Murder was not a small way.
It didn’t take long for indecision to turn to resentment. Jean resented Theresa for causing the problem in the first place with her two-faced character, pulling Jean into her circle of power. She blamed Ed for not dealing with Theresa’s blackmail in some other way, although she had no clear idea how he could reasonably have done that. She was furious with Vivian for doing such a dangerous and cruel thing, for telling the story that gave Jean this enormous responsibility. There was anger for herself and Rita, too. Without their amateur investigation, she would never have known the fear of the last months or be required to make this appalling decision.
The next phase was feeling sorry for herself, seeing herself as one of Theresa’s victims, then one of Vivian’s. Informer. A good thing to be or a bad one? Why did investigation seem admirable, informing somehow sleazy? Would Wayne’s reputation be hurt? Would he go somewhere else? Would he take me along? It’s such a perfect job. I can work whenever I want, adjust to my classes. Is it wrong to think about myself? Her grades didn’t suffer. Studying was an escape, her best excuse for avoiding the Brumms.
Everyone in the office wondered about her. She said she wasn’t feeling well.
It was no lie.
Jean often went to sleep with her drapes left open, as she had done in her apartment. There, she liked watching moonlight on her fig tree. That would never happen again. Ellie had lost the apartment and was living once more with a man Jean had never met, probably avoiding her daughter because of the forfeited rental deposit. Her scant possessions had fit easily into the Brumm’s attic. Now the moon outside the window turned the red leaves silver and she dreamt one night of the apple tree in the Garden of Eden. In her dream, Theresa was Eve, picking the apple and offering it to her. There was no Adam.
There was Rita. The urge to tell her everything, to dump this awful load on someone else, polluted their every phone call, every encounter. It was awkward to keep finding excuses to avoid her best friend.
“You’re not yourself, girlfriend,” Rita chided. “You’re no fun any more!”
“Exams. Worried.”
Jean had never worried about exams. She was good at them.
“We’ll do lunch after exams,” Jean promised.
“I totally miss you!”
“I miss you more.”
It was true, although Jean couldn’t tell Rita why. Her friend would have been certain of the right thing to do. That advice would be something like, “What? Rat on Vivian? What good would that do?”
One sparkling November morning, Jean woke to a bare maple tree outside her bedroom window. The warning of the red leaves was gone. The verdict of the bare branches was that it was too late. She was now an accomplice, just as the Brumms had been when they failed to report Frank’s murder. Vivian would lie for her, say she hadn’t revealed the truth until just now. She didn’t want Vivian to have to lie.
Time had made the decision for her. Or, more honestly, reluctance had pushed time to make the decision. Jean was not sorry. With a lightening of spirits too long burdened, she got out of bed, the cold air hitting her immediately through her thin cotton pajamas. She liked to sleep in the cold. There was heat quickly available in the room she called her living room and she knew what she was going to do with it. Making a stop at her second dresser drawer, she shivered her way to the fireplace and pushed the button that lit up the carefully arranged gas logs. She smiled as the flames burst from the jets, moved closer to feel the warmth and to eliminate what would have provided proof of Theresa’s blackmail. It was a symbolic gesture. The decision was made; the notes were irrelevant. But there was considerable satisfaction in symbolic gestures.
The flames burned blue initially, gradually turning to orange and yellow.
It wasn’t a fire meant to be fed by paper, but it seemed to welcome the two small pieces, one blue, one white, that slowly drifted to destruction.
Table of Contents
DEATH COMESTO AN OPEN HOUSE
Copyright © 2011 by Yvonne Whitney
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
DEATH COMES TO AN OPEN HOUSE Page 21