by C Farren
“What did you find?” Wren asked.
Deputy Stark smiled and said, “I just found your fingerprints and Bills’ I’m afraid. Whoever messed with the fuse box must have used gloves.”
“How did they get in?” Aarna wondered. “I thought maybe they got in through that faulty window that Cedric used to break in and kill Garrett, but I checked.”
“I had that replaced a few weeks ago,” said Wren, shuddering at the mention of Cedric’s name.
“Anyway, we’re busy at the station,” said the deputy. He looked sad. “We’ve called in some volunteers to help search for Keegan.”
“He’ll be fine,” Wren told him, even if she didn’t believe it herself.
He smiled and exited, Bill following him.
“Do you think the person who tried to kill Maureen is the same person who’s responsible for Keegan’s disappearance?” Aarna asked.
“I’m almost certain of it,” said Wren. She thought for a moment. “They’d want to keep him close by if they held him captive, just to keep an eye on him, right? Maureen’s wannabe killer must live local, and must know Maureen, so that means Keegan has to be somewhere in Snowflake Bay. He could be less than five minutes away from us right now.”
Aarna shivered. “Then we have a psycho just walking around as if they own the place. You don’t think it’s Becky Rickard, do you?”
Wren shook her head.
“My little sister got told at school that if you whisper Becky’s name three times in front of a mirror she’ll appear,” said Aarna.
“She’s not Beetlejuice,” said Reo, rolling his eyes.
“Who’s Beetlejuice?” Aarna asked. “Is he on Instagram?”
Wren ignored her. She didn’t have time to listen to Becky horror stories (and her ignorance of the genius that was Beetlejuice). The girl couldn’t harm anyone now. There was someone else in this town who could, though, and she had to find them before it was too late.
A few more customers trickled in. It was Jose and Pilar Aguilar, chatting amiably. They smiled when they approached the counter. Wren wasn’t sure what to make of it. They were a very condescending couple when she met them last night.
“What can I do for you?” Wren asked.
“I can’t believe this place is open again,” Pilar declared, hungry eyes on the batch of blueberry scones. “Yum. Those look delicious.”
She was carrying several shopping bags with her, including one from an expensive shoe store down at the marina. Jose wasn’t as happy as his wife. In fact, he looked downright miserable.
They were practically begging Maureen to delay taking their rent and they’re out on a massive shopping trip?
“Did you get those steaks the butcher set aside?” Pilar asked.
“I’ll get them when I’m in the city later,” said Jose.
Pilar sighed and turned back to Wren. “Anyway, I’ll have a cappuccino with almond milk and a blueberry scone please.” She wiped her finger across the counter, as if searching for dust. “Not bad. If you want your place a lot cleaner than this, you must call me. I own a cleaning company.”
Wren faked a smile. “I might just do that.”
How rude. This place is so spotless you could eat your dinner off the floor.
Wren set to the order, eyes on Pilar and Jose the entire time as they settled down at a table. How could they try and guilt Maureen like that when they obviously had the money to pay the rent? She’d have to have a word with her friend later. She needed to know what these people were up to.
Could they be trying to kill Maureen? Would someone resort to murder over the issue of a few hundred dollars?
That didn’t make sense. If Maureen died, the apartment building would be sold. They’d probably end up being homeless or paying more rent to a new landlord. Then again, desperate people did desperate things. Maybe either Pilar or Jose could see no way out of their situation and took their frustration out on Maureen.
“The credit card hasn’t been paid last month yet,” said Jose. “How much did those shoes cost?”
Pilar grinned. “Shoes are an essential purchase.”
“It’s not fair, Pilar. We’re not made of money.”
“Things will pick up. I’m trying to get a new contract in the city for my cleaners.”
They stopped talking when Wren arrived with their order. Jose’s face was red and he was visibly holding in his anger. Things made sense now. She was the one spending money they didn’t have. No wonder they couldn’t afford their rent.
“Thanks,” said Pilar.
Wren walked back to the counter, eyes on the Aguilars the whole time. Pilar was a bundle of giggles, scratching at her lemon yellow kitten wig. Jose was trying his very best not to burst into tears.
Great. Now I feel sorry for them.
“Can you look after things for a while?” Wren asked. She still had so much to do, and spying on Pilar being greedy wouldn’t help matters. “I need to get something.”
Aarna gave a cute army salute and said, “Give me responsibility! As long as I can post about it on my YouTube channel.”
“Go ahead.”
She called Lenny, telling him she’d pick him up in ten minutes. They had someone to see in the city. First, though, she needed to call her father. She had to know why he’d given Anthony his blessing to marry her mother. Was the doctor threatening him? Was he blackmailing him?
“How was the opening, Wrenny?” Wick asked. “All go well?”
She’d phoned the prison and asked to speak to her father. They wouldn’t let her at first until she made up some excuse about ending up in hospital. She may have intimated that she was on the verge of death.
“There were some complications, but never mind that,” said Wren. She was sat in her car, the heater on full blast. “I saw Anthony at the hospital last night.”
“Why were you at the hospital?” he asked, sounding worried. “Are you okay? Tell me everything. I’m only going to worry if you don’t.”
She quickly told him about Maureen before saying, “Anthony told me to phone you. He said you had something to tell me.”
Everything went quiet apart from the sounds of other prisoners shouting at each other in the background.
“He had no right,” said Wick angrily.
“Why does he know more about this than I do?” Wren demanded. “What’s going on?”
He ummed and aahed a bit before saying, “Do you remember that phone I borrowed so I could call you and warn you about Lenny?”
Wren’s stomach lurched. She knew what was coming and she wished she could pretend this call wasn’t happening.
“You got into trouble for that,” she said, not that he needed reminding.
“The thing is... I didn’t borrow the phone.” He paused before adding, “I stole it.”
“Oh, Dad....”
Wren leaned against the car seat, tired. Today was already proving to be as long as yesterday, and it wasn’t even noon yet.
Her father went on. “Things had been a little frosty between myself and the guy I stole it from since. We got into a fight a week ago, and I hit him, and he lost quite a few teeth. He’s going to be live, thankfully, but I’ve had a year added on to my sentence for assault.”
“It wasn’t your fault!” said Wren.
“I might have elbowed a guard in the face by accident when they tried to break us up.”
She didn’t need to tell him how serious this was. Assaulting a prison guard could have gotten him five years, never mind twelve months. What was he thinking? Did he want to spend the rest of his life locked up?
I want him to meet Benedict and Paula. I don’t want to spend another Christmas without him.
“Oh, Dad,” said Wren, despairing. “You’re never going to get out of that place, are you?”
“That’s why, when Anthony came to see me the other day, I gave him my blessing for him to marry Dot,” Wick explained. He didn’t sound sad, just resigned to his fate. “If she wants to marry him,
I won’t stand in their way. I’ll give her a divorce.”
“That’s just stupid. A year is hardly a lifetime. Don’t write off your marriage just yet.”
“I want Dot to be happy. I don’t want her waiting for me. He makes her happy. I make her sad.”
“She loves you. Misery and love are part and parcel of marriage, right?”
“I’ve made up my mind. You have to accept my decision.”
Before she had a chance to argue further, he hung up.
Chapter 12
The unemployment office was just as she remembered it (from reality and the odd night terror or seven). The building was drab, a vast, ominous concrete slab, something erected out of a Cold War architect’s dream. The inside was no better. Everyone in there, from the staff to the people desperately needing money to live, were zombies, miserable and bereft.
“This reminds me of Hell’s waiting room,” muttered Brock.
Wren wanted to laugh. That was exactly what Fiona had said.
“I wish you’d stayed at home,” Wren whispered, annoyed. “You’re already causing a stir.”
People waiting in line were turning to look at the towering hunk that had graced them with his magnificent presence. A woman with greasy black hair was blushing, and a man stared at Brock like he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. One of Maureen’s co-workers, an elderly woman called Flora, was sitting behind her desk, waving her computer keyboard in front of her face like a fan as her eyes devoured the angel.
“How can you not be embarrassed?” Wren asked him.
He shrugged a little sadly. “It’s tiring, but I’m used to it.”
She’d never once considered how Brock might feel about it. All people ever saw when they looked at him was a handsome man with looks that could sink the Titanic. They didn’t know the real him.
Wren, Brock, and Lenny made a beeline for Flora. Wren knew Flora a little, mainly because she liked to nosy at what Maureen was up to. She was in her early sixties, short, with her grey hair tied up in a very tight bun. She had wrinkles on her face that could be used as the basis for a maze.
“Robin!” Flora declared jovially. “Long time no see!”
“It’s Wren,” said Wren. “I just wanted to talk to your manager. Is he in? I want to thank him for all he did for me.”
Flora smiled. “That dismal old coot? He’s in his office, looking like misery incarnate as usual. I think he’s having marital problems. He was in such a mess when he came in, and yesterday he was in and out all day!” Wren perked up, interested. “There was some talk of divorce after Maureen inadvertently revealed his affair with Rosa.”
“Who’s Rosa?” Brock asked.
“Rosa is a troubled young woman.” Flora sounded like she was telling the story of a poor Victorian orphan girl. She could almost hear violins. “She was my client here for a few weeks until she vanished. I never thought I’d see her again until that day she came out of Barr’s office looking all flushed.”
“Tell me more about Rosa,” Wren invited. Flora loved to engage in local gossip.
Rosa could be a suspect too. Maybe she didn’t like her affair with Mr. Barr being exposed and wanted revenge?
“She never said much about her herself,” said Flora. “But I do know she used to be a ballet dancer until she hurt her leg and couldn’t dance anymore. Sad, really. I heard she was really good. She’s had a lot of surgery done too. Her face looked weird, sort of like melting plastic.”
There could be some juicy information on Rosa and her accident on the internet. Wren knew she’d have to look into that later.
“It must be quiet around here without Maureen,” said Wren.
“Oh, my poor Maureen! I miss her so much, but she doesn’t return my calls. I want to set her up with my son’s friend.” Flora put her hand to her heart and sighed. “I know she’s a lot to handle, but I hate to see her so lonely. I firmly believe there’s someone out there for everybody, including Maureen.” The old woman looked in deep thought for a moment. “You don’t think she’s a lesbian, do you? Eureka! That could be it! My daughter has a lesbian friend. She’s a doctor, you know. A lesbian doctor! Can you believe it?”
Flora nattered on for a bit longer about Maureen’s lonely life and the shock of lesbian doctors. After a while Wren mentally switched off. The old woman’s voice was starting to get on her nerves a little.
Eventually Flora ushered them into Mr. Barr’s office. The manager himself looked up from his desk, surprised. He had his cellphone in one hand, switched on. His shirt tie had drops of ketchup on it, and his shirt looked rumpled, like he’d slept in it all night. A voice echoed from the phone, saying “Sebby” over and over again. He looked very stressed.
“I thought I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed?” he demanded. He turned off his cell angrily. “Never mind. What do you want?”
“Why are you trying to kill Maureen?” Lenny demanded.
Wren winced. It had all been going so well.
“I heard someone was trying to kill her, but I’d never do such a thing,” said Sebastian Barr. He was outraged. “Why would I? I owe her everything.”
“What do you mean?” Wren asked.
He leaned back in his chair. “She gave me the confidence to leave my harridan of a wife. That woman had made my life a misery for years. If it hadn’t been for Maureen revealing my affair with Rosa I might still be with my wife, wishing I was free.” He sighed. “I just wish I didn’t have to make her redundant. It broke my heart.”
“You have no ill feelings towards Maureen at all?” Brock asked.
The angel sounded skeptical. Wren didn’t blame him. Why would Sebastian not hate Maureen for ruining his marriage, even if it eventually ended up as a good thing?
Sebastian hesitated. “I suppose I used to. She was quite difficult to work with, and sometimes I got annoyed with her, but that’s about it.”
Wren wasn’t sure she quite believed him. She loved Maureen to bits, but couldn’t imagine how stressful it must be to work with her for eight hours a day, five days a week, for years on end. It must have been really difficult.
They were about to leave when Wren remembered something. “Have you had dealings with a Deputy Keegan Fisher? He’s gone missing.”
“He did come to talk to me actually,” Sebastian admitted. “I told him what I told you, that I had no ill will towards Maureen, and then he left.”
“Thanks,” said Wren.
“He said he was going to talk to Rosa next,” said Sebastian. “He thought she might know something.”
“Why would Rosa know anything?” Lenny asked.
“When I broke things off with Rosa, she wasn’t happy,” Mr. Barr answered. “She said it was all that Maureen’s fault. I don’t think she would have done anything though. She’s just not that type of person.”
Wren thanked him for his help and the three of them left. Before they exited the building altogether Wren asked Flora for Rosa’s address. She was a little hesitant at first until Brock blinked his eyes prettily a few times. Flora was putty in their hands after that.
Lenny left as they departed the unemployment office. He said, “You could ask her out. I’m sure she’s a very experienced woman.”
“Shut up,” Brock told him.
They were heading for Wren’s car when she realized she’d left her bag on Flora’s desk. She popped back inside. Jose Aguilar sitting in the waiting room, reading an out of date gardening magazine. She hadn’t seen him there just a few minutes ago. He must’ve either been in the bathroom or hiding from her.
Why would he be hiding?
“Hey,” said Wren, trying to be friendly. “Jose Aguilar, right?”
Jose pretended not to notice her.
“I know it’s embarrassing coming here,” she said. “But it’s not the end.”
She smiled and walked away. He called her back.
“I’m sorry,” said Jose. He stood, looking anxious. He kept his voice law as he said, “Plea
se don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”
“I get now why you couldn’t afford this month’s rent,” said Wren. She didn’t mention the fight she’d overheard at the Metropolitan. He probably didn’t need to be reminded that his wife was spending money they didn’t have.
“It’s not that. My family doesn’t know I’ve lost my job.” He sighed and said, “I’ve been pretending to go into work for six months.”
He was acting like he was a spy infiltrating North Korea. She could understand why he’d want to keep it secret, but he didn’t have to be so melodramatic.
“Your secret stays with me,” Wren reassured him.
Jose smiled and nodded. “I thought Maureen would understand. I thought she’d let us pay double rent next month when I managed to get another job, but you heard her.”
“I’ll have a word with her. She might listen to me.”
ROSA’S APARTMENT WAS a few blocks away in the city. It was a recently erected building, quite modern. A sign outside said several of the apartments were up for sale at only $500,000 each. How could Rosa afford that? She was broke and getting unemployment checks not that long ago.
Lenny’s eyes gleamed as he looked up the tall building. He said, “I could live here.”
Wren didn’t like it. It was too modern, too opulent. She preferred the older Victorian buildings of Snowflake Bay. They had character and history.
They found Rosa’s apartment door half open.
“This doesn’t bode well,” said Brock, putting himself in front of Wren like a shield. “Stay behind me. There could be danger.”
Wren rolled her eyes. “Please. I can take care of myself.”
Wren pushed Brock aside and headed inside, alert for any sort of attack. The apartment was open plan with ultra-modernist furniture that wouldn’t look out of place in a futuristic space station. In one corner was a giant brass figurine of a ballet dancer. In another corner, facing a window, was a sleek looking running machine. The sixty-inch television, mounted on the wall, was on some news channel, the sound muted. Everything was quiet.
“Look around,” Wren ordered. “Be careful. Someone might have attacked Rosa.”