The Women on Retford Drive, page 29
part #1 of Dancing Hills Series
“I don’t see her. I have to go.”
There must be a way to get Martha and her children out of that situation. I think about all the Marthas of the world. I was one of them. Thank god, I’m free. “Where are you, Blythe?” I call her again. This time I leave a message.
“Blythe, I’m out of jail, but I’m worried sick about you. Faye said you went to help Carla, but when I called over there, Martha said she hadn’t seen you. Please call me asap.”
“What’s new?” Stephen asks as he enters the conference room.
“I still haven’t been able to reach Blythe. She wasn’t at Martha’s.”
“Where do you think she is?”
“Let me call Shelbie. If anybody knows, she would.”
Stephen stands by while I hit speed dial and turn on the speaker phone.
You are about to enter the voicemail of Shelbie Moore. I am real. Leave a real message, and I will get back to you.
“Shelbie, this is Julia. I’m out of jail. I’m trying to reach Blythe. Please have her call me.”
Stephen squints. “Why does her outgoing message sound kind of familiar?”
“It’s her version of Judge Judy’s show intro. She wants to become a judge and have her own TV show.”
“Interesting.”
“Maybe Sherry’s heard from her.” I hope I don’t get another outgoing message.
Stephen shifts his weight while Sherry’s phone rings. I finally hang up. “That’s weird. There’s no answer. I hope she’s okay. She’s been sick as a dog lately. She won’t admit it, but I think she has the flu. The last time she had a bout I ordered her to bed. She doesn’t like sitting on the sidelines, especially when there’s drama unfolding.”
“Now my phone is ringing. I’ll be right back.”
I watch him leave and consider who else I can call.
Call your mother, Julia. I dismiss that thought because Stephen told me he had Blythe call her, and she was asleep. So she missed my trip to the slammer. I’m sure by now she’s awake and aware, but I don’t have the energy to explain everything to her.
As if on cue, the nursing home number flashes on my screen.
Chapter 39
Blythe
I’ve been driving around for ten minutes, looking for a parking spot. “I hate this neighborhood.” I’m going to have to park on the next street over. It’s late, and everyone is home. Shelbie probably can’t find a spot either. I turn on my phone.
Mon, 06/19/2017
Tryn 2 find place 2 park.
8:30 PM
Mon, 06/19/2017
Me 2. C some spaces on st I’m on now. Few blocks away—Raymond Ave.
8:30 PM
Mon, 06/19/2017
Right behind u. & we need 2 stop driving & texting.
8:31 PM
I pull in behind a pickup truck, and Shelbie takes a space on the other side of the street. “Finally,” she says, jaywalking toward me.
We hug and walk to the building. I open the door and race up the stairs, anxious to share my thoughts with Shelbie. As I’m about to open the door, my earlier conversation with Stephen replays in my head.
We believe that missing knife is the murder weapon, and the killer put it in one of the boxes that was moved to your apartment.
We need to go check that out.
Julia and I did. When we got there, the apartment and the boxes had been ransacked.
“Why aren’t you opening the door?” Shelbie asks.
“We need to be careful.” I unlock the door, then kick it open. I flip on the light and inch my way in, with Shelbie close behind. She starts to shut the door, but I motion to her to leave it open. If somebody’s in here, we need to be able to leave in a hurry. My eyes widen when I see our belongings strewn across the floor.
“Somebody was seriously looking for that knife,” Shelbie says, stepping over the piles. “I doubt it’s here, Blythe.”
“I still want to check.” I head to the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back, and then I want to tell you who I think ‘she’ might be.” I enter the bathroom and sit on the toilet, my eyes darting from the shower to the hamper. I pinch my nose when a putrid smell wafts up my nostrils. “What is that?” I finish up and wash my hands.
“What’s wrong now?” Shelbie asks, when I come out of the bathroom.
“I need you to go in there and tell me what you smell.”
“I’m a loyal friend, but I think that’s above and beyond.”
“No, there’s something else in there.”
She shrugs and enters the bathroom, tilting her head back, looking at the ceiling. “It smells like somebody threw up in here. It smells like vomit.”
“That’s what it is.”
“It’s mostly cleaned up, but there’s still some on the floor.” She points beside the toilet.
I motion for her to follow me to the living room, and we sit on the floor. “I’m going to tell you something, and I need you to keep an open mind.”
“What?”
“I think Sherry may have killed my father.”
“Shut the hell up. Why?”
“Remember Mrs. Tatum, who sent me that email on my Facebook page?”
“Yes.”
“I met her at the country club tonight. When we got something out of her trunk, it reminded me about Sherry’s busted taillight.”
“You know what? I noticed that too, the night Sherry was supposed to have brought Julia’s contract to the house, and we ended up brainstorming.”
“What if at some point, my father was in her trunk and kicked out the taillight?”
“I just got chills.” Shelbie fans her face. “But what would be her motive?”
“Maybe she was having an affair with him, and things went sour.”
Shelbie gets up from the floor. She paces and looks out the window. “Let’s think this through … Wait a minute.”
“What?” I ask, popping up.
“I was thinking about the vomit. Who do we know who’s been throwing up a lot?”
“Sherry!”
“What if she broke into the apartment to search for the knife, and she threw up in the bathroom while she was here?”
“You’re onto something. And she wanted to help unpack the boxes. Faye was on point when she said whoever killed my father panicked. Let’s say Sherry freaked out when she heard Martha, and she stuffed the knife into one of the boxes.”
“What about the shirt?”
“Maybe she used the shirt to wipe the blood off the knife. She’s downstairs, hears Martha, runs into the laundry room, and stuffs the shirt between the washer and dryer.”
“Remember the pillows at Martha’s place?”
“The ones Sherry gave her?”
“Yep. Martha said Sherry brought the pillows to her. I don’t see her making a trip to that neighborhood just to bring Martha pillows. What if she went there to look for the shirt? She knew Martha had it,” Shelbie says, her eyes widening with excitement.
“Let’s get back to motive. Why would Sherry betray Julia? Why would she have an affair with my father, knowing what a prick he is?”
“First of all, Julia and your father stopped having sex over a year ago.”
“Right around the same time Larry cheated on Sherry. And Sherry was borderline suicidal after that happened. What if my father saw how vulnerable she was and took advantage of her? She was working with him around that time. Her client did that commercial. So let’s say my father starts consoling her, and one thing leads to another. We all know he’s a charmer and that he’s able to cast spells on people. Sherry even said it herself.”
“So they’re screwing each other behind Julia’s back. But why kill him?”
We both clasp our hands, walking around the apartment, tripping over books and dishes, trying to solve this mystery. Then it hits me. “What causes the biggest problem in an affair?”
“When the woman gets pregnant!”
“Bingo. Sherry’s pregnant. That’s why she’s been throwing up. What if Tuesday she came to the house and revealed to my father that she was going to have his baby? It would have made sense for her to tell him before he traveled out of the country. Maybe he told her that after we moved out, he would move her in. That after Julia divorced him, he would marry her. What if she was in love with him?”
“Damn. I could see that. And knowing how twisted your father is, he probably told her the baby wasn’t his and that he wasn’t going to marry her.”
“And she thinks about all she’s risked—her friendship with Julia, her career, possible future abuse—she goes ballistic. Grabs the knife and stabs him.”
“You said the blood was in the red room.”
“I think they were screwing up there. After she got his rocks off, she probably felt that was the opportune time to drop the bomb about the baby. He probably cursed her out and told her to leave. Then she ran downstairs, got the knife, and attacked him in the bedroom. Holy crap, we’re missing a king-size blanket. She probably wrapped him in that blanket and dragged him downstairs to his car. She put him in his trunk, unaware he was still alive. He wrote the note while in the trunk. Then she doubled back and transferred him to her trunk, realizing that his car would attract too much attention. That’s when he knocked out the taillight. By the time she noticed, he’d probably already died. She must have buried him somewhere.”
We scream and fist bump.
“Blythe, why would she take the Maserati?”
“Because with it missing, it would look like he had gone on the trip.”
“But why would she leave it at the strip mall so close to the nursing home?”
“I don’t know. That’s something the police would have to ask her.”
“This is all circumstantial, Blythe. We don’t have solid proof.”
“We have DNA—the vomit on the bathroom floor. Also, the police could have her take a pregnancy test, and depending on how far along she is, the baby’s paternity could be established. And the woman the man at the convenience store saw wasn’t my mother, it was Sherry—Sherry Mueller. She speaks a little German, and Julia told me the other day that the convenience store guy seemed confused about the hair color. At first, he said brown. Then he said red. Sherry has brown hair. She was the woman at the strip mall.”
“But the police questioned her. She obviously had an alibi.”
“Larry probably vouched for her. He’d do anything to get back in her good graces after cheating on her.” Shelbie throws her hands up. “What?” I ask.
“The note. The note in blood.”
“What about it?”
“‘She kill me.’ We thought your father was saying ‘she,’ as in the pronoun. He was trying to spell S-H-E-R-R-Y and didn’t have the strength. So he wrote S-H-E!”
“You’re right.” I fall back against the wall, tears welling up in my eyes. A wave of grief hits me, and I slide to the floor.
Shelbie sits next to me. “I’m sorry, Blythe.”
“He’s really gone. My father is gone. He’s dead, and Sherry killed him.”
“Don’t cry, honey. You’re making me cry.”
“I can’t help it. He was my father, good, bad, ugly. My father is gone forever.”
“Blythe, your father left years ago. He was miserable. Maybe now he’s at peace.”
I look into Shelbie’s tear-filled eyes and nod. “I never thought about it like that. You’re right. He’s at peace now.”
“What do you want to do?”
“We need to call Stephen, tell him our theory. We need to isolate the floor near the toilet.”
“But will Stephen believe us? Will the police believe us?”
“We’re going to make them believe. And there’s probably trace evidence in Sherry’s trunk. She did it, and the police will be able to find solid evidence to prove it.”
“Too bad we don’t have the murder weapon.”
“But you do.”
Shelbie and I turn and gasp at the sight of Carla, Jorge behind her, standing in the doorway with a bloody knife in a plastic bag.
Chapter 40
Julia
From inside Stephen’s car, I watch him talking to his building’s security guard. The young man tugs his goatee and gives Stephen a thumbs-up. Stephen nods then walks to the car. He slides in and smiles.
“So how does it feel to be a free woman again?” he asks.
“I’m still pinching myself. It’s amazing to be alive and free. I don’t know how long I have. I know what you said about the case not going to trial, but nothing’s guaranteed.”
“Don’t think about that. Let’s go see your mother, then we’ll get something to eat and stop by the apartment. I’m sure you’ll hear from Blythe any minute now.” He pats my knee.
A tingling sensation shoots through my body, and I shift in my seat. “My mother’s going to love you.”
He backs out of the parking lot and heads toward the freeway. “How long has your mother been in the nursing home?”
“Three years. She was living on her own before that. She has moderate Alzheimer’s.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He drives onto the freeway.
“What about your parents?”
“They’re retired, living in Florida. My father was a cop, and my mother was a nurse. They’ve been married for fifty years, and I’ve never seen them have a fight. I’m not naïve; I know they did, but not in front of my sisters and me.”
“I’m an only child, and my mother never worked. She relied on my father for everything. He abused her.”
“And you continued the cycle.”
“I did. But it’s over, Stephen. No more.”
“Good for you, pretty lady.”
I look out the window.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay. It’s been a while since I’ve been around such a caring man.”
“And it’s been a while since I’ve been around such a beautiful woman—inside and out.”
“The exit is coming up.” I’m happy to change the subject.
He exits the freeway, and I direct him to the nursing home. “It is close to the strip mall,” he says as we pass it.
“You can park in the visitor lot. How long do you think it’ll be before the press gets wind of me bailing out?”
“It won’t be long. And once they do, the circus is coming to town.”
“You think they’ll come to your house?”
“As long as word doesn’t get out that you and Blythe are staying there, I don’t think so.”
We go inside, and Vivian, standing at the counter, drops the clipboard. “You’re out of jail! Oh my god, we were so worried about you.” She comes from around the counter and wraps me in her thick arms. “Julia, your mother knows nothing. She was asleep when you were arrested, and I made sure no one told her what was going on.”
“I know. I appreciate that.” I extract myself from her grip. “She called me while I was at my lawyer’s office. Speaking of which, this is my attorney, Stephen Miller.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” she says, grinning. “How did you get out of jail?”
“I bailed out, but it’s not over. I have to go to court Wednesday for my arraignment.”
“Julia, I know you didn’t kill Keith, and I’m praying the truth will come out.”
“We all are,” Stephen says.
“Is my mother awake?”
“She’s in her room. Go right in,” she says, still smiling, her eyes glued to Stephen.
“When all this is over, I’m going to take my mother out of here to live with me,” I tell Stephen.
“I don’t blame you.” He swivels his head, taking in the less than desirable environment.
“Mom, it’s me,” I say, entering her room.
“Julia, it’s so good to see you. I’ve been sleeping all day. I think it’s my new medication. “Who is that?” She sits up.
“Mom, this is my attorney, Stephen Miller.”
Her blues eyes sparkle mischievously, and she says, “He’s the one. He’s a keeper.”
Stephen’s face reddens. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wesley. Julia talks about you all the time.”
“I hope it’s good talk. She didn’t tell me about you though. Where are you from?”
“I was born and raised in California, ma’am.”
“And you’re respectful too. I like him, Julia. That other one, Keith, was no good. He’s dead. I had a dream about him.”
“What kind of dream, Mom?”
“I dreamt he was buried not far from here.”
Stephen and I exchange curious looks. “In the dream, did you see who was burying him?” Stephen asks.
“No. I saw the shovel, and I saw the dirt, but I didn’t see who it was. I wish I would have.”
“You and me both, Mom.”
~~~
Stephen and I sit at a local Italian restaurant, and I reflect on our visit to the nursing home. He was so good with my mother, and she instantly connected with him. We ended up spending an hour there listening to her tell him stories about my youth. He seemed to enjoy it.
“What’s funny?” I ask, drinking the last of my red wine.
“I was remembering some of your childhood tales that your mother told me. I really love the one where you tried to bake her a birthday cake in your Easy-Bake Oven. I can see your little, twisted face when you bit into it.”
“Yuck. Don’t remind me. How was your steak?”
“Good. I’m full. What about yours?”
I point to my empty plate. “Delicious. Can’t you tell? I eat a lot of salads, but after my jail stint, I needed some red meat.” I rub my belly. “Have you seen my phone?”
“I think you left it in my car. We should go to the apartment. It’s late.”
“Lead the way, Mr. Miller. I’m right behind you.” I stand.
He rises and takes my hand. “I rather have you beside me.”
“I like that,” I say, feeling tipsy.
Chapter 41
Blythe
Shelbie, Jorge, Carla, and I stand in the kitchen, peering at the bloody knife in the plastic bag. “So you two broke into the apartment and found the knife?” Shelbie asks.
