Scrapbook of the Dead

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  “Well, that’s good to know,” Annie said, stopping at the corner of Cookie’s street, which is where she usually turned off when they walked together. “I’ll miss you, Cookie.” She hugged her.

  “I’m not going anywhere just yet,” Cookie said. “I’ve got a long way to go. I’m still in my little house, thanks to the folks from my agency who have been paying for the place. I’ll be there for some time.” She paused. “Good night, Annie.”

  “Good night.” Annie watched Cookie walk away for a few seconds before turning up the street to head home. Cookie, an operative? She must be an important one if her agency was paying the bills and working with her on her memories. But, as Cookie had said, the Martelino sisters and the ritual had shaken something up in her memories. For the first time in months, Annie felt a glimmer of hope for Cookie.

  It was a chilly autumn night, and Annie thought she smelled rain. The wind was kicking up, scattering leaves across the sidewalk. She pulled her scarf in tighter. The weather forecasters were calling for the first snow of the year tomorrow. She believed it.

  Suddenly, a person was standing in front of her on the sidewalk. A woman. Annie couldn’t see her face, but for a moment it looked like Vera.

  Startled, Annie stepped back, outside of the light and into the shadows. “Vera?” she said quietly.

  The woman’s hand went up and Annie realized that a gun was pointed toward her. A shot sounded and she hit the sidewalk hard as pain ripped through her body. Was she shot? Had she been shot?

  “Cumberland Creek Police. Stand down,” Annie heard a voice yell. “Drop the gun.”

  “Drop the gun. Stand down,” the voice said again before Annie drifted away.

  Annie came to in the ambulance. “Have I been shot?” she asked the paramedic hovering over her.

  “No, ma’am. You’ve had a bit of a shock and you have quite a bump on your head.”

  “Hurts,” Annie said and fell back into a cloud of fitful sleep.

  “What’s going on? Where’s my wife?” Annie heard Mike’s voice as she drifted awake again. She opened her eyes. She was in a room. She turned her head. No, a hallway . . . and there was her man.

  “Annie. God,” Mike said, tears in his eyes. “What happened?”

  “Sir, we need you to step away for a moment,” Annie heard through the haze. “She’s going to be fine. She’s just had a nasty fall and has a bump on her head. Probably a concussion.”

  “Mike?” Annie reached for his hand.

  His arm extended around the doctor and his hand, strong, secure, held hers. As always.

  When she next opened her eyes, Mike was sitting on the edge of her bed as if guarding her. “She’s had a bad time of it. I don’t think she can talk,” he said defensively to Bryant and Bixby.

  “We’re not here to ask her questions,” Sheriff Bixby said. “We’re here to give her answers.”

  “Answers?” Annie muttered.

  Mike stood. “You’re awake.” He leaned in and kissed her gently.

  “You’ve helped us catch a murderer,” Bryant said. “It’s the least we can do.”

  “Nice shiner,” Annie managed to say to him and smiled.

  “Yours is prettier,” Bryant replied.

  “Answers?” Mike said impatiently.

  “We let Jorge go this morning. After talking with him, we knew he was covering for somebody,” Bryant said. “He was scared. We were keeping him for his own safety.”

  Annie’s head ached. Things were not making much sense to her. Kept him for his own safety?

  “It was his aunt,” Sheriff Bixby said. “Irina. She killed both Martelinos and was going to kill you. Jorge suspected her. He suspects that she also killed others over the years, but we have no proof of that yet.”

  “Irina?” Annie managed to say. She pictured the older woman’s face, her calm composure, the way she tended to Michelle Drummond. And then Annie also remembered how she’d called her nephew names and snapped at him. But still, kill someone?

  “Why?” Mike asked. “Why? I don’t understand.”

  “Turns out Emma Drummond had changed her will recently to include Irina. Emma’s fortune was to be split between Michelle and Irina. But Irina had already started making plans to get rid of Michelle. She didn’t get far. Esmeralda found out and told Marina. They confronted her,” Bryant said.

  “So she got rid of them before killing Michelle. It was the only way she could get away with it,” Sheriff Bixby said.

  Annie’s stomach twisted. The young women had been killed for the sake of money.

  “Why the crafting tools and scrapbook pages?” Annie asked. “I don’t get it.”

  Bryant shrugged. “Irina is a deeply disturbed woman. I’m surprised she’s held it together this long. We’ve asked her about it and she just said she likes to make things nice and pretty.”

  Annie shivered. She remembered the woman saying those exact same words to her.

  “You must have known she’d come after Annie. You were already on the street,” Mike said. His voice registered at least two octaves higher than normal.

  “We thought she might come after Annie because she was afraid Annie was on to her. We didn’t know for sure. It was just a theory,” Sheriff Bixby said. “But we kept an eye on her and wouldn’t have let anything happen to Annie.”

  “You set her up. Something did happen to her,” Mike said. “She has a concussion. It could have been so much worse. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Look Mike, we were very careful about this. She’s going to be fine. I’d never jeopardize Annie’s life,” Bryant said a little too emphatically.

  Mike’s eye’s narrowed. “I should have beat the shit out of you years ago.”

  “What? Whoa—” Sheriff Bixby moved quickly to stand between them.

  “Mike—”

  “I’m glad Jacob hit you, you son of a bitch,” Mike raged. “How dare you use my wife like that! I catch you around Annie again . . .”

  Bryant started to leave the room then turned and looked at Annie, momentarily revealing far too much emotion with his eyes.

  Annie looked away.

  “Later, Bryant,” Sheriff Bixby said forcefully.

  “I’m so glad you won’t have to work with him again,” Mike said. “I’m so glad this is your last story.”

  Annie’s chest felt a burn of emotion. Tears stung her eyes and a wave of nausea overcame her. “I feel sick,” she said, and reached for a nearby container.

  Chapter 64

  “Well, how about that?” Emma said when Beatrice explained the Irina situation to her. “You mean she was eventually planning to kill Michelle so that she could have everything when I go?”

  Beatrice nodded. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  They were in Emma’s small room looking out of her window at the view of the mountains. Most of the leaves were gone and the black trees stood out against the bright sky.

  “I trusted her,” Emma said, looking crestfallen. The light played across her papery, wrinkled skin.

  “It’s awful what money can do to people,” Beatrice said. “But somehow Marina and Esmeralda found out about her plot to kill Michelle.”

  “How?”

  “Jorge told us they found her filling pill capsules with some kind of poison. She tried to shrug it off, but Marina knew about the change in your will because Irina told her about it,” Bea said.

  “So she killed Marina because she knew too much,” Emma said, her face fallen, head nodding back and forth slowly.

  “And Esmeralda, too, just in case Marina had told her,” Beatrice said.

  The two of them sat a few minutes and listened to some old bluegrass music playing over the radio. Sounds of the banjo filled the room as they looked out the window and then fussed over their tea.

  “What about that poor man? I saw his name in the paper for assaulting that reporter,” Emma eventually asked.

  “Jorge is out of jail,” Beatrice said. “He wasn
’t really planning to attack Annie that night. He was trying to warn her.”

  “He knew, then?”

  “He strongly suspected. But he was afraid of Irina,” Beatrice said. “Still, he was keeping an eye on her, evidently, and trying to warn Annie. But she let him have it before he could explain. She’s tough.”

  Beatrice was thrilled that Annie seemed to have gotten her spark back. After the incident at Elsie’s B and B, Beatrice hadn’t been sure she ever would. Bea did feel sorry for Jorge—just a bit. After all, what did he think he was doing approaching a woman late on Halloween night while dressed in a clown costume?

  “How on earth did the woman get Marina’s body into the freezer at the Pie Palace?” Emma asked. “And why?”

  “Jorge says that Irina knew Marina was working alone one night and took advantage of it, attacked and killed her, then panicked and shoved her tiny body into the freezer—with a scrapbooking page. It’s so warped.”

  “Warped is right,” Emma said.

  “Well, at least Michelle is okay. Irina never did get to poison her,” Beatrice said. “I was over there yesterday and the new caretaker seems nice. She also said that they’ll be trying some new medicine on Michelle. She seemed hopeful that Michelle could tolerate it. Maybe you would, too.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’m comfortable here. I’m not sure my body can take another shock.” Emma paused. “Funny, when I was young, I burned to see the world. Now, I just want peace. And I think I’ve found it here in my little apartment.”

  A feeling of peace fell over Beatrice, as well. Emma was happy. After all these years. All it took was a dead husband and a pretty little apartment.

  “Emma, what did you mean when you said you killed Paul?” Beatrice asked. “Did you intentionally let him die when he had the heart attack? Surely not.”

  Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “I did, Bea. It was my only way out.”

  As Beatrice had dinner with her own husband, she relayed the conversation to him.

  Jon drank from his wineglass before speaking. “After her horrible life with her husband it sounds like she’s finally content, I know the feeling.” He reached out and grasped Bea’s hand for a moment.

  “Me, too,” said Beatrice, as she spread more butter onto her bread. Butter made everything better.

  “It’s so good to know that the police have found their killer,” Jon said. “It surprises me when I hear about female killers.”

  “I don’t know why. Women are every bit as capable of murder as men,” Beatrice said, thinking of Emma. “You ought to know that by now.”

  Jon nodded. “Yes. But I like to think of them as the gentler sex.”

  Beatrice grunted. “Whatever.” She resisted rolling her eyes.

  Jon snoozed on the couch while Beatrice looked over the news on the computer. It was true. Jorge had been released. Good. She read how Irina had worked for the Drummond family for six years. Six years! The article went on to say that she had a record in Mexico, which Hathaway Transatlantic had overlooked when placing her. Humph.

  “Sometimes, it’s just an oversight,” said Detective Adam Bryant of the Cumberland Creek Police. “Other times, families and friends help get criminals out of the country by paying agencies more money. Hathaway is currently under investigation. Not for the first time, I might add.”

  “Hathaway!” Beatrice muttered with vehemence.

  “What?” Jon said, sitting up, looking dazed. And cute. Cute as could be.

  Beatrice made her way over to the couch and snuggled next to him. “Nothing, Jon. Relax. Go back to sleep.”

  He slid his arm around her and she relaxed into the warmth of his touch.

  Chapter 65

  It was another Saturday night crop, just like any other. Except it really wasn’t.

  Annie looked like hell—pale and thinner than usual. Cookie sat quietly and stared off into space. Vera was busily working on her Halloween scrapbook. Paige and Randy were chattering about some family reunion and suddenly everything stopped when Sheila made the announcement that she had quit her dream job. Just like that.

  “Are you certain?” Vera asked.

  “Absolutely,” Sheila said. “I’ll be freelancing from home to finish up some projects I’ve been working on. Then I’m done. It was too much for me.”

  “That’s too bad,” Annie said. “I know how much it meant to you.”

  “Well, what about you?” Sheila said.

  “What do you mean?” Annie said.

  “You’re doing the same thing,” Sheila said. “Giving up a job you love for your family.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Vera said.

  “I’ve been a reporter for twenty-five years,” Annie said as she sorted through some photos. “It’s not the same thing at all. Um . . . or maybe it is. I don’t know. . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “We all do what we have to do,” Paige said. “Look at me. I’m still teaching and I wanted to retire years ago.” She shrugged.

  “Besides,” Sheila said. “I’m not really giving it up. I’ll be freelancing a good long while. I just can’t continue going like I have been. Once I get Donna on the right track with her health, it should be fine. It’s just bad timing.”

  “I think it sucks,” DeeAnn said. “Why doesn’t Steve help you out more with Donna? She’s his kid, too.”

  A hush fell over the room.

  “Now, DeeAnn, you know Steve helps where he can. His job is important. He still makes more money than I do and it takes him away from home a lot,” Sheila said. “And to tell you the truth, I want to be the one taking care of her. Call me old-fashioned or whatever you want.”

  “I totally get that,” Vera said.

  Murmurs of agreement came from the others around the table.

  “Just don’t forget to take care of yourself,” Cookie said.

  “I’m trying,” Sheila said. “Quitting my job is the first step.”

  “But didn’t you say how it nourished you?” DeeAnn asked.

  Annie looked up from what she was doing.

  “Yes,” Sheila said after a moment. “And I’ll always have the confidence the job gave me. But it’s not the job, but the actual work that nourished me. The art. I’ll have to think of a better way. Right now, I’ve been given the go-ahead from my boss to come up with a line of paper dolls, at a much slower pace than what I’ve been doing. Donna and I are going to do it together.”

  “How fantastic,” DeeAnn said.

  Murmurs of agreement swirled around the table again.

  DeeAnn bit into a lemon cupcake. She wasn’t a big fan of lemon, but the cupcake was good and refreshing.

  “No sugar,” Cookie said. “Can you believe it? I found the recipe in a book at the library. I really like them. What do you think?”

  “I think it’sh good,” DeeAnn said. “I can’t believe there’sh no sugar in it. But maybe that’sh why I like it so much. I don’t usually like lemon.”

  “You’re slurring your words again,” Paige said.

  “Well, I’m off my medicine, so it must be the booze,” DeeAnn said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have had that third glass of wine.” She giggled. “Damn smart, independent daughters made me stop taking those pain pills. And I gotta tell you, they were right. I might have been on my way to addiction.” She looked around the table at her friends.

  Sheila had gone back to the paper she was meticulously cutting out with tiny scissors. Annie and Vera were comparing their Halloween books. They appeared to be zipping right through those scrapbooks. Maybe doing a premade scrapbook was a good idea. DeeAnn had never tried it. In fact, she thought it was kind of cheating. But she was slowly changing her mind—about a lot of things. She’d never imagined liking a vegan anything, nor a sugarless cupcake. Now that she was down two sizes, she might embrace a healthier lifestyle. It was all good, no matter what her overprotective daughters thought.

  “I’ve been thinking about Jorge,” Cookie said. “I hope he’s okay. I’m
guessing Irina was abusive to him.”

  “You’re right,” Annie said. “She was. He was scared of her. And it turns out that she was abusing Michelle Drummond, too.”

  “What?” DeeAnn said. “How awful! To take advantage of a sick woman like that!”

  “They are trying to get her medicine squared away,” Annie said. “It appears she has a bunch. They’re not sure how many doctors have given her which medicine and so on. It’s a mess. She doesn’t have to be on that many meds. Once they get her off of everything, she might turn out to be the healthiest person in Cumberland Creek.”

  “I doubt that,” Vera said. “It would be nice, of course. But Sheila and I went to school with her and she’s always had problems.”

  “But nowadays medicine is so much better,” Sheila said. “Let’s hope she can leave her house soon.”

  “They’ve come a long way with medicine,” DeeAnn agreed. “I mean two weeks ago, I was still flat on my back. And now here I am.”

  Chapter 66

  Annie’s head hurt. She reached in her bag for another ibuprofen. She sighed. It could have been worse. Irina could have shot her. She could be dead. Years ago that same thought had occurred to her one too many times, which is one of the reasons she and Mike had moved to Cumberland Creek.

  Annie pasted the final photo of her boys onto the page. She had already put it in a pumpkin-shaped frame and trimmed the corners off. She thought about the fear she saw in her boys’ eyes when she lay in the hospital room and she knew she had made the right choice to quit her job.

  “How are you feeling, Annie?” Randy asked after he closed his own scrapbook.

  “Better. I filed my story and I am officially done.”

  Randy grinned at her. “Good for you.”

  “Did they ever figure out who slashed your tire?” Sheila asked.

  “It was Jorge,” Annie said. “He was coerced into it by Irina. It had nothing to do with the Mendez guy. He’s just a bit overprotective, very macho, but probably harmless.”