Probably putting on her shoes, I concluded. There’s gotta be something here though. I began sifting through her drawers, careful not to misplace her possessions and only touching one thing at a time. I hated that I couldn’t use the surgical gloves in my pocket, but I’d discovered long ago that without actual contact, no visions would come—meaning there was no way to avoid leaving fingerprints. Because of this, there could be no reason for her to suspect someone had been here—none.
Shelf after shelf, drawer after drawer, and even her jewelry boxes came up empty. She had plenty of possessions, but nothing linked her to the past murders. “Dammit!” I glanced around the room once more until the repetitive vibrations of my pocket scattered my focus.
“Hey, Jess,” I said after seeing the caller ID.
“Alex, you haven’t gotten caught by that woman yet, have you? You know, she’ll probably beat you with a pair of those clobberin’ heels she wears if she catches you. Being a Peeping Tom is against the law.”
I rolled my eyes. “No, she hasn’t yet, Jess, but I’m pretty familiar with the law. When you’ve got a badge and reason for suspicion, the rules are a little different.”
“Dude, you aren’t even in the same state. Don’t you think your ass might be hangin’ out a ways, being so far from your jurisdiction?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You mean, out of my jurisdiction. Yeah, but there’s nothing wrong with following a lead.”
“Oh, right. So you’re not doing anything wrong?” Jessie asked.
“No, not while we were surveilling her,” I replied. Then, a rapid movement caught my eye out the window. Not ten feet away, a young girl stood at her own house window, waving. My heart leaped into my throat, but I clenched it, smiled, and waved back.
“Wait, what do you mean? Aren’t you watching her right now?”
“Well…” I glanced at her dresser where a photo of Irene and her new crush, Otis Simmons, sat. They stood embracing in a gazebo, competing to see who could smile widest. “You could say that,” I finished.
Jessie’s tone turned stern. “Alex, what’re you up to?”
“Nothin’.”
“Al,” Jessie replied as though he was my mother, Vivian, and she knew I’d just gotten into something. “What’s going on?”
“The less you know, the better.”
“You aren’t breaking the law are you, Alex?” he intoned.
Seeing that the girl was still waving, this time with such enthusiasm that her pigtails wagged in the window, I left the room and closed the bedroom door. “Don’t you worry your little head about it, Jess. I just had to find out a few things.”
“Oh man, Alex. You’re gonna get us in trouble, man.”
“No, I won’t. Besides, I needed to drop by the police department, anyway.”
“Wait, you’re gonna waltz in and give yourself up.”
“Not a chance,” I assured him. “I need to pick their brains a bit about this Irene character.”
“Right, like your Peeping Tom act hasn’t gotten you enough info on her.”
“Actually, no, it hasn’t. There’s nothing here to connect her.” I strode through the hall and toward the front door. Leaving out the back would be too conspicuous with my new ticker-tape-parade child watching. I wouldn’t be able to lock the deadbolt, but Irene would probably think she forgot to lock it herself.
“Here? What do you mean here?” asked Jessie.
“Don’t worry,” I said, stepping onto the driveway. The girl was at her door, waiting and waving. I smiled and waved back before making straight for my car. “I’m out now.”
“Dude, what were you thinkin’?”
I shut the car door, slipped the clipboard back in my briefcase, and breathed a sigh of relief. “I was thinking our good friend Irene might have kept a few mementos. She kept the lighter, so I figured—”
“You figured you might do a little B and E,” Jessie supplied. “Man, is that how you guys operate back home?”
The reality of the situation set in as I remembered the home I’d left and my family: Paige and Jamie. “No, it’s not,” I replied as the shame of what I’d done settled on my shoulders. “You’re right, Jess. I just got anxious. It’s the sixteenth. There’s only a few days before the murderer strikes again.”
“Yeah, I know, man, but you’ve gotta rein yourself in. If you go down this route, there won’t be any coming back.”
“I know,” I spat, allowing the frustration to get to me. “You got a point rattlin’ around in that brain of yours? What’d you call for?”
“Well, I was goin’ to ask what you were doing for dinner. I just got off work here at the site.”
My stomach grumbled at the mention of food. “Nothing right now,” I replied, taking a bite of my leftover slice of pepperoni pizza from lunch. “Like I said, I need to run by the local station and check some things out before it gets too late, though.”
“Sure thing. There’s this great taco place on Madison. You’ve gotta experience it. There’s nothing like it. We can drop by the station afterward.”
“Alright, sounds like a plan. Don’t worry about a thing. Irene left dressed like she was heading to an S and M club or something, and following her around is getting a little old. It’s like watching Women of the Suburbs on the Estrogen Network. She’s got a few hidden habits, but nothing like the vision I saw. I didn’t get to look at the basement. She doesn’t seem to stay in the house much though.”
“I said it once, and I’ll say it again,” Jessie said, mimicking a famous comedian. “Are you sure she’s the one?”
A chuckle found its way across my lips. Good ol’ Jess. Sometimes he can get right to the point. Other times… not so much. Guess he’s over the B and E. “I’m beginning to wonder. That’s why I want to stop by the local department.”
“Will do. Meet me at home?”
“Sure. Be there shortly.”
“’Kay, over and out,” Jessie replied, even imitating the static.
Shaking my head, I closed the phone. And I wondered why you weren’t married.
* * *
We walked into the Taco Hut to a roar of cheering construction workers who’d just gotten off work. Their jeans, denim work shirts, and hair, or in some cases balding heads, were still dusted with wood shavings. The sight lit Jessie’s face. “Hey, boyos,” he shouted. “You’ve gotta meet my good friend. This is Alex.” Jessie pummeled me on the back, ushering me forward. Many of the guys rose to shake my hand.
A large, burly fellow was closest, and he reached out a meaty hand and took mine before I could extend it. “Good to meet ya. I’m John,” he rumbled. His crew-cut hair and stature reminded me of every retired military man I’d met.
Another coworker who stood reached across the table and took my hand next. “Hey there. Any friend of Jessie’s is a friend of ours.”
A third man with long, graying hair pulled into a ponytail was next in line at the aligned picnic tables. “That’s too true. If not for Jessie, Groucho over there would’ve bit it a few years back.” He nodded at the balding man next to him who was eyeing me excitedly and waiting his turn.
“Fred’s right,” he said, clutching my hand next and pumping it like it was a jackhammer. “I would’ve surely taken a dive when that crane flew loose.”
A questioning look at Jessie told me that the story was far more complex than they made it sound and that Jessie had played a smaller role.
A behemoth of a man noticed the silent exchange and Jessie’s shake of his head. The dark-skinned brute almost bowled Jessie over with a friendly shove. The man’s deep baritone belted out, “Now see here, rookie. You know wha’cha did. Don’t even try to say climbin’ that crane was nuttin’. Groucho was about to pee his pants and jump ta his death if not fer you.”
Jessie caught his balance and smiled sheepishly before taking the seat that they’d shifted to open up. “It wasn’t nothin’, Anton. Any of you guys would’ve done the same.”
“For
his lazy ass?” Anton said with a wide, dark smile and a bulbous thumb extended at Groucho. “Not a chance.”
The men I’d met sat down while a few others rose from the red, wooden tables to greet me. Each time I came into contact with someone else, my eye twitched, expecting a handshake or slap on the shoulder. Trey, Sly, and Paco introduced themselves, finishing the group. Trey and Paco were smaller, wiry like Jessie, but the pressure in their friendly handshakes spoke volumes about the conditioning their jobs brought on. Paco was a jolly sort with a chubby face and a bit of a gut, but his arms were strong, contradicting the apparent age the streaks of gray in his wavy, black hair portrayed.
“Anton’s right,” Groucho said with a smile that creased his bushy brows. “I didn’t know what I was gonna do. Couldn’t believe it when the little rookie shimmied up that crane and onto the steel beams I was hangin’ onto. Somethin’ malfunctioned with the damn thing, and it pulled away from the building when I was unhooking the first chain.”
“Good thing you’re slow, G-man, or you would have spilled with the beams,” Jessie said. “As it was, things were still intact and it was just a matter of time till they got you down.”
The guys laughed.
“That’s true. It’s a blessing you hadn’t unlatched that first chain when the crane went nuts,” added John.
“So what did you guys do up there?” I asked.
Jessie shrugged. “Talked.”
“And played Xs and Os,” Groucho added.
The others looked at him with the same silent question.
“You mean tic-tac-toe?” Trey asked the silent table.
Jessie nodded with a smile, and the group roared with laughter.
“So tha’s where that crap came from. I noticed a bunch of tic-tac-toe games on one of the beams I was working next ta awhile back,” he said and burst into another fit of laughter, his smile stretching from one side of his face to the other under his broad nose.
“Hey, Rayson, glad you could make it,” said Fred as another straggler appeared in the entrance to the indoor patio.
“Yeah, had some things to take care of,” Rayson said with a nod. A crown of short, brown hair blessed the thin man’s head. He had to have been in his forties, but the years had not been good to him. He appeared almost twice his age, slightly frail, but more agile and mobile than an eighty year old.
Jessie whispered, “Something’s happened to him recently. He looks bad, but he’s really a great guy. He must not be sleepin’ well.” Turning his attention to the newcomer, Jessie said, “Rayson, this is my good friend, Alex, from back home.”
The man nodded to me and extended his rough hand. I hesitated for a moment and then took his hand in mine. The soft feel of braided leather and beadwork was clasped under my index finger, and the world suddenly shook as though rocked with a vicious tremor. The smell of aged, massaged leather wafted to me as I looked in Rayson’s gray, mournful eyes. Ahhh, not again! was all I had time to think.
* * *
The broad, night sky spread itself above as though orchestrating a symphony within the stars to accompany “Brick” by Ben Folds Five as it echoed out the open windows of the car a few yards away. A smile creased my face and giddy laughter bubbled inside me. The night was dark, and the city spread out below us, dotted with phosphorescence and zooming headlights as though the entire panorama were simply a tabletop model city.
“So how’s the wine?” asked a husky, male voice.
I turned to face the sound and found Greg returning my smile, his eyes dancing in the shadowed night, lit only by the glass-encased candle centered on the blanket. I wasn’t sure if it was the light playing tricks, but he looked healthier, happy… younger. “It’s good,” I whispered in a youthful, female voice tinged with a Mexican accent. I tried to stifle the subsequent giggle with a hand. “S-sorry, Greg.”
He shook his balding head and brown crown of hair. “Nothin’ to be sorry about. It’s the wine, is all.”
“My mom would hate you if she knew.”
“That’s why we aren’t gonna tell her.” His smile remained and seemed genuine. I couldn’t find any ulterior motives hidden deep within his gray eyes. They were almost silver in the moonlight.
I nodded, unable to control my response, only to watch as though sitting in one of the new 3-D theatres. “I w-won’t. I-I’m having too much fun.” My head swam with the alcohol, flushing my cheeks and sending tingling sensations down through my knees, legs, and into my toes. Even the fingers of the arm I was leaning on tingled numbly, almost threatening to give way and send me to the ground. But it was a pleasant tingle and seemed to carry out into the soft blanket beneath us. A cool breeze wafted by as more notes and a gentle, male voice sang out of the car window, reaching us in our evening picnic. Sensual thoughts streamed through my mind, flushed with warmth that might have been hormones, the wine, or both.
“Good. You know, I still feel kind of weird about this,” Greg said, swirling the half-filled glass of dark liquid in his hand. “I-I don’t know. I tried to stop myself from asking when we first got together, but I couldn’t.”
“Well…,” I said, trying to remember the thought that had come to mind and then flitted away as quickly as a starling. “You know, all my friends say I’m mature for my age, and I-I’ve got my driver’s license.” I set down my empty wine glass and caressed his knee with the tips of my fingers. “It’s what I want.”
Greg nodded. “I know you do, hon. That’s why I’m still here.” He leaned in for a kiss, and I met him halfway, although somewhat shakily. The feel of his five-o’clock shadow on my lips and cheek was unnerving, but a rush of emotions sent me in for another, longer, less-restrained connection. His hands caressed me gently and a moan escaped my lips.
After a few minutes we parted, the stars above me spinning and swirling. “Whoa, is it always th-this way when a girl kisses you?” I asked in a sultry, somewhat slurred combination of words.
Greg’s brows knit in curious confusion. “Like what?”
“The world and s-stars spinning.”
“Oh, no—no, that’s probably not me, or at least not all me. Do you need to move back to the car?” Greg rose to a knee, his arm extended in concern.
I shook my head, but it made the world spin faster. “N-no. Just give m-me a m-minute.”
He nodded and plopped back down. “Sure thing.”
After sitting for a few minutes, a nauseous surge blossomed in my stomach.
“Oh, Evie. You look a bit green. Here, honey, try and focus on me. I’m sitting very still, but if you need to let it out, just turn to the side. Don’t worry about the blanket. I’ll take care of it.”
His words seemed to warble. I tried to focus on the car and then Greg: his flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots, but what drove away the squeamish feeling within me was his gentle smile. It even looked cute with the few strands of hair up top that remained. His smile was wider, although a little worried. “I’m okay n-now,” I whispered. “You have a wonderful smile, you know that?”
He blushed so deep that even his forehead reddened in the pale starlight. “Not as beautiful as you. And thank you for the bracelet,” he said, turning his attention to his wrist. A glimmer of grief seemed to twitch behind his eyes as he looked at it. “You know I can’t wear it at work, though, right? They all know who you are.”
The edges of my lips tweaked up in a feigned smile, knowing the truth about the secret romance, but wishing it could be different. “I know.” The words came out as a mumble, and Greg glanced down at the blanket.
“I wish it were different, and it can be later, but you’ve still got two years.” He met my gaze again. “Besides, you can wear yours. Greg’s a common enough name that you can get away with it without letting anyone know.” He winked.
I brightened at that. The urge to tell Kimmy and brag to my BFF emerged like a tiny bird of anticipation. She won’t tell. She’ll be happy for me, I assured myself. Turning my attention back to Greg’s caring smile
, the thought faded and the warmth of the wine and shame washed over me once more. I can’t. It’s too risky. He could go to jail, or at least lose his job. I silently cursed the world and the politicians that had forgotten what it was like to be sixteen and lonely. I peered down at my own bracelet, the twin to Greg’s, and straightened the small, white cubes with pink letters, fighting the swirls that entered my vision. The cubed, plastic beads were woven into the strands of leather, each one held in place. Mine spelled out Evelyn loves Greg, while his had the names reversed. It had taken me two entire evenings to make them. Memories of the frustrating process, the weave, and embedding the beads passed through my mind like one of the flipbooks I’d made in kindergarten, each page a scene accompanied by emotions: those of frustration and the wonderful reminder of Greg’s affection for me. The few times he’d said, “I love you, Evie,” fluttered past like a soundtrack of leaves whispering in the wind. The words rejuvenated me, and I’d forced my pained fingers to continue on, anticipating Greg’s smile when I gave it to him––the symbol of our love.
“I love you too,” he whispered, seeing me fondling the tiny beads between a thumb and forefinger. At those words, the warmth overcame me and darkness overwhelmed my vision.
“My little niña,” tsked an older voice I recognized as mi abuela, my grandmother. Yet her face didn’t appear. Instead, darkness pervaded. “You know, señorita. He’s no good for jou.”
“But, Abuela, I love him.”
“He’s too old,” chided the aged woman’s voice.
“But he loves me,” I whimpered into the void.
“No. You stop this foolishness, niña,” she demanded.
A surge of anger rose from inside. Unable to see her, I pushed and shoved, fighting to get away. “No, Grandmamma. No. I love him. I will be with him.”
Something strong slapped my face, and the sting remained, but still I couldn’t find mi abuela. “Stop this foolishness, Evie. Stop it now,” came her voice again, harsh and direct. Now, something strong gripped my arms, pulling me to her, cradling me like a baby.
A Life of Death: Episodes 5 - 8 Page 13