Tahoe Deathfall

by Todd Borg

“Mr. McKenna, what would you like to drink?” Gramma Salazar asked me as we walked into the drawing room.

  “A beer would be fine, thanks.”

  “Helga, dear?”

  Helga came scurrying into the room. She had donned a white apron. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “A beer for Mr. McKenna and tea for me.” Gramma lowered her voice. “And keep an eye on that girl. I don’t trust her.”

  Helga left.

  “You sit here.” Gramma Salazar gestured at a chair with bowed legs and golden trim. She sat nearby on the window seat. The afternoon sunlight bounced off the lake and backlit her hair. I couldn’t tell if the blue tint came from the lake water or her hairdresser. I sat down and waited. She didn’t speak and I gathered that we were wait­ing for Helga. As if on cue Helga came in pushing a rolling silver cart with a silver teapot and a delicate porcelain cup trimmed with gold. A bottle of Becks stood next to a glass mug that was covered with frost. Helga poured and handed us our beverages.

  Gramma Salazar didn’t speak until Helga left the room. “Mr. McKenna,” she said, “our family situation involves some issues that you don’t understand. You have insinuated yourself into my granddaughter’s life in a most inappropriate way.” She sipped her tea through pursed lips.

  I felt like a schoolboy being reprimanded by the principal. “Jennifer is a bright and mature child,” I said, “but perhaps a little young to be left alone overnight.”

  “A regrettable situation to be sure. How was I to know that Sam would run away at this moment?”

  “He’s run away before. I would think you’d con­sider the possibility before you leave Jennifer without someone to stay with her.” I took a drink of my beer. It was ice cold.

  “As I’ve said, Mr. McKenna, you don’t understand. Jennifer is a very headstrong girl. She will hear nothing of a baby-sitter. Believe me, I’ve tried. Either I’m to be a pris­oner in my own house, or I need to occasionally let Sam play the role of guardian. I admit, it didn’t work out in the best way this time. Nevertheless, until now Sam has been there when we needed him.”

  “I believe Jennifer is in danger,” I said. “I think someone was in this house last night.”

  “Nonsense! Do you have any idea of how many times Jennifer has played this game?” She raised the pitch of her voice in mockery. “‘Gramma, someone is after me. Gramma, I think someone is trying to kill me.’ I swear, that child has the most ghastly imagination I’ve ever seen.” She paused. “I had her looked at, you know. After little Melissa’s accident.” Gramma Salazar waited to see if I understood her implication.

  I said nothing and drank more beer.

  Gramma looked around the room as if to be cer­tain no one was eavesdropping. I was going to hear privi­leged information. Or at least I was supposed to think as much.

  “Melissa was the brighter of the two by a small measure,” she said. “Melissa was also the more vivacious of the two by a large measure. Born first, you know. From day one Jennifer showed her jealousy by fighting Melissa, by upstaging her. Jennifer used to sneak up on her sister and scream just to scare her. It’s no wonder, really, that Alicia, their mother, took ill. Poor thing. She just didn’t have the intelligence to deal with such a situation.

  “So I had to intervene. I took the children to a psy­chologist I knew at the time to have them tested. I knew Jennifer was a bad apple and I wanted to know if Melissa would be able to withstand the constant assaults, physical and psychological, that her sister perpetrated.”

  “What did you find out?”

  Gramma held her teacup daintily in front of her as she leaned toward my chair. “The gentleman politely told me that I should watch Jennifer carefully. He said she had anti-social tendencies and a deep hatred for her sister. He thought harm might come to Melissa.”

  “You believed him?”

  “Of course. The evidence was in front of me daily.”

  “May I have the psychologist’s name? I’d like to talk to him.”

  “Gerhard Kelder. But you won’t find him. He made good money counseling celebrities and retired sev­eral years ago. He took up with a showgirl and moved to one of those islands in the South Pacific. Fiji or some­place.” Her disapproval was palpable.

  “You think,” I said, “that Jennifer was responsible for Melissa’s death.”

  “I did at the time. If I may confess, it was my first thought.”

  “Any reason in particular?” I asked.

  “Yes. Perhaps you know about our hike on Mag­gie’s Peaks. The girls had been playing hide and seek. After a time, Jennifer came running to me and said that she couldn’t find Melissa. Well, you know how it is with children. I could tell immediately that she was lying. She had that breathlessness that children use to hide their guile. It rang false from point A. I challenged her, which in hindsight was probably the wrong thing to do. She dug in her heels and would not abandon her story that Melissa had simply disappeared.

  “After Melissa’s death I took Jennifer back to Ger­hard. He was unable to enlighten me further. But I could tell he had grave doubts about the veracity of the child’s story. He wouldn’t come right out and say it. But he too suspected that Jennifer had pushed her sister.”

  Gramma Salazar set down her teacup. She gripped her hands together and looked out at the lake. Her eyes were wet with tears. “Sometimes in the years since I’ve wondered if it might have been an accident after all. The child has never wavered from her story. If so, I’ve done her a terrible injustice by suspecting her. Then again, I know how children can come to believe their own lies. The psychologist said something about mechanisms of self-protection.”

  “Does Jennifer know you’ve suspected she pushed her sister off the cliff?”

  Gramma swung her head around to face me. “Of course not! What do you take me for?” The tears were suddenly gone.

  I decided to change the subject. “You referred ear­lier to Jennifer being paranoid.”

  “Yes. It’s been a nightmare. There is a boogey man in every closet and under every bed. Gerhard warned me about this. He said Jennifer had paranoid tendencies. He thought she’d grow out of it. God forbid she should end up like her mother who is a paranoid schizophrenic.”

  “You don’t think there is anything to her claims that someone might be after her?”

  “No. That is rubbish. Nothing more. We’ve had enough evidence over the years. Now and then she is con­vinced that something is finally going to happen to her. But of course nothing comes of it. I suppose I can forgive the child for being afraid what with the bad blood she got from her mother and after what happened to Melissa. But it is a child’s fantasy nonetheless. If what I suspect is true, that Jennifer pushed Melissa off the cliff, then what is there for Jennifer to be afraid of? Her own conscience?”

  I drank the last of my beer. “Last night when we searched this house my dog appeared to smell an intruder. And we found your window open after I’d previously shut it.”

  “You let your dog in my house?! I thought I smelled an odor.” The woman wrinkled her nose.

  “I feared for Jennifer’s safety.”

  “I told you Samuel has been a good caretaker except for his lapses. I guess I lied because I’ve asked him to fix that window a dozen times if I’ve asked him once. The latch is faulty. You think it’s locked and next thing you know the window is swinging open in the wind.”

  “May I see it again?”

  “My window?” She looked at me. Her eyes were blank. “Of course. Come with me.”

  I set my glass on the silver cart and we left the room.

  Upstairs we passed the door to Jennifer’s room. It was closed. There was no sound from inside. Once in Gramma’s room I walked over to the window. It was latched tight.

  “You’ll see,” Gramma said, “that if you wiggle the window a little the latch pops open. I suppose it is the movement in this old house that does it. Changing tem­peratures and such.”

  I wiggled the window and, sure enough, the latch p
opped up and out. The window was then free to swing open in the breeze. And last night there had been a strong breeze off the lake. Then again, just because a window can open of its own accord doesn’t mean that someone couldn’t have come through it. “I see what you mean, Mrs. Salazar,” I said. “Even so, I’d like someone to stay with Jennifer at all times. I don’t think she should stay alone. Not until I do some more checking.”

  Gramma Salazar looked up at me, a small forced smile on her face. “Mr. McKenna. I appreciate your atten­tion to this. But I have opened up to you and told you family secrets to allay your concerns. I have told you our story and shown you our house. I believe I’ve been very generous with my time. Now apparently I must explain to you that you are not working for the Salazars. Therefore you will do no more checking, as you call it, on our behalf. Furthermore, if you do not leave us alone I will be forced to ask the authorities to intervene. I take my responsibilities seriously, Mr. McKenna. As you probably know, Jennifer has a little money coming to her. As such, she must be protected from outsiders who would involve themselves in her affairs. Until now I’ve assumed your motives to be pure. Don’t make me go further with this line of thought. Helga?” she called out loudly.

  I got the picture, loud and clear, and allowed myself to be ushered out by Helga.

  ELEVEN