by C Farren
“I can’t keep it in any longer,” he said. “I’ve done something bad.”
She walked over to the table with his coffee. He took a sip. He winced, burning his tongue, but ignored it.
“I know I don’t know you that well, but I think I know you well enough that you wouldn’t do anything that bad,” said Wren. It was a lie. She’d experienced enough in the past few months to make her sure human evil took many forms, from an unassuming window salesman to a plucky schoolgirl. “Are you having trouble at school?”
“School is fine,” he admitted. He wouldn’t look her in the eye, as if afraid of something. “I’m the smartest one in my class.”
He drank some more of his coffee. Chelsea Rickard was talking with someone outside where the toy shop used to be. Wren really hoped she was going to rebuild.
He looked up into her eyes and an involuntary shudder coursed through her body.
“What did you do?” Wren asked.
He really has done something bad. Really bad.
“I killed someone,” he admitted. He was crying again now, his shoulders shaking with each heaving sob. “I killed Maureen.”
Chapter 22
He had to be playing a joke on her.
“What do you mean you killed Maureen?” she asked, a little confused.
He took another sip of his coffee. He was sweating now, his hands nervous and twitchy. The look in his eyes spoke the most, though. They were the eyes of someone haunted, someone who had done something that was causing them immense guilt.
“I killed Maureen,” he said again. “I killed her.”
She leaned back in her chair, thinking things over. She should really phone the sheriff. Javier should be confessing murder to him, not her.
But he’s come to me. He trusts me.
“Tell me everything,” she asked him.
“There’s not much to say,” said Javier. “I started that fire. I killed Maureen.”
“That’s impossible. You were with me outside all the time.”
“Not all the time. I saw you talking with my mum about her recipe for coconut cookies and I slipped out then.”
Wren didn’t remember that conversation quite clearly. She was beginning to get a little buzz from the alcohol, plus Pilar’s voice was annoying her and she’d subconsciously tuned her out. Had Javier left then? She thought back and knew it was possible. Any of them could have snuck off for five minutes and she wouldn’t have noticed, though she did remember Ryan. He was staring at her the whole time Pilar was talking.
“Why did you set the fire?” Wren asked.
“I didn’t think anyone would be hurt,” he said, ignoring her question.
“You knew Maureen was on the roof.”
“Ginger said she thought she saw Maureen heading into the basement.”
The basement was where they kept the washing and drying machines. She’d been down there once because Maureen thought she saw a rat. It turned out to be just a giant ball of fluff from one of the dryers.
“Why did you start the fire?” she asked again. She was trying really hard to keep the accusing tone out of her voice. “Why?”
“I got an email two days before the night of the fire,” Javier explained. “It said if I didn’t set Maureen’s apartment on fire then my parents would be killed. I ignored it. I thought it was a stupid joke. Then someone attacked Mom when she was coming back from work, and the next morning I got another email, saying next time my mom and dad would get more than a black eye. I believed them then. I had to start that fire.”
Wren remembered noticing that Pilar was wearing a lot of make-up that day at the hospital. She must have been covering up her black eye.
He wiped at his eyes and said, “If I’d known Maureen was there then I never would’ve done it. I could live with starting a fire, but not this, not murder.”
He had no idea Maureen was still alive. He needed to know the truth before the guilt killed him.
But what if he’s lying? What if he’s the one trying to kill Maureen?
He wasn’t lying. He was genuinely distraught. The thought that he’d accidentally killed someone was destroying him. Then again both Becky and Cedric had been expert liars too. He could just be fooling her, just like they all did.
If I let my experiences with those killers make me distrust everyone then they’ve won.
He had to live with his guilt for now. At least until they caught Rosa.
“Why did you come to me and not the police?” she asked.
“I know you have a reputation for solving murders,” he said. “I want you to help me find out who blackmailed me. I tried to find out who sent the emails myself but all I found was a simple Gmail account opened up by someone using a false name.”
“I don’t know...”
“This person... this person made me set that fire, and now Maureen is dead.”
She knew she had to help him, despite her huge workload.
“We think a woman called Rosa is behind Maureen’s murder,” said Wren. “I think she might be behind those emails.”
“Do you think she killed Keegan too?” Javier asked.
Wren flinched. “No. I think Keegan is still alive.”
“Sorry.”
“I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking the same. I have to think he’s still alive or I’ll go absolutely insane.”
He showed her the two emails on his cellphone. They were quick and to the point, though still quite nasty. What kind of person would blackmail a fifteen-year-old boy to do something so terrible? Was it Rosa?
I need to talk to Mr. Barr again. He knows more than he’s telling.
The door chime tinkled and Aarna and Reo came in.
“Leave this to me,” said Wren. “Promise me you’ll do nothing, not yet.”
Javier nodded. “I promise.”
He left, leaving Wren with a lot to think about. She needed things to make sense. She needed to know how Rosa was connected with the emails, if indeed she even was. She was sure finding Rosa would answer so many of her questions.
“Morning,” said Lenny, entering with boxes of baked goods.
Wren walked up to him. “You’ve sure baked a lot this morning.”
“I was trying out some new recipes,” said Lenny, setting the boxes down on the counter. “Do you know when they’re going to have Maureen’s funeral?”
“Not yet.”
She pulled Lenny into the back office, leaving Aarna and Reo to set things up. She needed to have a private word with him.
“Someone blackmailed a kid into killing Maureen?” Lenny asked, incredulous. “That’s really sick.”
“I need to go and talk to Mr. Barr again,” said Wren. “I know he’s keeping stuff back.”
“I don’t think he’s going to open up any time soon, even if we threaten him.”
He was right. Barr was clearly in love with Rosa and wouldn’t reveal anything about her. They had to try a different tack.
She grinned as an idea came to her. “Go to work. Leave this to me.”
AN HOUR LATER, BROCK and Wren were in Mr. Barr’s apartment in the city. The angel had kindly flitted them in. She’d checked to see if he was in work first by phoning him and pretending to be an old lady. She’d been Brenda Dolittle, a pensioner with a smoking habit and twenty-five grandchildren. Wren had quite enjoyed putting on a role.
“What are we looking for?” Brock asked.
“Something that tells us where Rosa or Keegan is,” said Wren.
The apartment was small, with a tiny living room area adjoining an even smaller kitchen. The furniture was basic, probably stuff handed down from his parents or bought from a thrift store. He really lived quite frugally.
“There’s just a jar of pickles in the fridge,” said Brock from the kitchen.
Wren picked up a photo on a rickety table by the wall. It showed Mr. Barr and a prim looking red haired woman sitting outside a cabin by a lake. She was happy, though he looked like he’d been sitti
ng on a bed of thorns for five hours straight. She assumed this must be Mrs. Barr.
“I keep forgetting he was married,” said Wren. “I wonder where his wife is?”
She realized then that this must be Mr. Barr’s bachelor pad, something he’d moved into after leaving his wife. There wasn’t a feminine touch in the place to indicate a woman had ever lived here.
“He said that Maureen did him a favor by revealing his affair with Rosa to his wife,” said Wren, looking at a couple of books on a hastily built shelf. “He said he’d been unhappy in his marriage for ages but didn’t have the guts to call it quits.”
The books were all about fishing. She didn’t know much on the subject, though reading a book about it sounded deadly boring.
She headed into the bedroom, which was about the same size as the living room. It stank of old sweat and other man pongs. The bed was unmade. The curtains were half closed. There was a bedside cabinet with another photo on it. This one was of Barr and Rosa, at the same lake cabin where he’d taken his wife. His smile on this photo was genuine, a man who had finally found happiness. Rosa looked exactly as Flora had described her – beautiful, but verging on grotesque from the amount of plastic surgery she’d had. She looked happy, though.
Why would he take his mistress to the same place he took his wife on vacation to?
She opened the drawers on the bedside cabinet, finding various candy wrappers, some old batteries, and various other odds and ends. What intrigued her the most was a set of keys with a leather keyring on that said ‘Graham Lake.’
“I’ve been there,” said Wren, thinking back to her childhood. Her family had stayed in a hotel there for a short vacation back when she was nine. It was a lovely place, especially in the winter. It was also perfect for someone like Barr, who loved fishing. “Brock!”
He rushed in. “What is it?”
“I think Sebastian Barr owns a cabin on Graham Lake,” said Wren. “I think that’s where Rosa is keeping Keegan!”
“Then let’s go there now.”
The angel grabbed her hand and they flitted off. They appeared at the side of a massive lake, half frozen over. There was a bitterly cold wind blowing across the lake. The fresh air made her feel invigorated and alive.
Brock grinned. “This is impressive.”
“No wonder he likes it here,” said Wren.
They turned back to the cabin. It was small, but looked cozy. Wren unlocked it and headed inside, Brock following. The air stank of antiseptic.
Is there a dead body in here?
Wren ignored everything in the cabin and headed for the bedroom door. She took a deep breath, readying herself for what was so to come.
Please don’t let it be Keegan.
She opened the door, peaked inside, and gasped.
“Who are you?” Rosa asked.
Wren smiled, embarrassed, and said, “Hi. I’m Wren.”
Chapter 23
Wren had listened to Rosa’s story while Brock made her some soup in the kitchen. The woman did look pale, though getting better, thanks to Mr. Barr’s knowledge of treating wounds. She was quite proud of her boyfriend’s one year in medical school before he was thrown out.
Sebastian Barr went to medical school? Now I’ve heard everything.
“Why not just take you to a hospital?” Wren asked.
“He was scared they’d come back and finish me off,” said Rosa. Her lips were too large, like she’d had too much filler. She looked like a fish. “He thought it better that the killer thinks I’m dead.”
“And then what?”
Rosa shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Wren had no right to argue. She’d enacted the exact same plan when Maureen had turned up in her house after someone tried to kill her. This was different, though. Rosa really needed to go to hospital. She’d been shot in the stomach. She could’ve died. She could still die from sepsis or any number of other complications.
“Let me call an ambulance,” Wren insisted. “Please.”
Rosa shook her head. “I don’t want them coming after me again. I know too much.”
“But what do you know exactly?”
“Not much. I don’t know their name or what they look like. I only know about the blue hoody they wear.” Rosa put her hand to her stomach. Blood was seeping through the bandages again. “That person has been following Maureen around for ages, trying to kill her. Psychopath.” Rosa laughed. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ve been following Maureen for years. But I don’t want to kill her. I just want to...”
She couldn’t answer that question. She just shrugged.
“You blamed Maureen for ruining your career,” Wren stated.
“I did at first, but I got over it. I went to law school. I had a good career. Then a few years ago this television producer turned up. He was making a documentary about me. It just brought back how much I missed dancing. I couldn’t get Maureen out of my head. I looked her up, and I started following her, and she had such the perfect life. It made me so angry.”
“It was an accident, you know. She didn’t mean for you to hurt your leg.”
“I know that. I can still be bothered by it. I can still seethe with hatred over everything she took away from me. I can still want her... I can still want her dead.” Rosa put her hand to her mouth, like she’d just come to a realization. “I think I was going to kill her. Is this how far I was prepared to actually go?” Oh God. I’m a terrible, terrible person. I deserved to get shot.”
Brock came in with a bowl of tomato soup at that point. Rosa thanked him as she took it and began to tuck in. She slurped every mouthful.
What do I do? This woman was clearly going to harm Maureen one day. She could still be dangerous.
“Are you going to watch me eat?” Rosa asked.
“I’m wondering what to do with you,” said Wren, torn.
“Can you let me hide out here until you find out who wants Maureen dead?” Rosa asked. She continued to slurp her soup, which grated on Wren’s last nerve. “They probably want to finish what they started with me.”
“How do I know you won’t go back to stalking Maureen again?” Wren demanded.
“That’s all behind me now. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Wren didn’t believe her. She asked to talk to Brock outside the room so Rosa couldn’t hear them. Once the door was shut Wren heaved a sigh of resignation.
“We need to tell the police where she is,” said Wren. “She can get proper care for her bullet wound and she won’t be able to hurt Maureen.”
Brock was all fury as he said, “Anyone who wants to harm Maureen deserves all that’s coming to them.”
“I agree.”
She looked around and found an old fashioned green rotary phone on a table. The cabin had a landline. It gave her an idea.
Ten minutes later Brock and Wren were back at her house again. She’d made an anonymous call to the local police using the landline phone, telling them she’d found a badly injured Rosa. They asked for her name but she just hung up. Even if someone did miraculously link her to the cabin, they couldn’t arrest her. Snowflake Bay was miles away from Graham Lake.
“What happened?” Maureen asked.
She was giving Sonny the cat a bath in the kitchen sink. He was enjoying it, just sitting in the warm water and letting Maureen wash him. Wren could swear there was even a satisfied smile on his face.
“I like warm water,” said Sonny, purring contentedly. “It reminds me of Mommy.”
Wren sat down at the kitchen table, trying to work out what to do next. Rosa was not the one after Maureen, or at least not actively trying to kill her (yet). Who was left? Would she just have to accept that anybody in town could want Maureen dead?
If only Maureen could remember where she hid her black book, if it hadn’t been burned in the fire. There might be some clue in there.
“We found Rosa,” Brock explained as he switched on the kettle. “She’d been shot. The wound was bad, but I think
she’ll pull through.”
“Is she the one trying to kill me?” Maureen asked.
Her friend deserved the truth. She could handle it.
“She isn’t the one trying to kill you,” said Wren. “But she was stalking you, and she did admit that she wanted you dead.”
Maureen nodded, as if accepting the fact that someone else wanted her dead.
“I caught a mouse this morning,” Sonny declared proudly.
Wren couldn’t help but laugh. She wished she could be a cat and be so content.
Brock and Wren drank some matcha tea to calm them down while Maureen moved onto bathing her other cats. They all let her do what she wanted without any fuss whatsoever. Wren was a little envious. If she even mentioned the bath to Gracie, she’d run off and not come back for hours.
SEBASTIAN BARR OPENED the door.
“What do you want?” he demanded. There was a hand rolled cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. It stank. “Haven’t you annoyed me enough for a lifetime?”
“I have some news and I don’t think you’ll like it,” said Wren.
“If you’re talking about Maureen being killed in a fire then I’ve heard. It’s sad but I never really liked her very much anyway.” He shivered. “She used to stare at me like she was looking through my very soul.”
“I know what you did with Rosa.”
She’d never seen anyone switch from annoyed to devastated so quickly. He leaned against the door frame, like he couldn’t even stand.
“The police found her?” he asked. “Is she okay?”
“You could’ve killed her,” Wren accused. “She needed to go to hospital!”
“No!” he shouted. “I’d never let her die. I love her so much. I know how to deal with a bullet wound. I learned about that in my first year at medical school.”
“Then why did she end up in your cabin in Graham Lake?”
He sighed. “You better come in.”
She entered his apartment, silently telling Brock to stay outside. They didn’t need his intimidating presence putting Sebastian off. If there was a chance he knew who shot Rosa then she had to be careful.