I contemplate what to message Patrice as I sit in the kitchen chair. Officer Lopez is talking to Chief Errington next to me. I also wonder what my nephew said to the police. Who was the person that shot him, and will that revelation connect to Troy’s murder? Another horrible thought crashes through my mind – if this man lives, or worse, dies, will someone come for revenge?
Suddenly, I don’t feel as safe, even with Officer Lopez here, but I can’t spend my life being afraid. Instead, I need to occupy myself. I wait for her to finish talking to Chief Errington.
“I’m going to go out and do some gardening,” I tell her. She’s on her laptop typing.
“Okay, I’ll come out and just ensure everything is safe.” She closes her laptop and follows me out back. She sits on the lawn chair while I go to the shed and get out my gardening bucket with fertilizer, gloves, shovels, and pruners. I go around and do maintenance on my gardens and turn on the water to ensure the sprinkler heads and the drip hoses are working correctly. It had been months since I was able to check.
After a while, the heat is getting to me, so I stop and sit down by Officer Lopez. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and take a glass of water the officer brought out for me.
“Thank you. Whew, well, I think everything is good now,” I say, watching her type so fast I can barely see what she’s typing. I notice the time on her laptop read 2:42 PM. I didn’t realize I had worked that long. No wonder I’m tired.
After a few minutes, she stops and turns to me. “You have a beautiful yard. I’ve always wanted to garden, but I have not time to put into it since I work 10 hours a day.” She sighs, and I can see that something is bothering her.
“Do you get time to spend with your family?” I prod a little.
“Yeah. I mean, I get two days off, so I spend as much time with my son and daughter, but they grow so quickly, you know?” Oh, yes, I do know.
“Yes, I have two sons of my own, five grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren.”
“Wow, that’s great.” Her happy face then turns sad, with her mouth downturned. “Chief told me your husband passed four years ago.”
“Yes, he seemed so healthy, and then he didn’t wake up one morning. It was just natural causes, apparently.” I shrug and then wonder if I should mention anything about my nephew and why he was here, but then think better of it. I remember the warning about my family, and now that I know he is capable of committing murder, I need to stay quiet.
“How awful that you and your family weren’t even able to say goodbye to him.” I think back to that morning, and the shock at finding my husband of 45 years was gone. The night before, we had visited my son and the grandkids for the Fourth of July, and the following day when I turned over to wake him, he didn’t respond. I came over to his side and knew immediately that he was gone. I was numb when I called 911, and it took me a few days to accept his death. A year later, my nephew “volunteered” to care for me because my sons didn’t have room in their home. I didn’t realize he was only after my money and to have a free place to live. When he told my sons I had dementia, the doctors figured it was from my husband dying so quickly. And then the threat from my nephew. Sometimes, I cry at night quietly and talk to Willis. I ask him how he’s doing and tell him how I am. At times, I ask him why he had to die before me. It wasn’t fair.
“Well, we had 45 years together. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” Officer Lopez smiles warmly at me. I feel like we have a connection now.
A few hours go by, and my stomach starts to growl while watching Murder She Wrote, but I’m not sure how to broach the subject to Officer Lopez. It’s like she’s reading my mind because she says, “It’s almost 6:00; you hungry?”
“Oh yes,” I say a little too enthusiastically.
“Feel like heading to Dale’s Diner?” It sounds so good that I feel my mouth watering. The diner has been in Grantsville for nearly 40 years and is a family diner, first with Dale Senior and then his son took over, Dale Junior.
“That sounds good, but I don’t have much money,” I say, taking a deep breath. My nephew controls my accounts.
“No worries. Chief gave me money to take you for food and get you groceries. Given the circumstances, he said it was the least he could do.”
I was surprised but thankful someone was watching out for me. “Oh, how nice. Thank you,” I say, touching her shoulder lightly.
I'm ready after changing my clothes and doing my hair and a little makeup. I don’t go out much, so this is a treat to be out in public. But then my fear takes over. What if someone is watching me? Would they follow us to the diner?
Oh, stop it. The man who tried to kill my nephew and would have killed me is in the hospital, fighting for his life. I am safe.
We leave the house, first making sure all the doors are locked and windows are shut tightly and locked as well. Officer Lopez starts the car and turns the radio down as we quietly ride to the diner.
I had never been in a police car before, and I notice a large GPS monitor lighting up the screen. Grantsville got all-new cars a few years ago, and these are quite nice, with plush back seats. The cage separating us from the front and back rattles a little, but not enough to be annoying.
As I watch the scenery go by, people enjoying summer in the park, and a few people walking their dogs, I steal back in time to when our kids were younger and we took them to Grantsville Park. Back then, there were steel swings, a merry-go-round, a long metal slide, and a jungle gym. Times have changed; now everything is hard plastic, and there is no longer the playground equipment me and my boys grew up with.
We pull into the parking lot. It's packed, as usual. The last thought I have before walking into the diner is about Patrice and wondering what she’s doing, if anything, with the message I sent her. I decide to send her another message – a riddle about arsenic.
_______________________________________________________________
Daniel’s Diner is the only one in town. It's a 50s-style diner that the kids loved when they were younger. Their shakes and malts are all natural and bigger than I can ever eat, and their burgers are charbroiled, not greasy, and they use pretzel buns with just the right amount of crunch. The fries are nice and thick, with lots of salt. And they have the best grilled cheese.
As I look around, I see families eating, a few kids standing up on the maroon benches, and parents doting on babies. An old red jukebox sits in the corner, and I doubt any kids even know what it is, let alone how to operate it. The red and white checkered tile is always swept and mopped every night. I know because I used to work there when I was a teenager. The lights are unique, with a four-prong silver chandelier above each of the benches and tables. To order, you pick up a phone and put in your order and then the phone actually rings when it’s ready. A time or two, I saw kids stare at it, not sure what to do.
Daniel’s Diner is quite famous, even for out-of-towners, mainly because it sits right off the highway. Officer Lopez said I could order whatever I wanted, so when she came back with a bacon burger, fries, and a strawberry shake, I dig in.
“I love this place,” Officer Lopez said while I stuff my face.
“Yes, I worked here as a teenager. Back then, I dyed my hair this very red color, just to see what it would look like. After that, I was known as 'Raggedy Ann'". I go back to the day I dyed my hair and my mother staring at me with the widest eyes I‘d ever seen. She shook her head and said, “The 60’s are sure messed up. ”When I went to work the next day, I was teased by my coworkers, except for one girl who told me I looked rad. We become friends after. The owners, though, didn’t care what I looked like. It seemed they really cared and still do for their employees - such a rarity these days.”
Officer Lopez's eyes light up, and she snaps her fingers. “Wait, my mom worked here as well.”
“Really? When?”
“I think she had told me when I was younger that she was, I think, 16.”
“I was 15 when I worked here. What’s her name?”
Officer Lopez looks at me a little oddly, and then a recognition shines on her face. Her eyes pop out. “Oh my God, I remember my mom saying she worked with a girl with the coolest red hair!”
I lean forward and take her hands, which hindsight, probably wasn’t the best thing to do. “Carmen!”
“Yes, that was my mom’s name!”
“Oh my, what a small world! We worked together for nearly two years until she quit at 18 and went to college. After that, I only talked to her for a bit, and then she just stopped calling. I got married and had kids, and we just went our separate ways. But she helped me survive working long hours in the summers.” I then remember Officer Lopez said her mother died years ago.
“Yeah, she talked to us kids about her days at ‘The Diner.’ I’m glad you became friends with her because she was labeled weird, and kids didn’t know how to deal with her. She had some mental issues back then, and they were very much stigmatized. A few times, she tried committing suicide before being diagnosed with Bipolar. She got help and medication, which saved her life.”
I never knew that about Carmen. I knew she was quiet and shy and didn’t follow the latest trends or fads. She wore whatever she wanted and didn’t care what people thought. But I also remember when her moods would shift quickly. One day, she would be more upbeat and would even drag me to the mall, and we would take pictures in the photo booth; other days, she was sullen and quiet.
We both eat silently the rest of the time, and I notice it’s well after 7:30 when we leave. The sun is dropping behind the horizon, but it still feels warm, and a slight breeze tickles my face. Right now, it feels like everything will be all right.
On the way home, I don't notice too much a black sedan in the rearview mirror until every time I look, it's there. It seems to be following us. I started watching it since it pulled onto the road shortly after we did. I wrestle with telling Officer Lopez, but I inform her when I see it backing off but still following when she turns on my street.
“I think someone is following us,” I say, still looking in the mirror.
“Yeah, I figured,” she says, looking in her rearview mirror.
“What should we do?”
“The best thing is to go past your house and straight to the police station. I will see if I can get a license plate number if you can remember the color and make of the car.”
It’s hard to see the logo or identification with it being behind us, but it’s black with a sunroof – that I can see.
We pass my house and back out of the neighborhood and onto the street. The car is still following but then pulls over and stops. Maybe they know we are onto them, so they park to throw us off.
“The car stopped,” I tell Officer Lopez.
“Yeah. I think they know we aren’t going to your house. Let’s head to the police station and let Chief know, but first, I want to go back around and see if we can get their plate from behind.”
We turn the corner, and she quickly drives back onto our street and then slowly drives back out on the road, but by this time, the car is gone.
“Damn.” Officer Lopez hits the steering wheel. “Well, it was worth a shot.”
She drives to the police station, and I follow her in and straight to the Chief's office. It’s nearly dark now, but I could see him hunched over some papers, a bright lamp lighting the room.
“Do you ever leave this place?” Officer Lopez says. He looks up, startled.
“Hey, Lopez. What are you doing here?” He scrunches his forehead and looks at me. “Are you OK?”
“Chief, we just got back from Daniel’s, and while on the road, we both noticed that a car was following us. Instead of driving to the house, I went past, and he pulled over and parked right after getting back on the main road. I thought if I went back around, I could see if the car was still there and possibly get their plates, but they were gone. The car is a black sedan with a sunroof, but I couldn’t make out what type of car it was.”
Chief Errington sits back and lets out a deep sigh. “Okay, we'll put out a BOLO for this car.” He contacts one of the beat officers and relays the information Officer Lopez gave him. “Stay put for a bit, and let’s see if we can get a hit. Hopefully, we can find the car.”
Suddenly, we hear a shatter that pierces the silence. I duck down, my heart racing fast as my body shakes. I then smell something strong.
Is that smoke?
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