Depth of Lies

by E. C. Diskin

  Mary smiled sympathetically. “Girls, I know this must be hard. I so wish I knew something. But no, I didn’t give it any thought, to be honest.”

  “How did she seem to you?” Kat pressed. “Could you sense if she was in a good mood, or preoccupied, or upset about anything?”

  “Well . . . no. I didn’t know her, of course, but she seemed fine. She was pleasant. She complimented me on the house.”

  “Did she tell you why she was here?” Tori asked.

  “She said she wanted to explore the island and that she was looking at some real estate. I suggested she take my golf cart. I have a couple for the guests to use. Next thing I knew, it was a few hours later and she was being helped up the porch steps by my other guest. I guess he saw her outside. She was fairly intoxicated, so I helped her get settled into the room.”

  “What about her friend?”

  “I asked her about that as I got her settled. She said something like, ‘Looks like it’s just me,’ and collapsed onto the bed. I thought she was going to fall asleep any minute, so I told her she’d feel better in the morning, turned off the light, and left.”

  “I knew Shea for more than twenty years,” Kat said, “and I’ve never seen her unable to walk. She might get silly after a few drinks, but I never saw her so much as stumble.”

  “So, she didn’t seem depressed? Did she seem upset by this friend not coming?” Tori asked.

  Mary thought about it. “No,” she said. “Not visibly upset. I think she was a little embarrassed, actually. She mumbled something about how she should have eaten dinner. The next morning, she never came down to breakfast. Checkout is at eleven. That’s when I finally went upstairs to look in on her.”

  Tori reached for Kat’s hand, both bracing for the tragic finish to Mary’s story.

  “She wouldn’t answer the door. I became concerned, so I let myself in.” Mary stopped then, her eyes closed, and she shook her head.

  No one spoke. Kat stared vacantly out the picture window behind Mary.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Mary finally said. “I can tell she meant a lot to both of you.”

  Kat refocused on her, sensing the end of this interview. “What about the other guest who saw her? I wonder if he might have talked to her a little more. It’s so unlike our friend to come here without telling anyone, or to drink alone and get that inebriated. We can’t understand it.”

  “Well, like I said, he was there, but I can’t imagine they spoke much. He was just arriving at the same time and opened the door for her, I believe. When they came inside, we both helped her up the stairs, and I took over getting her to her room. He went to bed.”

  “And there is no way someone could have visited her after you left her?” Kat asked.

  “I locked up the house after I left her and turned in. The police did some investigation of the room even though it appeared to be an accident. No evidence of anyone else there, far as I know. There was just no reason to suspect anything other than the obvious.”

  “Was her bedroom door locked when you left her?”

  “I locked the door behind me, of course. I assumed she’d fall asleep any second.”

  The women thanked Mary. They walked back into the grand entry to leave, but Kat stopped, looking up the stairs. She couldn’t leave yet. Maybe Shea didn’t want her to. Kat didn’t know if she believed in such things, but Shea had been here. Maybe some part of her spirit was still here. “Mary,” she said, stepping back into the parlor. “Would you allow us to go up to the room where she stayed?”

  “I suppose I can do that,” Mary said. She stood and walked to the main desk to grab her keys. “I can’t imagine why, but . . .”

  “I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like maybe it’ll help.”

  They followed Mary up the stairs. “There are only four guest bedrooms,” she said.

  “And do you sleep up here as well?” Kat asked.

  “Oh no. I have the whole back of the house on the main floor.”

  She unlocked the door and walked inside. Kat and Tori followed. It was a beautiful, large room, with plush beige carpet and a four-post bed.

  Kat walked through the room and into the large bathroom, eyes fixed on the black-and-white mosaic floor tile. She stared at the tub’s claw feet, then up along the smooth, white porcelain. In a flash, she saw Shea’s face, her body, lying there. She imagined Shea resting her head on a towel. But then, like her mind was a slide show, the picture suddenly changed, and she saw her friend under the water, her hair floating on the surface. Kat gasped, threw her hand to her mouth. It was impossible not to imagine how it must have happened. Tori’s arm curled around her. “We should go.”

  Mary was still standing at the open bedroom door, and Tori and Kat walked back toward her, arm in arm. Kat stopped one more time, as if it would help to envision Shea’s last moments.

  She looked at the inside of the door. The door lock and a dead bolt.

  “Mary, when you came up to check on Shea last Sunday, you said you unlocked the door. Do you remember if the dead bolt was engaged?”

  Mary paused for a moment. “No. No, it wasn’t. It’s a separate key. I remember that I just had a room key in my hand. I wasn’t carrying my full set.”

  “And you said that when you left her the night before, you locked the door behind you. Did you lock the dead bolt?” Kat asked.

  Mary didn’t answer right away. It felt like an eternity, waiting for her to think back.

  “You know,” she finally said, “now that you mention it, I think . . . no, I’m sure. I locked them both from the outside when I said good-night. I was carrying my set that night. Huh.”

  “But you definitely remember that the dead bolt was not engaged in the morning?” Kat said.

  “Yes. Right. She must have unlocked it. Do you think that matters?” Mary asked. “She obviously got up to take a bath after I left her. Maybe . . .”

  None of the women finished the thought. Finally, Mary said, “I suppose I could tell the police about the locks, if you think it might matter.”

  “Sure, yes, that seems like a good idea,” Kat mumbled. “Thank you so much, Mary,” she said. She quickly descended the stairs and left. She suddenly couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Tori followed Kat outside. “You okay?”

  “Not really. Shea opened the door, Tori.”

  “So what? Maybe she heard a noise.”

  “Maybe she let someone in. And who was the friend she was expecting?” Kat asked. “She did not come here to kill herself.”

  “I agree.”

  “You do?”

  “I mean we know why she came now. But what’s obvious is that she was upset after going to the memorial, she got drunk, she filled a tub, and she took a bunch of pills.”

  “But she might not have been alone.” Before Tori could answer, Kat pulled at her elbow. “Come on.”

  “What?”

  “It’s only been one week. She sat at a bar and got hammered, right here, probably not far from where we are standing right now. Someone had to see her. She’s not exactly a wallflower. Every time we come to this island, we go to the same three bars. And it’s early in the season. It couldn’t have been too crowded, right?”

  “True,” Tori said. “The ferries only resumed service a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 10

  KAT AND TORI WENT INTO THE TAVERN, the bar closest in proximity to the inn. Kat pulled up Shea’s Facebook profile picture on her phone and asked every member of the waitstaff if Shea had been there the week before. No one recognized her picture.

  “Come on,” Kat said, leading Tori outside and heading toward Rudolph’s.

  “What about the girls?” Tori asked.

  “Just send them a text. We’ll bring them snacks for waiting.”

  It was nearly three o’clock; Rudolph’s was now packed, and a musician was setting up near the front. Blake’s friends were nowhere to be found. Kat a
nd Tori made their way up to the bar, but every stool was taken, every nook filled with people wedging their way forward to place an order with the bartender.

  Finally, Kat maneuvered into an opening. It was too tight for Tori to fit beside her. A woman stepped in front of Kat. “What can I getcha?” she said. Before Kat could even respond, she’d lined up three glasses, filled them with ice then vodka, tossed bottle caps into a garbage bin, and reached into a fridge for beers.

  “I have a question,” Kat said, leaning forward. “Any chance you were working here last Saturday?”

  “Yep,” she said. “Always working now that the ferries are running.” She took off to deliver beers and drinks and collect cash before Kat could get another word out.

  Kat sighed, having wasted precious time with pleasantries. When the woman was back within earshot, Kat raised her voice and asked for a Miller Lite. Maybe ordering something would garner a little more time. The woman grabbed one from below the counter within ten seconds. “Four bucks,” she bellowed.

  Kat reached for her purse and got the money, and the woman stood by, finally frozen until payment was received.

  Kat handed her a twenty. “This is kind of a weird question, but our friend died on this island last Saturday. We were wondering if she might have come in here during the day.”

  “Are you talking about the woman from Humphrey House?”

  “Yes,” Kat said. “You know about her death?”

  “It’s pretty big news when something like that happens around here. We heard Mary was pretty broken up about it.”

  “Yeah,” Kat continued. “We know she’d been drinking that day so we just wonder if she came here. This is one of the places that our friends always visit when we come to the island.”

  “You and millions of others,” the woman said. “Anyway, she was here. Hold on.” Several other people were vying for the bartender’s attention.

  Kat took a sip of her beer and looked around the room. Tori was now waiting by the door. Kat caught her eye and offered a thumbs-up. Shea had been here. Right here, maybe standing on this spot. Kat’s right hand still gripped her phone, ready to share Shea’s picture with whomever she could find. She scrolled through the hundreds of photos on Shea’s Facebook page while she waited. Shea was smiling or offering a silly face in every picture. How had this woman been so sad and no one knew? Even if it was an accident, something was pressing her down.

  The bartender returned, now getting something for the man beside Kat.

  “So, you’ve seen this woman?” Kat asked, leaning in, pushing her phone toward the woman, so she could see Shea’s photo.

  “Well, sure.”

  Finally, some progress.

  “But that’s because her picture was in the paper. I didn’t wait on her. Hold on,” she said, departing again to help others.

  A few minutes later she was back.

  “Do you know who waited on her?” Kat asked.

  “Doug thought he recognized her. That’s what he told the cops, anyway. But he didn’t overserve her, if that’s where you’re going with this.”

  “No, not at all. We’re not trying to blame anyone. We just wonder if anyone talked to her.”

  The woman looked around. “Doug’s around here somewhere. He’s probably getting stock in the back.”

  “I’d be so grateful if you could get him. I’d just like to ask him a couple of questions.”

  “Kind of a full house,” the woman said. “And as you can see, I’ve got about a dozen people trying to get my attention.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll wait. As soon as you have a minute.”

  The woman moved a few steps away and began getting more drink orders. Kat remained frozen, hoping her presence would be a constant reminder, the silent pester.

  A few minutes later, a bearded bald man with enormous biceps came out of the back with two cases of beer in his arms and set them on the counter nearby. The bartender nudged him, and pointed toward Kat.

  He smiled and stepped over. “Hey, there,” the man said. “I’m Doug. How can I help you?”

  After introducing herself and her connection to Shea, she confirmed, “So you waited on her?”

  “I did. Cape Cods. Two, maybe three max. Like I told the cops. Didn’t seem like too much to serve over a couple of hours.”

  “Sure, no, she wasn’t a lightweight. Did you talk to her at all? We don’t understand why she was here alone.”

  “She wasn’t alone. Like I told the cops, she was with this guy.”

  Kat’s breath caught in her throat. “Who?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?”

  “I’m sorry. Of course. Could you describe the man?”

  “Good-looking, about late forties, or fifty, I’d say. I don’t know,” he added, like Kat’s questions were beginning to bore him.

  “Did it seem like they knew each other?”

  “She came in alone, I know that. But he joined her, and they walked out together after he paid. I remember, she seemed a bit drunk. She’d stumbled off the stool, and I looked at the guy as he helped her stand. He said not to worry, that they were just heading over to Humphrey House.”

  Back at Tori’s house, the women were preparing dinner. Dee offered to make cocktails for everyone. She was feeling no pain. It was no wonder—she’d barely eaten all day and had been drinking her weight in wine since their return to the house.

  The women chatted about their upcoming schedules. Tori was busy with college prep and sporting events for her youngest, and Evelyn was heading out of town for a couple of days, setting up some new computer network for a company in Denver.

  Kat had work to do, too, but her priority was to visit Ryan and pay her respects, though what she really wanted to do was ask about Shea. Did Ryan think Shea intended this? Did he know about some alleged affair after Christmas that Dee mentioned? Was she really addicted to Vicodin? Did he know about the man at the bar on Put-in-Bay? But how could she ask? Even for close friends, there were limits to what felt appropriate.

  Dee turned the discussion toward when the women would gather next. They threw dates around to one another, no one needing or asking for Kat’s availability. She wasn’t a part of this group anymore. She found her phone and went into a bedroom to call Mack. It had been too late to call when she’d finally gone to bed on Saturday night, but now, getting no answer, she guessed it was too early. He was probably still on the golf course. It was an hour earlier in Texas. They hadn’t had a conversation since late Friday night, which was typical these days. Usually, she could blame international time zones for the disconnect. But, given the tension in their last conversation, the silence between them took on new weight.

  When the women sat down for dinner, Tori stood at the head of the table. “To Shea,” she said. “I’ll never forget you.” Everyone raised their glasses in agreement.

  “To Shea,” Kat said, keeping her glass high in the air. “Moving in next door was one of the luckiest events of my life.” She began choking up. “I . . . miss you and . . .”

  “Hear, hear,” Lina said. They all sipped again before Lina pointed outside and raised her glass again. “To Shea—thanks for getting me to swing from that rope!” They laughed and agreed.

  “To Shea,” Evelyn said. “You were a really good friend, and . . .” She shook her head, apologized, and ran off to the bathroom.

  Dee turned to the others. “Get that girl a diaper!”

  “What is wrong with you?” Lina asked.

  “What? It’s funny! She didn’t hear me,” Dee said.

  Dee then stood and raised her glass to offer her own tribute to Shea. “To Shea,” she practically yelled. “Good riddance!”

  Everyone gasped, and Dee swatted the air, drunkenly insisting that it was a joke. The dinner conversation turned uncharacteristically quiet.

  “Come on, guys, I’m just kidding. We’re getting so maudlin here. I thought this was supposed to be a celebration of her life!”

  Ever
yone ate their dinner, and as Evelyn rejoined the table, Dee spoke up again. “I know. Who here has seen someone else’s husband naked?”

  “Okay, why would you ask such a bizarre question?” Tori asked. Everyone responded with nervous giggles.

  “I just think the truth should come out,” Dee said, surveying the women like she had a secret.

  Kat looked around the table for someone’s eyes to meet her own, for someone to share her dismay.

  “I think it’s safe to say no one has,” Lina said.

  “Wait, I’ve seen Ryan naked!” Tori said. She started laughing and turned to Dee. “You have, too!”

  Dee turned red. “I have not!”

  Now they were all laughing.

  “It was here,” Tori explained to Kat and Evelyn. “Like six years ago. We had Shea and Ryan, Lina and Bill, and Dee and Charlie up for a weekend. It got a little wild.”

  “Oh!” Dee said. “That’s right!”

  “My God, what are you talking about?” Kat asked. With Dee involved, anything was possible.

  Dee took over Tori’s story through her laughter at the inside joke. “We all drank too much.”

  “Oh, stop,” Lina interrupted. “Now it sounds like we played some stripping game. Ryan and Shea obviously got romantic after everyone went to bed, that’s all.”

  Tori leaned forward, taking over the story. “And I got up in the middle of the night for water and went to the kitchen. Dee was in there, too. Out of the blue, Ryan strolls in without a stitch of clothing on!”

  Everyone howled at the image. “What? Why?”

  “It was like he was sleepwalking,” Tori tried to explain through giggles. “He looked dazed and confused and stumbled into the room. I was like, ‘Hello, Ryan, what are you doing?’ He turned back and went to bed. The next day he didn’t remember it happened!”

  “Anyway,” Lina said, far less comfortable with sharing Ryan’s embarrassing secrets, “I guess we can all take some solace in the two decades of memories we’ll always have. Shea was one in a million.”