"I reckon she's had some work done," whispered Katie, her eyes twinkling as she spoke.
"No way!"
"Next time you stand next to her, have a look around her ears. There's definitely some scarring there. Also, I was looking at some old photos of her, and her nose is different now."
I sucked in my breath, shocked at what Katie had told me, but then I thought about it for a second. She was right. Rachel did look different now. It didn't surprise me that she was vain enough to get work done. Rachel was in her early thirties, which I thought was a bit young for that kind of thing, but I guess she saw some signs of aging I'd yet to get.
"Huh," I said, taking a tentative sip of my cocoa, looking around for Sam and Matt. I couldn't see them, so I figured Sam had gone for his camera. I shifted uncomfortably as Katie refused to take her eyes off me. I moved mine to meet hers. They were an extraordinary green. "You have amazing eyes," I said, my mouth working faster than my brain. I gave her a half-smile, hoping she didn't think that was a pickup line. Not that I'm against that kind of thing. It's just not for me.
Katie smiled at me, and I sucked in my breath with the devotion I saw. I wish I remembered her, because she obviously thought we'd had a great relationship.
"Thank you," she said, leaning in close. "They're contacts. They're a gorgeous color though, right? Really natural looking." I nodded and smiled back at her.
After a minute of her staring adoringly at me, I asked, "Do we know each other?" I hated to be rude, but there seemed no other way of getting around the fact that she seemed to think we were friends.
"Yes, of course we do." She sunk back onto her heels and laughed. I was still none the wiser. In fact, I was starting to wonder if she wasn't just a little bit crazy.
"We used to work together, but I now live in the same apartment block as you."
She did? "Oh, sorry. I have a really bad memory." For names but not generally for faces.
"That's okay. I haven't lived in the apartment complex for that long. And I don't expect you to remember me from here. I'm just the cleaner." She shrugged.
A memory flashed of the lady who used to clean our department. She looked nothing like Katie. The lady I remembered had dark hair and freckles and walked with a limp.
"Really? I remember her looking very different. And wasn't her name Joan?"
Katie laughed. "You're thinking of the lady I worked for. Yes, her name was Joan. I was the girl who worked with her. She retired the same year you were all made redundant. I got promoted to head cleaner and moved to the newsroom. Still the cleaner, but it's a pretty interesting place to work."
I thought back to the girl who'd worked with Joan. She'd been skinny, had mousy brown hair, and even though I was no style icon, this girl needed some serious help when it came to her wardrobe. "I still wouldn't have recognized you. You look different now."
"Thank you. I've worked really hard over the years to better myself. It's amazing what a good gym and hairdresser can do." She laughed.
"The gym, hey? Wow. I'm impressed."
"Yeah. I can bench press eighty kilos now. Look, I'll show you my muscles." With that, she pulled her jacket off and showed me her biceps that were indeed bulging through the sleeves of her tight top.
Okay. I quickly changed the subject before she showed me any other muscles. "Hey, did you ever hear anything about what happened to Dean?" I asked. Dean was a middle-aged guy who lived in the apartment below me. Two weeks ago, he'd disappeared off the face of the earth.
"Dean?" she asked, her brow creasing.
"Yeah. Middle-aged, red hair, old-school moustache. Twirled it a lot."
Katie shook her head.
"He always wore sweatpants, even in the middle of summer. He went missing a couple of weeks ago."
"I'm sorry. I really don't know who you're talking about."
I sighed. "Well, you must know Nadine. Everyone knows Nadine." Nadine was my ground floor neighbor. She was mid-fifties and dressed like a retired hooker.
Katie shook her head. I was beginning to wonder if she wasn't just a little bit confused. Is twenty-something too young for dementia?
"She's in unit 104. If you know Nadine, you know everything that goes on."
"Sorry, I don't know her," explained Katie.
I stood back and studied Katie. Everyone in our block knew Nadine. So was Katie lying, or did she live under a rock?
Katie saw me studying her. "You have very beautiful hair," she said, stroking my head as she spoke.
Goose bumps broke out all over me at her touch. "Ummm…thank you."
I really wanted to extricate myself from this conversation, and thankfully, Georgie walked over to me, a purpose in her step.
"Hey, they found Jake," she said, concern etched across her brow.
"Where was he?"
"Outside, walking around in the rain. Sam's gone to try to get him to come inside."
Poor Jake. I couldn't imagine what he was feeling right now. His ex had just told him she'd found his wife dead, and yet, there was no body.
The more I thought about it, the more I figured it was all a ruse to sabotage our group. But why would Faith do that? And where was she hiding?
"Excuse me, Katie, but I'm going to help him," I said, dropping my cup into the nearest bin. "The quicker we find Faith, the sooner I'll be able to breathe easier again."
I pushed my way back through the crowd toward the exit and stepped into the rain.
CHAPTER SIX
Georgie followed me as I put my jacket over my head and ran toward Sam and Matt. Thankfully, they had managed to drag Jake out of the rain, but they were all taking shelter on the porch of the old house. I shivered as I ran the thirty or so meters toward them. I actually think that had more to do with the spooky old house than the cold rain.
We called it the old house because that's exactly what it was. It was now about a hundred years old and looked every bit its age. It once belonged to the first mayor of Westport and sat large and proud on top of the hill, overseeing the town, but about fifty years ago it was purchased for the television station as it had the highest spot for the transmitters. Since then, the house had only been maintained enough to store some props and keep it standing. Looking at it now, I wasn't sure how much longer that would be. Rumor had it that the house was haunted, but I was going for that just being a rumor. I will admit to the hair on my neck standing to attention the second I stepped onto the porch.
"Jake, what were you doing walking around in the rain?" asked Georgie, jumping onto the porch beside me. The rain pelted the tin roof and spilled over the old, rusted gutters, splashing onto the grass behind us.
"I was looking for Faith. She's not dead," he said, shaking his head. "I know it." His head hung low. "I wondered if she'd taken a walk and gotten too close to the edge of the mountain. In this weather, it's easy to slip, and if she had, then she would need me."
The only light came from the marquee. In it, Jake looked beaten. His black hair stuck to his face, and his hoodie was soaked. He shivered as a bolt of forked lightning struck a tree in the forestry surrounding the mountain. I screamed and jumped, grabbing hold of Sam's arm.
"For goodness sake, it's only lightning!" chastised Georgie. "It won't hurt you!"
I wasn't quite sure that was right.
"Umm, sorry to remind you, but a guy died on the golf course last week when he was struck by lightning," said Matt.
"Really?" said Georgie. "Are you sure? I didn't hear about that."
"I'm positive. I covered the story."
"Yeah, I had the job of taking the photos of the body for the police," said Sam. "It wasn't pretty. There were holes in his shoes, and his toes had been blown off."
"Why were you taking photos?" asked Georgie.
"Because I'm a good guy, and I help the police like that sometimes," said Sam. "Also, the freelance work gives me a bit of extra cash, and that's always a bonus," he added with a grin.
"Did anybody hear that?" asked Jake, t
urning to face the house.
I shook my head. "All I heard was the thunder. And it came a hell of a lot faster this time. That storm is definitely getting closer."
"It wasn't thunder. It came from inside. I bet it was Faith." Jake quickly moved to the front door and turned the handle to get in.
Unfortunately for him, it was locked. Unfortunately for the old house, that didn't stop him. He pulled his arm into his hoodie and used his fist to smash the glass panel. Georgie jumped. I screamed. One click later, the door unlocked, and Jake opened the door.
"Man, you can't do that!" yelled Matt. "For one thing, there are laws against it, and for another, you could get fired."
Only Jake wasn't listening. He'd already moved into the hallway and into the darkness beyond.
The four of us looked at one another, waiting to see what we should do. Sam was the first to move, following Jake. Matt sighed and followed him, mumbling something about getting the glass fixed first thing Monday morning. I looked at Georgie. She was obviously thinking the same thing I was—would they notice if we didn't follow? A second later, Sam reappeared and grabbed my arm, pulling me along behind him. I guess he would have noticed.
The stale smell of damp wood poured out over us as Georgie flipped the light switch and illuminated the long hallway. I looked at the scarred floorboards and noted two sets of footprints in the dust. Someone had been here before us tonight.
"Even when I worked here and needed to store something in this house, I never came in this entrance," commented Georgie. I actually didn't want to go in there now.
"It's usually kept locked. Bernie, our almighty boss, is worried the ceiling in this room may come down and hurt someone," explained Sam, motioning for us all to look up to the ceiling. Sure enough, the old timber looked like it was about to collapse right on top of us. "He prefers we use the back door."
"Then why didn't we use the back door?" I asked, fearing for my life.
"Because Jake decided this was the quicker option."
I figured I couldn't blame him.
"It looks like someone has been in here recently," said Matt as Jake pushed ahead of us, ignoring all dangers.
"Not too many people have keys for that door," said Sam.
He'd obviously been to the production booth and retrieved his camera, as he now switched it on and put it on his shoulder. The light illuminated the hallway far better than the sixty-watt bulb dangling from the ceiling.
He turned the camera to point straight at me.
"Sam, please turn that thing off. I hate having my photo taken," I whined, spinning away from it.
"That's true. You should see some of the footage of her running from the cameras. It's hysterical," said Georgie, giggling.
I could say nothing to defend myself here. What she was saying was one hundred percent true and correct.
"Can we hurry up, please?" I said, ignoring the comments altogether. "It's freezing in here," I added, pulling my jacket closer around my body, as the temperature had just dropped a good ten degrees.
"It's the ghost," said Sam, turning his head to look back into the viewfinder.
"It is not the ghost," I snapped. "There's no such thing." I hoped.
"I don't care. Can we please hurry up? Jake has already left us behind, and we should stay with him," said Georgie. "I don't think Faith is in here, but we should stay together."
Matt led the way down the hallway after Jake, through a door into a room that once upon a time was a kitchen. The light from Sam's camera illuminated the room, reminding me of every horror movie I'd ever seen.
We huddled closer to each other and moved further into the room. Thankfully, we spotted Jake standing near the back wall. We hurriedly moved toward him, as Georgie attempted to switch the overhead light on. Nothing happened.
Once again, the hair on my neck stood to attention, my gypsy-like intuition kicking in. One day, I'd actually remember to listen to it.
* * *
I looked around our group as lightning flashed and lit the room once again. In that flash, I could see the remains of the kitchen—the scarred cupboards running along the adjacent wall, the wallpaper hanging from the wall above them. A small open window, just big enough to give large rodents entry, allowed the wind to howl in as the storm kicked up a notch, and the thunder rolled. Goose bumps raised the hair on my arms as Georgie let out a small scream. Everybody felt the charge of electricity in the air.
"Sam, stop being an idiot, please," she said, turning her attention to Sam. My eyes had adjusted to the shadows created by Sam's light, and I could now make out my friends quite easily, even when they weren't illuminated.
"I'm not doing anything," he replied.
"Well, who's tickling my back?" she asked, turning around to face Sam.
"You're just imaging things," he replied, trying to calm her nerves.
"Let's have a quick look around for Faith and get the hell out of here," said Matt, moving away from our group and toward a door on the left that led off the kitchen.
"Fantastic idea," I said, following him. I didn't want to freak anybody else out, but I had also felt the tickling on my back.
"The back door's still locked," said Jake. "If she came in here, she must have locked the door behind her."
"Seriously, why would she come in here?" I asked.
"She's trying to freak me out," he replied quietly. "She's done it before when we've had arguments. Last time she did it, I couldn't find her for two days. When she eventually came home, she told me she did it to punish me and make me realize what life would be like without her."
She sounded like a manipulative cow to me. My irritation kicked up a notch, and anger toward Faith started to brew.
"So, do you believe me when I told you I found her in the toilet?" I asked. If Jake was right and Faith had faked her own death, for whatever reason, then she needed a serious mental health check.
The lightning flashed and illuminated his face. He took a minute to stare back at me before answering. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "She's never taken it this far before, but I wouldn't put it past her. I love her, but she really knows how to hurt me." Anger stirred in my belly.
Georgie moved away from us and followed Matt and Sam through the doorway into an adjoining room, leaving the two of us alone. I took one last look at Jake, my memory flicking back to when we'd been together. I would never have hurt him like that. So why did he leave me and later marry someone like her?
Sadness replaced fear for a moment as nostalgia swamped me. I looked back at Jake and thought he'd changed a lot in the years we'd been apart. Jake looked at me and sighed as we followed the others into the room.
Sam swung his camera around, the light revealing the room to us.
My memories of this room were limited. I could only remember ever being this far into this house on one occasion, when I'd been helping set up an outside broadcast, and we needed some props that were stored in here. It had freaked me out almost as much then.
The room was large, the once ornate ceiling now falling down in places, damp leaving its mark on the walls. The old carpet smelled moldy and dusty as there were no windows to allow airflow. I moved in closer to Sam.
"Where do those doors lead?" I asked, nodding toward the three doors on the opposite wall.
"Two are old bedrooms, and one is now a bathroom," he replied. "This house was elaborate for Westport when it was built, but the original toilet was a drop box outside with a washroom attached. They converted one of the bedrooms into an inside bathroom back in the forties."
Jake tapped Sam on the shoulder. "Shine the light on that door, will you? I want to have a look in there." With that, he made his way across the empty room toward the nearest door. Sam followed him. The rest of us followed Sam. None of us wanted to be left alone in the dark.
The door creaked as Jake pushed it open and made his way into the room, dust rising up and filling my nostrils. Georgie coughed as she followed him.
It was re
asonably empty, only containing some old props from a sitcom produced here years ago, some pieces of the old set, and a stack of about ten boxes all with Liquorland written across them. I figured that was Bernie's stash. A wardrobe was pushed against the wall in the corner. I held my breath as Jake opened the door to it, hoping Faith's body wouldn't fall out. Thankfully, there was nothing in it.
We made our way to the bathroom only to find it empty too. We moved to the third door.
Matt attempted to open it. "It's locked. Sam, come over here, will you?"
Before Sam even had a chance to move his feet, Jake pushed past Matt and rattled the door. He used his shoulder to push against it. For such an old, rickety house, this particular door was solid and not budging.
"Faith!" he called. "Faith! If you're in there, answer me!"
We all held our breath waiting for an answer.
The wind picked up and whistled through the timber walls, causing the dust to pick up even more.
"I think we should get the hell out of here," coughed Georgie once we were all satisfied Faith hadn't replied. "I'll ask Dad what's in there. Maybe he'll come and check it for you. And he can fix some bloody lights while he's here." Georgie's dad, Stuart, was a jack-of-all-trades and responsible for most of the maintenance. If there were a key to that lock, he would have it.
All except Jake agreed. He wasn't convinced Faith wasn't in there, but he accepted that Stuart had a better chance of opening the door, so Matt grabbed his arm and pulled him along as we made our way back to the kitchen, ready to get out as quickly as possible.
Once again, lightning flashed, and the curtain on the open window moved in the wind. I screamed as something blew up, hit me in the face, and got caught in my hair. I only stopped screaming as Jake reached out and pulled the offending material from me.
"Arghh… It's soaking wet," I screamed, dancing on the spot as if that would chase the heebie-jeebies away.
"Yeah, well, it is raining!" he scoffed.
Sam turned his camera to Jake's hand and allowed the light to show us what had hit me.
The world swayed as the heebie-jeebies threatened to swallow me whole. There, in Jake's hand, was Faith's scarf—dripping with water and stained with what looked like blood.
Invitation to Murder Page 6