Murder on Memory Lake

by J. D. Griffo

  “But this was all my idea!”

  “We’re all in this together,” Helen declared. “Capisce?”

  After a few moments of silence, Helen thought she had to translate. “That means ‘do you understand?’ honey.”

  “I know. I know what it means, and yes, I understand, but—Gram’s still out there somewhere . . . How are we ever going to find her?”

  “Jinx, honey, I know exactly where Alberta is,” Joyce declared. “Meet us in front of the house and I’ll explain everything.”

  * * *

  The first thing Alberta demanded when she woke up was an explanation.

  “What the hell is going on here?”

  The second thing she wanted to know was why she had a companion.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Trust me, Alberta, I’m more surprised to see you than you are to see me.”

  “But, Beverly,” Alberta cried. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Lately, honey, I kinda wish I was.”

  So many thoughts were racing through Alberta’s mind she thought her head was going to twist off, explode, and burst through the roof of the cabin. Beverly hadn’t skipped town, which was good, or been murdered, which was better, but she was being held hostage, which wasn’t ideal. Alberta couldn’t really tell from her appearance if she had been here since the day she disappeared or more recently because even though she didn’t look like she had been hurt in any way, she looked terrible. Her dark roots were showing underneath her bleached-blond hair, and her face, without the aid of makeup, was etched in a combination of weariness, fear, and anger.

  She was sitting next to Alberta wearing a mismatched sweat suit and sneakers, and her hands and feet were tied to a wooden chair. Her hands were resting on top of the arms of the chair and her feet braced against the insides of each front leg. There was also a thick rope hanging around her neck, and Alberta felt a sickening pain in her stomach when she realized the rope was what her captor shoved in her mouth in order to silence her. Except for the wet suit and being barefoot, Alberta and Beverly were identical. They were both being held prisoner, and only one person could be their captor.

  Alberta’s eyes darted around the room. If Marion had kidnapped Beverly and tied her up here as his hostage, then the only logical conclusion would be that Marion had to be the one who attacked her in the lake.

  “Come out and show yourself, you coward!” Alberta shouted.

  Slowly a door to the adjoining room opened, and Alberta could feel her anger rise. She couldn’t wait to tell Marion exactly what she thought of him for almost killing her. How dare he attack her! Didn’t he realize she could’ve drowned? And why wasn’t he the person standing in front of her?

  “Denise?”

  “Hello, Alberta,” Denise replied. “So nice of you to finally wake up.”

  If Denise wasn’t standing in front of Alberta wearing a wet suit and drying her hair with a towel, she would’ve thought that she was another one of Marion’s prisoners instead of what she clearly was: the person who attacked her in the lake.

  “What in the world is going on here?” Alberta asked. “Denise, why would you want to hurt me? You could’ve killed me out there!”

  Folding the towel neatly into a square, Denise rolled her eyes. “Oh my God! You old Italian women are all the same, so friggin’ dramatic. Seriously, Alberta, if I wanted to kill you, you’d be lying on the bottom of the lake right now.”

  “But you took out my mouthpiece and made me lose my air tank!”

  “How else was I going to get you here?” Denise asked. “I knew you wouldn’t come willingly so I made sure you didn’t have a choice.”

  “But how did you even know that I was going to be in the lake tonight?”

  “I know that I sometimes come across as gossipy and maybe a little airheaded, but down deep I’m a very smart woman,” Denise bragged. “And I’m pretty good at picking up clues.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as your sudden interest in diving lessons and your private sessions with the old fart at the library.”

  “Sloan?”

  “How do you think he got copies of those blueprints to the tunnel?” she asked. “They were on loan to the library from the Wasserman & Speicher archives, so he had to request permission from me to duplicate them. When he told me that a reporter from The Herald wanted them for background for an article about the Tranquility Waterfest, I found out that you’re related to that same reporter. Oh, and you might want to tell Jinx to get a better disguise next time. Her dark sunglasses and heavy accent didn’t fool anyone.”

  Alberta watched Denise sit down at the wooden table on the other side of the cabin, cross her ankles, and lean forward just like she did at her desk at work. She placed the towel on the table, folded it once more, smoothed out some wrinkles, and then pushed it to one side. Denise was acting no differently than she normally did, but somehow, in this queer setting, her movements were disturbing.

  Taking a deep breath, Alberta realized that she wasn’t going to get any answers if she became hysterical, so once again she forced herself to remain calm.

  “So where is this place?” she asked.

  “I think you already know that, Alberta,” Denise replied. “Or should I say Little Miss Private Investigator?”

  Clearly, Denise knew that she was doing more than secretarial work at Wasserman & Speicher, but just how much did she know? Alberta needed to make sure that she didn’t give away too much information in case Denise was on a fact-finding expedition.

  Glancing at the clock on the wall above the table, Alberta saw that it was only seven thirty-five, roughly a half hour since she was abducted. She remembered looking at her watch right before Jinx swam back to the tunnel’s entrance and it was only a few minutes after seven. She didn’t know exactly how long it took to swim to the surface of the lake, get dragged through the woods, and reach the cabin, but in that short amount of time they couldn’t have traveled very far. This must be the cabin Sloan had told her about, the one Marion’s mother originally built, and the one that was near the tunnel exit that was only recently boarded up. If Marion brought Beverly here, it made perfect sense that this was his cabin.

  “It doesn’t take a genius to know that we’re in the Klausner family cabin,” Alberta said, trying to sound smug and not frightened. “Which is on the northwestern side of Memory Lake.”

  “Very good,” Denise said, clapping her hands together. “For an old broad you’re not so dumb. Not like this one here.”

  “Shut up!” Beverly shouted. “If I’m dumb, then you’re certifiably insane!”

  Denise sprang up, slammed her palms onto the table, and leaned forward. “Says the idiot who’s tied to a chair!”

  “That’s the part that doesn’t make any sense,” Alberta said. “Why would Marion tie you up and keep you hidden out here? I thought that you and he were a couple.”

  Denise pounded her fist so hard onto the table that Alberta thought for sure it was going to split in two. “They were never a couple!”

  “That isn’t true!” Beverly cried. “Marion loves me!”

  “If he loved you, you stupid bitch, do you think he would’ve tied you up here? No, the two of you would be married by now. If you could just understand that, none of this would’ve had to happen!”

  “He would’ve married me years ago if you weren’t constantly throwing yourself at him every chance you get!” Beverly snapped.

  “I never threw myself at Marion!” Denise retorted. “I can’t help it if he wanted to upgrade to a younger model.”

  “Oh please! You practically had to hit him over the head for him to notice you! You’re such an obvious, common tramp!”

  “Tramp? If I’m a tramp then you’re a whore!”

  “At least I was first!”

  “Ah, Madon! L’invidia prende non festive,” Alberta muttered under her breath.

  “What?”

  Alberta didn’t think two jea
lous women such as Denise and Beverly would want to hear that envy never takes a holiday so she ignored their question. “Never mind, but if you’re going to keep me hostage, would you mind explaining to me exactly what happened?”

  “It’s all her fault!”

  Since Beverly and Denise spoke at exactly the same time, Alberta had no idea who to believe. “How about we go one at a time?” Alberta suggested. “Denise, since you’re sort of in charge, why don’t you go first?”

  Sitting back down and smiling, Denise replied, “It would be my pleasure. It all started when Beverly stole Lucy’s TV Guide collection.”

  “I didn’t steal it,” Beverly interrupted. “I only borrowed it.”

  “In order to plant incriminating evidence in it in order to get revenge against Marion because he refused to marry you,” Denise explained.

  “What kind of evidence?” Alberta asked.

  “Proof that Marion is using the tunnel and this cabin to smuggle drugs out of the building and into the hands of international drug dealers,” Beverly said. “You know that computer room that he keeps locked up? Well, it’s no computer room, it’s where he stores all the drugs.”

  “Dio mio!” Alberta exclaimed. “But the computer room doesn’t lead to the tunnel, the Safe Room does.”

  “Correction, both rooms do,” Denise interjected. “It wasn’t part of the original design, but when Marion realized his side hobby was way more lucrative than the family business, he needed to make some changes. So, he turned the computer room into a drug lab and needed to build a secret passageway from that room to the tunnel as well.”

  “So that’s the real reason he outsources the IT department,” Alberta said.

  “Unless you know of a computer technician who moonlights as a drug dealer, it’s really the only option,” Denise quipped.

  “I can’t believe there’s a drug lab right in the building!” Alberta exclaimed.

  Tilting her head from side to side and frowning, Denise replied, “Well it’s only a small lab and really more of a storage unit, but in a pinch you can whip up some good stuff in there.”

  “And you knew all about this?” Alberta asked. “And never said a word to the police?”

  “Like you never kept a secret for your family or for someone you loved,” Denise scoffed.

  Yes, Alberta thought, she had definitely kept secrets, but never something of this magnitude. And never something that could have such a harmful effect on so many innocent lives. The more the layers of this onion started to peel away, the more complicated the whole situation was becoming. She needed to go back a bit and focus on things that she could comprehend.

  “So, Beverly took the collection from Lucy, put incriminating evidence in it, and blackmailed Marion,” Alberta reiterated.

  “And I couldn’t let her destroy Marion like that,” Denise confirmed.

  “So why not just destroy the evidence instead of hiding it in the lake?” Alberta asked. “If Marion’s such a shrewd, unscrupulous businessman, why would he do such a thing?”

  The women were going to answer for Marion, but when he entered the cabin they allowed him to speak for himself.

  “Because Marion never got the chance, Alberta,” he announced. “Beverly hid the collection and very selfishly wouldn’t tell me where it was, which is why I tied her up here. I was hoping she would eventually come to her senses, but thanks to you, I know exactly where the evidence is. And now I can get rid of all the annoying women in my life. Just like I got rid of Lucy.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Non ha il dolce a caro, chi provato non ha l’amaro.

  Even though Alberta long suspected that Marion had killed Lucy or at the very least was on the short list of suspects, hearing him actually say he took her life was monumental. Like when she heard herself say, “I do” to Sammy. She had known she was going to say those words to him during the six months that they were engaged, but until she uttered them in front of her entire family being married was nothing more than a possibility, a dream, and not an unchangeable reality. That’s how she felt after hearing Marion confess.

  “Marion,” Alberta said, her voice small and shaky. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  For a moment when Marion looked into Alberta’s eyes, he was the same shy teenager she once knew, hungry for affection and friendship, but the moment was fleeting. Quickly, a darkness filled his eyes. They didn’t change color, of course, but it was as if someone had pulled down the shades to keep out the sunlight so that all remained was an unsettling shadow.

  “Because she left me no choice,” Marion stated. His answer was simple and his voice was steady, and still Alberta was confused.

  “Lucy?” she replied. “But she didn’t do anything to you.”

  “No, not Lucy,” Marion corrected. “Beverly.”

  Twisting her chair violently so she could face Marion, Beverly lashed out, “Don’t you blame this on me!”

  His calm reply was even more unnerving than Beverly’s outburst. “Why not? All of it is your fault.”

  “How can you say that?” Beverly asked, her voice shrill and filled with disbelief. “You know I never meant for any of this to happen!”

  Slowly Marion walked toward Beverly’s chair. The closer he got, the farther she tried to lean back in a vain attempt to get away from him. He grabbed the arms of the chair, his thumbs pressing deep into Beverly’s fleshy wrists, bent forward, and glared at her silently for a few seconds before lifting her a few inches off the ground. He was the cat and she was the mouse he was taunting. When he had enough, he slammed the chair back down on the floor, causing Beverly to shriek in fear. “And yet the fact remains that your friend Lucy is dead because of you.”

  “Stop saying that!” she screamed. “Please . . . stop it!”

  Unable to listen to Beverly’s cries any longer or follow the cryptic conversation, Alberta needed even more facts. “I know that I can be a bit of a stunod sometimes, but I’m not following the thread here,” Alberta said. “Could someone please tell me exactly what happened and how Lucy died?”

  Still holding onto Beverly’s chair, Marion turned his head to the side and smiled at Alberta. His expression sent a cold chill down her spine. She couldn’t comprehend how such a friendly, handsome face could belong to a murderer. But when she looked over at Denise, who had been conspicuously silent the past few minutes, it was as if her spine had turned into one long icicle. Denise was glaring so viciously in her direction that if looks could kill, she, along with the entire population of Tranquility, would be annihilated. It didn’t make sense, but even though Marion was a confessed killer, Alberta didn’t fear him nearly as much as she feared Denise.

  “I guess you’ve earned an explanation, Alberta, after all the trouble you’ve gone to in order to get to this point.”

  Marion released his hold on Beverly’s chair with such force that the frightened woman teetered back and forth for a few seconds before she was able to steady herself. Pacing from one end of the cabin to the other, Marion clasped his hands in front of him, one knuckle pressed into his chin as if he was about to begin a lecture and was searching for the perfect opening line. Alberta was fascinated by his actions, the calmness and the control, and she couldn’t believe he was about to offer the details of such a heinous and deplorable act. The only sound in the room other than the muffled beat created by Marion’s footsteps was the drumming of Denise’s nails on the table. Alberta thought for sure that Denise already knew the tale Marion was about to tell, but she appeared to be just as interested in the story as she was.

  Finally, but without ending his continuous stride, Marion began. “As you know, Beverly and I had what you could call a . . . relationship. One that I desperately tried to convince myself could graduate from the vulgarities of the superficial and physical into the more sophisticated realm of the intimate and permanent. I tried to create that transition, I truly did. I searched my heart and soul for the strength to overlook Beverly’s faults and convince myself t
hat she could be the right woman for me. But, alas, it was an exercise in futility.”

  Gazing out the one window in the room, Marion stopped moving as he continued to share his story. Alberta couldn’t see his face, but his back was straight and his hands were now clasped behind his back like an army drill sergeant overseeing his platoon’s calisthenics. “Instead of doing the right thing, the decent thing, and bowing out gracefully, Beverly kept badgering me to marry her. Her true colors shined so brightly they were blinding, and she proved herself to be insistent, almost grotesque in her attempts to become my wife. And then, when I didn’t think she could stoop any lower, when I didn’t think she could become any more indecent, thanks to Lucy she found what she thought would be the perfect solution to get me to marry her: blackmail.”

  “Well, you know what they say, Non ha il dolce a caro, chi provato non ha l’amaro.” Beverly quipped.

  “No, Beverly,” Marion replied, turning to face his audience. “Not all of us know what they say, because not all of us speak in primitive tongues.”

  Clearing her throat, Alberta said, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  “What?” Marion asked.

  “That’s what it means!” Beverly shouted. “‘To taste the sweet, you must taste the bitter’ is the direct translation, but in English it means ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ My mother always told me that and you of all people, Marion, should know how important it is to listen to your mother.”

  At the mention of the word “mother,” Marion seemed to lose a bit of his control. His eye twitched, and his lips were clasped together so tightly in a fake smile that he was breathing loudly through his nose. Denise’s body language changed as well, and she sat up straight with her feet planted firmly on the floor. Her gaze was fixed on Marion, and it was clear that she wasn’t sure how he was going to respond, either emotionally or physically.

  “What my actions really meant, Marion,” Beverly said, “Is that I loved you!”

  Ramming his fist into the wall, Marion shouted, “But I didn’t love you!”

  With his fists still clenched, Marion resumed pacing the cabin floor. He started muttering something to himself, but he was talking so quickly and quietly that it was incomprehensible.