A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT: THREE STORIES OF VIRTUE FALLS Page 3

  For a moment, Sheriff Foster appeared flummoxed. “What local residents?”

  “I don’t know. When I hack into the texting, I can follow a conversation, but I can’t tell who’s talking.”

  “What are the phone numbers?”

  “I can’t tell that, either.”

  “Can you tell where in the county these people are?”

  “No.” She glanced toward the counter.

  Two more law enforcement officers had appeared.

  Sheriff Foster clicked the pen again.

  He hadn’t written anything down.

  “Then why do it?” he asked.

  “For the insurance money, they said.”

  He clicked and held. “I meant — why do you read other people's texts if you don’t know who they are?”

  “It’s frequently interesting, an insight into human behavior.” He seemed to expect more, so she added, “And if I can figure out who the texters are, it’s a brainteaser.”

  He stared with a fixed gaze.

  She added, “Bonus points to me.”

  “So you have hacked into a conversation where a couple of siblings —“

  “Or a husband and wife, either straight or lesbian. I think that’s more likely. They seemed unnaturally close, and very fond of each other. Me and my siblings aren’t like that, but I know some are. One of them seemed mildly reluctant, but the other was determined.”

  With awesome patience, Sheriff Foster started again. “You hacked into a conversation between a couple of people who intend to off an old lady, and you are reporting this as a crime.”

  Was he not taking this seriously? “That’s right. As a law enforcement officer, I would think you’d want to apprehend the perpetrators.”

  He shut his notebook. “I ought to arrest you as a hacker.”

  “But I discovered a crime.”

  “You committed a crime! You eavesdropped on a conversation between two unknown people who may or may not be thinking of killing another unknown person. It was a conversation. If I arrested everybody who said they wanted to kill someone, I’d have half of Virtue Falls in here!”

  Had he not been paying attention? “But they’re going to poison her!”

  He took a breath, then started again, and spoke more slowly. “The crime here is hacking, and you did it. If I turned you into the FBI, do you think you’d still have your superimportant government job? I don’t think so!”

  He was right. The government frowned on hackers.

  Sheriff Foster continued, “So I’d suggest you get up and go home, and forget this stupid shit about people who are going to kill their mother.” He turned away, muttering, “Dumbest goddamn thing I ever heard.” He looked at the grinning officers hanging over the counter. “Go back to work!”

  They scattered.

  Sheriff Foster disappeared into the back.

  Cornelia seldom felt humiliation. She seldom felt confusion.

  She felt both now. She had done the proper thing, socially speaking, by reporting a crime before it happened, and she had been the object of mockery.

  She groped for her backpack, walked outside and checked her cell phone. The time was four thirty-six. She looked across the square. Mason pulled up in front of the Oceanview Café, a full minute early.

  She would tell Mason. Mason would know what to do.

  She walked across the square and to the driver’s side as he was getting out of the car. “I’m here,” she said.

  At her unexpected appearance, he jumped in surprise and looked toward city hall. “Where were you? What were you doing?”

  She walked around to the passenger side and waited.

  As always, he first kissed her on the cheek, then opened her door.

  She slid into the car and, as always, watched him walk around the hood.

  As always, he was a very handsome man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with black, wavy hair and dark blue eyes. She particularly admired his chin, which appeared to be chiseled from stone. It had a dimple in middle, which softened the effect.

  He got in, put the car in gear and headed toward their home on the outskirts of Virtue Falls. “So — what’s up? Why did you change your routine?”

  “I just had a very odd experience.”

  “Why don’t you tell me over dinner?” He smiled rather tightly. “I would like to have some interesting conversation over dinner.”

  Because of the day’s events, she felt moved to examine his comment with more intensity than she would normally. “Am I not a stimulating conversationalist over dinner? I am sorry. I will endeavor to do better.”

  He glanced at her in seeming alarm. “It’s not that. We … um, it’s okay. We talk enough.”

  She nodded. “Tonight I will offer up more than that usual report on my work, I promise.”

  “Okay. I can’t wait.” He drove into the driveway, activated the garage door opener, pulled in and shut the garage behind them. “I’ve made a great meal tonight.”

  Cornelia's stomach growled. “Excellent. I have an appetite.”

  Mason hurried around and took her backpack. “That’s one of the charming things about you. You enjoy your food. A lot.”

  They entered through the kitchen.

  She smelled garlic and rosemary.

  “You go get ready.” He put a large pat of butter in a skillet, placed it on the stove, and turned the burner on high. He got out another skillet and did the same thing on a different burner. “I’ll finish up in here.”

  She went into their bedroom, put her electronic equipment away, went to the bathroom, washed her hands for the appropriate amount of time, and returned to the dining room. She sat at her place at their square table and listened as Mason rattled the pans. She didn’t know what she wanted most: the food or the chance to explain what had happened and ask to do.

  He came in, smiling tensely, holding a plate with a potholder. With a flourish, he placed it in front of her. “Be careful. The plate is hot.”

  He went back to the kitchen and got his plate. He seated himself.

  She picked up her knife and fork, and looked down at her meal.

  “Tonight we’re going to enjoy ourselves,” he said. “T-bone steak, mushrooms and rosemary garlic potatoes.”

  Cornelia stared at the food. Stared, then lifted her gaze and stared at Mason.

  Mason. Handsome, pleasant, shallow, vapid, lazy, easily influenced. She knew all those things. She also knew he liked her. Maybe loved her.

  So … what was the probability he loved some other woman, too?

  Unfortunately, in the circumstances, the probability was high.

  She reached for her water glass, hit it with the back of her hand, and knocked it over.

  Mason made a grab for it.

  Water spilled all over the Italian linen tablecloth.

  “I’m so clumsy!” she lamented. “I’ve made a mess. I’m so sorry! Can you forgive me?”

  He was on his feet, clutching her water glass. He looked at her as if she was some kind of exotic animal, then he kissed her on the top of her head. “No problem. I can easily fix this. Now … go ahead and enjoy your dinner. I’ll be back with another glass of water, and you can tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s okay. I may have figured it out.”

  “Right. You’re smart. You don’t need me for much. You figure out everything on your own.” He headed into the kitchen.

  She waited until he was out of sight.

  Then she switched the plates.

  ***

  The next afternoon, Kateri sat at the lunch counter.

  Rainbow leaned an elbow against the chrome napkin holder.

  They both stared at Cornelia Markum.

  Half the town was in the Oceanview Café, staring at Cornelia.

  Cornelia, who sat at her usual table, frowning at her laptop.

  “What’s she doing?” Rainbow asked.

  “She looks like she’s wor
king,” Kateri said.

  “Her husband died last night,” Rainbow said.

  Kateri looked at Rainbow. “He poisoned himself.”

  The two women returned to staring at Cornelia.

  “Word is,” Kateri said, “she tried to tell Sheriff Foster someone was going to murder someone, and when she couldn’t come up with the names, he threatened to arrest her for hacking.”

  Rainbow looked sheepish. “She asked me who to tell about a murder. I asked if she was writing a book.”

  Both women laughed semi-hysterically.

  “As I understand it,” Kateri said, “she looked down and recognized the menu. She distracted Mason and switched the plates. She figured it wouldn’t matter as long as he hadn’t added poison to her food.”

  “But he had.”

  “And he’s dead.”

  “And there she sits, working.”

  Silence.

  “I mean … they were married for a long time.” Kateri looked at Rainbow. “You said she loved him.”

  “I think she did.”

  “He tried to kill her. Couldn’t we have some angst? Or melodrama? Or … something?”

  “Not while she’s working.”

  “Not ever.”

  Silence.

  “Did you hear about the other woman?” Rainbow asked.

  “Karrin Ventura.”

  “The children’s librarian.”

  Kateri couldn’t believe it. “She wears cotton socks and organic cotton shifts.”

  “She’s pretty and sweet.” Rainbow leaned forward and lowered her voice. “And apparently she knows how to research poisons.”

  “The poison didn’t take effect right away. I heard he cleaned the kitchen and watched some TV before he started cramping. Then Cornelia called 911.” Kateri swallowed. “He died in agony.”

  “Poor, cheating, murdering bastard.”

  “Cute, though.” Kateri shoved her coffee cup toward Rainbow.

  Rainbow filled it up.

  It had been a soy latte, but a little straight coffee wouldn’t hurt.

  Rainbow moved through the diner, filling everybody else’s cups, too.

  No one was talking.

  Everyone was whispering. In fits and starts.

  No one was behaving normally. Except Cornelia.

  When Rainbow came back, Kateri said, “This morning, Sheriff Foster, the dumb shit, arrested Cornelia. By then Karrin had heard that Mason was dead.”

  “I was working.” Rainbow indicated her view of the Virtue Falls town hall. “I couldn’t believe it when Sheriff Foster drove up, lights flashing, and pulled Cornelia out of the car in handcuffs. I was headed out there to tell him what I knew when Karrin ran up, screaming, and slashed Cornelia's face with her nails.”

  “Like a cat.”

  Rainbow nodded. “Then Karrin collapsed, sobbing, and confessed right there in the street. It was the most dramatic scene I’ve ever seen in my life. Foster had to take his handcuffs off Cornelia to put them on Karrin.”

  “So he looked like a fool. Good. That guy hasn’t done anything except give parking tickets since he solved the Banner murder case, and that was twenty-three years ago.”

  Silence.

  “What did Cornelia do then?” Kateri asked.

  “She went in and gave her report. The phone company’s cooperating with the investigation, so Cornelia is free and expected to testify in Karrin’s trial.”

  Silence.

  The timer beeped in Rainbow's pocket. She pulled it out, looked at it, went to the refrigerator and took out the whole milk. She put it in the microwave for fifty-three seconds, went to the pie, measured the crust, cut it at exactly the right angle. Taking the warm milk and the pie, she walked to Cornelia just as Cornelia's computer pinged. Rainbow put the pie and the milk on the table. “Milk’s at 140 degrees. Today the pie is cherry, two inches at the crust.”

  Cornelia looked at her. Just looked at her as she always did.

  Rainbow delved into her pocket. “Look. This is a restaurant. We use knives a lot, so I keep antiseptic ointment here.” She pulled out the tube and showed it to Cornelia. “That scratch on your face looks painful. Want me to put some on your cheek?”

  Cornelia blinked in surprise. “Yes.” She tilted her head.

  Rainbow smeared ointment on the slash left by Karrin’s nails, capped the tube and turned back toward the counter.

  “Rainbow?” As always, Cornelia spoke in a monotone.

  Rainbow turned back to her. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  Now Rainbow blinked in surprise. “You’re welcome.” She sidled back to the counter.

  Kateri had watched the whole scene. She offered Rainbow a fist bump. “You won that round.”

  “True …” Rainbow grinned. “Now if I could get her to leave a tip.”

  “Good luck with that.” Kateri stood. “Gotta get back to the harbor and see if I can whip any sense into Landlubber.”

  “If anybody can, you can.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you’d met him.”

  The door opened, and both women turned to face the Oceanview Café's newest customer.

  The woman who stood in the doorway was breathtaking. Blond hair, blue eyes, porcelain complexion, and a curvaceous body that quivered like Jell-O on springs.

  The guys from the Virtue Falls Canyon science geological study followed close on her heels, and were practically tripping over their tongues.

  Kateri turned to Rainbow. “Holy shit. Who is that?”

  Rainbow straightened up from the counter and stood, arms straight and stiff at her sides. She stared at the newcomer through bleak and bitter eyes. In a pained tone, she asked, "Don’t you recognize her?"

  Kateri shook her head. “Should I?”

  “She looks just like her mother. That’s Elizabeth Banner. That’s the girl who watched her father kill her mother with the scissors.”

  THE END

  Readers' Guide Questions for THE LISTENER

  1. Have you ever eavesdropped on another person’s conversation? Did you regret your actions? Why or why not?

  2. Cornelia speaks about her early desire to please her mother. Talk about a time in your life when you felt pressure to conform to the expectations of another person. What were the expectations, and how did you cope?

  3. Have you known someone with autism, OCD or who generally could not understand nuance, sarcasm or jokes? What was your reaction to this person? Were you able to forge a relationship with them, or did their routine and/or reactions to social situations stand in the way?

  4. How did you feel during the scene where Cornelia attempts to tell the Sheriff about her findings? Did you understand his reaction, or were you frustrated by his inability to look past Cornelia’s crime of hacking to the possible crime of murder she was reporting?

  5. Cornelia reacted very little to her realization that her husband wanted to poison her, and she was able to think quickly in turning the poison on him. Do you believe a person with a “normal” demeanor would have fared as well? What would your reaction have been?

  6. What were your feelings when you realized that Mason had died in pain? Do you believe he deserved it? Why or why not?

  7. Do you understand why Cornelia returned to her routine at the Oceanview Café after her husband tried to murder her and was killed by his own actions? How would you cope with a betrayal and the subsequent loss of your loved one?

  THE RELATIVES

  by

  Christina Dodd

  When relatives invite themselves to visit a wealthy couple’s Virtue Falls home, events take an unexpectedly dark—and fatal—turn.

  Day One

  “We do ask that you watch your step and use the handrails.” Gwen Ricci indicated the stairway leading up to the guest cottage and the broad ironwood porch. “We added traction strips to each tread because . . . you know the Pacific Northwest! Always raining, especially here
in Washington, and we don’t want our guests to fall.” She smiled back at Mario's cousins from Minneapolis, Minnesota. “Also, Cecily, please be careful with those heels that they don’t slip between the boards!” Gwen found herself mentally adding, Stupid inappropriate heels.

  Funny. Gwen was already talking to herself. Usually it took three days of unrelenting company before she was adding sarcastic mental asides. With Cecily and Landon, it had taken less than thirty minutes.

  “I didn’t realize there would be so many steps.” Cecily paused halfway up the stairs and put a hand on her richly endowed chest.

  Gwen paused, too. "Do you have a heart problem?"

  "No. No, I don't think so, although my mother died at an early age of a heart attack so that's always a concern."

  "What a relief!" Gwen started up the stairs again.

  “My father died of an accident when I was only sixteen, leaving me an orphan."

  "I'm sorry for your loss." Why were they talking about her father? It looked sixteen was quite a few years back for Cecily.

  "And I do have a joint disease that makes all this climbing is tragically difficult.” Cecily took a long, martyred breath. “But don’t pay a bit of attention to me, I can handle the pain.”

  Okay, I won't. Yet Gwen kept her tone encouraging as she said, "Once you get inside the guest cottage, you'll decide that it's all worthwhile." She reached the porch, turned and waited while Cecily continued her laborious trek up the stairs.

  Mario, honey, what were you thinking? He had located his cousins through a genealogical service, emailed with them for a month, and then one day, the phone rang. It was Landon Ricci, accepting an invitation to stay with Mario and Gwen; an invitation Mario swore he had not extended. But Mario, being Mario—tall, handsome, expansive, hospitable and Italian to his bones—had assured them they were welcome.

  Then Mario—being the owner of an expanding electrical firm with locations from Portland to the Canadian border—had an emergency call this morning, leaving Gwen to welcome his guests.