The Devil Made Me

by Lorena May

  I’m seething now. I pour myself another glass of wine.

  I hear a car. Peering out into the darkness I see head-lights turning into our drive-way. The garage door opens. Taking a deep breath and puffing the air out between my lips, I gather myself together. Okay, girl. You’ve put a lot of time and effort into trying to rejuvenate your marriage. Don’t waste it. So I take a few more deep breaths, and paste a smile on my face, hiding my wine-glass in the sink.

  “Hi, Honey,” I smile and drape myself in what I hope is a sexy pose against the kitchen counter. Luckily for me, he’s had a few drinks too. And he drove home! I push the thought away.

  “Hey,” he smiles. “You’re lookin’ hot.” And he winks over-dramatically.

  I sidle up to him and wrap my arms around his neck, letting my body collapse into his. He stiffens. “Can I pour you some wine?” I ask, suddenly sobering.

  “Sure”. He walks toward the dining room. “What’s going on?” He drops into a chair.

  I bring in two glasses of wine, setting his before him and sitting in the chair opposite. I sip. Liquid courage. “Nothing,” I say lightly. “I’ve been thinking about how wonderful you are, and feeling badly that I don’t show you my appreciation more often.” I smile sweetly, pushing away the malicious little voice that wants to creep in and ruin everything.

  “Smells good,” he says, sniffing the air. “I’m starving!” I rise quickly to serve dinner, slightly over-done. He looks uncertainly at his plate for a moment, then digs in. I do the same. “Mmmm,” he says, and I glow. “I like beef a little rarer, but the sauce is tasty.”

  I swallow a retort. “I was hoping . . .” What? What was I hoping? “I’d like us to be like we used to be,” I say.

  “And what is that?” He looks at me as if I’ve lost my marbles. “Like we’re eighteen?”

  I ignore that and plod on with the little speech I’ve rehearsed a hundred times in the last few days. “We used to have fun together. I felt like you thought I was beautiful. I know I let myself go around the house, but I want the romance we used to have.”

  He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. “So you think if you dress up and put candles on the table – making me leave my friends early, I might add – you think you can suddenly make up for letting yourself go?”

  That’s it. I can no longer keep up this charade. “Darren,” the words come out shakily, “are you having an affair?”

  He huffs, looks insulted and pounds a fist on the table, finally. “How dare you accuse me of infidelity. I thought you knew me better than that.” And he jumps up from the table, turns and stalks away. I hear the front door open as he leaves.

  I walk to the kitchen and cut myself a big piece of strawberry torte. Whitney Houston is singing, “Bittersweet memories . . .” I pour another glass of wine.

  Chapter 10 ~ Darby

  Friday, April 27

  “Now, what are you doing sitting in a dreary pub with an old fart like me on a Friday night?” Mel looks across at Darby as she swallows a swig of her beer.

  She chortles, a low belly-laugh. “I’m just fuckin’ desperate!” She winks.

  Mel grins. “Any big plans for the week-end?”

  “Tomorrow I’m going to ride the love-of-my-life all day long,” Darby sighs, leaning back in her chair.

  Mel raises his eye-brows.

  “He’s got thick brown hair I love to run my fingers through. A body that’s pure muscle, and he’s hard and fast.” Darby cackles. “Closest I’ve come to orgasm in a long time!”

  “Ah, your horse. Bojangles,” Mel snorts.

  “Love of my life.” Darby swallows another mouthful of beer. “And it’s been a brutal week. The arson case, possible pedophile hanging around the school, the attempted suicide. . . Poor kid! Social media’s put bullying on a whole new level.” Darby’s mouth sets in a hard line. “I hope they catch the little shits that are spreading those pictures and string ‘em up.” Her chuckle is sardonic. And then there’s this Erin Morgan case.”

  “We talked to the other guy whose semen we found in Erin’s bed. A long-time client of hers, understanding of the fact that she was leaving the business. Solid alibi. At this point it appears that Brahn was telling the truth.”

  “Hmmmm,” Darby nods. “He did seem pretty broken up. We got the results back from the lab. Her stomach contained salmon, wild rice, Caesar salad and tiramisu. Looking through her kitchen it didn’t appear to have been cooked at home. No salmon wrapper in the garbage, no tiramisu ingredients or wrappers . . . Jill’s combing restaurant menus.”

  “Let’s hope a witness saw her with her killer that night,” Mel muses.

  Darby rakes long fingers through her hair. “It still seems to me the butterfly connection is key. Let’s comb the old year-books and see what we see. Maybe we can interview others who are more forth-coming about those three.”

  “Three popular little . . .” The trilling of Darby’s phone interrupts Mel’s thoughts.

  Darby stares at it a moment. “Huh! Speak of the devil. It’s Mia Buckingham!” She gives Mel a look of incredulity before answering. “Hello. This is Sergeant Darby Greer.”

  Mia’s voice sounds shaken. “Hello, Sergeant Greer. You left me your card. Said to call you if anything . . .”

  “Hi, Mia.” Darby adopts a friendly tone. “What is it?”

  “I – I’ve just received a threatening note.” Mia’s voice has lost all its composure.

  “We’ll be right there,” Darby says. “We’re five minutes away.” Shoving her phone into a pocket, Darby swallows the last of her beer. “She’s just gotten what she calls a threatening note,” she says, jumping up from the table. “Let’s go.”

  Mel stands, glugs the rest of his beer, wipes his mouth “Aaaah,” and turns to follow Darby who was already half-way out the door.” Let’s take my bike,” she called back to him. I’ll drop you back here!”

  DARBY JUMPS (AND MEL awkwardly rolls) off Darby’s bike, and they walk up Buckingham’s vast flagstone path. The front door opens. Mia is white-faced and bug-eyed, her hair pulled back in a pony-tail. She is dressed in a dark green running jacket and joggers to match. The woman is terrified. Maybe we’ll get something out of her.

  With trembling hands, she holds out a piece of paper. Thick paper. Paper used for painting with watercolors. Darby takes and opens it. The words “You Will Pay,” are pasted neatly on the page with letters cut from newspapers and magazines. Letters of all different sizes, zig-zag across the page. Darby places a tentative hand on Mia’s thin shoulder. “I know this must be terrifying.”

  Silently, Mia turns and walks toward the family room, beckoning the officers to follow her. There is no sign of the child today.

  “Are you alone here?” Mel asks.

  “Yes. My husband and daughter are in Vancouver visiting his children from a previous marriage,” Mia’s voice is tremulous. “Please sit down.”

  They sit on a couch opposite the large arm-chair that Mia has dropped into. Darby sets her phone on the coffee table. “Do you mind if I record this discussion?” she asks.

  Mia shakes her head in assent.

  “When did you receive this?” Mel asks, pointing to the note Darby holds in her hand.

  “I was here, in the family room, reading when I heard the mailbox clatter. Just a short time ago. I went to see who it was, and found it.” Mia stares in horror at the offensive object.

  “Did you see anyone?” Darby inquires.

  “No. I ran out into the yard and looked down the street in both directions, but there wasn’t a soul around.” Mia’s lips and chin tremble as she speaks. “And after Erin’s death I . . .”

  “Were you aware of Erin receiving a similar note?” Darby asks softly.

  “No, but . . .”

  “It is very frightening. You’re not over-reacting.” Darby leans toward the woman, her large brown eyes filled with empathy. “Let’s think. Is there a common thread? Could there be someone after you who was also a
fter Erin?”

  Mia squeezes her eyes shut, taking a deep breath. When she opens them they have a haunted look. She begins to speak tentatively. “I did get another note a week or so ago. Just a paper with a dead Monarch butterfly wrapped in it.” She looks anxiously at Darby. “Did Erin get one too?”

  Mel sits stony-silent. How much should we tell this woman? Darby wonders. She deserves to know. Darby nods. “She did. We found both a butterfly and a note similar to yours in her bedside table.”

  Mia gasps. Her face turns ashen. Terror flashes in her eyes. She sits, absently twirling a lock of her long, red hair. Finally, “There were some kids we teased. Some kids in school. Might it be one of them?”

  “It may,” Mel speaks solemnly.

  “It would help a lot if you told us about them,” Darby adds.

  Mia inhales deeply, and a rush of air gushes from her lips. “Well, there was a boy that everyone teased throughout school,” she begins. “His name is Andy. I’ve seen him in town. I think he’s homeless – hangs out in the skids. Could it be him?”

  “Possibly.” Mel remains impassive. Darby nods encouragingly. “Anyone else?”

  “It wasn’t just us three. But we were popular. Leaders I guess. And they blamed us . . .”

  “What did they blame you for?” Darby keeps her voice calm, non-judgemental.

  “Teasing. Well, bullying, I suppose.” Mia shrugs. “We were just kids.” Tears fill her eyes. “But when I think back, I’m sorry. We were mean.” Tears run down her porcelain cheeks.

  “Was there anyone else who may have resented the teasing?” Darby asked.

  “There was a girl, Marnie. She was a big, tall girl, not very bright, and kind of annoying – you know?” Mia’s eyes beg for understanding. “She’d follow us around talking in this nasal voice, and I guess we got carried away.” She was lost for a moment in wretched memories, her head falling back. Darby and Mel sit silent. Mia drops her head to her chest. Shame radiates from every pore of her body. “We went so far as to spread rumors about her, called her a slut, tormented her to the point where her family moved away from town. Her older brother was in high school and he blamed us when they had to move.” She shakes her head, looking entreatingly at the officers. “I don’t know for sure why they moved. But her brother, Sean, cornered us one day. He was furious. And he used those exact words.” She points at the note in Darby’s hand. “He said, ‘You will pay!’ Those exact words.”

  “Have you seen Marnie or the brother since then?” Mel asks.

  Mia shrugs. “I never saw Marnie again, but her brother and his daughter have recently moved back here. I saw them in Safeway the other day.”

  “Did you speak to him?”

  “No.” Mia raises her chin. “In fact, he glared at me so strangely I left the store without buying groceries.”

  Mel and Darby exchange a look. Interesting!

  They wait a moment while Mia sits reflecting on the past.

  “Besides Andy, Marnie and Sean is there anyone else who may want revenge?” Darby asked.

  Mia sticks her lower lip between her teeth a moment, carefully considering her next words.

  “There was a girl in High School. Adrian White. She was a big, buxom girl - like Marnie. But she didn’t try to be our friend. She was more interested in our boyfriends.” Mia sneers, remembering. “She was an awful girl. Wild and promiscuous. Hard.”

  “So – different than the kind of kid you normally picked on,” Mel says.

  Mia’s eyes flash resentment for a second. Then she nods resolutely. “Yes. I suppose she was.”

  “What happened with Adrian White?”

  Mia’s expression hardens. Her face closes. “Well, I guess we did the kinds of things we did to Marnie. Spread rumors that – in her case - were probably true.” She looks at them, appealing for understanding. They sit pokerfaced. “We were friends with a guy that she liked, and we invited her to a party, saying it was he who’d asked. She got really drunk at the party and she passed out. We wrote ‘Adrian is a fat slut’ on her body with a marker.”

  Darby leans forward. “Where is Adrian White now?”

  Mia shakes her head, tears perched in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t know. She ran away from home right after graduation, and, as far as I know, she wasn’t seen or heard from again.”

  “Is there anything or anyone else – past or present - you can think of?” Mel asks.

  Mia closes her eyes and lets her head fall back. “For the past month I’ve gotten phone calls. The person on the other end just breathes. Won’t answer when I ask who it is – and then I’ve hung up.”

  Darby feels a rush of pity for the woman, callous as she may have been. The glimmer of her humanity shines through now, and she is vulnerable.

  Mia stares at the officers with glossy eyes. “Can you protect me?”

  Darby speaks softly. “We can’t have someone follow you 24-7, but, if you like, we can put you in a safe house.” She hesitates, thinking for a moment. “We can have someone patrol the area regularly and watch your house for now.” She reaches over to touch Mia’s hand. “Is there someone you can stay with while your husband and daughter are away?” Darby asks gently.

  Mia answers with a small nod. “My parents live just down the street. I can stay with them. Once my husband is home I’ll stay here.”

  Darby looks into her eyes. “We’ll find this person. The person who’s doing this,” she says.

  Mia’s eyes dart between the two detectives. “I need to live my life, so I don’t want to stay in a safe-house. My husband will be home tomorrow. I’ll keep the alarm on. I’ll watch out . . .”

  “There’s 9-1-1,” Mel adds.

  Darby stands. “We’ll find the guy. Keep in touch. If you think of anything . . . For now, we’ll take you to your parents’ place.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Mia rises, gathering her former composure, breathing deeply. “I’ll just pack a bag and be right back.” She hurries down the hallway and up a wide stair-case.

  “Let’s talk to this Andy and Sean. We need to find Marnie and Adrian PDQ . . . We’ve gotta catch this psycho.” Darby’s eyes gleam as she and Mel head to the door.

  “Let’s check Buckingham’s phone records, and take another look at Erin Morgan’s,” Mel says. “See if there are any links there.”

  Chapter 11 ~ Jen

  Monday, April 30

  Darren returned home late last night - in a cab this time, thank goodness. I heard him come in, but managed to stay on the edge of sleep, gratis the wine that kept me company all evening. The next morning when the alarm clocks buzzed, we both rolled out of bed grudgingly, tired and hung-over. We stood drinking coffee in the kitchen without a word to one another, and went our separate ways.

  NOW I SIT BACK AFTER a busy Monday looking around my classroom. Tables, in bright reds, blues and yellows, are scattered around the room. The walls are covered with vivid posters. I scan the play-house, art, numbers, and science centres, over-flowing book-shelves, and left-over signs of children – a sweater, a stuffy, a forgotten back-pack, scraps of paper . . . and I sigh. Sometimes work is my happy place; an escape.

  Angela, the grade one teacher from across the hall comes into my room and drops into a tiny chair, her legs and arms sprawled. She throws her head back in an exaggerated pose, groaning. “Ohmygod! What a day!” She proceeds to tell me how she temporarily lost a student on the Symphony Orchestra field trip this morning. In the afternoon all the grade one’s were gathered for a video and her smart-board acted up. At recess some boys picked on a group of girls . . . But now all is well, and we can laugh about the kinks in our perfectly planned day.

  “Speaking of kids picking on others,” Angela’s face becomes more serious. “I guess there’s a huge problem with someone bullying a girl in Junior High. They’ve posted pictures of her on social media under an assumed name – sexy pictures taken at a sleep-over - and now they’re spreading rumors, calling her a slut and I don’t know what all. The g
irl overdosed on pills and ended up in the hospital – presumably because of the bullying. Her parents have involved the police. They’re taking it very seriously.” She pauses, emitting a quick, disgusted snort. “I hope they catch the little ass-holes!”

  “That’s awful!” I say as she rises to leave. “I hope they do.” But my mind is in the past. I think back to ninth grade and to Marnie.

  LIKE ANDY, MARNIE DIDN’T fit in. She and I were best friends in grades one, two and three. We were the outcasts. When I managed, somehow, to finagle Mia and Erin’s friendship I promptly dropped Marnie.

  Mia sat directly behind Marnie in school, and I guess that’s how it started. If Marnie asked a stupid question, or answered one incorrectly, Mia could point at her without Marnie seeing, roll her eyes and be sure of a reaction from most of the class. Sometimes we’d bait her.