by C Farren
He sat down in a ratty looking armchair. It creaked under him. “I had to take her there,” he stated. “It made her feel safe.”
She sat on the small two-seater sofa. It smelled like mildew. “Why drive her all the way to your cabin and just leave her there?” Wren asked. “She needed a hospital.”
“She was scared they’d try to kill her again,” said Sebastian. He smiled and said, “I took her to that cabin once when we first started seeing each other. The cabin was a present from my wife’s father for our wedding. I always loved that place.” He started tapping his fingers on his knee. “Rosa proposed to me when I took her to the cabin to heal, you know that? It wasn’t until that moment when I knew she actually loved me. It wasn’t until then that I knew I loved her.”
Wren knew Rosa loved Sebastian too. It had started out as a way to get near to Maureen, but it had ended up so much more. It was actually quite romantic, if you discounted the stalking and gunshot wounds.
“Did you never think of just telling your wife the truth?” Wren asked.
“I was a coward, okay?” He sighed and took a swift puff of his cigarette. Wren coughed, the smoke irritating her lungs. “I liked my life simple without any aggravation. Like I told you the other day Maureen ruining my marriage was the best thing to happen to me. My wife chucked me out and I was glad. I could finally be with Rosa. Of course, then I went to Rosa’s apartment for the first time and found that awful room full of photos of Maureen.”
A cockroach crawled across the floor. Wren wanted to vomit.
“That didn’t put you off?” she asked, eyes searching for more errant bugs.
He shook his head. “I knew she loved me, even when she told me she only started dating me so she could keep a close eye on Maureen.”
“Did she tell you what her end game was with Maureen?” said Wren.
“I don’t think even she knew. She told me she’d resented Maureen for years but had gradually gotten over it. There was some documentary producer or something that brought back all the bad memories, and she went looking for Maureen. She saw Maureen going shopping for cat beds in the city and I think all the hatred and resentment came flooding back. I don’t think Rosa meant her any harm, at least not that I was aware of. I think she just wanted to keep tabs on her.”
He may have loved Rosa but he didn’t know her very well. He didn’t know what she could have become if another stalker hadn’t shot her. How ironic that the one person who truly wanted Maureen dead inadvertently stopped someone else from eventually killing her.
I’ll have to taunt the killer with that once I unmask them.
“I think she kind of regrets the whole stalking thing now,” said Sebastian.
“I kind of got that impression too,” said Wren. “A little, anyway.”
Wren only hoped it was over. When the real killer was unmasked, they had to be sure Rosa was over her obsession with Maureen. A restraining order might be in order.
“What happened on the day Rosa was shot?” Wren asked.
“She called me and said she’d been spying on Maureen and noticed something odd,” he explained. He put his cigarette out on an ashtray shaped like a heart. “She was hiding in the ruins of some toy store that got demolished on Main Street in Snowflake Bay, watching your coffee shop. It was dark. She said the lights went out and someone in a hoodie snuck into the building. She took some photos of them going in and coming out again about a minute later. She tried following but lost them.”
“That was the night someone strangled Maureen.”
“She went back home and looked through her photos and found that someone else had been following Maureen. She recognized the same hoodie wearing person as the one who drove the car at her outside the hospital. The hooded person was on a lot of photos, hiding, though only dating back a few months.
Did the choice of fashion, a hoodie, mean the person trying to kill Maureen was young?
“Did she know who it was?” Wren asked
Wren already knew the answer, as Rosa had told her, but wanted Eddie’s version of events. Their stories matched.
He looked away. “That’s when the phone went dead. When I went to her apartment to see if she was okay I found her in the bathroom. Someone had shot her in the stomach.”
He started to cry. Wren felt awkward, like she was intruding on his grief, but also a little annoyed. He should have come clean sooner. Lives were at stake.
“I was carrying her body to my car when I noticed that there were several gaps on her photo wall,” said Eddie. “Someone had taken several of the photos, probably the ones with the hooded person on.”
Wren had noticed the gaps too. She just assumed the photos weren’t important or maybe they were out of focus.
“Did she give you any clue as to who this person was?” Wren asked.
“I wish she had,” he said. “Then I would’ve gone after them myself.”
“Did she ever mention anything about Deputy Keegan Fisher? I know he went to see her. They found his card in her trash.”
“She mentioned he came to see her, but she didn’t know who was trying to kill Maureen, and that’s what she told him. He gave her his card and then left.”
Wren nodded. Rosa might have been the last person to see Keegan before he disappeared. But where did he go from there? What would his next logical step be?
“Did you speak to Keegan?” Wren asked.
“I’ve already told you I did,” said Sebastian. “He turned up at the unemployment agency but I refused to see him. I said I was busy.”
“Was this after he talked to Rosa?”
“It was after. Rosa called me to tell me he was coming.”
Sebastian and Rosa’s stories synched up. They were both telling her the truth. Neither of them had anything to with the attempts on Maureen’s life. In fact, it was the opposite. They’d given her information on who the culprit might be. While it was true they might be lying to conceal their own crimes, she didn’t think so. Rosa had photographic proof of the person who was targeting Maureen.
I really need to talk to Rosa again. I forgot to ask her if she’d backed up her photos on a computer or the Cloud.
“Does Rosa back up her photos somehow?” Wren asked.
“She uses an old-fashioned camera,” said Sebastian. “She inherited it from her grandfather.”
“Does she still have the photo’s negatives?”
“It’s possible. She doesn’t throw them away.”
Wren grimaced, remembering something from the photo room. There’d been a pile of ash in the bin where she’d found Keegan’s card. What if the killer had burnt the negatives right there and then?
“Have you told me the absolute truth this time?” Wren demanded.
“You know everything Rosa and I know,” said Sebastian. “Just promise me you’ll find the monster that did this to my Rosa. She didn’t deserve to be shot like that.”
“Just another thing. Did you clean up after Rosa got shot? There must have been an awful lot of blood.”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t have the time. Why?”
The killer had come back later to clean up their mess. They did a pretty good job too, almost like they were a professional.
Pilar owned her own small cleaning business. She’d have all the necessary cleaning solvents to get rid of so much blood.
There wasn’t anything much else he could tell her at the moment, so she bade him goodbye and left. When she exited the building, a police car was pulling up. They were obviously here to inform him that Rosa had been found.
I hope he doesn’t get into trouble. He did help a potential murderer hide out after all.
“What do you think?” Brock asked after she’d told him what Sebastian said. They were back home. Maureen was still washing the cats. She was very thorough. “Do you think he’s lying? Maybe he was trying to kill Maureen and Rosa found out and he shot her to shut her up.”
“I believe him,” said Wren.
A
wet cat leaped from the kitchen sink and made a beeline for the cat flap. Brock grabbed her and picked her up. The poor little feline looked so tiny with all their fur slicked back, like a new-born.
“You’re not going anywhere,” said Brock. “Naughty cat.”
The cat scratched him on the arm. He screamed and let go. The cat ran through the cat flap and towards freedom. Wren didn’t worry it would run away. Maureen’s cats never went very far. They’d be lost without her.
“You’re a wimp,” said Wren, laughing.
Brock showed her the scratch on his arm. “Look at that! I didn’t bleed that much when I died!”
“How did you die?” Maureen asked.
Wren had learned that wasn’t a question you asked an angel. It was something very personal. They only told you if they wanted to. She’d yet to ask Brock his cause of death and had been waiting for him to reveal all in time. He’s given her a few clues over time. She figured he might have been killed in some war, though she couldn’t figure out which one.
“I got shot in the Great War,” said Brock. He was staring at the wound on his arm like it was really bothering him. “I only joined the army because my brothers had already died during combat and I wanted to prove I was just as good as they were. I got shot by a German soldier the very first time I went into battle.”
“Oh, Brock,” said Wren.
“Did you not get enough training?” Maureen asked.
“I was arrogant,” said Brock. “I thought I was better than my brothers. I thought I could sail through the war without even a bruise. I was wrong.”
Maureen wiped her wet hands with a towel and walked over and gave Brock a hug. Wren knew she should say something but didn’t want to spoil the moment. The angel had opened up to Maureen as he hadn’t been able to with her. It actually made her a little jealous.
He’s my angel. Why can’t he be honest with me?
“I have something to ask you later,” said Maureen. She added shyly, “If that’s okay with you.”
Wren winced. She wasn’t looking forward to this.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” said Brock solemnly.
You may live to regret that.
Chapter 24
The next day dawned, and with it another sensational headline. Rosa was being charged with Maureen’s murder, and Sebastian as an accessory. The press painted her as a deranged stalker with murderous intent (which wasn’t far off the mark) and thus the case was considered closed.
“I’m telling you it wasn’t Rosa,” Wren insisted. She’d been on the phone with Sheriff Fisher for five minutes now. “What about the photos that were stolen of the person in the hoodie? And who shot Rosa if not the real killer?”
“She probably shot herself to make her story more believable,” said the sheriff. “You only have her word that any of this is true. Believe me, Wren, we have our killer. Maureen can come out of hiding now.”
It was like talking to a brick wall. Sheriff Fisher usually gave her more leeway than this. Keegan going missing was clouding his judgement.
“This isn’t over,” Wren insisted. “What if you’re wrong? What if Rosa didn’t try to kill Maureen? If you make Maureen come out now, she could die and we’ll lose an innocent woman and we’ll never find Keegan.”
The other end of the phone went quiet. Deputy Stark was talking loudly in the background.
The sheriff sighed. “Look, I’ll give you another day to look into this.”
Wren thanked him and said, “I think we should go ahead with the funeral. It’s already arranged for tomorrow anyway, right? The killer is going to turn up, I just know it. All we have to do is keep watch.”
“I should say no but I can’t think of anything else.” He was quiet for a beat before adding, “I sat on Keegan’s bed last night. I imagined him never coming back and it broke me. One minute I’m sure he’s still alive out there and another I’m sure he’s dead. We have to find him. One way or another I have to know.”
“We will.”
Wren went into the bathroom to wash her face. She needed to get ready to start phoning people for the funeral. It would be hard, especially as Maureen was still alive, but it was worth it. There was still a potential killer out there.
Maureen was in the bath, smothered in lavender bubbles. She smiled and blew a bubble towards her.
“Maureen!” Wren declared. The bubble popped before it reached her. “I didn’t see you. How long have you been there?”
She shrugged. “An hour. My skin is all wrinkly now.”
Wren sat on the toilet seat and stared at her friend.
“What’s the matter?” Wren asked.
Maureen was deep in thought. “I asked Brock if he would take my virginity last night and he said no.”
“I figured he would,” said Wren. “He may have a dubious past when it comes to women but he’s still a gentleman.”
It was probably the wrong thing to say, but Wren was a little torn. She was glad Brock had turned her down. Maureen’s first time should be with someone she loved, or at least cared about.
Maureen idly swished her hands around in the water. “I’m not upset. I’m not. He wouldn’t want to be with a person like me. I’m fifty years old and I look like a sack of potatoes. I accept that. I don’t really care what I look like or what people say about me. It’s just... Brock is an angel. He’s special.”
“Do you love him? Do you care about him?”
“I see him as a friend; a friend with the most perfect features of anyone I’ve ever seen.”
Brock had that effect on everybody. The fact that his beauty was getting to even someone like Maureen was alarming.
“Will you be okay?” Wren asked.
“I’m going to stay in the bath for a bit longer,” she said lazily. “Then I might trim the cats’ claws. That’s always fun.”
Maureen needed something to occupy her time. Her cats may need constant attention, but she needed a job. There was a reason she worked at the unemployment office when she didn’t need to.
“Your funeral is on for tomorrow,” said Wren. “We’re hoping to lure out the killer.”
“I wish I could go,” Maureen moaned. “I want to know what people really think of me.”
An idea came to Wren. “Let me talk to Benedict. We’ll see what we can do.”
Maureen leaned back in the bath and closed her eyes. Wren left her to it.
Downstairs was the same as usual. Gracie was still nesting, Casper was still on guard, and Darcy was glaring daggers at them. The other cats were lounging about on various surfaces from the couch to the top of the bookcase. She could smell them now. The bouquet of fourteen cats was quite pungent first thing in a morning.
Brock was sitting in the kitchen, idly staring at a bowl of cereal. He looked thoroughly miserable.
“I suppose Maureen told you what happened,” he said.
She sat down at the table. “Yes.”
“Maureen is a grand woman, but I’m in love with Fiona. It would have been wrong to sleep with another.”
Wren poured some cereal into a bowl, followed by some fresh milk. There was something else bothering Brock. He was probably disappointed about turning Maureen down, but it wouldn’t make him look this depressed.
“Fiona might be coming back soon,” he revealed.
Wren grinned. “That’s wonderful! I’ve missed having her around.” She closed her mouth when she realized this was what was bothering him. “Oh. Right. That means you’ll be going back to Heaven, right?”
He took a spoonful of cereal and took his time chewing it.
“I like it here,” he said eventually. “It’s interesting. It feels like I’ve got a life at last.” He looked at her and said, “I was raised on a farm. I loved my family, but living on that farm felt like being in jail. All I did was hard, boring farm work until I was twenty-five and I joined the army. Then I died. I never fell in love. I didn’t have a career. I had nothing. I briefly considered running. I wanted to b
e in the Olympics, but my parents said people like us weren’t meant for things like that.” He brightened up a tad. “But here I have friends, and I have a purpose, and it feels great. I don’t want to leave.” He laughed a little. “To think I admonished Fiona for liking it here too much and I go and fall in love with Snowflake Bay and its residents too. It would be perfect, so perfect, if Fiona could be here with as all at the same time.”
She really wanted to cheer him up and make his last few days on Earth count.
“We still have a killer to catch,” said Maureen. “Do you still want to help me? You thought it was your reason for being here after all.”
“I don’t know,” said Brock. “It depresses me to know I won’t know how this case will end up.”
“I’m sure Fiona can pop back up to Heaven and tell you.”
“I guess.”
He ate some more cereal.
I’ve failed to get through to him.
“Damn right I do,” he declared. He stood, all action and positivity again. “I won’t let this psychopath get away with it any longer!”
Wren laughed. He really was a character.
Brock left to get dressed just as Casper leaped up onto the kitchen table.
“Can we talk, Wren-woman?” Casper asked.
“We haven’t really had time, have we?” said Wren.
“I want to thank you for letting me take care of you. I did not need a place to stay, but you seemed to need someone, and I stayed to make you happy. It made me happy too.”
Wren didn’t know what to say. Should she thank him?
“Thank you,” said Wren.
“You are welcome,” said Casper.
He started to clean his paws.
“I miss my former landlady, but her new home smells strange and it is very small,” Casper explained, talking about her former neighbor Mrs. Rison, whose house Benedict now lived in. “She has a new creature living with her now, a dog smaller than I am. It barked at me like I was weak and it was strong, but I clawed his nose. I showed him who is superior. He will grant cats the respect they deserve from now on.”