by Ivy Smoak
"Do you mind if I come in so we can talk in private?"
A few of my neighbors were passing by on their daily walk. I'd never been invited to join their blonde walking party. Instead of waving like I usually would, I kept my hand firmly on the door. Did Detective Torres really want to talk? Or was that just a ruse to get me alone so he could arrest me away from my neighbors’ prying eyes?
Either way, he absolutely could not come in my house. I hadn't had time to clean up the dishes from earlier. Two plates. Two glasses. Two sets of utensils. All of it was sitting on my kitchen island just waiting to be put into an evidence bag instead of the dishwasher. "I don’t mind coming outside. It's hot as balls in here. My husband always controlled the thermostat and I'm lost without him." Before I could slip outside, a loud crash sounded from behind me. I was almost positive I stopped breathing. I waited for another sound. Please don't scream. I was pretty sure my heart stopped beating too.
Detective Torres took a step closer. "What was that?" he asked.
For the first time, I realized that his height allowed him to see over my head into my house.
"Huh?" I stepped outside and slammed the door. "Let's go for another walk." I stepped around him and started down the sidewalk.
"What was that crashing noise?" he said without following me.
"Oh." I laughed. "That...that was nothing."
"It's certainly something. Let me take a look for you." He put his hand on the doorknob.
Was he allowed to do that? Just walk in my house without my permission? Wasn't that illegal? Of course it was, but he probably didn’t even realize it because he was such a bad detective.
He started to turn the knob.
I ran back up to my front door. "Stop." I put my hand on his. "You'll let him out."
He froze. Or maybe I froze. We both froze.
"Let who out, Ensley?" he said slowly. "Your husband?"
How does he know? I was so careful. Kind of. "My new puppy," I blurted out without thinking.
The tension on Detective Torres' face evaporated. "Ah, puppies can be quite destructive. Can I see him? I love dogs."
That made one of us. I hated dogs. Big dogs, small dogs...I even hated animals that looked liked dogs. Which was all animals. Because they were all hairy and dirty and gross. So drooly. "He's an ugly little mutt. Not a purebred or anything. You don't want to see him."
He laughed but it quickly died away, probably because he could tell I was serious. "Wait, what?" he said.
"I’m joking. Obviously. He's perfect in every way. I love him more than life itself." And all that nonsense that pet owners liked to spew. Now I had to act like a crazy pet owner on top of acting like I thought my husband was missing. "But he's supposed to be sleeping in his crate right now and strangers excite him."
"You're training him to sleep at certain times?" he asked.
Was that not something dogs did? I laughed. "I just want him to be sleeping. I couldn't sleep last night because I was so worried about my husband. And I think it agitated him and he didn’t sleep either. And now we're both grumpy and sleep-deprived."
"Dogs are smart animals. They can definitely sense their owners’ moods. When did you get him?"
"A few weeks ago."
He nodded. "Puppies need routine. He probably knows your husband is missing too."
"I know. So we're both a mess right now." I pushed my lips to the side and exhaled loudly, trying to look like I was full of despair. If only I could cry on demand. I figured a public breakdown would give me brownie points. "How about that walk?" I asked. I didn't want him to hear any more unexplained noises.
"I don't have time for a walk right now, I need to follow through on a few leads."
Leads? Plural? He wasn't supposed to have any leads, let alone more than one. He was supposed to be bad at this.
"I was up late too going through that box of records you gave us on your husband. There was a number he called every week like clockwork. It wasn't someone on the contact list you provided us. And he didn't have the number saved to his phone. So no name or nickname was provided. But I called the number. 555-218-3564. Does that ring any bells?" He stared at me like he was waiting for me to provide the information that my husband had been hiding.
I shook my head. He was lucky I was a good suburban housewife. Flawless in my etiquette. Or else I would have lacked the necessary patience for this conversation with him. I'd handed over a box of records the other night that had information that I wanted him to find out for me. Give me her name. If I knew it, she'd probably be the one in my basement instead. I hated her almost as much as I hated my stupid husband.
Detective Torres cleared his throat. "That number belongs to a Miss Sophia Tremblay."
I gave him a blank stare. Sophia. Of course her name was something sexy like Sophia Tremblay.
"Do you know her?" he asked.
I didn't know her. But I had a feeling I knew what kind of woman she was. I shook my head. "It doesn't sound familiar."
"I'm sorry to be blunt, but I have a flight I have to catch in a few hours, so I really have to cut to the chase. Ensley, is it possible that your husband was having an affair with this woman?"
"Whaaa...." I put my hand over my mouth because my tone seemed more humorous than surprise. "What?" I said more sternly through my fingers.
"She's our number one suspect right now. I was flying out in her direction for some personal business today anyway, so I'm going to stop by her local precinct."
Did my weird credit card story about California actually somehow pan out? "Flying where? California?"
He shook his head. "Ontario, Canada."
Oh that little piece of shit. He'd gone on a business trip to Ontario two years ago. Two. Freaking. Years. Ago. I'd only found out about his affair a few months ago. I hadn’t realized it had been going on for so long. My eyes started to water. Not with fake acting tears. These were real ones.
"I'm so sorry, Ensley. I hope to have more answers by tomorrow. It's a very real possibility that your husband will be at her place."
I felt like I was going to be sick.
"Or that Sophia will at least know where he is."
One of the tears escaped, running down my cheek. I quickly brushed it away.
"We'll figure this out." He put his hand on my shoulder. "I promise."
He loved making promises he couldn’t keep. I was pretty sure all men did.
Detective Torres let his hand drop from my shoulder. "I do have one more question for you before I head out. What was the last thing you saw your husband wearing?"
I pictured my husband in his work clothes. He looked great in a fitted suit. Handsome. Sophisticated. I swallowed hard when the image shifted and I pictured him in the hotel last night. Sitting at the bar with his leather jacket and jeans. Just as handsome. But in a more rugged way. Is that what he wore around Sophia? The same kind of outfit he role-played in with me? Maybe he didn't even need to role-play with her. Maybe she gave him everything he desired naturally.
"Ensley?"
I looked back up at Detective Torres. He'd asked what my husband had worn to work that morning. Not that night. "A gray suit. Navy tie. White collared shirt." I specifically remembered pressing the shirt right before he got dressed. I'd straightened his tie for him. I touched my own neck. I'd acted as perfect as usual, even though I already knew what I was going to do to him that night. I'd already done all my research. I'd already bought the little white pill. I'd already set up the basement just so.
"Ensley?"
I looked up at Detective Torres. He was staring at my hand that was still pressed against the base of my throat. My left hand. Where my engagement and wedding rings were vacant once again. I quickly lowered my hand. He'd said a few leads. Sophia wasn't the only one. And I had a feeling the other one was me.
I lifted my hand and laughed. "Mr. Snuggle Muffins had a little pee accident this morning.” Snuggle Muffins? Where the hell did that stupid name come from? “I was ju
st scrubbing the floors before you arrived." Technically I had been cleaning a filthy animal's piss. It wasn't even a lie.
"When I'm back tomorrow, you should probably invite me inside," he said slowly. "Don't make me get a warrant. It'll make you look guilty."
I started shaking. I wasn't sure if it was because I was so mad that my husband had a Canadian side piece or because I was actually worried that Detective Torres was on to me. It had taken me a long time to answer the door. Had he already snooped around? Had he looked in the basement window? Had he seen my husband sitting right in the middle of the basement tied up? He'd be fully lit up because of that stupid Rudolph Christmas lawn decoration. Screw me.
But then Detective Torres winked. "And I really want to see that cute little puppy of yours. See you tomorrow."
I should have been concerned as he drove off. But I couldn't tell if Detective Torres was kidding or not. It kind of seemed like he was kidding. But even if he was? There was still reason for concern. Because I knew my husband wasn't in Canada with his mistress. He was in my house.
Detective Torres was coming for me. I had one day to get my answers. But the information Detective Torres had given me would make my interrogation today so much easier. Now I knew the name of the whore my husband was cheating with. Well, one of the names. Yes, it stung that my husband had been cheating on me for two years. But I was more interested in his local girl. The one he snuck away to see more frequently than Miss Canada.
He should have been nice after my reindeer peace offering. Because of him I now had to buy a mutt that I didn't want. He knew I hated dogs. I made a mental note to stop by the animal shelter later as I made my way back inside. Being forced to be a dog owner was bad. But that combined with the fact that my husband was a double cheater...now I wasn't in such a forgiving mood.
I walked into the garage to look for the toolkit. It was sitting next to the cart I'd used to wheel his limp body into the house. I lifted up a pair of pliers. I wonder what would be the best way to remove my husband's balls?
Chapter 8
Saturday
I walked up to the basement door and then back toward the kitchen island again. Back and forth. I knew that I was pacing. Part of me wanted to crucify my husband. But every time I reached the basement door I remembered that I needed answers first. And he didn’t remember. He didn't remember me or anything about his life.
But then I'd be back in the kitchen again thinking about Sophia Tremblay. What if he remembered her and not me?
After pacing back and forth for what felt like an eternity, I finally opened the basement door. I didn't deserve to be driven mad when he might have all the answers. Maybe he'd just hit the side of his brain that held all his memories of me.
I stormed down the stairs, the pliers still in my hand.
His eyes grew round when he looked from me to the pliers. He tried to say something, but the words were drowned out by the gag.
I tore it from his face, more harshly than I should have. I was surprised that some of his teeth didn't pop out of his mouth with it.
"What are you doing?" he asked as soon as he was no longer gagged.
He hadn't called me crazy, but I could hear the accusation in his voice. He thought I was nuts. Well...soon I'd have his. Maybe that would make me nuts. But he hadn't seen anything yet. No more reindeer surprises. No more pee breaks. I was done playing nice cop.
I waved the pliers in front of his face. "You asked me what I wanted. I want answers. And you'll give them to me or I'll twist off your balls one by one." I reached for the zipper of his pants.
"What the fuck?" his chair scooted slightly to the left.
"Really? What the fuck? That's all you have to say to me?"
"I'll tell you whatever you want!" His chair slid more to the left as he tried unsuccessfully to get away from me. "Just ask me a question."
"Sophia Tremblay? Are you kidding me?" I could feel the tears burning in my eyes, threatening to escape.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
My tears started to spill. I could barely even see him in front of me as the basement grew blurry from my tears. But his smug face was ingrained into my brain. "How could you?!" I screamed.
"Saying a name isn't a question. But I don't know her, if that's what you're asking. I have no idea who you're talking about. Or what you're insinuating."
"You cheated on me! With some Canadian girl? Eh?" I said, trying to impersonate the accent. "How a-boot that for clarification? They don't even know how to say about right!" I threw the pliers at his chest.
He made an oomph noise like I'd just knocked the wind out of him. "I would never cheat on you," he said calmly, like I hadn't just assaulted him and threatened to twist his balls off. "Look at you. I'd be crazy to cheat on you."
I wiped the tears from my eyes so I could see him more clearly. "Yeah. You would be." I stared at him staring at me. There was that look in his eyes again. The one that transfixed me. I blinked away my remaining tears. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
He'd done it at the bar last night too. He was staring at me like he thought I was beautiful. Why did he keep doing that? Why now? I looked up at the ceiling to avoid his gaze. The only reason he was looking at me like that was because he didn’t remember me.
"Sophia Tremblay," I said. I wasn't sure how many minutes, hours, or days I had left of him looking at me this way. Because he'd look at Sophia Tremblay this way as soon as his memory returned. "Think about that name. Really think about that name while I'm gone. And maybe I'll let you keep your balls if you tell me everything."
"Where are you going?"
I grabbed the fabric around his neck and pulled it back in place. "I have to get a stupid puppy thanks to you."
***
The pet store had no dogs. What kind of pet store didn't have puppies in the window? I didn't actually know the answer. Ever since I was a kid, I'd avoided pet stores. Maybe they kept dogs in the back because they were smelly.
I ducked down to stare at another empty cage. The store pretty much had no animals at all, except a lizard that was staring at me as I made my way down the aisle. I needed a dog. Any dog. It didn't even really have to be a puppy. I could just say I called him a puppy because he was so freaking cute. Gross. I doubted I was that good of a liar.
"Can I help you find something?" asked a young man with an apron and a friendly smile.
"Um...yes. I need to buy a puppy." I know I didn't sound enthusiastic, but his smile didn't falter.
"You're in luck! There's an adoption drive happening by the food court. Right near the fountains where you can get pictures with Santa Claus. We teamed up with the local animal shelter..."
I didn't hear the rest of what he had to say because I was already walking out of the store. I didn't have all day. I'd taken the long way to the pet store to avoid the Santa picture madness. Children crying in line for an hour didn't appeal to me.
The scene by the fountains was more horrifying than I expected. It was loud and hairy and smelled slightly of urine. Cats meowed. Birds squawked. Puppies barked. And the children in line waiting to tell Santa their deepest desires were almost louder than the animals. Almost. The combination was already giving me a headache.
I approached one of the makeshift pens filled with dogs. How was I supposed to tell which one would be the least annoying?
"They're so cute, aren't they?" a little girl asked before tossing some dog treats into the pen. It made the dogs behave even worse. They tumbled over each other, yelping.
"Sure are." Was the one in the corner licking another dog's butt?
"I'm hoping Santa will bring me a puppy for Christmas. I already asked him and I've been really good." She pointed over to where Santa was balancing a screaming child on his lap. He looked about at happy as the kid.
I didn't know what to say to the little girl. The thought that she should ask her parents instead of Santa crossed my mind, but I kept my lips sealed.
>
"Are you looking to adopt?" she asked. "Or just browsing?"
I stared at her. She couldn't be more than 10 years old. I was terrible at guessing children's ages. It was possible she was five. Who knew. Was she one of the salespeople? "Um...adopt I guess. I have to get a puppy."
The girl laughed. "You have to?"
Yes, because my husband is an idiot. "Mhm. Because they're so darn cute." I was pretty sure I was grimacing, but the girl laughed again.
"Well, I can help you find one. This is Simon," she said and pointed to a little dog that was running around the pen and barking like he was on acid.
No thank you. "I was hoping for a quieter model."
The girl laughed again. "What about Spot?" She gestured to the one getting his butt licked.
I didn’t want such a pushover. Or one that wanted anything near his butt. "No. Not that one."
"Well, what breeds do you like? We have..."
I waved my hand, cutting her off. "It doesn't really matter. I want something that doesn't shed much, is well trained, and is quiet."
"We have some hairless cats."
That sounds so much more appealing. "No, it needs to be a dog."
"Hmm." She folded her arms across her chest. "But all dogs shed. And most of these are puppies so they aren't even potty trained yet. And...they bark. Are you sure you want a dog?"
Of course I don't want a dog! They sounded terrible. What kind of monster wasn't potty trained? "It's a gift for my husband," I said. "He loves them." Maybe I wouldn't even have to torture him if I could teach the dog to bite on command. "Maybe one of the calmer puppies?" I looked around the pen. None of them seemed calm.
A baby crying made me turn back to look at Santa on his throne. He was trying to cheer it up with a candy cane, but the baby threw it back in his face. Poor guy. Maybe it was best that I never had children. I wasn't sure I had the patience for it. Or the stamina.