The Woman In the Mirror: (A Psychological Suspense Novel) (Alexandra Mallory Book 1)

by Cathryn Grant

  “It’s okay,” Jared said.

  “I didn’t know he was a vegan,” I said. “There are plenty of apples in the fridge. There’s leftover fake meat spaghetti.” The drama was irritating. I didn’t appreciate her using me in her doomed plan to attract Jared’s interest. She thought she was fooling him. She thought he’d be touched by her concern, but the tight press of his lips said otherwise.

  “Did Noreen tell you about her poor little dog?” I said.

  “Alexandra! That was a confidence.” She glared at me.

  “We should all just chill out,” Jared said. “You eat the delicious food Alexandra prepared…”

  “Out of a box,” Noreen said. “There’s no heart in it.”

  “…food that half the world would be thrilled to have on their plates. I’ll drink my tea and have a small fast for the night, and we won’t break confidences. We’ll just welcome the night.”

  I rolled my eyes, but he was dipping his bag in and out of the mug and didn’t see me. Noreen did.

  8

  The next morning the sun came up in a cloudless sky. My weather app told me it was fifty-nine degrees at six a.m., so I wore a navy blue sports bra and navy blue nylon shorts, preparing my body to feel like it was seventy-two once I got moving. The route I took for my four-mile run wound through narrow streets lined with beach cottages backed up to villa wannabes built with excess Silicon Valley cash. I avoided the path that ran along the edge of the beach. Most runners and dog walkers love that path, including Noreen, but I stayed far away from it. I didn’t want even a glimpse of the water.

  Never in a hundred years would anyone from my old life imagine that I’d chosen to re-boot my life near the ocean. If my family, former housemates, a few of my friends and previous co-workers knew anything at all about me, they knew I was terrified of the ocean and would never go anywhere near it. Certainly not a house poised to slip down the side of the cliff and crash on slick boulders during an epic storm. The location of this house was perfect for me, as long as I didn’t step out on that deck or wander down to the beach.

  I ran down a long street that curved to the bottom of the cliff and jogged past the slightly sagging cafes and bars. The water I was trying to avoid was right there in my peripheral vision. I turned my head and made it disappear. My earphones blocked the crash of waves. It’s terrible to fear something so deeply, letting your life reshape itself around the fear. It works its way through all your cells and turns you into its prisoner, taking hold of even small decisions and forcing you onto a particular path. Being controlled by something is worse than fear, so I try to force myself into proximity from time to time. Someday, I’ll face it head on.

  I ran back up the incline for my final push.

  When I reached the front yard of the bungalow, my upper back and legs were slick with sweat. My face was relatively dry because I constantly swiped my hand across it while I ran. I hate letting my face get wet. It might be tied to my feelings about water in general. Even when I shower, my head is turned at an awkward angle so water doesn’t spray in my eyes and across my lips, trying to make its way up my nose. I wash my face with a damp cloth, never splashing water on it like most people do.

  I put my left leg on the porch railing, keeping my leg straight and extended up slightly to stretch my calves and hamstrings. I stood for several minutes, relishing the pull of my muscles, the loosening of my joints, as well as the tiny bird hopping about in a tree a few feet from the porch. The position of my leg made me feel yoga-like. I wondered whether Jared could see me from his bedroom window.

  I turned to look.

  His drapes were open. He was already gone for the day. I twisted to give my torso a good stretch. From that angle, I saw Noreen standing in his room, looking out the window. She backed away.

  A moment later, the front door opened.

  “What are you doing?” Noreen said.

  “Stretching.” I lowered my left leg and raised my right, resting my heel on the railing.

  “I meant why were you looking in Jared’s room?”

  I shrugged.

  “He’s not here.”

  “I figured that.”

  “Why were you looking?”

  “I was stretching. Propping my leg up reminded me of a yoga pose, and since he does yoga, he came to mind. It was involuntary.”

  “Involuntary?”

  “Yes. My body reacted to thinking about him.”

  “I know what involuntary means.”

  I leaned forward slightly to increase the stretch in my hamstring. I lowered my leg, clasped my hands and raised my arms overhead.

  “Are you hitting on him?” she said.

  “No. I told you my views on that.”

  “You’re not his landlord, so it’s not the same. You might be flirting.”

  “I’m not hitting on him.” I stepped around her and went into the house.

  She followed me inside, closed the door, and leaned against it. She crossed her arms. “I hope you aren’t, because I called him first.”

  I pulled the elastic out of my ponytail and shook my hair.

  “I had dibs on him.”

  I laughed. “He’s not the last piece of chocolate cake.” I sat on the floor, untied my shoes, and pried them off. I studied my feet, making note of the small hole in the heel of one of my socks. I yanked off my socks and stuffed them in my shoes.

  “You should air those out.”

  “I will, just being efficient for taking them to my room.”

  The smell of my sweat filled my nostrils. I pushed myself to my feet. “I need a shower.”

  “No argument here.” She laughed. “So we’re clear on that, right?”

  What was clear, was that Jared wasn’t interested. He was consumed by his spiritual practices and, for all Noreen knew, he had a girlfriend at his yoga class or in his meditative walking group. She stared me down as if dictating that I stay away guaranteed his attraction to her.

  “I’m clear that I’m not interested in a relationship,” I said.

  “That’s good to hear, because it seems like you are.”

  “I said I’m not. Let’s stop talking about it.” I turned and went into my bedroom. I dropped my shoes on the floor, and pulled out the socks to make sure the shoes got a proper airing. I left the socks on the floor, gathered my clothes for work and picked up my toiletries caddie.

  The bathroom was still filled with steam. It must have been only a short time since Jared left. That, and he hadn’t opened the window in the shower stall. The mirrored door to the medicine cabinet hung open. The only thing on the shelves was a tube of Jared’s toothpaste, his toothbrush, and a stick of deodorant. I put my caddie on the counter and placed my hangers on the hook behind the door. I stepped into the shower and opened the narrow window. As I stepped back out, I gripped the edge of the shower door, careful that my sweaty feet didn’t slide across the wet porcelain. I closed the medicine cabinet door. The mirror had a huge oval of condensation in the center. I rubbed it with the side of my hand. It stayed. I grabbed a tissue and rubbed it harder.

  It wasn’t condensation after all. The finish was worn off — it looked as if it had been scraped repeatedly with a wire brush.

  I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. “Noreen?”

  “I’m in the kitchen,” she called. “How many cups of coffee do you want?”

  “One.” I walked to the arched opening into the great room. “What happened to the bathroom mirror?”

  The faucet shut off. Her flip-flops slapped the tile as she crossed the room. “Jared trashed it.” She spoke in a whisper.

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “I don’t want to upset him.”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Right.” She spoke in a normal tone. “Well, he scratched it up.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s some Buddhist thing.”

  “I’ve never heard of that. And it’s not his house.”

  “It’s not a p
roblem.”

  “When is he going to replace it?”

  “He doesn’t want a mirror.”

  “I need a mirror.”

  “Can you work around it?”

  “No.”

  “It interferes with his practice.”

  “Oh, come on. First, that’s crazy. Second, it’s not his decision.”

  “Don’t make him feel bad about about it.”

  “I need a mirror,” I said.

  “I’ll get something for your bedroom.”

  “I don’t want to blow dry my hair in my bedroom.”

  “It’ll be fine. He was very serious about it. Please don’t say anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he was embarrassed. Seeing himself in the mirror tempts his vanity. He felt he had to do it, and he was embarrassed that he struggles with vanity. You can see why, can’t you?”

  “Whatever. I need a mirror. This is what I’m talking about, regarding mixing sex and money.”

  “Don’t call it sex. I don’t just want sex with him, I care about him. And it’s not the same at all. It’s my choice. I don’t think it’s necessary to have a mirror in that bathroom.”

  “I do.”

  “You’ll manage.”

  “I need a mirror.”

  “It’ll work out, you’ll see.”

  “If you don’t talk to him, I will.”

  “Don’t create problems or I’ll have to ask you to find another place to live.”

  I stared at her for a moment.

  “Oh, another thing,” she said. “I did not appreciate you telling him about Terry. You shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

  “Is it a secret?”

  “It’s private,” she said. “I feel betrayed, to be honest.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know it was a secret.”

  “It’s not a secret, but it’s personal.”

  “Got it.”

  “Please don’t break my confidence again.”

  I folded my arms. “Noreen. I didn’t know it was a confidence. In fact, neither did I know Jared was vegan. You act like I can read your mind.”

  “You should have sensed it,” she said.

  “That he’s vegan?”

  “No, that Terry’s death was traumatic for me. The most painful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

  I nodded. She was a lucky woman if her dog dying, despite the horrific circumstances, was the worst thing that ever happened to her.

  “Promise.”

  “I won’t mention Terry again.”

  “No, promise you won’t betray my confidence.”

  “Maybe don’t tell me any more secrets…confidences. That would make it clean.”

  “I consider you a friend.”

  I smiled. “Well if you decide to tell me more, give me some context.”

  She nodded. Tears washed across her pale gray eyes. She dragged her fingers through her hair, scooping it away from her forehead. She lowered her chin and glared at me.

  After several seconds, it seemed she had nothing more to say. I turned and went into the bathroom. I shut the door, hard. I locked it and bent my knees slightly so I could see my face in the undamaged lower left corner of the mirror.

  And this was exactly what I’d meant about money and sex. She wouldn’t let me get away with that kind of bullshit. He was already using her and she was already changing the rules because of her imagined relationship with him.

  Did this mean Jared would now destroy the rearview mirror in his Beemer, since it might tempt his vanity? I didn’t think so.

  Despite his vagueness about when he might need to return to the workforce, and his diet and his refusal to look in a mirror while remaining the proud owner of a late model BMW, he was an okay roommate. He was quiet. He made no demands. He was a nice guy, as far as I could tell. The mirror thing was a little crazy. More than a little crazy. But if I held my two roommates side by side in my mind, Noreen caused much greater concern. She didn’t laugh when it seemed appropriate and the story of her ex’s stake in the house and the sad, sad end of their dog’s life made my spidey sense crawl. The more it circled in my mind, the more I was convinced I’d been given a sanitized version of their relationship.

  It crossed my mind that maybe I should look for another place to live. But I couldn’t. Not yet. Finances were extremely tight since I’d just started in my job. Noreen had asked for a very small deposit — only two hundred dollars — that wouldn’t cut it anywhere else.

  Finding the right people to share a house with is difficult, and Jared was cool. He kept to himself. Buddhism would be an interesting subject to learn more about. So Noreen was a little weird, it could be worse. Far worse. I just needed to alter my schedule a bit to keep clear of her, and work on extracting myself from that apparent bond I’d tried to establish around running, pasta, and martinis.

  The next time I had a martini, it would be in a bar. With a co-worker.

  Despite her command not to embarrass Jared by asking about the mirror, I planned to ask. It made no sense that he’d be embarrassed. It was his Buddhist practice. He had no problem talking about using us to help him on his path. Besides, there was something about her that invited betrayal. She got so upset about minor things, it was rather entertaining to watch.

  9

  Los Angeles, California

  The balcony where Randy and Lisa and I fantasized about killing Dianne was quite large. There was a barbecue grill in one corner near the wall of the building. In the center was a teak table with four extremely comfortable chairs, the wood bent and fitted and sanded to a silken finish to hold the human body without pressing unkindly against any bones or joints. On the opposite side was a matching teak chaise lounge.

  Randy always took the chaise lounge and Lisa and I sat at the table. We kept the outside lights turned off just in case Dianne came home. We wanted to be able to see her cross the courtyard toward our building without her seeing us. Of course sometimes we laughed so loud, she would have noticed us from the opposite end of the complex. Or she would have smelled the dope, unless another neighbor was lighting up at the same time. But the result was, we couldn’t always see Randy’s face.

  After our nervous laughter at his initial suggestion faded into the night, Lisa pushed the candle that sat on a plate in the center of our table toward the edge, hoping to shine light on his face. “That’s not funny,” she said.

  “Don’t be such a prude.”

  “There’s nothing prudish about not wanting to think about committing murder.”

  He mocked her tone of voice — “We won’t get in trouble.”

  “Why don’t we talk about something intelligent?” Lisa said.

  “Why do you have to be so superior?” Randy said. “Not everything has to be an advanced seminar.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Finally, he laughed. “It’s a game, dumb ass. Not for real.”

  “She’s not that bad. This is a cool apartment.” Lisa took the joint from me and studied it as if she wasn’t sure what it was. She handed it to Randy without taking a hit.

  “We can think of ways to make her suffer before she dies. So she’ll know she’s being punished.”

  “That’s cruel,” Lisa said.

  “She’s cruel,” he said. “You don’t even have a bed of your own! It’s insane.”

  “I’ll live,” Lisa said.

  “She’s taking cash right out of our pockets.”

  “We’re not going to pretend to kill her,” Lisa said.

  “We’re not? Who put you in charge?” He inhaled smoke and held it longer than usual. He exhaled slowly. “You go first, Alexandra. You get it. How would you do it? Think about what we’d have — a fantastic apartment…”

  “It’s twisted,” Lisa said.

  “You can leave any time,” he said.

  But Lisa stayed…

  “No way to afford the rent on our own,” I said.

  “Her mother would still pay half,” Randy said. �
��We’d text her from Dianne’s phone with inane updates about school. About the new, classy boyfriend.” He handed the joint to me. While I took a puff, he said, “Come on. Tell us how, Alex.”

  “I would put one of her four feather pillows with 1000-thread count cotton cases over her face. I think first I’d get her drunk, explain what a bitch she was, but she wouldn’t know what was coming. Then, she’d pass out. It wouldn’t require as much effort to keep the pillow in place.”

  Randy laughed. “You sound like you’ve given this some thought.”

  “You’re sick,” Lisa said. “You’re as bad as him.”

  But she still didn’t get up and go inside. She just glared at me as if I’d betrayed a female pact of some kind.

  Randy looked at her. “You never thought about killing anyone?”

  “No.”

  “Not ever?”

  “I said no.”

  “What about that guy in high school who posted that nasty poem on your Facebook page?”

  Lisa took a sip of white wine. She put the glass down awkwardly, splashing wine on the back of her hand. She stabbed her fingertip at my arm. “Why did you tell him that?”

  “I didn’t know it was a secret.”

  “It wasn’t meant for public consumption. It was my story, my thing. Not something to whisper about when you two are having sex.”

  “I’m sorry. It just came up. We were talking about how irritating it is that people can put shit on a Facebook wall and if the person doesn’t check in for a few hours, if they don’t get a chance to hide it, everyone sees it. Like there’s no control over your own life, your own property in cyberspace.”

  “Oh.” Her eyes glistened in the light of the candle flame.

  “Didn’t you want to kill that guy?” Randy said.

  “That’s just a…when people say they want to kill someone, they don’t mean it. They don’t plan it. I didn’t actually think about how I would do it. That’s the sick part.”

  “Isn’t it sick when people kill your reputation, or your bank account by extorting money? Money they don’t need, by the way? How is that different?” Randy said.

  “It’s completely different,” Lisa said. “It’s…it’s like you’re making it real. Instead of just wishing something, you’re putting energy into it.”