She was brilliant. I loved Heather. Beneath the façade of a shallow beauty, she really was a first class mind. Mind you there were only two glasses on the coffee table that morning, and Annie and her oaf of a boyfriend hadn’t seen anyone with us, but still — it was a possibility. “Yes!” I exclaimed. “What about that? Maybe there was a third person. The police probably haven’t even looked into that, they’re so busy obsessing over that knife on my counter.”
“Oh Val,” said Mikel. “I’m sure they’re conducting a thorough investigation.”
By Christ she was annoying.
Julie clearly agreed with me on that, judging from the look on her face as she addressed Mikel. ”The thing is Mikel, if they are planning to arrest Val it means they think she did it. And if they think she did it they’re not out there looking for the person who really did it.”
“Exactly!” I said. “That’s what I’ve been saying. How are they going to find the murderer if they arrest me?”
“I think we need to put more faith in Walter,” said Mikel. “He has an amazing track record.”
“It’s true,” said Julie. “Remember that guy that shot his wife in the back when she was putting out the garbage and he said he thought she was a bear. Now he’s back at work like nothing happened.”
I thought about that for a moment. “Except that everyone thinks he’s a cold-blooded murderer who shouldn’t be walking the streets.”
Julie put down her wine glass. “It’s better than being the cold-blooded murderer who was incarcerated for twenty years.”
Were those my only choices? What about finding the real killer? So this was it. My life as I knew it was coming to an end and I had wasted so much of it, frittered it away as if I had all the time in the world to make my mark. And now I had; I was front page news.
We retired to the living room for dessert. Mikel disappeared down the hall to the washroom and we all silently watched her go.
“You should tell her to drink more water,” said Heather. “Her skin is so dehydrated. It’s a shame.”
Evan just gave Heather a dismissive look. Confrontation wasn’t his style. Mikel came back from the washroom and sat down close beside him on the couch. Evan rubbed the back of her neck. Her dry, scaly neck. They looked comfortable with each other. Maybe I should give her a chance.
“This is delicious Julie,” said Heather holding a tiny spoonful of the ice cream and Baileys.
“I wasn’t sure if you ate dairy,” said Julie.
“Oh sometimes,” said Heather. “Just socially. But this is so good. Worth the damage.”
“So what’s our next move?” asked Evan. “You’re probably going to be arrested tomorrow Mom. That’s the reality and you need to mentally prepare for it. It’ll be fine; it’ll be stressful but we’re going to make bail. And after that we have to make sure that Walter has a solid defense.”
“And what will that defense be?” I asked.
“It’s not your job to come up with a defense Val,” said Heather. That’s why you have a hotshot lawyer.”
“Your defense is going to be that you didn’t do it,” said Julie.
“It would help if there was anyone else who was even vaguely suspicious,” mused Andrew. “There must be someone we can pin it on.”
“Exactly,” I replied. “Since I had nothing to do with it, other than for some reason inviting Mr. Potter back to my condo and providing the bed that he was killed in, there is a murderer still out there. He could strike again!”
A couple hours later, after a good deal more discussion that went nowhere, everyone finally left and I lay on my lumpy basement bed staring at the water spot on the ceiling, trying to clear my mind of all the turmoil. Meditation, however, is not really my thing. The longer I stared at the spot, the more it started looking like Santa Claus. And of course Santa Claus led me back to Mr. Potter, all dressed up, going out to cheer up sick children. Not that he actually cheered them, but that wasn’t entirely his fault. I worked with the man for almost five years. He always seemed so — blank. A bland, grumpy man in late middle age who liked sailing and gardening. Who would want to kill him? I had to concentrate, think this through. He must have had enemies. He was rich. Rich by my standards anyway. Or comfortable, as Sharon would say. Very comfortable. Did the comfortable all have people who wanted to kill them? I tried to focus on this conundrum, but if I lay on the bed much longer I was going to fall asleep.
I woke up because I needed to pee. What time was it? It felt late. Middle of the night late. I crept upstairs to use the toilet and peeked out the living room window. A police car was still parked across the street and an officer was standing outside the car having a cigarette. Were the police allowed to smoke when they were on duty? Maybe I should report him. I tiptoed into the bathroom where the sound of Andrew’s snoring conveniently drowned out the flushing of the toilet. I needed to check the time. The clock on the DVD player was flashing 12:00. I looked out the window again and saw a full-grown raccoon followed by her three babies amble across the road. The cop watched them, then flicked his cigarette in their direction and got back into the car.
I went back downstairs and checked my cell phone. It was one-thirty. I probably had a good five or six hours before the police came looking for me. I wondered if they were going to handcuff me and march me out of the house with all the neighbors watching or if it was going to be a more discreet operation. I lay back down on the bed but there was no way I was getting back to sleep. I couldn’t let them arrest me. The people closest to me didn’t seem too sure of my innocence. I’d have no chance with a jury. They’d see pictures of Mr. Potter’s bloody little body in my bed and hear how I’d casually carved off a piece of banana bread with the murder weapon and that’d be it. Ignoramuses. There should be some qualifications for serving on a jury, proof that a person could see past the obvious, see the subtleties of a situation. So what were my options? Say I’d killed Mr. Potter in a fit of drunken insanity, do ten years, be an exemplary prisoner and then get on with my life? Not a chance. I didn’t kill him and I wasn’t going to say I did. And I’m not the kind of person who would thrive in prison. I had no interest in tutoring the other inmates, or getting a law degree or becoming a world-class bodybuilder.
I rolled my head to the side and gazed at the window. The little basement window with the cobweb in the corner that led to the back of Julie’s house. The back of the house with no fence, so a person, if she wanted to, could crawl out the window, slink into the neighbor’s yard or down into the ravine and escape into the cold December night, free as a bird.
CHAPTER 13
I was seized with an energy I hadn’t felt in days. In years. I had a mission, a purpose; I was going to save my own life. In desperation I looked around the room for something to pack some supplies in. On the top shelf of the closet was a basket full of mementos from Alice’s childhood. There were some books, a few toys and a pink Little Mermaid backpack, a souvenir from a movie she was obsessed with when she was five. I grabbed the backpack and noticed a toy gun amongst the toys. Alice and Evan had loved playing dress up and Julie never worried about a little gun play amongst friends. What the hell? You never know when a woman on the run might need a toy gun. I stuffed it in the backpack and shoved in a couple of shirts I’d borrowed from Julie, some underwear and socks, my reading glasses and a few toiletries. My heart was pounding. I contemplated writing a note for Julie and sliding it under her bedroom door, but no. The less she knew the better it would be for her.
I walked over to the window and opened it. A gust of cold air blew back at me and for a moment I reconsidered my plan. Only for a moment though. I gave the screen a poke and it popped right out. Typical of Julie and Andrew. Anyone could break into this house. I tossed the backpack out the window along with the warm coat I’d borrowed from Andrew and eyed the opening. Was I going to be able to fit through it? Even thirty pounds down, my buttocks were still on the fleshy side. I pulled the night table over to the window and carefully cli
mbed up on it so I was just the right height for squeezing out the window. The very small window that led to the very dark yard. I took a deep breath and stuck my head out. Jesus! It was freezing. I forced my right shoulder through the opening and then wiggled around so my left shoulder was released into the outdoors. Halfway done. My hands were already aching. I should have worn gloves. I wiggled along the ground until my body was halfway out. Damn! My ass was stuck. Really stuck, as in not moving an inch. I could hear a dog barking a few yards over. What was a dog doing outside this time of night? What if it got loose and came over and started gnawing on my face? I tried to pull my body forward but it was really stuck. Should I give up? Go back inside and wait until morning for the police to march up to the door and escort me down to the station? I pulled as hard as I could on my hind quarters and felt some movement and a good deal of pain as my lower back scraped against the outer window frame. One more good pull and I was lying on the frozen ground.
I was pretty sure I had removed a few layers of skin, but the adrenaline shooting through me helped to mask the pain. I sat up, grabbed the coat and put it on and bent down to shut the window behind me. And there it was. Sitting on the bed. My purse. My purse that contained my wallet that contained my cash and bank card. I wanted to cry. I think I did cry a little. My lower back was throbbing, my hands were numb and my goddamn wallet was inside on the bed.
What to do? How far could I go with no money? Not very. I limped around the side of the house and up the front steps. The cop across the street didn’t get out of the car. There was no indication that he even saw me. I rang Julie’s doorbell. Had to. My key was in my purse. I waited a few minutes and then rang the bell again. What was her problem? Andrew’s snoring was probably drowning me out. I was freezing. How could she be sleeping so soundly when her best friend was lying in the basement, her life on the line? After an interminable wait, I saw Julie’s face peer out of the curtain, and she quickly yanked open the door.
“What the hell are you doing out there?” she asked.
“I was escaping, disappearing into the night, but I forgot my wallet. Let me in. I’m so cold.”
Julie stepped aside. “What do you mean escaping? You were just going to flee — not even tell me?”
“I didn’t want to incriminate you.”
“Well that’s big of you. Is that Alice’s backpack?”
“I’ll take good care of it. Look, sorry I woke you up. I just have to run downstairs and get my wallet. Oh — and do you have any dental floss? I’m out. Oh, and maybe a roll of toilet paper. Just in case.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” snapped Julie. “I’ll put some tea on.”
A few minutes later I’d collected my wallet and we were settled in the living room having a cup of tea and delicious chocolate almond shortbread cookies. “Where, exactly, were you planning to go?” asked Julie.
“A hotel. A nice safe hotel with no police parked outside.”
“Safe until the police start checking credit card records. It would probably take them about ten minutes to find you.”
“It was a temporary plan. I only need the room until I find the real perpetrator.
“So — what — you figure that will take you a day or two? Anyway. You’re being ridiculous. You have the best lawyer in the city.”
“Hah! You think he is going to be looking for the real killer?” I took a contemplative bite of my cookie. “I am a desperate woman trying to make the best of things and I could use a little support.”
“I am supportive, but you are acting crazy. You can’t just run away.”
“Why not?”
Julie looked stymied for a moment. “Well it’s illegal for one thing.”
“I haven’t been officially charged yet. I just had kind of a gentleman’s agreement with the police to stick around, but this is no time for gentleman.” I looked Julie in the eye and put my hand on her arm. “You are my best friend and there is no one else I can depend on. I am not crazy. I’ve actually thought this through quite thoroughly.”
And this was no time for telling the truth.
“If you thought it through, why the hell did you crawl out the basement window when you could have just walked out the back door?”
The back door. I forgot about the door. “I was overcome by the moment. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Well snap out of it. If you’re going to save yourself you need to stop being a bonehead. Your face is out there. You think you can just go check into the Holiday Inn? And how exactly are you going to find the true perpetrator? Do you have some hidden investigative skills?”
God she was insufferable. “As you have mentioned many times, I am often the first one to know who done it in a movie.”
Julie closed her eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. “I mention it because you always insist on spilling the beans and ruining the movie for me, but I’ll admit that you do have some talent for piecing a puzzle together. I’ll get some paper and we’ll formulate a game plan. Because you’re right, the police are not looking for the real killer and it doesn’t appear they have any intention to do so. We need to look at our options.” She began digging through a wicker basket by the fireplace and pulled out a black marker. “I know there’s some paper in here somewhere.” Julie sat back down on the couch with a piece of pink construction paper with a child’s drawing on it.
“Is that one of Alice’s pictures?”
Julie looked at it. “I’ve got to go through that basket. This thing must be fifteen years old. Remember she used to draw pigs all the time?” She looked at it for a moment with a smile on her face. “Cute. I miss her.” She then turned it over and looked at me with a business-like expression. “Let’s get to it. What’s first?”
“Find the real killer. Write that down.”
“I’m writing. I think we’ll need some sub-categories under that one.”
“Enemies. He had to have had enemies. I need to find out who. Write down enemies and then draw some arrows kind of shooting out from it and we’ll fill in the names. And I have to find out who saw me leave with him. Why the hell did I leave with him? Could someone please tell me why, why I would take Mr. Potter back to my condo? Where was Sophie? Why couldn’t she have come pick him up from the party?”
“Who’s Sophie? The wife?”
“The widow. What was she doing while I was heading home with her husband?” I gasped a little as I was struck by a revelation. “Do you think it was her? Maybe she’d wanted to kill him for years. Every time he leaned over to kiss her or she saw him naked she probably thought, “Some day I’m going to kill you.” Probably saw herself sitting at the funeral in her designer black suit, everyone commenting on what an attractive widow she was. Maybe she dropped by the restaurant to pick up her horrible, grouchy drunk husband, saw him leave with me and knew she had her opportunity. She kills him, I get the blame and she gets the money. It’s the perfect crime. Write her down on the enemy list.”
Julie chewed on the marker as she thought about it for a few seconds. “How did she get into your apartment? That’s a big one. Actually how did anyone get into your apartment? That’s a bit of a pickle.”
“We’ve discussed that. I was drunk! Maybe I let someone in and then went back to sleep. Plus we need to talk to that cab driver. That was an excellent idea Heather had, you’ve got to admit. Put Sophie down as suspect number one.”
Julie wrote down Sophie’s name in her British boarding school scrawl and then squinted at me. “Who else?”
All the adrenaline I’d felt earlier suddenly left me. I was exhausted and just wanted to curl up on the couch and go to sleep and be woken in the morning by Andrew bringing me a warm scone. “I’m fried.”
“Too bad. You’ll have plenty of time to sleep in jail. That’s what we’re trying to avoid.”
“This is so hard. I can’t think. How the hell do you begin to solve a mystery? I mean where exactly do you begin?” I picked up the TV remote from the coffee table and turned on the televis
ion.
“What are you doing?”
“There might be something on. Murder She Wrote or CSI or something. I’m so edgy I can’t think how to go about this. Maybe if I see what Angela Lansbury does I’ll get a revelation.”
Julie grabbed the remote from me and turned off the TV. “Here’s a revelation. You need to concentrate. I can’t believe I’m even encouraging you in this. Once the police know you’re on the run they’re going to go nuts. It could be dangerous for you.”
“Dangerous how? Do you think they’d shoot me? What if they taser me?” I was horrified. I’d never contemplated that possibility.
“Well there’s a reason criminals always show up at their lawyer’s office and arrange for the lawyer to bring them in to the station. What if some cop gets trigger happy when he gets a glimpse of the St. Nick Knifer?”
“Would you stop calling me that? Just shut up. Let me think.” We were both quiet for a moment. “I can’t think.” I started to panic. “C’mon — write something down. You’re supposed to be helping me.” I got up and started pacing around the room. “Old rich guy. Who hates old rich guys? Maybe he had a mistress. Write down mistress. How would I find that out? My God, Mr. Potter with a mistress. What a thought. You’ve seen him. What woman could bear it? Apart from Sophie obviously – if indeed she was bearing it. We have to look into that. Hey — what if he stole some money? Maybe he screwed somebody out of their life savings and used the money to start his own company and this person has just now decided to come back and make him pay the ultimate price.” I flopped back down on the couch.
Julie reached over and started rubbing my hair between her thumb and index finger. “The ultimate price? We have to do something about your hair. If we cut and colored it we could really change your look. Everyone is going to be looking for a middle-aged woman with thin, shoulder length brown hair. If we change how you look we might be able to buy you a couple of days, and honestly you really do need to do something with it.”
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