Angel Angst

by Abby L. Vandiver

  In her twenties, March wore her brown hair long, parted in the middle just as Sunny remembered Fleming had. Her green eyes, contrary to her sister’s when Sunny last seen them her were full of life, but at that moment looked sad and glassy from crying. Her shade of lipstick, not as deep a color as that that had covered Fleming’s, was crimson just the same.

  Divit didn’t hesitate, once Ian pointed out Fleming’s sister to him, he strolled straight to March, not noticing Sunny’s hesitation.

  “Hi,” Sunny heard Divit say. She drew in a breath and tried to steady herself. She followed in Divit’s footsteps and went over to see Fleming’s sister.

  “Hello,” March said. She looked from Divit to Sunny as she walked over. “Uhm, are you here for the vigil?” She was smartly dressed in a brown wool coat. She wore jeans, an black sweater and low-heel black boots. Slim, she was tall and could have easily been the model that her sister Fleming had aspired to be.

  March’s hands were filled with a boxes. The top one was uncovered and it had flyers inside. A picture of Fleming at the top, one that Sunny had seen on her Instagram page.

  “Yes,” Divit said. “We’re here for the vigil.”

  “Because you’re like really early,” March said and smiled.

  “We know,” Divit said. “Here, let me help you with those.” Divit took the boxes from March and put them on the table. “I’m a grief counselor.” Divit looked at her. “I wanted to offer my services so that’s why we came early.” He turned and directing his eyes toward Sunny, pointing out to March the other person in his “we.”

  “Hi, I’m Leah Leibowitz.” Sunny nodded. “But call me Sunny,” she said and smiled. “I wanted to take some pictures. We know how, uhm, your sister liked to post everything.”

  “How did you know Fleming?” March asked.

  Sunny shrugged. “Facebook. Uhm. Instagram.”

  “Facebook friends,” March said and smiled. “She was big on social media.”

  “Yeah, she had a lot of people following her,” Divit said.

  “My sister was the kind of person that everyone liked,” March said. “Men. Woman. Everyone loved her and wanted her. Wanted to be close to her. I can’t imagine anyone doing this.” March blinked her eyes trying to hold back the tears. “You’re going to post this on Facebook?” March asked, her brow furrowed, she swiped the corner of her eye.

  “No.” Sunny shook her head. “I’m going to do a pictorial blog. The gathering of people, the soft glow from the candles. It’ll be solemn and heartfelt, a beautiful rendering of the love being shown to Fleming’s memory.”

  A slight smile settled across March’s face. “That’ll be nice. Fleming would have wanted to be in every one of the pictures.”

  “She will be,” Sunny said. “Because this is all for her.”

  “I think that’ll be nice. Will I be able to get a copy of the pictures?”

  “Sure,” Sunny said. “I have a car-” She stopped mid-sentence. She probably shouldn’t give her a business card. She wasn’t there as a professional photography, plus knowing Detective Dunley had found her lens cap, she didn’t want more people knowing that information.

  Keeping up with an undercover story took a lot more than Sunny had anticipated.

  “I’ll write my number down for you,” Sunny said and put her satchel on a table. She dug down into it and found a pen and then grabbed one of the flyers March had brought in with her. “May I?”

  “Sure,” March said and gave a nod.

  Sunny got one of the flyers and folded it in half, she jotted her number on the back of it and handed it to March, and pushed the pen down in her pocket. “Give me a call in a couple of days. I’ll get you a set.”

  “Oh that’ll be great,” March said.

  “So, how are you holding up?” Divit asked March. He placed his hand on her arm.

  “I’m good,” March said and smiled at Divit. “It was nice for you to come.” She took in a breath. “That’s one thing I didn’t think of – a grief counselor.”

  “Well, I just want to help,” Divit said. “Having this memorial for her is a good thing. Grieving people benefit from the support of others. And it helps to talk about it.”

  “I’ve been too busy planning this,” March lowered her head, “after I found out. I haven’t even had time to process all of it yet.”

  “Who would have done this to your sister?” Divit asked.

  “I don’t know.” A tear rolled down March’s cheek. “Just like I told the detective, I can’t think of anyone who could have done this to her.”

  “Detective?” Sunny said.

  “Yes. Detective Dunley. He’s over my sister’s case. He’ll be here tonight.”

  Sunny and Divit looked at each other.

  “How nice,” Sunny said mustering up a weak but ersatz smile.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’d like to thank all the people that contacted me that knew Fleming on social media and wanted to take part in this.”

  March had been at the makeshift podium for just a few minutes talking about Fleming and they bond they shared as sisters, but Sunny knew it must have seemed like an eternity to her. “It warms my heart that you are truly her friends,” she continued, “and not just in a virtual kind of way.”

  Fleming’s sister had had to pause several times, grief choking back her words. She had strayed more than once, getting lost in memories and funny little anecdotes about their times growing up and as adults.

  There was a rather large crowd that gathered in front of the An Cladach Pub, probably close to seventy-five to eighty people Sunny estimated. Everyone spoke in hushed tones, their condolences spoken in puffs of warm air that escaped out into the cold. Soft music filled the night that had turned much cooler, the flicker of the battery operated flame provided a glowing mask for the red eyes and constant flow of tears of all those that had come to say good-bye to Fleming Bennett.

  And all the worry that Sunny had sensed after finding out that Detective Dunley was coming had melted away once she was behind her camera lens. Sunny moved around the crowd with ease, letting her photographic eye tell her where to go, and what to shoot. She had already shot up one roll of color, and was now shooting in black and white.

  “This has been a beautiful celebration of the life of Fleming. A way to honor her memory and at the same time, a healing event. It’s given us an opportunity to come together and mourn as one.

  “As you know,” March continued. “My sister’s death was a violent one. And what we do for her today, can’t be all that we do. We need to find out who killed her. That’s why I’ve invited Detective Phillip Dunley to come out and speak with you tonight. I see him just pulling up now, so we’ll give him a few minutes.” She surveyed the crowd. “Don’t worry.” March gave out a nervous chuckled. “He won’t be interrogating anyone. He assured me of that. But if you know anything. If you’ve seen anything. Please. I beg you. Please. Give him a call. His number is on the bottom of the flyer.” March looked over to where she’d seen the detective get out his car, and saw he was nearly where she was.

  “Okay,” March said and nodded at the detective. “C’mon up, Detective. I think everyone here will welcome your words.”

  “We’ll help anyway we can,” someone spoke up out of the crowd.

  The detective stood up on the podium. Before he spoke, he turned his head away from the mike and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry that I have to be here on such a somber and painful occasion,” he started. “A candlelight vigil,” he pointed out across the crowd, “can be a beautiful, dignified, and respectful way to memorialize and honor someone that has left this world the way that Fleming Bennett did. And it can be equally important in calling attention to important issues taking place in our community and unite us around a common cause . . .”

  Once Sunny heard the detective’s voice she pulled her eye out from behind the camera, let it fall the strap’s length on her chest and put her head down. She made her way back over t
o where she’d left Divit, hoping he was still there.

  “You ready to go?” Sunny asked once she located him.

  “There’s a few more things on the program,” Divit pointed at the flyer. “A Sharing of Memories,” his finger moving down the list. “Memorial Poetry. Someone’s even going to sing.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t want that detective seeing me.”

  Divit glanced up at the police officer as he still spoke. “Do you think he saw you?”

  “No. I don’t think so,” Sunny said. “There’s enough people here to hide in.”

  “Yeah, and so many we’ll never find the murderer.”

  “I don’t know what we were thinking,” Sunny said. “We don’t know what kind of questions to ask.” She started to play with a curl in her hair. “How to ascertain anything.”

  “I did ask Ian and March did they know anyone that might have killed her,” Divit said listing his contribution.

  Sunny rolled her eyes. “And what? Did you think they were just going to point the person out to you? ‘Oh here, Mr.-Grief-Counselor, here’s the murderer. We were just waiting for you to come.’ That stupid police officer up there would have had the killer locked up by now,” Sunny said, “and he wouldn’t be messing with me.” Sunny huffed out a sigh and let her eyes scan the crowd. “Any one of these people here could be the murder.”

  “I shall smite them all,” came a voice low and hushed in her ear.

  Sunny jumped, and grabbed her chest. She turned around and there behind her was Ramiel. “You scared me!” she said holding on to her racing heart.

  “Fear not, for I am here to defend you.”

  “Your angel,” Divit said and started grinning as he gestured to Ramiel.

  “I see him,” Sunny. “And I hear him, too. Wanting to kill everyone to avenge Fleming’s death. And me, if I don’t heed his message, whatever that is. That does not help me at all.”

  “That is kind of what he does.” Divit scrunched up his face.

  “What?”

  “Angels are warriors. They pretty much smite people all the time. It’s what he does.”

  “You Divit, are the reason I was confused in the first place. You said he came here to protect me. To help me. Remember? You said that he was my guardian angel.”

  “Well. I mean . . . I think that, too. That he’s here to help you. But by nature . . .” Divit said. “They do carry out God’s wrath.”

  “So then why is he here with me? Because giving me messages is not what I need.”

  “They deliver messages and protect,” Divit said nodding his head. “They-They do protect. Just like he said.” He mulled the words over. “And help.”

  “Well, you’re no help. That’s for sure,” Sunny turned her head toward Ramiel. “And I don’t need your messages unless the message is to tell me who the killer is. Can you tell me if the killer is here? Can that be your message to me? Because I’d like to turn him, or her, over to that police detective up there.” She pointed to Phillip Dunley.

  “The names of those written in hell are many.”

  Sunny flapped her arms on her sides. “Now what is that supposed to mean?” she said, frustration pouring out in her voice.

  “I think he’s saying that there are far too many people going to hell for him to check if anyone’s name here is on the list.”

  “I give up,” Sunny said. “I’m going inside and wait for you there. You and my protector, Mr. Message Man, here can hang out all you want, but if that detective stays one minute past the time he has finished talking, I am out of here whether the vigil is over or not.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Just as the detective was asking for a moment of silence, Sunny pulled open the large glass door to the pub, and ducked inside.

  “We’re still not open,” the bartender said and smiled.

  “Oh. I know.” Sunny chuckled. “It’s just a little chilly out there for me. She blew into her gloved hands. “Thought I’d come in for a sec.” She pulled her gloves off. “Would’ve been nice to have real candles, they would have generated a little heat.”

  “Yeah and burned your hands with the hot wax.”

  “Nothing can get through this leather,” Sunny said and clapped the gloves together before taking them off and stuffing them in her pocket .

  “I’m Chet, by the way,” the bartender said.

  “Nice to meet you, Chet,” she said and scooted onto a stool behind the bar. “And I’m Sunny.”

  Sunny really noticed him for the first time. He was Asian, slender and not quite six feet tall. His long hair was thick and even though it fell often into his almond shaped eyes, it framed his face well.

  “Yeah I heard you say that to March, that your name is Sunny. “ Is that a nickname?”

  “Yeah. My name is actually Leah. But everyone calls me Sunny, even the people I went to school with.”

  “That’s funny. I’m the complete opposite. Chet is short for Chetney, but only people at work call me that. My family, friends, and the people I went to school with call me Chetney.”

  “Really?” Sunny said. “That’s a different name.” She looked at him. “A nice name. Which do you prefer?”

  “I answer to almost anything,” he said. The two laughed. “You know the old saying that bartenders are good listeners?”

  “Yeah,” Sunny said and nodded. She picked up a couple of nuts out of a bowl that were on the counter.

  “Well, I just figured Chet would be easier to remember for all the people that would come in to confide to me.”

  “Smart idea,” Sunny said crunching on nuts.

  “Hey, would you like something to drink?” Chet asked.

  “I don’t drink,” Sunny said.

  “We’ve got more than just alcohol,” he said. “Don’t go to bars often, huh?”

  She chuckled. “No. Not at all.”

  “Well, I’ve got soft drinks, juice . . . Tell you what. You like juice right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. So, I’ll fix you up one of my non-alcoholic specialties. Trust me?’ He held out his hand.

  “Okay,” Sunny said and smiled. “I trust you.”

  “Good. It’ll be delicious. You’ll see.” Chet grabbed a metal mixer filled it up with ice and starting mixing his special concoction. “So. Did you get any good pictures?” Chet asked while he worked.

  “Hope so,” Sunny said.

  “So are you a better writer or photographer?”

  “I’m definitely a better photographer. Just trying my hand at the other thing,” Sunny said and popped another nut in her mouth. “So, do you like working here?”

  “Yeah, I do,” he said. They’re pretty cool people. You know,” he chuckled, “for being the bosses.”

  “That’s good,” Sunny said. “It makes going to work easier.”

  “Sure does.” He placed a napkin in front of Sunny and sat a fruity, frothy drink on it. It was red, and orange and had fruit speared on a red plastic toothpick laying across the top.

  “Mmmm,” Sunny said, her eyes lighting up. “Looks yummy!”

  “Wait until you try it,” he said. “You’re going to love it.”

  “Okay,” Sunny said. “Here goes.” She took a big sip, and closed her eyes. “Oh! This is so good.” She opened her eyes. “What did you put in here,” she looked at the glass.

  “It’s a secret,” he said. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  “Oh my!” Sunny said. “Please, keep your secret!”

  They both laughed.

  “So, did you know Fleming?” Sunny asked.

  He hunched a shoulder. “I saw her around, you know. She came in here sometimes, she was friends with Ian and Naomi.”

  “Ian seems to be taking it pretty hard.”

  “Well, you know, I guess they were pretty good friends.”

  “I haven’t met Naomi,” Sunny said and looked around the bar, and back out of one of the windows. “Is she here?”

  “Yeah.”
Chet said. “She was down the basement earlier when you first came in. Getting ready for tonight with Ian. She’s around somewhere.”

  “So what did you mean earlier when you said the owners were having it here because they felt bad?”

  “Did I say that?” Chet asked. He took the metal container over to the sink to rinse it out. “I don’t remember.”

  “Yeah. When we first came in.”

  But before she could get an answer Divit opened the door to the bar and stuck his head in. “Hey, Sunny,” he said. “A guy I used to play little league with lives in the same apartment-” Divit stopped and looked at Sunny then at the bartender. “Uh . . . We’re going to go back to his place . . . For . . . Uhm, to get something.”

  Sunny turned around on the stool. “Ooookaaay,” she said unsure what Divit was hiding.

  “So, I’m just going to help him finish passing out the flyers, gathering up the candles and stuff, and I’ll meet you at the car in about five minutes,” Divit said. “You’ll be ready to go?”

  “Yeah,” Sunny said. “Ready whenever you are.”

  ‘Okay. I’ll meet you at the car.” Divit ducked back out the door.

  “So, I guess I better get ready to head out,” Sunny said and stood up. Thanks for the drink.”

  “No problem,” Chet said. “Where did you park?”

  “Around back,” Sunny said. “The street was blocked off for the vigil when we got here.”

  “Well, come on. I’ll walk you out to the car. I’ve got a few boxes to put into the dumpster, you can go through the back door with me. It’ll be a shortcut for you.”

  “Why thank you, Chet-ney.” Sunny added on the last part of his name, which made him chuckle.

  “You’re welcome, Leah.”

  “Oh no!” she laughed. “Please don’t call me that.”

  “Okay, I won’t. But I hope it’ll be okay if I call you?”

  “Call? You want to . . . C-Call me?” she said and blushed.

  “Yeah. Like on the phone.” He grinned. “Think I might can get your number?”