front.

  Helen took the initiative to move things along. “Detective Wong, I assume you want to talk about Louise and Troy.” Helen spoke with rapid-fire speed and a nasal twang that Vanessa recognized from Central New York. “At times like this I relish freedom from the Springs. What a couple of losers. But crazy like a fox, both of them. I have to say that I’m quite relieved they’re dead.”

  Vanessa admired the rug. It looked expensive and better than anything she’d seen in Helen’s former residence back in New York. “Do you know why Louise and Troy would have been out here? Did you ever see them?”

  “I avoided them like the plague back in New York. I barely ever saw them there and I would have run like hell if I’d ever seen them out here. They never struck me as the tourist types,” Helen said. She scowled. “I suppose I would have gone to the police, but I don’t know what you would have done. I don’t suppose it is a crime to visit California.”

  “No, that’s not a crime, but I’m sure, given your history with the Harris clan, that the Mountain View Police would have paid attention.”

  Helen raised her eyebrows. “There’s always a first time. Regardless, I didn’t see them.”

  Jack cleared his throat to ask a question, but his eyes were pulled toward movement on the front porch. A young woman came in and joined them.

  Vanessa recognized Elaine from the pictu
res in David Fardig’s house and the library yearbooks. Elaine gave her mother a quick kiss and shook hands with the detectives. She was as tall as her mother but with a fine-boned build, delicate features, and crystal blue eyes. Her natural hair color must have been a light, mousy brown, but a cute haircut and a deft highlighting job had given Elaine a natural-looking, trendy sheen.

  “You look like your father,” Vanessa said, nodding toward a picture on the mantel.

  Helen jumped in to answer. “Oh yes. No doubting that. You met David. He looks more like me.”

  Elaine shooed her mother toward the kitchen. “Mom, why don’t you get me some tea too? And please bring in some milk and sugar. And cookies.” Turning back, she said, “I’m sure she didn’t give you any choices.”

  “No problem,” Jack said. Both detectives glanced at their untouched cups.

  “Ms. Fardig, we want to get straight to the point,” said Jack, taking advantage of Helen’s absence. “We know from phone records that Louise and Troy Rasmussen-Harris were in this general area in 2009, starting on May thirtieth. They dropped out of sight after June fourteenth. We need to know if you—or your mother—had any contact with them, however remote, during that time.”

  Elaine pulled out her smartphone. “Right. I’ve got the dates. It looks like I was here during that time. I might have visited friends or been at parties, but I was around.”

  “No chance that you saw Louise and Troy, I suppose?”

  Elaine raised her hands, palms facing out. “No way.”

  Helen bustled in from the kitchen with the tray, updated to include a cup of tea for Elaine, a pitcher of milk, a sugar bowl, and a plate of plain crackers.

  “I already answered that question,” Helen said.

  Vanessa settled back in her chair and studied Elaine. Which is the blind eye? There was no evidence of scarring.

  As if to answer, Elaine rotated in her seat and turned her head very slightly to the left so that she was facing Vanessa.