Splitsville.com

by Tonya Kappes

  I know I didn’t get the threat word for word, but he gets the gist of it.

  “Hold on. I’m on it.” I can hear Bradley clicking away on the computer, getting into my website, where he can pull up the information he needs to send to his brother-in-law to trace the email. “Coffee Bean.”

  Without looking I make a complete illegal u-turn. Thank God no one is around.

  “I’m not even a minute from there.” Thank goodness for quick technology, favors and a good brother-in-law. I hurry, knowing I will soon be face to face with the person who’s threatening me. And without the police’s help.

  Bradley’s voice quivers, “I can’t come. I’m the only one here.” He is still at the SPCA.

  With no time to spare, I punch it. I am going to end this once and for all. My poor little Toyota. I rub the dash. “Don’t fail me now.”

  I pull into the parking lot on two wheels and find a spot right near the door. I run into the Coffee Bean as quickly as my feet will carry me and wend my way through the lunch crowd line. I know exactly where the computers are.

  Back corner.

  I’ve used it before on a couple dumps when my computer was getting fixed.

  The chair is pushed back, a steaming cup of coffee sits by the keyboard and no one is there. It’s like they vanished into thin air. Like they knew I was coming.

  Surely one of these customers had to see someone on the computer. “Did you see who was on the computer?” I grab the guy’s arm at the table closest to the monitor and point to the full coffee mug.

  “No.” The man sounded annoyed, and jerks his arm out of my grip. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I turn to the rest of the table. “Excuse me, did you see the person who was on the computer?”

  Everyone shakes their head no and I notice the people at the next table talking about the crazy girl.

  “What crazy girl?” I ask one of the women who are staring at me. “Was she at the computer?”

  “No honey. They’re talking about you.” She gives me a sorrowful look.

  I take the mug of coffee and head to the exit. Cop Carl is standing with his arms crossed and legs spread apart.

  “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t break his stare.

  I snarl and then laugh. “Aren’t those a little too Starsky and Hutch?” I point to his black driving gloves. I remember Aunt Matilda loved watching that show every Wednesday night. She would squeal like a little girl when they caught their man.

  “You aren’t tracking your own email threats are you?” He peers over his 1980 Ray Ban sunglasses with a smug look on his face.

  The look is enough to send chills up and down my spine, but I have to look away in fear of seeing his aura. I don’t have time to play around when I know his aura is totally authoritative.

  “How do you know about those?” I growl and worm my way around him. “If you want something productive to do, besides following me around, you should solve the unsolved murders.”

  I can’t believe he knows about the emails.

  On my way out the door, I dump the contents of the mug and take it with me. I don’t know why, but it seems the thing to do. Evidence, test it for DNA like they do in CSI. One small problem, the only science kit I have is the small test tube kit I got has a kid.

  “Olivia.” Carl steps outside the door and jerks my arm to stop me. “You need to leave any threats to us to solve. This isn’t for an amateur.” He takes his sunglasses off and gives me the sternest fatherly look. He shakes the piece of paper in his hands at me. “I know you’re trying to save your business, but you’re also getting death threats.”

  I tighten my lips together and wiggle my arm from his grip and storm back to my car.

  “Did you see that woman in the baseball cap?” Erin turns completely around in her seat looking out the back window.

  “No.” I keep my eyes on Carl who continues to stare at me. I look away and take a closer look at the mug.

  “I swear it was that girl.” Erin turns around and puts her head next to mine and looks at the mug. “Ugly lipstick.”

  “Look! Lipstick!” I hold it up and put it back down. I see Carl straining to see what I am talking about. I’m not about to do all his work.

  “I know, I just said that.” Erin backs away like I’m crazy. The rose color is stamped on one side of the mug. The left. So she is a right-handed coffee drinker.

  “The girl that slapped Kent. I swear she walked out as soon as you walked, er, ran in the Coffee Bean.” She points to the door.

  “What?” I jump back out of the car and look for the girl she’s talking about. Is she the one sending me death threats? Is she the one who killed Kent and Dabi? “Oh my God!” I stop for a second and stare out the front window. “TKG.” I whisper out loud.

  “TK who?” Erin questions.

  I get back in the car and ask Erin, “What’s Kent’s full name?”

  “Terry Ken…”

  I stop her. I know exactly what she is going to say. “My dream.” I slowly turn my head and my mouth flies open. “The initials in my dream and the initials Aunt Matilda wrote down. TKG, Terry Kent Goodwin.”

  “What does Kent have to do with your dreams?”

  I have no way of explaining how my brain works. With the mere mention of Kent’s name, those initials pop in my head like hot kernels of corn. “Terry Kent Goodwin used Splitsville.com to dump a girl named Brittany because she had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.”

  “Shut up!” Erin begins to scream and bounce in her seat. “Do you think she’s the killer? Do you think she set me up because he was dating me?”

  “I don’t know.” I start the old Toyota and put Ian out of my mind. “But we are about to find out.”

  I pull out of the lot and head back home. I’m quickly finding out there’s more to solving a murder than putting names together. I know I have the baseball-cap woman’s information from using the website. It shouldn’t be hard tracking her down.

  “What about the ice cream?” Erin asks.

  “I think we have sherbet in the freezer.” I assure her. I’m not about to stop now. We are on a roll.

  ***

  “Terry Kent Goodwin” I repeat as my fingers touch each file tab.

  I glance over at Erin who’s looking through the files on the desk. Herbie stares at us.

  “Got it!” Erin screams and holds it up in the air.

  We hunch over my desk. “Let’s find out about this dump.” I open the file and immediately remember what a pain in the ass Brittany was.

  Oh, how I remember that perfectly put together red head. I also recall what some people think about red heads, “they are hot headed” and “a woman scorned is worse when she has red hair.” Brittany’s definitely been scorned.

  “I remember her.” I rub the photo in the file. I pull the file up on the computer.

  “OCD?” Erin laughs, “No wonder he loved hanging out at my messy apartment. I think I need to rest.”

  I continue to read through the file and ignore Aunt Matilda as she jingles into the room.

  I pull up the audio and the first words out of her mouth sting just like they did the day she said them, “Is he cheating on me with you?”

  Aunt Matilda grabs my arm as soon as the words leave Brittany’s mouth. We continue to listen.

  “That first line is haunting.” Aunt Matilda reminds me. “There no better motive for murder or threat than a jealous woman.”

  I look into Brittany’s eyes. Aunt Matilda is right, it is the reason for the death threats? But murder?

  I click off the file because I think we have everything we need.

  I look at Aunt Matilda. “Did you tell Carl about the email threats?” I’m hoping she didn’t, but deep down I know the answer.

  The answer is written all over her face before she even says it. “You’re all I’ve got and I’m not going to sit around while someone threatens your life. I don’t care how much a job means to you. Your life means more.”

&nb
sp; I can’t help but have some sense of relief. I thought I’d be mad, but she’s right. She’s always right. Still, someone’s still trying to link me to the murders and I’m going to find out who.

  ***

  While everyone’s still tucked in bed, the early morning sun wakes me up. I let Herbie out in the backyard, but not before looking to make sure no one is out there. I make my way to the kitchen to start the coffee pot.

  Brittany’s dump file is right where I left it. On the counter. I thumb through it again, hoping something will jump out at me.

  I hear Erin shuffling down the hall. “Can’t sleep?” I ask her and take a mug out of the cabinet. “Do you want some coffee?”

  She still has the hollow eyes and the faraway look. “No. I checked my messages and the police want to see me. I’m definitely a suspect. They said someone came forward. The person heard us fighting at the bar that night.” Slowly she lifts her face and looks at me.

  “Do you remember what you said?” I can’t imagine what she’d say to make her a suspect. “Of course you were angry, but it doesn’t mean you killed him. Heck, I’d be angry too if I saw Bradley kissing some girl.”

  “I…” she sobs, “I didn’t tell you all the fight.” She pulls out the bar stool and sits down. Her shoulders are slumped.

  I lean over and pat her hands. Her crystal aura is a clear as ever. “Nothing can implicate you.”

  “I told him I hated him and could kill him for what he’s done.” She puts her head in her hands and continues to cry.

  I hand her a paper towel to wipe her face because it’s the closest thing to a tissue I’ve got. “What did he say?” I know he got himself out of it.

  “I told him he was right.” She stops and looks at me.

  I can’t recall what she’s talking about. “Right? About what?”

  Her words sting me like a bee, “You couldn’t stand him, but I think he was right. You can’t stand to see me have a boyfriend. You are so jealous.”

  I quickly blink to make sure her aura isn’t turning grey. I take a deep breath. Erin’s entire aura is ashen, almost black. And black auras mean she’s got an uneasy heart which makes her unable to forgive in this moment. But I don’t stop even as her aura darkens.

  “Jealous? Of what?” I stand taller and defend myself-forgetting all about her aura. I remember my dream and the words she said in it.

  “I was finally happy and you flaunted yourself in front of him.” In shock, I watch her storm down the hall and disappear into the bedroom. She rushes out, arms loaded with her things.

  “That’s not true,” I yell out after her, “I have Bradley. Remember? And he doesn’t want me for money!”

  She peels out of the driveway.

  I can’t believe this. How did her becoming a suspect turn into me wanting Kent dead? I put my head down on the kitchen counter. Kent is ruining my relationship with Erin from the great beyond.

  I reach for my cell when it rings. I hope it’s Erin. I don’t even check to see if it’s her.

  “Come back,” I plead. “Please, we can figure this out.” I want her to know that no matter what, we will get to the bottom of this. “Erin?”

  “No, Olivia.” I recognize Carl’s voice before he acknowledges who he is. “What are you going to figure out with Erin?”

  I close my eyes, plop on the couch and wonder if I can start this day over. “Nothing, Carl. What do you want?”

  He exhausts me.

  “I need to talk to Matilda and I can’t find her. I thought she might be there.”

  “No.” I hang up the phone. I don’t have time to worry about what he wants. I have to use what time and energy I do have to solve my own problems.

  ***

  Dabi’s life is—or was—picture perfect. So it seems from her photo album.

  The first page is an antiqued Dabi as a baby, with pink highlights around the picture. The crinoline on her dress is much larger than her tiny frame. Neatly written under it in calligraphy: Dabi’s first picture.

  Perfectly posed Dabi, even in her play date and playground pictures. Her hair bows match her shirt, skirt, socks, shoes and nail polish.

  I smile looking at the tiny nails, “Nail polish?” I hold the album closer and check out each finger. If Aunt Matilda had tried to put nail polish on me, I’d have thrown a mammoth-size fit.

  When my first tooth fell out, Aunt Matilda took a picture with my hands cupped around my mouth and blood slipping through the cracks. Plus my nails had remnants of the day before dirt pile.

  All of Dabi’s firsts. First parade, first dance, first boyfriend, first prom, first day at Harvard business school, first. . .

  I gasp, “Kent?” My mouth flies open and I frantically turn the pages to see what comes next. Kent is everywhere. There isn’t a single picture without him.

  I slowly turn the last page in the album. My stomach churns. The smiling Dabi in her beautiful white gown, next to a dapper Kent in his tuxedo, in what looks like a. . ., wedding? I whisper as fear sweeps over me.

  “Hello?” I blindly pick up the phone while I continue to look at the happy couple.

  “Hey.” Bradley’s voice is a welcome sound. “What’s going on?”

  “A lot actually.” I tell him about Erin, but not about my dream, and I tell him about Dabi and Kent’s marriage.

  “Really?” He’s surprised. “Does Erin know?”

  “I don’t think so.” I set the album back down. I know what I have to do. I have to find out what’s going on. I have to find out how Dabi, Kent and Brittany know each other. I just have to find Brittany.

  “Did you see the paper today?” Bradley brings me back into the conversation.

  “No. Why?” My feet are chilled from my findings, plus the cold hardwood floor isn’t helping. I hastily walk over to the door and find the paper has been stepped on—by Erin I’m sure. I pick it up, and as big as the day the headline reads: Splitsville.com isn’t only breaking hearts…it’s breaking up a community.

  Anxiously I scan the article. There is no substantiated evidence to pinpoint Splitsville.com as the reason for the murders, only for connecting them. My heart floats in my throat. Who sent in this article? Is it another scare tactic? Or enough information for the police to suspect Splitsville.com, even more?

  You never know with Park City’s finest. But I do know the article doesn’t say who’s behind Splitsville.com and I have little time to waste. I have to get to the bottom of this.

  Eighteen

  I pull into the visitor parking of Dabi’s father’s company, Macro Hard Internet. If I have a shot to learn who these people are in Dabi’s life, I’ll have to go into her life and see for myself.

  Aunt Matilda tried to prepare me before I left the house. “Here’s a cup of coffee with an extra shot of juice.” She refers to the extra espresso I only use when I need to stay up a little longer. “And it should give you a hard time concentrating on just one thing.”

  I pull up to the guard station, relieved Aunt Matilda knew exactly what I needed so I can’t stare at people’s auras. The caffeine alone will keep my eyes jumping. All I can rely on is my intuition and the images of the people in the photographs. Especially the ones with Kent.

  “I’m here for the interview in housekeeping,” I tell the guard and point to the big glass building ahead. My goodness, I can’t even pick up my own clothes, much less clean an entire building.

  He takes the paper I fill out and looks it over. He fumbles around the sliding glass window, obviously looking for a piece of paper.

  “Listen, I don’t work in this department.” He fiddles around in the little guard booth. “You’re like me, a guy who needs a job, and I’m covering for my buddy, so.” His shoulders take a move up to the tips of his ears, his lips pucker in a curious way.

  “Where’s your friend?” I’m not sure if he’s covering for him or working for him.

  “He’s with the boss’s secretary, if you know what I mean. I’m on lunch, but with the hat th
ey don’t know it’s not him.” He weakly smiles. “I kind of owe him.”

  “I see.” I nod. “Since I’m here for the cleaning department and you’re security, we’re on the same level and I should understand?” This situation is quickly taking a strategic move in my favor. “Sure, I won’t say anything if you give me a couple days passes so I don’t have to stop at this little station every time I come.”

  “There you go.” He hands me the passes, winks and asks, “Are you single?”

  “Yes, but you’re not.” I point at the big shiny gold band. “And by the size of the ring, your wife wants everyone to know.”

  “We’re having troubles.” His eyes show a twinkle of hope.

  I hand him a Splitsville.com business card. “If you’re unhappy, call that number. I hear they do a bang-up job on breaking up marriages.” I should be ashamed, but I’m not. All about business. I put my hands on the wheel and slowly drive to the last spot in the lot.

  My phone rings and I pick it up to see who it is. Bradley.

  “Hi.” I crane my neck to see how many entrances are near my car. For some reason I have a fear these people will recognize me and trap me. Knowing all the escape routes somehow soothes me.

  “I don’t like the idea of you doing this.” I like the tenderness in Bradley’s voice. I know he doesn’t like it, but he does understand.

  “Well, you can stop saying that because I am here. I’ve got to go.”

  “I have some news.” He has no shame. He’ll use whatever tactic to get me to stay on the line. “My brother-in-law tracked down the locations of all the threatening emails.”

  I keep my hand on the keys in the ignition. “Great!” A little glimmer of hope creeps into my body, stirring up a bit of excitement.

  Bradley sounds very confident. “I gave him the codes from the sender and he got back with me. And he told me we need to call the police if you’re getting threats.”

  Here we go. He’s not a big advocate of my Nancy Drew ways.

  I cut to the chase because I don’t really care about the particulars; I just want to know who. “Who? Who sent them?” I stop. My life is way more important than illegally going for a job interview.