Fear Thy Neighbor (48)
Stunned, Alison said, “You’re kidding? I’d find that hard to believe.” Then she remembered how sick she’d gotten her one night there. “Never mind—forget I said that.”
“No wonder Tank’s fixated on you. Maybe he thinks you’re on to them. Did you see anything, hear anyone? Maybe someone in distress, trying to ask for help?” Valentina’s words echoed Ali’s own fears.
“No, nothing like that.” Ali’s thoughts were all over the place. “Is Betty Tank’s mother?”
“Yes, I assumed you knew that. Sorry I didn’t elaborate,” Valentina added.
“Now I wish I would have called the police. If she’s involved in a cult, what’s her role? Do you think Tank is involved, too?”
“I don’t have an answer for that, though I wouldn’t put it past her, or him, given the reputation of that hotel. Do you think she might’ve laced your tea or the cookies with something?”
“Probably. The cookies were sickeningly sweet enough to mask a bad taste, say a crushed pill, and the tea had enough sugar to kill a diabetic. If I had to guess, I’d say she put something in the tea.” The more she thought about that night, the more convinced she was that Betty had doped her. “Kit implied he’s investigating a cult, in Estero, right? What I don’t get is why he needs to look around my property, besides the bone I found. How does that figure into the picture?”
Valentina glanced at the diamond watch on her wrist. “He knows more than he’s telling us, which is what a good reporter does. At least on the Columbo reruns I watch.” She looked at her watch again. “I need to check on Renée. She should be home by now.”
Ali nodded. “Yeah, I need to make that call to Miami. You still have his card?”
Valentina took Kit’s card out of her pocket and gave it to her. “Thanks,” Ali said, then stepped outside to give them both a few minutes of privacy.
Ali could smell the bag of fish guts on the porch. She walked around to the back of her house, then dialed the number on the card.
“Miami Journal; this is Carla. How may I direct your call?”
Surprised that such a large newspaper would actually have a human answering their phone rather than the usual mechanical message that’d become the norm, Ali took a couple seconds to respond. “I’d like to speak with Kit Moore,” she said.
“Yep, I’ll put you through to his voice mail.”
“Kit Moore here. I’m unavailable, so call my cell.”
The number he then recited was the same one he’d written on the card. So okay, the guy was legit. Relieved that he wasn’t a stalker or pretending to be someone else, she returned to the front porch. She once again saw the disgusting yellow bag of fish, so she grabbed it and quickly jogged down the well-worn path to the beach, checking to make sure there was no sign of John. No one as far as she could see. She tossed her shoes aside and walked toward the waves, stopping when the warm salty water hit her just below her knees. This was deep enough, she thought. Dumping the contents of the bag, she dunked it into the water to rinse it out. As soon as she finished, she grabbed her shoes and headed back to her house with the empty bag. Ali smiled. Her house. Finally, she’d achieved her dream, and it felt damn good just thinking the words in her head. She left the wet bag on the porch, brushed the sand off the bottoms of her feet, then slid her shoes back on.
She heard Valentina talking inside, and she sounded upset. Ali waited for her to finish her call, and when she no longer heard her speaking, she went to the kitchen, where she found Valentina pacing.
“Are you okay?” Ali asked.
Taking a deep breath, Valentina shook her head. “I’m not sure. I called Renée’s cell, and it went straight to her voice mail. Then I texted her our special code, and she hasn’t replied. I’m worried, because she always responds to me immediately when I use the code.”
“Maybe her cell battery is dead?”
“You’re probably right. After a day at the mall with Danielle, her best friend, she’s probably snapped pictures all day to post on Instagram and didn’t bring her charger with her.”
“Can you view her page on your phone?” Ali asked.
Valentina rolled her eyes. “Of course. I don’t know why in the heck I didn’t think of that. I’m the mother, and you’re the gal without kids. Let me check,” she said, using both thumbs to type.
Ali busied herself by wiping the cabinets out, using the same disinfectant she’d used earlier for the freezer. She needed to line her cabinets. Next time she was in town, she’d purchase a roll of pretty liner.
“There aren’t any pictures, and she hasn’t checked in,” Valentina said. “I should go to the house and see if she’s in her room. Would you walk over with me?”
“Absolutely—let’s go.” Ali dropped the dirty paper towels in the sink, grabbed her keys, and together they raced to the Valentina’s house.
Running up the three flights of stairs to the deck, Alison was surprised when her friend opened the door without a key. “Shit,” Ali said out loud. “I forgot to lock the house.”
“Renée,” shouted Valentina. “If you’re in your room, you’d best get your ass downstairs now!” She turned to Ali. “Your place is fine unlocked during the day. I forget to lock mine sometimes, except at night, when I turn on the security system. I’ll be right back,” she told her before racing upstairs.