It’s been a few days, and I haven’t heard from Patrice, and wonder if I made a mistake in texting her. But I try again; this time, it’s a riddle about arsenic. It should be easy to solve. I wait but see no message back. Maybe it’s good she doesn’t text back – at least for now. If she reads it, that’s all I care about; but then maybe I’m texting no one because she’s already blocked me.
I open YouTube on my phone and go to her channel. Her last video was a few days ago about fall planting. I feel frustrated that I won’t be able to plant some fall flowers since I have no car. However, I could maybe order some and do some planting when my nephew is at work. Yes, I could do that. I go to my favorite online nursery and pick out some yellow and purple pansies, ornamental cabbage, and kale, with a few Echinacea to fill in the back garden. The suspected ship date is in a few weeks, just in time for September planting.
I feel better and start humming. The house looks a mess, so I start cleaning. My nephew can’t expect me to stay in bed all day, even if I did have so-called dementia. I’m not an invalid. And it’s my house.
A few hours later, I wipe the sweat off my forehead, sit with a cold glass of milk, and surf Facebook to see if any of the kids or grandkids have posted. That’s the only reason why I have social media. A few of the grandkids have posted some summer vacation pictures, and I liked and commented on them. After, I check out some gardening sites and watch some more YouTube videos.
I go out front and take a tour of my gardens and want to cry. The weeds are taking over a few of my smaller gardens by the lawn, and speaking of the lawn, it’s much higher than it was a few weeks ago. I doubt my nephew does any yard maintenance, so I call my good friend’s grandson, who does yard care and who has come in the past, and get an appointment to have him come out and weed, mow, and trim some bushes. Thankfully, one of those smart meters does the watering automatically, so my flowers still look nice.
Earlier in late spring, I planted tomatoes, cucumbers, green and yellow peppers, onions, and zucchini in our raised beds that my late husband Willis built for me about ten years ago. It’s been five years since he passed; died in his sleep. He was 67, and I was 65. Why do male spouses die earlier and leave females alone?
The sun had gone down when I came back in. My nephew will be coming home soon, and I realize I haven’t ordered any food. Once I submit my DashDoor order, I turn back on the TV to Lifetime to see if a good mystery can keep me occupied until dinner arrives. True to their word, a knock on my door signals that dinner is here. Good, because it’s nearly 8:30, and I’m starving. I first use the bathroom and grab one of my pills upstairs so that I can “prove” I remembered to take my meds.
When I open the door and grab the food, I see an unfamiliar grayish car drive by slowly, watching me. It's nearly dark, so I can't get a good look at him. Suddenly, my heart starts racing, and I quickly close the door and lock it. I then flip open one of the foyer blinds and notice the car has pulled over to the neighbor’s house to the right of mine. I feel panic rising in my chest. It couldn’t be the DoorDash driver since they quickly drop the food off, take a picture, and then leave for the next home.
Who is this, and why are they parked at my neighbor’s house? I contemplate calling my nephew. He may not care a lot about me, but I know he will protect me. I wait to see if this person leaves, but after a few minutes, I pick up my burger and start eating, still watching through my blinds. When my food is gone, and I’m about to call my nephew, the car pulls out and leaves.
Even though I can breathe easier, I still have butterflies thinking about who it was and why they were parked outside. Could they have been looking for an address and pulled over to check their map? That’s likely what happened, and I’m letting my imagination go wild. Still, I can’t get the thought out of my head that the person was watching me - no expression, just staring at me as he drove by.
Another very terrifying thought occurs to me. What if this is Devin, and he didn’t know about me and now has found out? Am I just another loose end for him? After all, he only knows about the four people who carried out the murder and the burial of Troy. Now that he knows, I’m a target.
Soon after, my nephew comes in looking tired. I’m sure he’s not sleeping well since he killed someone and then had his friends dump the body, and now a ring has been lost at the crime scene that was just discovered today.
Actions have consequences.
I grab the food bag from the floor. “Hi. Are you hungry?” I had bought a burger for him as well.
“Yeah, starving.” He grabs the bag I hold out to him. I’ve been watching a murder mystery and turn down the volume.
“How is work?” I ask, trying to carry on a friendly conversation. My nephew has changed so much. No longer is he the quiet, respectful, and kind person he was years ago. It’s like he hates the world now. His dark brown hair is nearing his chin, and his brown eyes look bloodshot, and I know he drinks and does drugs, and he looks like it too. His jeans are dirty, and his dark blue shirt shows off his tanned muscles. He works as a mason for a local company, so often comes home dirty and exhausted. I believe he gets paid well, but he works at least 10 hours daily. He told me years ago that working is the only thing that keeps him from his “evil thoughts.”
I believed him.
“It’s work.” He looks at me, his eyebrows narrowing. My heartbeat starts to rise. “Why are you being so nice?”
“Well, you’re my nephew, and I care. It just seems like you’ve been stressed out lately, so I figured it was from work," I say, taking on a more serious tone, hoping he bought it.
His face softens, and he says, “Yeah, work has been crazy, and some other things going on with workers haven’t helped.”
Yeah, I’m sure since two of his coworkers are also his accomplices to Troy’s murder, and one of them lost his wife’s ring in the same place they dumped his body. “I’m sure it’s hard being a manager and dealing with workers. I remember when I was a manager in the marketing agency I worked in many years ago, and you had to deal with workers stressed about their job or home situation. You had to be empathetic but still firm. It was a challenge to balance the two. There were days I just wanted to crawl in a hole because I had to answer to my manager about why the team I managed wasn’t exceeding expectations of the company. As a manager, it falls on you to explain why.”
I feel like I’m rambling and stop.
My nephew isn’t even paying attention, as he’s punching in what looks to be a message on his phone. I go back to watching TV, turning the volume up.
A little while later, my nephew gets up and says, “I’m headed to bed,” which is also my cue to go into my bedroom, even though I’m in the middle of my show. It IS my home, and I should be able to go to sleep when I want to, and I feel irritated that he controls me. But I also don’t want to cause ripples right now, especially since he’s being nice.
In my room, and after I have “taken” my meds, I pull out my phone and text Patrice about the ring. They can test it for his DNA if she can find it before Colton does. Of course, this would only implicate Colton, not my nephew. I want them all arrested, especially the one who instigated it, but I still don’t have evidence of who hired the group to kill Troy.
After reading a while, I feel my eyes getting fatigued. But as soon as I put my book away and turn off my lamp, I hear a gunshot.
Then … a thump shortly after.
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