by E. M. Parker
Fiona’s legs suddenly felt unsteady. She pointed at the couch. “Do you mind?”
“Oh gosh, where are my manners? Of course not.”
Fiona sat, thankful that she could do so before her legs gave out. After a few quiet breaths, she said, “We have an eight-year-old son, Jacob.”
Iris beamed. “That’s wonderful. Such a great age. I’d love to meet him. Where is he?”
“He… he lives with his father.”
Iris’s smile promptly went away. “I see.”
“That’s the reason I’m here. To be closer to him. There are some things that I need to change to have the relationship with him that I want.” Fiona thought about her near-miss tonight. “I’m slowly getting there.”
“Well, there isn’t a more powerful force in the universe than a mother’s love for her child. I feel that love from you, and I’m sure your son does too. You’ll do your work and you’ll be the mother that you want to be again. I have no doubts about that.”
Fiona hadn’t heard words of encouragement like that in a long time, and she breathed them in like oxygen. “Thank you. I’m really trying.”
“I know you are. And I know it’s not easy. If you need any support or advice along the way, I’ve been around the block a few times. My Quinn is thirty-four, but in a lot of ways he still acts like he’s eight, so I can relate to what you’re going through.”
Fiona met the offer with a genuine smile. “Deal. But we should save that conversation for another day.”
“You’re absolutely right. Much more pressing business to attend to. How about that coffee I promised?”
“Sounds great,” Fiona said as she rose to her feet. “Can I help?”
“Nope. I’ll only be a minute. You just sit here and relax.” With that, Iris disappeared into the kitchen.
Fiona took the opportunity to walk around the apartment. The vast array of knick-knacks and collectibles were rivaled in sheer number only by her family photographs. Though there were a few more of Sam, the majority featured her son. From infant pictures, to prom and graduation pictures, there was little doubt about who the true light of her life was. The most recent pictures showed Iris and her adult son sitting in the stands during a Denver Broncos game. He was a handsome man, despite his flat, joyless expression. As she looked closer, Fiona realized that Quinn had barely smiled in any of the pictures. Ah yes, the strong, brooding type, Fiona thought. She fell for them every time. Exciting at first, but they always broke your heart in the end. She’d wondered how many hearts Quinn had broken. From the looks of it, certainly not his mother’s.
Almost on cue, Iris emerged from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. “Told you I’d be quick. This Keurig machine is amazing. The coffee is done in thirty seconds, and it’s perfect every time.” She sat the tray down on the table. “Not sure how you take it, but I have milk and stevia here.”
“Black is fine,” Fiona said as she took a mug.
“I’m with you on that. Cheers.”
Fiona tapped Iris’s raised mug. “Cheers. Thank you for having me over. I would have been entirely too nervous to go back to my apartment right now.”
“I hear you. I had to laugh when that detective told us to get some sleep. Like that was even a remote possibility after what just happened here.”
“What do you think happened here?”
“Maybe we should sit,” Iris answered, promptly moving to one end of the couch.
Fiona sat at the other end. “Detective Sullivan’s card said she was from the Major Crimes Unit. To me that translates to homicide. She didn’t exactly say that he was murdered, but her presence here pretty much implies it. Don’t you think?”
“Donald was murdered. There’s no doubt about it.” Iris didn’t even blink as she said the words. “The ‘why’ and ‘how’ is another question altogether.”
Fiona took a long pull from her coffee mug. As the warm liquid touched her lips, an image of the empty whiskey bottle in the bottom of her trashcan flashed in her mind. She blinked and it went away. “Do you think the detective knows more than she’s saying?”
“I’m sure she thinks she knows what happened. And she might be right. Most likely, she’s not. Either way, she would never tell us.”
“So what do you know that she doesn’t?”
It was the question that brought Fiona here, and now that she’d asked it, Iris seemed hesitant to answer. She took a slow sip from her coffee mug and gently put it down on the table. “Corona Heights is a very interesting place. Being here for the short time you have, you’ve probably already come to realize that.”
Fiona nodded. “Interesting is certainly one way to put it.”
“Had you gotten a sneak preview before you signed the lease, you probably would have kept looking. Am I right?”
“One hundred percent.”
Iris smiled. “I figured as much. I’ve only lived here for two years, but I’ve heard plenty of stories from the old-timers, the ones who managed to stick around anyway. They would tell you that it hasn’t always been this way. It used to be a pleasant place to live. There was once a waiting list to get in if you can believe that. Neighbors talked to each other. There were families on every floor. People cared. It was so different.”
“What happened?”
“Most of the good people moved out.”
“Why?”
Iris took another long drink from her coffee until it was gone. “That was delicious. Would you like another cup?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” Iris was stalling and Fiona wasn’t taking the bait.
“Yeah, I should probably stop too. I would like to get to sleep at some point.”
“Why did most of the good people leave?”
After another moment of hesitation, Iris finally dove in. “It apparently started some years ago with a family on the third floor. John and Lisa Coleman and their two daughters Caitlyn and Anna. The four of them were found dead by Arthur the maintenance supervisor after other tenants kept complaining about strange smells. It was eventually reported on the news that they had been dead for a week and a half. No one knows for sure how or why, but each of them was found with arsenic in their systems. There were empty cups next to each body. Whether they were forced to drink it or each of them did so willingly was a question that the police couldn’t answer. They seemed like such a good, loving family. No one could imagine them doing this to themselves. But there was no sign that anyone had broken into the apartment and nothing was disturbed. If someone made them drink it, the Coleman’s didn’t put up much of a fight.”
“Was it some kind of murder suicide?”
“A couple of the tenants who knew John and Lisa pretty well claimed that they’d had marital problems in the past. There was apparently infidelity on Lisa’s part. They told their friends they were receiving marriage counseling, but John had changed. He became withdrawn, started drinking a lot. The arguments became constant. Lisa threatened to leave with the girls, but nothing ever came of it. Time had seemed to heal their wounds. They were getting better as a couple. John stopped drinking and eventually forgave her for the affair. Just when it looked like they were fully back on track as a family, they were all found dead.”
“That’s awful,” Fiona said with a shudder.
“Unfortunately, it gets worse. After the Coleman’s were found, people started reporting unusual disturbances to the building manager.”
“What kinds of disturbances?”
“The smells for one thing. Even after the apartment had been cleared out and thoroughly cleaned, people on the floor said they could smell the stench of the Coleman’s death for months afterward. It would be fine for days, then out of the blue it would hit them. Some said it was so strong that it came through their doors and vents. Then came the noises.”
“Noises?”
“Footsteps in the hallway with no one actually being there, the sound of children crying…”
Fiona put her hands up to stop Iris. “You’re putting
me on with all of this, right?”
“I know it sounds crazy, and I wasn’t around to personally experience any of this. But apparently, a lot of people did, and they moved away because of it.”
“So you’re telling me Corona Heights is haunted?”
“No, but what I am telling you is that a lot of strange things, unexplained things, have happen here. The knocking on the walls, for instance.”
That stopped Fiona’s skepticism cold. “The what?”
“The knocking on the walls late at night. That is the one thing I have experienced. It usually occurred in the same spot in my bedroom, normally around ten or eleven at night. I would have chalked it up to my neighbors having a little too much fun, except there was no one living in the apartment adjacent to mine at the time.”
Fiona thought back to her conversation with Olivia. She had essentially said the same thing. Though she was afraid to confirm it, she knew that Iris would draw the same conclusion about where the knocking originated from. “So you’re saying it came from my apartment?”
“I can’t say that with certainty. It’s more likely that it was something in the wall itself.”
“That’s not much better, is it?”
“I can see that I’m starting to frighten you with this talk, and I’m sorry. Honestly, there was probably nothing more to it than bad plumbing.”
The same thing that Olivia’s mother said.
“Your apartment is not haunted,” Iris continued. And neither is mine. I only brought it up to illustrate my point about the building.”
“Which is?”
Iris looked as if she was beginning to regret that the conversation even came up. “Again, I’m not trying to scare you with any of this.”
“Too late.”
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t. But the cat is already out of the bag, so you may as well tell me everything.”
“I have told you everything.”
“You told me about a family that died years ago, and unexplained knocking on your wall. How does any of that relate to what happened tonight?”
Iris took a deep breath of resignation. “Okay. You asked me earlier if Donald’s death was an anomaly.”
“That’s right. And you told me it wasn’t. What you haven’t told me is why.”
“Donald Tisdale is not an anomaly because there have been more mysterious deaths in this building per capita than anywhere else in the state that isn’t a hospital or psychiatric institution. It’s an absolute fact. Go online and search for yourself.”
Fiona suddenly wished that she had just gone to bed. “So, you are telling me that Corona Heights is haunted.”
“Cursed may be a more apt description.”
“My God, what’s the difference?”
“Haunted implies that a foreign energy, possibly malevolent in nature, is occupying a particular space and claiming it as its own. Corona Heights is cursed, in my opinion, because its dark energy does not come from a foreign source, but is instead embedded in its very foundation. The building is the source.”
Fiona swallowed hard, her mind too numb to produce a suitable retort. “What are you basing this on aside from your opinion?”
“I’ve lived here a long time. I’ve seen a lot, I felt a lot. I’ve seen young people come here bright-eyed, optimistic, and full of life. By the time they move out, many of those same people are cynical, unhappy, and even depressed. Some are in poor physical health. They probably couldn’t tell you why this is any more than I could. But I’ve seen it happen too many times to know that it’s some kind of fluke.”
“So why are you still here? Why haven’t you become one of those cynical, unhappy former residents that this place is apparently so good at producing?”
Iris took a moment to consider her answer. “I guess I’m one of the lucky ones. Besides, this is my home. I have way too much invested here to be run out by anyone or anything. And every now and then, my faith that good people can once again occupy this place is renewed. It was certainly renewed when I met you. Corona Heights won’t get the better of you. I have no doubts about that. Your strength is undeniable. It’s a strength forged out of hardship and struggle. You’ve been through a lot to get here and you aren’t going to let anything get in the way of your destiny with your son, least of all anything that happens here. You don’t have a thing to worry about.”
“Tell that to my hands.” Fiona could barely control the shaking as she lifted them in the air.
Iris took Fiona’s hands and held them in hers. “This news has been a bit traumatic for everyone, myself included. I don’t like revisiting the history of this place, but events like Donald’s death make it necessary. I’m telling you all this only to provide you with context, not to make you feel worried or to make you want to move away. I know I’ve only just met you, but I like having you here, and I hope you’ll stick around. If you do, you’ll be fine. Please trust me on that.”
“I haven’t been fine so far.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not my only next door neighbor.”
Iris’s face flashed with recognition. “Right. The Shelby’s in 607.”
“So now I know their last name. What else can you tell me about them?”
Iris sat back on the couch, clearly hesitant to broach the subject. “Not much. Natalie apparently moved in a few years before I did. Never been much for friendly conversation, that one. In two years, I can probably count the number times we’ve talked on one hand. Same with her boyfriend. What a certified piece of crap he is.”
Fiona could certainly vouch for that.
“Honestly, they both could use some work, or maybe a kick in the behind by someone willing to teach them some manners.”
“What about their daughter?”
Iris was silent, as if her question did not fully register.
“Olivia.” Fiona added.
“Yes, of course. Olivia. Sweet girl from what I’ve seen. Far cry from her mother. I would love to get to know her more, but she never seems to be around.”
“You don’t run into her in the hallways or outside?”
“I’ve seen her once or twice on the children’s playground, but that was some time ago. I once baked a plate of cookies and brought them over, but Natalie told me that Olivia was not feeling well and couldn’t come to the door. She wouldn’t even accept the cookies for crying out loud. How rude can you get?”
“When was the last time you actually saw her?”
Iris paused to search her memory. “Honestly, I can’t even tell you. I know it’s been a while.” She paused again. “Wait, that’s not true. I saw her with Noah walking down the hall to the elevators. Had to be a month ago. They were some distance away and I only saw them from the back, but I’m pretty sure it was her.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that you never see her anywhere? It’s the middle of the school year. She should be out and about all the time.”
“If you really knew the people in 607, you wouldn’t think it was strange at all. Natalie barely leaves her apartment. Such a waste too. She’s entirely too young to be a shut-in. I don’t know what they do for money, but as long as they don’t bring trouble to my doorstep, it really isn’t my business to know.”
“I actually talked to Olivia.”
Iris looked surprised. “You did? When?”
“Last night.”
“But I thought you hadn’t met them yet?”
“I haven’t. Not Natalie or her boyfriend anyway.” Fiona paused as she considered how to word the next part. “I actually talked to Olivia through my bedroom wall.”
“Come again?”
“I was sitting in my bedroom when I suddenly hear this voice asking me if I was okay. I’d been a little upset and she must have heard me. At first I thought I was hearing things, but as she continued, I eventually realized that it was real.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me her na
me, how old she was, really basic stuff. I got the feeling she just wanted someone to talk to.” Fiona was only telling half the story, but she had no desire to go down Iris’s cursed building rabbit hole again – even if Olivia had basically echoed the sentiment.
“How long did you talk?” a now riveted Iris asked.
“Just a couple of minutes. She heard her mother coming and I think she was afraid of getting in trouble for being awake. It was pretty late.”
“Well, that’s one more conversation than I’ve had with her.”
Fiona couldn’t tell if the tone in Iris’s voice was jealousy or irritation. Either way, she thought it best to abandon the discussion.
“I really appreciate the coffee and the great company, but I think I should at least attempt to get some sleep. Hopefully the next time we do this it will be under much better circumstances.”
Iris looked disappointed even as she nodded her understanding. “I’m the one who should be thanking you. I needed the company much more than you realize. I know the conversation was a bit dark at times, but I really do feel better about things now, especially knowing that you won’t be moving out the moment the sun comes up.”
“I promise I won’t. For better or worse, I’ll be here a while.”
“I choose to think of it as for the better.”
“Then I will too,” Fiona said with a tired smile.
They stood up and Iris held her arms out for an embrace. Despite the tenor of their conversation, Fiona felt a genuine sense of comfort in Iris’s presence, and her embrace reflected that.
“Thank you, my dear. I certainly needed that.”
“Me too, Iris.”
When they finally let go, Iris looked at her with a wide smile and said, “Let’s say we end this on a wildly positive note.”
“I’m all for that.”
Iris picked up a small black box off the coffee table and handed it to Fiona. “For you.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
When she did she saw a smooth, oval-shaped purple stone attached to a necklace. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’ve had it for a long time. It’s an amulet that supposedly wards off bad energy and invites good. I can’t tell you with scientific certainty that it works, but I certainly feel like it does. I want you to have it.”