Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Ex

 

PART THREE

THE EX

 

The bitch.

I knew something was going on with her and Troy, but I never thought she would leave me for him. We have been together nearly ten years, and then this bastard walks into her life, and she leaves – no explanation except for, “I’m sorry, but I’ve been having an affair with a man I fell in love with. I want a divorce.” We have two kids: what about them?

No, this isn’t acceptable. I’ve worked too hard to see my family destroyed. I will end this.

Now, I know I can’t force Melanie to stop seeing him since she’s a grown-ass adult, but if he disappears, well ….

And no, I won’t kill him. I’m not a sadist or maniac. I need to buy him off. I had to think strategically about this. I knew she would be at a conference in Florida, and Troy would be at the cabin for a week. She asked if I could take the kids while she was gone – a whole week without seeing them. I guess it doesn’t matter since she rarely sees them now. I care for the kids, prepare them for school, do their homework, and take them to soccer and ballet classes. Our son is 9, and our daughter is 6. We got married soon after college; I was 24, she was 22. I turn 34 next month, and Melanie will be 32 in December – Christmas Eve.

Anyway, he will be at the cabin, so I will stop by to get his price, and that will be it. Yeah, I know, if he really loves her, he will tell me to go to hell, but not if I tell him the secret I’ve had about her for over ten years. You see, Melanie did something that could be considered unforgivable, but I did forgive her because I loved her, and it was partly my fault. Still, Troy doesn’t need to know that.

I’ve spent too long mending fences and building our family to let it all be torn down. Once Troy’s gone, Melanie will be heartbroken, yes, but it will give me the opportunity to get her into therapy. She has refused to go for years, and it’s taken a toll. Her paranoid schizophrenia is worsening, and it’s been hard on the kids – and me. She tells me at least every week that someone is out to get the family. She won’t let the kids play outside or sometimes even on their phones unless she monitors everything. But they only have games and YouTube Kids. Still, she thinks some predator is out to kidnap and kill them.

We live in a safe neighborhood in Long Island, New York, and I’m sure you’re wondering how Melanie even met Troy, who lives clear across the country in Utah, of all places. Well, he’s a mason and travels for work. I hired the company he works for to build our new home. Their reputation was stellar, and the company was in Grantsville, the city where my good buddy, Grant, lived and where I grew up before moving East to pursue my career. I knew the family who owned it and knew they were top-notch.

Well, one thing led to another, and I knew something was going on, but I couldn’t prove it until I hired a private detective and confirmed my suspicions. I didn’t know how long it had been going on until she told me – over a year. Her conferences to Utah three times last year were supposedly for her job, as she’s an account executive for a top ad agency in New York. But I’m not stupid. I hired Detective Rangely for a pretty penny, and he followed her to Grantsville and took some pretty damning photos of the two of them. I knew in my heart it was true, but seeing them together broke my heart.

Now, I thought about the possibilities of things going south while at the cabin, so I enlisted some help from Grant. If Troy threatens or attacks me, he will be waiting near a grove of trees. I don’t want to hurt him, but I won’t let him hurt me, either. The cabin is mine and has been in the family for decades. She gave him the keys to MY cabin.

It’s half past 8:00 Wednesday morning when I get out of the shower. It’s getting warmer from the wet and cold winter we’ve had. May is my favorite time of year. It’s the time when I can start planting my gardens. I’m a horticulturist; well, it’s my hobby, not a career. I work as a stockbroker on Wall Street, taking after my father and grandfather. Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. I’ve made a lot of money investing in other people’s money. What’s not to love?

I wipe the steam from the mirror and look at the man staring back. His dark brown hair shows signs of aging, with a few gray hairs at the sides and mingled with the rest. His jaw is strong and chiseled, and the abs are finally starting to pack on some muscle – not quite a six-pack – but if he continues working out and hiking every week, he’ll get there. He’s nearly 6 feet tall, not bad, and his sea blue eyes he got from his mom are his prominent features – at least, that’s what the women all said. Still, he doesn’t consider himself a “pretty boy” or “hot.” He has a long nose, small lips, and some annoying tics he’s had since childhood, diagnosed as mild Tourette’s. It means there are no yelling profanities or other major symptoms. He sometimes cricks his neck, constantly clears his throat, and twitches his eyes – something he lives with and tolerates, keeping things under control in social situations and at work.

The kids are getting out of school next week, and then in late August, we all go on a Disney Cruise before they head back to school in early September. By then, Troy will be out of our lives, and Melanie and I may have mended a broken relationship. At least, this is my hope.

I check my watch after slipping on my Christian Louboutin shoes I got from Saks; well, I didn’t buy them. Melanie did it for Christmas last year. She had never bought me expensive shoes, and looking back, I should have known she was being nice to me to assuage her guilt of having an affair. I take one last look in the downstairs mirror, patting down some strands of hair that seem to pop up daily due to my circular cowlick in the back of my head. My mother would get so frustrated trying to get it to stay down.

I check around the house, ensuring the security system is ready, and head to the garage where my Lexus crossover sits. It’s perfect for four people, and since I’m the one who takes the kids everywhere, it has room for soccer balls, uniforms, a cooler for treats, and blankets. Melanie is always working and can never attend practices or even games. I once asked her why we even had kids if we weren’t both there for them. Her response: It’s MY time to play. Women have had to stay home for hundreds or thousands of years, and now it’s the men’s turn to stay home. I wished I had known her feelings before we had two kids because now, they have one parent and are always asking when mom will be home. What do I tell them, that they’re not wanted because it’s HER turn?

I push the button on the side of the wall that opens the garage door. The sun is shining, and I feel warmth flood the garage when I step inside the Lexus. It will be nice to get away for a week with the kids; it seems like I haven’t had a vacation in years, and now that I think about it, the last time we went anywhere with them was to Disneyworld when Kirsten was 2, and Jayden was 5 – four years ago.

I head to lower Manhattan about 9 miles west, but with traffic, it takes at least 35 minutes to get there. I’ve made this commute for over a decade now. Sometimes, I listen to a podcast while driving; other times, I put on Spotify and jam to my traffic playlist. (Yes, I do have one)

Ten minutes into my drive, I get an alert on my GPS monitor from Apple Maps that traffic is backed up a few miles. Welcome to my life. Melanie leaves early for her office to miss it since she said it stresses her out to sit in traffic. She took the kids to school this morning since they missed the bus. I had worked late the night before and wanted to avoid getting up at 7:00 to get them to school. The bus comes right at 7:45 for the 8:15 bell, but sometimes, they play around and miss it. Melanie gets quite upset because she must be at her office by 8:30, her words, which is 30 minutes away. But she is the account executive, so coming in a few minutes late isn’t a big deal.

She’s been at Top Quality Advertising in Brooklyn for over seven years now. We used to meet each other for lunch in Times Square. That all but stopped a few years ago. Our offices are about 10 minutes from each other, and we could carpool, but she goes in earlier than I do and stays later. It’s not a stretch for her to be gone by 7:00 a.m. and not home until 7:00 p.m.

I often think about what went wrong. We were so in love, and then the affair happened.

Well, I will rectify the situation, and Melanie will be mine again.

It’s only a matter of time.

Tips for Perfect Halloween Pumpkins

Time for a gardening post!

Are you growing pumpkins for Halloween? In the 40th installment of Gardening Tips & Tricks, I put together a list of tips about pumpkins, especially preventing squash bugs, which are nasty critters that will decimate your pumpkins, squash, or other viny vegetables.

Let's get into this!

🎃 Tip #1: Plant at the right time - if you're in the north, mid to late May is best; in the south, late June is best, so you should have yours already well underway. If you don't, here are tips for next year. One thing to note is that plants will rot before Halloween, so time it right!

🎃 Tip #2: Pumpkins will spread rapidly, so you need tons of room. They will crawl on the ground and send out shooters, and can take over entire gardens. Pumpkins can grow upwards of 40 feet! If there's not enough room, the plant will start shading itself and then rot as it needs a lot of sun.

🎃 Tip #3: Halloween pumpkins need a ton of sunlight - I'm talking at least 8-10 hours a day to grow big and healthy. And one plant can produce several pumpkins, so space them.

🎃 Tip #4: Pumpkins love water, so if you live in a drought-free area, have at it, but if you don't (like me) and still want to grow them, do it with a drip system. It saves tons of water and money. They need at least 2-4 inches per week, which, if you're not getting that type of rainfall, it's necessary to supplement them.

🎃 Tip #5: Plant your Halloween pumpkins with companion plants. The reason is to help prevent squash bugs, which are the #1 killer of pumpkins. Ones to try include the following:

- Catnip

- Marigold

- Nasturtiums

- Petunias

- Radishes

- Mint

🎃 Tip #6: Keep the stem. When harvesting pumpkins, keep a long, healthy stem on the vine. This will help reduce the rotting process.

🎃 Tip #7: After Halloween, smash the pumpkins and use them as compost for your garden; they offer nutrients to help keep your soil and plants healthy and growing strong.

Okay, if you're growing Halloween pumpkins, let me know in the comments and post a pic. This is one plant I have a hard time growing, so if you have had success, congrats! Next time, it's decorating time with pumpkins, so stay tuned!

Happy Gardening!

#gardening #gardeningtips #gardeners #gardener #Halloween #halloweenpumpkins #pumpkins

____________________________________________________________

Hi, I've been a gardener for 30 years and love posting about my successes (and failures), so join my group, Gardening Tips & Tricks. Like, comment, share, and hit the 🔔 for when I post. If you love murder mysteries, sub to my newsletter, Musings & Mysteries, where I post my journey of finding a job and my novel, Asters & Arsenic: A Patrice Summers Mystery. Follow me on IG @hotmamagardner and check out my blog @ jewelswrites.blogspot.com

Chapter Twenty-Six: He's Coming Toward Me

 

I turn and flee, but a strong arm grabs me from behind before I can get down the hall. Just then, Officer Lopez reaches the hallway, her gun drawn.

“Don’t move,” she says, slowly moving forward.

“No, you don’t move. I feel something cold press against my neck, knowing it’s a knife. “I will slit her throat.” I start to panic, and tears pool in my eyes. Is this it? Will I die at the hands of this person? “Drop the gun, and no one gets hurt. I’m just here to get something in his room,” he said, but his voice didn’t seem convincing.

“Okay, I don’t want to cause you to use that against her.” Officer Lopez slowly places the gun on the floor and shows her hands; while doing so, her eyes trained on me, and I swear I can see her eye twitch, or was it a wink?

“Good girl. Now, I’m going to keep this old woman here as a hostage while I look for something. If I see anything or if you come after us, she’s dead. Got me?” Again, with the old woman spiel.

“Yes.”

He drags me to my nephew’s room and closes the door behind us. “If you stay right here, you won’t get hurt.” I then watch him riffle through drawers, upend the mattress, throw open the closet, and pull out everything.

I wasn’t just going to stand there while he destroyed my home. “What are you looking for? Maybe I can help you.”

The man turns around. “Unless you know where he stashed the money, you can’t help me.” I instantly know he’s here to steal the $20,000 my nephew received from killing Troy. I doubt he would have left that much money lying around.

As I see him looking under the bed, I see Officer Lopez just outside the window. She came the same way the intruder did – climbing our large cottonwood right outside my nephew’s window. I always hated that tree because of the tons of leaves I had to rake up every fall, but today, I'm grateful it's here and that she had the intelligence to outsmart this jackass, as she put it.

I try not to stare when I see another gun. She slowly lifts one leg into the room and then the other. The man shoots up and sees the gun. “Hands up, now!” She comes to the side, never moving the gun off her target. The man slowly raises his hands.

“Ok, ok, no need to get your panties in a bunch.”

She finds the knife he laid on the dresser but doesn’t pick it up. It has his fingerprints on it. She pulls out a pair of handcuffs. “Turn around, hands behind your head.” The man does as he’s told. When she’s behind him, she puts her gun in her holster, grabs his hands, cuffs one of them, then leads him to the bed and cuffs the other hand to the bedpost. She reads him his Miranda rights. She grabs her two-way radio and calls for backup. I’m still shaking and press my fingers to my neck, knowing that this lunatic could have killed me.

“What are you doing here?” Officer Lopez points the gun at him.

He chuckles. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“If you don’t tell me, you can tell the Chief.”

“I got rights, remember, so until I have a lawyer, I’m not saying a damn thing.”

He’s right; he does have rights, but I wished I could have gotten more out of him about the money. But I will forever be grateful to Officer Lopez for saving my life. If he hadn’t found the money, he might have killed me anyway or kept me hostage until my nephew gave him what he wanted.

“Okay, we’ll play it your way. But you’d better have a damn good reason for breaking into this woman’s home and threatening to kill her. Oh wait … it doesn’t matter. You’re going to prison.”

Soon after, I hear police sirens, and it’s de ja’ vu from when my nephew shot the guy in this very room. I hear heavy footsteps on the stairs, and then two police officers burst into the room.

“Yay, the pigs are here,” the man snickers.

“Oh look, the criminal has been caught,” one of the tall and buff police officers says, then grabs his arm and unlocks the cuff from the post. He then puts both hands behind his back. “Let’s go.” He stops in front of me. “Are you OK, ma’am?” He has kind brown eyes that match his hair, and his square jaw is prominent.

“Yes, thank you.” He nods, and Officer Lopez pulls me away from the man as they lead him out of the room. I put my hand to my chest. “I can’t do this anymore. In less than a week, I’ve had two men break into my home, I got smoke poisoning at the police station and could have died. We’ve been followed, and now my nephew has also been poisoning me.” I then decide to tell her the secret I’ve held for over two months. “I have to tell you something.”

Officer Lopez tells me to follow her downstairs and into the kitchen. One of the police officers stops me to ask questions, but Officer Lopez shuts him down. "Not right now."

I feel numb, tears streaming down my face. I have to tell her.

In the kitchen, she grabs a glass from the cupboard and presses it under the filtered water on the refrigerator door. I sit down, and she places the glass in front of me and sits down in front of me. “Go ahead.”

I take a long drink, place the glass down, and place my hands on the table.

“I know who killed Troy.” Simple, but Officer Lopez cocks her head, her eyebrows scrunched in.

“Okay …”

“My nephew.” I then recall everything that happened in the last two months: the death, placing Deanna’s necklace on his chest before dumping his body, the threats to my family, the lost ring, the payout, and my supposed dementia. It's a lot to confess, and I feel a huge weight drop from my shoulders.

Officer Lopez sits back and folds her arms. Her eyebrows pull up as she says, “Wow. I’m so sorry you had to keep that secret. Your nephew is quite the jackass. But you do know we need to go to the Chief about this, right?”

I knew that was the next step. “Yes. But I worry because my nephew has connections. There were five in this plot, and they could have planned something in case someone got caught. And now that at least one person has come looking for the money, who says someone else won’t break in and look for it?”

Officer Lopez scratches her head, and I can tell she is trying to figure out what to say. “Look, I can’t promise you that won’t happen, but if we arrest your nephew – again – maybe we can get him to tell us who was involved, especially since at least two that we know of have tried to steal his $20,000 for killing Troy. If he knows they turned on him, he may throw them under the bus, so to speak. It took a lot of courage for you to tell me. But now, we must get to the police station and tell Chief.”

I nod. It’s only afternoon, but suddenly I feel exhausted. I yawn and then get up.

“I’ll let you have a few minutes to prepare yourself. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Officer Lopez gets up and follows me out to the living room.

I go back upstairs but am scared to go by his room. I gather my courage, go in, quickly close the window, lock it, and then cringe, forgetting that I shouldn’t disturb a crime scene. I then notice marks on the edge and start to run my finger over it but then stop. I do notice it was pried open, but with what? I figure the investigative team will be here sometime to document everything.

After brushing my hair and splashing cold water on my face, I gasp in the mirror when I see purplish puffiness under my eyes. It looks like I aged ten years in just a few days. My gray hair looks dry and lifeless, and my face has small red blotches dotted on my cheeks. When I get stressed, my face breaks out, so this isn’t new, but I hate it. I open the medicine cabinet and grab the prescription cream my doctor gave me to help reduce the inflammation. I apply a small amount on my face and rub it in.

Back downstairs, I grab my purse. “Okay, I’m ready.” Officer Lopez has her laptop open, and she's typing.

She looks up. “Okay, let me finish these notes.” I wait for her to finish, and then she closes her laptop, places it in her bag, and drapes it over her shoulder. She opens the front door, peers out, and then motions me to follow her. It’s clear and hot as the sun beats down on my face. I squint and wish I had some sunglasses.

We get to the police station, park, and walk in. This is the 3rd time I have been in this station in a week. We go straight to Chief Errington’s office.

“Chief, we need to talk.”

He looks up from his computer and motions for us to sit down. I clutch my purse in my lap, suddenly nervous to tell him what I told Officer Lopez.  

“First, are you both OK?”

I nod. Officer Lopez says, “Yes, but she’s a little shaken up and ..." She looks to me for confirmation, and I nod, "has something she needs to tell you.”

He turns to me, his arms folded. I feel my heartbeat thumping hard, but tell him the same thing I said to Officer Lopez. After I finish, I lower my head, cover my eyes, and shake my head. ”I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” he grabs the phone and punches in a number.

“Hey, Judge Ralston, it’s about Troy Carmicheal’s murder.” He looks at me.

“We have a witness.”