The Murder Next Door

by Ivy Thorne

  Thankfully, yellow was an easy color to pick out of a crowd. Marla walked toward a gentleman seated in the location Peter had described. He had dark skin and a buzzed haircut. The minute he noticed her approaching him, he stood to greet her.

  “You must be Marla,” he said.

  “That’s me,” she responded.

  She took a seat on the opposite side of the table. In front of him was a steaming bowl of ramen soup. It smelled incredible and was making Marla’s stomach growl.

  “I hope you don’t mind me noisily slurping noodles while we talk,” he said. “I’m starved.”

  “Not at all,” Marla replied. “I think it’s funny that there’s a ramen place inside this college,” she remarked. “You would think it wouldn’t appeal to students, seeing as they live off of packs of ramen anyway.”

  Peter laughed. “You would think that would be the case. But trust me, this ramen is way better than that crap you pay fifty cents for. Plus, there’s actual vegetables and meat mixed in. It has nutritional value.”

  Marla watched, somewhat enviously, as Peter pinched a bundle of noodles with his chopsticks and slurped them down. He was making her hungry.

  After he’d swallowed his first bite he said, “So, the cops think you’re a murderer, huh?”

  “I’m on their suspect list, yeah,” Marla confirmed.

  Peter shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. What’s their proof?”

  Marla explained to Peter how she’d been the one to find Jared Hopkins’s body. She also told him about Speckleman’s involvement in making her appear like a psychopath.

  In turn, Peter told Marla a story about how he’d been wrongly arrested after visiting his grandmother one night.

  “I used to live in the city and would visit my grandma sometimes,” he said. “I’d take the bus to her house and back. One night, I was walking to the bus stop from her house and was stopped by a couple of cops who’d received a call about a suspicious figure peeking into the windows of people’s houses. Those goons were just looking for someone to arrest and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Peter paused to stir in a packet of soy sauce into his ramen. Marla could see the encounter with the police had troubled him as he proceeded to stir his soup more violently than necessary.

  “I tried explaining to them that I was just heading home from my grandmother’s,” he continued, “but they didn’t believe me. There’s nothing more frustrating than being told you’re lying when you’re not. I had to spend the night in a cell with some stinky drunk guy. It sucked.”

  “What grounds did they have to arrest you?” Marla questioned

  Peter shrugged and scoffed. “They arrested me for trespassing. Those bastards had zero proof. Since when does someone get arrested for trespassing anyway? There’s no doubt in my mind, I was being discriminated against. Chances are, they’re trying to do the same thing to you too.”

  Marla had heard about police discriminating against people of color before, but she’d been lucky enough never to have experienced it. She wondered if what Peter said was true for her situation. It sickened her to think that she could be condemned for something she didn’t do just because of her skin color.

  “I have to find the person who killed Reggie and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt he or she is guilty,” Marla declared.

  “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know,” Peter said. “I believe you’re innocent.”

  Marla started by asking Peter what sort of impression he’d got from Reggie.

  “Did he ever seem like he was behaving erratically, as though he was high?” Marla asked. “If he owed a drug dealer money, that could be how he wound up dead.”

  “I don’t think he was an addict,” Peter said. “He seemed too functional. I’d see him walking his dogs. I also never saw anyone sketchy coming over. If anything, he seemed like a recluse. The guy was a bit creepy. We butted heads a few times.”

  “What happened? What made you think Reggie was creepy?” Marla probed.

  “The guy kept walking into the basement apartment without warning,” Peter replied. “Like, I was paying for that space and so was Ashley. I didn’t want him in it. There were a few times I’d just woken up and gotten out of bed only to find him just standing around in our kitchen. It was startling. I told him to cut it out. He had no business being there, especially first thing in the morning. Thank God he listened.”

  “Did he say why he’d entered the apartment without notice?” Marla questioned.

  “He didn’t. That was what freaked me out the most,” Peter said. “I could understand if he’d come down to politely ask to borrow a kitchen utensil or something, but the dude just came down because he’d felt like it. He’d tried to argue that he could go wherever he wanted in the house because he was the owner. But then I reminded him that Ashley and I were paying for the basement portion of the house, meaning he had to give us notice before coming in.”

  The more Marla learned about Reggie, the more peculiar he became. There had to be a reason he’d randomly enter his tenants’ apartment. Was there something he’d hidden down there? Or, was he just a creep?

  “I lived there for a little over a year,” Peter told Marla. “I moved out after my buddy ended up starting college at this school. He found a place and needed a roommate, so I moved in with him. Reggie was weird and, honestly, Ashley and I just sort of ignored each other. Living at that house wasn’t exactly oodles of fun.”

  “Did you ever see Ashley around the campus here?” Marla asked. “She’d started a program here when I lived with her.”

  “No,” Peter said. “I remember her telling me she’d gone to this college, though. Maybe she graduated before I moved in.”

  This news was contrary to what Marla had understood. When Marla had moved in, Ashley had been starting the second year of her four-year program. A year and a few months later, Peter had moved in. This meant Ashley should have been doing her third year. Why would she have told Peter that she had gone to the same college?

  The answer was obvious. Ashley had dropped out.

  “Did Ashley ever tell you what she did for work?” Marla inquired.

  “Nope. She didn’t talk to me much at all. I know she took the bus a lot, though. I’m guessing she had a job somewhere, but I never asked. I’d tried to connect with her a few times, but I’d got the impression she preferred to be left alone. The only memorable interaction I had with her was when I told her I was moving out and needed a new person to take over the lease. She’d mentioned preferring a female roommate. I found Sommer and her boyfriend.”

  Marla was surprised Ashley hadn’t bothered to do anything about Sam, after all the fuss she’d caused about Peter.

  She probably realized it wasn’t worth the trouble, Marla figured.

  Ashley had seemed like a shy person to Marla. The two of them hadn’t shared many conversations either.

  For the remainder of Peter’s break, Marla discussed theories as to who could have killed Reggie and why. Though Marla doubted Peter had killed him, she had to make sure. She asked him where he was the night Reggie was murdered.

  “Oh, I see how it is,” Peter responded, “your sly-ass is turning this into an interrogation!” His facial expression and tone of voice indicated that his outrage was not real.

  “I don’t think you would kill anyone, but, just in case, I need to know,” Marla said. “Think of it this way, if the cops decide to question you and you have an alibi for that night, you’re in the clear.”

  “Damn!” Peter exclaimed. “You think they’ll want to talk to me?”

  Marla shrugged. “Who knows?”

  Lucky for Peter, he did have an alibi for that night. While Reggie was being killed, Peter had been out with his friend at a bar. Both his friend and the bartender could support his alibi.

  “I wish I’d chosen to go to a bar that night,” Marla said, sighing. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d only been less responsible!”

  Peter w
ished Marla the best of luck before bidding her farewell.

  When Marla left the college, she felt like she had more questions than answers about Reggie. Could his death have been related to his odd behavior? Had he angered someone enough that they’d killed him? Was there a connection between his death and Jared’s?

  On her way back to her condo, Marla stopped at a convenience store to grab a couple of cans of her favorite alcoholic cider. The heatwave in Wallsberg was persistent. Not only that, but she also figured a nice cold beverage would go well with the veggie burger she was planning on frying for her lunch. Nothing paired better with a burger than alcohol.

  Before starting the preparation for her afternoon meal, Marla sent a text to Dane asking if the police had found anything of significance in the basement apartment of Reggie’s house. She knew they’d done a thorough search of the section where Reggie had lived, but she didn’t know whether they’d searched the basement. After all, hadn’t Sommer still had her stuff in there?

  Marla put her phone down and cracked open her first can of cider. This was the drink that would encourage her to get off her ass and make herself some lunch. Leaving her phone on the table, she opened her fridge to pull out what she had left to make herself a salad to go with her burger.

  To her dismay, the only vegetable that remained in the crisper was a somewhat wilted sprig of broccoli.

  “I need to go grocery shopping,” she moaned.

  Even more distressing was the fact she still didn’t have her kitchen knives.

  Forced to make do with a butter knife, Marla decided to julienne the broccoli, stem and all, to make a salad. She’d eaten broccoli slaw before and it had tasted good, though she’d never attempted to make it for herself. Because the vegetable was a tad overripe and therefore soft, cutting through it using a dull knife wasn’t as difficult as Marla had thought.

  The culinary experiment proved mildly successful. Having made the broccoli more than edible by mixing in a handsome portion of creamy dressing, Marla sprinkled a handful of craisins on top of the salad for an added sweetness. It tasted decent, but not amazing.

  It was while she was pan-frying her veggie patty that her phone buzzed with a reply from Dane. His message stated that nothing of interest had been found in the basement of Reggie’s house. All of the knives and sharp objects had been examined by a forensic team. The officers had gone through everything, including Sommer’s belongings.

  Judging by the mess the detectives had made of Marla’s condo during their search, she believed Dane. Every single corner of her place had been torn asunder in search of anything that could have been used as a murder weapon. During the clean-up, Marla even had discovered the ceiling tiles of her bathroom askew. If Reggie had been hiding drugs or other outlawed materials in that basement, the police would have found them.

  Marla sent a second text to Dane. This text was especially important. It read: When do I get my kitchen knives back?

  Cutting through an old broccoli stem with a butter knife hadn’t been too bothersome, but what would Marla do when she went to prepare fresh vegetables?

  Dane responded that he had no idea when she would be seeing them again. His message didn’t inspire much confidence that Marla ever would be seeing them again.

  Great, she thought, now I have to buy a new knife set.

  ***

  It was now the next day, and Marla was dreading what she had to do. The next suspect on her list was Jessica.

  Why would she want to kill Reggie? Marla wondered. For a person to be considered a murder suspect they had to have a motive.

  Marla had learned about cases where couples had committed crimes together. Maybe Jared’s death had been planned by the two of them, and there was a reason they’d targeted him. Both Jared and Reggie were young men. Sommer had mentioned Reggie being a creep.

  Maybe what Reggie and Jared had in common was that: being disgusting pigs. Of course, Marla had no idea whether Jessica ever had known Reggie, nor did she know whether Jessica had been involved in Jared’s murder. The only way for her to find out would be to find Jessica and speak with her.

  This is crazy! Marla thought as she climbed into her car.

  All she had on Jessica was pure conjecture. Then again, that was all the police had needed to search her condo.

  Marla doubted Jessica still would be living in the same apartment she had been nearly a decade ago, especially seeing as her boyfriend had been murdered in it. Even so, the landlord could have an idea as to where she’d gone.

  Nostalgia washed over Marla the minute she passed the Ma and Pa convenience store she used to go to back when she’d lived in the apartment next to Jessica’s. Whenever she’d been strapped for cash and lacking the innovation to create a meal from the ingredients she had, Marla would go to that store for a bag of popcorn. There were still times when Marla chose to eat a bag of popcorn as a meal, though thankfully those times were few and far between.

  Along with the nostalgia came guilt and fear. Marla was pursuing a killer without the protection of Dane’s badge. She wanted to offer her help but knew it wouldn’t be accepted. Unlike some, Marla couldn’t just sit on her hands and wait for things to work themselves out. She needed to act.

  Apart from being a bit of an eyesore, the first apartment building where Marla had lived hadn’t been half bad. Sure, the lawn had brown patches, the paint on the sign was chipped, and the tan-colored bricks weren’t so tan-colored anymore. But it had been home to Marla… until she’d seen Jared Hopkins with his neck’s contents exposed.

  How does the landlord get people to rent from him after that? Marla wondered. She didn’t consider herself to be a superstitious person. Even so, she wouldn’t want to live in a place where a person had been murdered.

  The landlord’s name was Basil, and he was superstitious. After the murder, he’d had the entire apartment complex cleansed of negative energy. Marla almost could smell the sage that had been burned throughout the building. She’d also once witnessed the man cowering in the presence of a stray black cat.

  As Marla casually waited in the doorway of the building for a tenant to come through, allowing her entrance, she devised a story as to why she needed to find Jessica.

  It wasn’t long before someone came through the door. Marla snuck inside and immediately headed for the second apartment. She was hit with the smell of stale tobacco smoke the minute she entered the building. Old apartment buildings always had that unpleasant lingering scent, especially if they’d existed before a time when smoking in apartment buildings was illegal. Wandering down the dank hallways of the first floor only made Marla appreciate her current living quarters more.

  The building wasn’t a large one. It only had three floors. Basil lived on the first floor. A lucky horseshoe hung on the door, slightly askew. It was clear that Basil still lived in the same place.

  Marla took a deep breath before knocking on his door. Lies and deception weren’t something that came easily to her. Normally, this would be a good personality trait. But, in the instance of trying to uncover where a potential murder suspect had gone, it wasn’t so great.

  Chapter 14

  Within the short while it took for Basil to answer the door, worries rushed through Marla’s head. Would Basil remember Marla? What if he didn’t buy her story and refused to tell her where Jessica was? What if he didn’t know where Jessica was? Then what would she do?

  “Hello?” A mousy little man came to the door. He left the chain lock on, peering through the opening like an uneasy child.

  “Good morning, sir,” Marla said, cheerfully. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Marla James. I rented from you about a decade ago.”