The Doom Diva Mysteries Books 1

by Sherry M. Siska

  I was halfway to Mom and Dad's when I remembered that I still needed to talk to Vanessa. I made a U-turn and headed in the other direction, toward her house.

  11

  Things were quiet at the Oaks of Stableford Manor. Too quiet. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet and it was practically deserted. I only passed two cars headed out of the neighborhood and I didn't see anyone out walking. Almost all of the houses were dark. A light on here or there and an occasional blue flicker from a big screen TV was about it. Talk about boring lives.

  Vanessa's house was dark, too. Not even a blue flicker, and at first, I didn't think she was home. I hit the doorbell twice and drummed my fingers against the door frame. Some of the paint flaked off and fell to the porch. I was definitely going to have to get Tim over to help her. Those ONAG folks can be a real pain.

  ONAG has this whole booklet full of do's and don'ts. I'm a big don't. They told Charli to tell me I couldn't park my Mustang on the street in front of her house. Said it was an eyesore. I don't know why. I know it has a little rust, and, okay, so one of the fenders isn't quite the same color as the rest of the car. That's still no reason to call it an eyesore.

  The porch light blinked on and the door creaked open. Vanessa had on an old pair of gym shorts and the same t-shirt she'd worn at the park. A pink towel was slung around her shoulders. Her hair was wet and about six inches shorter on one side than the other. She had a pair of wicked looking scissors in her hand.

  "Hey, Marty, what's up?" She seemed surprised to see me.

  "You're home. Can I come in? I need to talk to you."

  Laughter came from a house somewhere down the street. A car door slammed and the engine roared to life. The headlights came on as it pulled out of a driveway and turned onto the street. Vanessa stared after it.

  "Well, I'm right in the middle of cutting my hair." She held up the scissors. They were big enough to cut down a small tree.

  "I really hate to bother you, but it's important." I smiled nervously.

  She still stared at where the car had been. "But if it dries, I'll have to start all over again."

  Start all over again? Don't ask me what she meant by that one. Maybe the aliens got tired of waiting for the new golf course/landing pad and had already landed. Maybe Vanessa was now one of those pod people. Heck, maybe everybody in Glenvar was. It sure would explain a lot of things.

  "Please. Just let me come in for a few minutes."

  She opened and closed the scissors. They looked sharp. Real sharp. "I don't know. I'm really tired and the house is a big mess and I have to get up early."

  A dog barked and several others answered back.

  "What if I promise not to look at your mess?"

  She clicked the scissors open and closed a couple of times. Hard. "You're going to keep bugging me until I do. Aren't you?"

  I nodded. She motioned me through the door.

  The last time I'd been to her house, right before her husband died, it had been decorated as elegantly as Charli's house. Maybe even nicer. In those few months, things had changed radically. The living room was completely empty. So was the formal dining room.

  We passed by the empty rooms into the family room. It was furnished. Well, sort of. The sofa in there was just plain ratty. Rattier even than mine, and that was saying something. Two mis-matched wing chairs faced each other over a scarred cocktail table. Wedged in between the fireplace and the door to the kitchen was a white laminate dinette table with chrome legs. Four brown vinyl-covered chairs were pulled up to the round table. All of the furniture looked like she'd picked it up down at the landfill. Or, maybe my apartment.

  Vanessa glanced around the room. "I'm getting ready to redecorate," she said. "I thought it might help me and the kids get over losing O'Del."

  "I see." I didn't, but what the heck. I dropped down into one of the wing chairs. "Kids sleeping?"

  "No. I mean yes, but not here. I just got home from Beth's a little while ago. Since it was so late, Charli said I should just let them spend the night at her house." She took the pink towel off of her shoulders and tossed it over the back of one of the vinyl chairs.

  "Is she doing okay? Tim said she took it real hard."

  Vanessa stood beside the white dinette table click, click, clicking the scissors. "I guess she's doing as well as can be expected."

  "As well as can be expected?"

  Vanessa pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Click, click, click. "You know, crying, angry, feeling guilty. The poor kids are so confused. They're too little to understand what's going on."

  "Guilty? Why guilty?"

  "Well, because of the separ...." She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Shoot. I wasn't supposed to say anything. Well, I suppose it's all going to come out now anyway. See, Beth and Warren had been separated for a couple of weeks. Beth feels guilty because the kids didn't get to spend that time with their daddy, and now, he's gone for good."

  "Separated?" I thought Mom knew everything that went on around here. If she'd heard anything about that, I know she'd of told me. She always does.

  "It was supposed to be a secret. They didn't want Wart's parents to find out. You know how they are about stuff like that."

  Warren's folks are the pastors at Church of God of the Living Truth's Holiness Fellowship of Man, about as fundamental and conservative as a church can get. Rumor has it that they’re one of those snake handling denominations. "Have they decided when the funeral's going to be?"

  "Thursday morning. Visitation's Wednesday night at the funeral home. Seven, I think."

  She was still clicking those scissors. It was really getting on my nerves. "Want a soda?" she asked.

  "Sure, sounds good."

  She took a dented can of cheap generic soda out of the refrigerator, poured it into two glasses, and brought one of the glasses to me. She took a sip out of the other glass, eyeing me cautiously. After she sat back down at the dinette table, she picked up her scissors again. I guess they were sort of her security blanket or something.

  "So, what's this important stuff you need to talk about?" Click, click, click.

  I took a deep breath. "Well, it's um, it's hard for me to ask you this, but, um." I took a big drink of the soda and started again. "Vanessa, it's about that watch."

  She spilt some of her drink. The scissors clicked faster. "Watch? What watch?"

  "Warren's. When I found the body, I know I saw a watch.

  She stared at me, her eyes blinking rapidly. The color drained from her face. She stood up, scissors still in hand and started pacing back and forth between the table and the fireplace.

  I took another drink of my soda. "When she got there, Mom insisted on looking at the body and I went with her. It didn't register at the time, but the watch wasn't there anymore. I didn't take it. Neither did Mom. You're the only other person who looked."

  Her eyes were still blinking, the scissors fiercely opening and closing. I went over, took them out of her hand, and laid them on the table. Her breathing was shallow and rapid. She was hyperventilating. I remembered something about needing a paper bag, so I dashed into the kitchen and looked for one. All I found were the plastic ones you get at the grocery store. I didn't think they would work.

  I slammed the cabinet door shut and dashed back to the family room, trying to remember what else you were supposed to do when you hyperventilated. Vanessa was sitting on one of the wing chairs, and had her hands cupped over her nose and mouth, taking slow breaths. After a few seconds, she began breathing more regularly. She moved her hands away from her face, which was blotchy. Her eyes looked dead.

  "Vanessa, are you all right?" I asked.

  She shook her head slowly from side to side. "No. I'm not okay. I'm scum. I can't believe I've sunk to this."

  I hugged her. "No, honey. You aren't scum. You're one of the kindest people I know."

  She just kept shaking her head and repeating the word 'scum', over and over again.

  My head felt like it was going to explode
. I went back in the kitchen to look for some ibuprofen or something. There was a bottle sitting next to the sink. I took some out, two for me and two for Vanessa. When I went back in the family room, Vanessa was standing by the fireplace holding the scissors up next to her chest, the evil looking blades pointing toward her neck.

  "No!" I screamed. "Don't!"

  She started. The blades scraped against her throat.

  "Don't do it, Vanessa, think about your kids!" I tried to think of a way to distract her so I could get the scissors.

  "Marty, what on earth are you screaming about? I'm just going to finish cutting my hair. I've got to do it before the police come to get me." She grabbed a handful of hair and savagely cut it off.

  "Vanessa! Stop that! You're butchering your hair."

  She grabbed another handful and chopped it off. Then another. Gobs of hair flew all over. I grabbed her hand.

  "Give me the scissors! Now! The police aren't coming for you. I didn't say anything about it to them," I said. "Stop it! Please, you're scaring me!"

  She glued her eyes on mine, like she was trying to decide if I was telling the truth. Finally, she relaxed her grip on the scissors. I took them from her and put them on the fireplace mantel. Tears poured down her face. When I hugged her, she wrapped her arms around my neck, practically choking me.

  "Oh God, Marty, oh God. I think I'm losing my mind!" She cried and cried for what seemed like hours.

  12

  In fact, Vanessa's crying jag only lasted for about forty-five minutes. That was about thirty minutes too long, to be honest. I never let on, though. Mom would have been really proud of me.

  "Nessa." Her head lay on my shoulder and my arm was pinned between her and the sofa. We'd sat down after about fifteen minutes. "Hon, would it be okay if I move my arm? I think it's fallen asleep."

  She made sort of a burbling sound and leaned forward. I leaned back and shook my arm. Vanessa wasn't crying anymore, but she wasn't exactly not crying, either. I got a handful of toilet paper from the bathroom and took it to her.

  My stomach wouldn't stop growling. I launched a search for food. Search being the operative word. The cupboards were practically bare. All I found was a quart of milk, some stale bread, a half-empty jar of cheap store-brand peanut butter, and a couple of those little packs of jelly you see in restaurants. I fixed us each a sandwich and a glass of milk.

  Vanessa's eyes and nose were red, but she'd finally managed to stop snuffling. I handed her the food and sat down next to her, turning my body so we were slightly facing each other.

  "It was crazy," she said. "I just looked down and saw that watch and I don't know what came over me. It was like an out-of-body experience or something."

  More like out-of-mind. "So you just took it?"

  She looked at me for a long time. I thought she was going to start crying all over again. Not good.

  "Yes," she finally said. "I just took it."

  I bit into my sandwich. It tasted wonderful. But then, I hadn't eaten anything since early that morning. In that time, I'd found a dead body, worked, witnessed two fights, and instigated a mental breakdown. All I wanted to do was go home, get in the bed, and pull the covers over my head. Then, when I woke up, I'd find out it had all been just a really bad dream.

  "Like I said, I haven't said anything to the police yet. I wanted to talk to you first," I said. "But, you have to tell them about the watch."

  "I know. I've been a basket case all day. I just knew they were going to come and arrest me. I jumped every time the phone rang. I could hardly look Beth in the eye." She was snuffling again. "What on earth am I gonna do?"

  "How about this? I'll call Tim and explain it to him. He'll know what to do to make it be all right. Maybe he can keep your name out of it somehow."

  Of course, Tim was currently very mad at me, and probably not speaking to me, but I didn't mention that.

  "Do you really think so?"

  "There's a good chance. Tim's cool." She seemed convinced. Personally, I was a lot less hopeful.

  I called Tim and got his voice mail. I tapped my fingers against the receiver while I listened to his message. It was a lame take off on "Dragnet". Tim thinks he's so funny.

  "Tim! Call me! It's me, Marty," I hollered into the phone.

  "I need to talk to you right now. It's an emergency. Tim! Call me."

  He either had his phone off, didn’t have a signal, wasn't speaking to me, or was in a deep sleep. Knowing Tim, it was the deep sleep. I'd just have to go over there. I hated to leave Vanessa, but she seemed to have almost returned to her normal self. Her eyes were fatigued, but no longer looked dead. Her color was almost normal, too. In fact, she seemed to be even better than she'd been earlier in the day. I guess she was relieved.

  "Are you going to be okay by yourself?" I asked her.

  She said yes, all she wanted to do was take a hot bath and go to bed. I told her I'd take the watch to Tim, explain everything, and it would all be okay. I hoped like hell that I was right.

  We went up to her bedroom to get the watch. The bedroom was almost empty of furniture, too. Her mattress lay on the floor and her clothes were stacked in cardboard boxes. She opened the closet and reached into the back. She'd stuck the watch in the pocket of a winter coat.

  I studied it before putting it in my own pocket. It wasn't just any old watch; it was a Rolex. A real one. The question I had: how could a garbage man afford an expensive watch like that? Knowing Warren, my guess was that it was stolen.

  Vanessa gasped when she caught sight of herself in the mirror that was propped up next to her bedroom door. Her hair looked terrible, some of it cut almost to the scalp.

  "Oh God!" she moaned, "How am I ever going to fix this?"

  I shook my head. "I'd offer to help, but it'd probably look even worse if I did."

  She smiled weakly. I took that as a good sign.

  "Maybe Charli can help, she's good at this sort of thing. And you know you can trust her," I said.

  She thought about it. "I know. You guys are the best."

  We went downstairs and I called Charli and told her Vanessa was scared to stay alone. I left out the part about the watch, but told her that Vanessa had “accidentally” messed up her hair while trying to cut it. Charli said she’d be right over as soon as she put on some clothes and shoes. Once Charli arrived, I gave Vanessa a hug and told her not to worry. She and Charli stood on the front porch and watched me as I climbed into my car.

  "Marty," Nessa said, "thanks for everything."

  "No problem. See you tomorrow," I said.

  No problem? I brushed away tears as I pulled out of the driveway and headed over to Tim's apartment.

  Tim's truck wasn't out front and he didn't answer the door. My apartment building is right next to his, so I went home. It felt so good to finally be there. I wandered around looking at everything, like you do when you've been out of town for a few days.

  I scratched Delbert's ears and gave him a 'sorry I've been neglecting you' snack. I tried Tim's number several times and kept getting his voice mail. Between attempts, I sent three texts, basically saying, “Call me! 911” as I paced around the apartment, trying to slow the adrenaline that still pulsed through me.

  At about eleven-thirty, with still no signs of life from Tim I called Charli to check on Vanessa. She told me Vanessa had fallen sound asleep about ten minutes after I left. “I just can’t get over this house. What on earth?” Charli said. “It looks like she’s sold everything she owned.”

  I hesitated, but decided to tell Charli about the watch. I might not act like it, but I trust my sister implicitly. “I need to talk to you about something. But you’ve got to promise not to say anything to anybody about this. Not even Mom."

  "You know I won't."

  I told her about Vanessa stealing the watch.

  "What the heck was she thinking?"

  "She wasn't. She said it was like she had an out-of-body experience. I'm really worried about her."

&nbs
p; "Me too. I feel so guilty. I guess I haven’t been over here in, I don't know, six or seven months. No, wait, it was right after O'Del's memorial service. I guess that's about eight months. I've hardly seen her since then. She's come over to the house a few times for coffee, and I've kept her kids a couple of times, but until today, I don't think I've seen her except in passing for about a month. I can’t believe how skinny she’s gotten.”

  "I think she's having financial problems. I mean you see how empty the house is, and I don’t know if you’ve looked, but she doesn’t have much food, either."

  Charli took a deep breath and blew it out. "I guess things must be worse than I'd thought. She told me once that O'Del didn't have any insurance when he died. That's why she just had him buried up there in Minnesota where he was killed. I think she had to take out a loan even for that. He'd been laid off for several months, you know, and she said they had to cash in their insurance so they could pay bills."

  "But Vanessa's a nurse. She makes decent money."

  "That's true, but probably not enough to support a family of four. If her mortgage payment is like ours, I imagine that it alone takes most of her salary."

  "You don't think that's why she took the watch do you? For the money, I mean."

  "I don't know. I hope not. That makes it seem worse somehow."

  "I wish I could help her, but I barely make enough to support me and Delbert."

  "I know you do. But I'll bet Vanessa wouldn't take money from her friends, anyway. She's a proud girl. Her daddy raised her that you don't take handouts."

  Vanessa's folks had been much older when they'd had her. Her mother died when she was in high school, and her dad when she was twenty. She didn't have any other family that I knew of. And O'Del had been from California or Washington or somewhere out west. Vanessa had never mentioned his family, so I didn't know if he had any relatives, either.

  I sighed, "I know. I just feel so bad for her."

  We talked about some other things, including the murder. I told her what Vanessa had let slip about Wart and Beth being separated.