Tips for Living(44)

Go with God,

Tobias

At least Tobias didn’t suspect me of killing his brother; he’d interpreted my unhinged appearance as angst. He was showing empathy, reaching out. But this was such a turnaround from the arrogant Tobias I remembered. So was his emotional response on CNN. Could Hugh’s death have changed him, at least for now? Still, I wasn’t sure it was appropriate to attend. I doubted he’d cleared the invitation with Helene’s family. They probably wouldn’t appreciate seeing Hugh’s ex at his funeral.

I felt beaten up emotionally and physically. A movie might be comforting, I thought. I’d checked a DVD out of the library a few days earlier but hadn’t viewed it yet: Double Indemnity, a classic film noir starring Fred MacMurray and Barbara Stanwyck. Watching it turned out to be a bad idea. The two of them were so evil, so icily calculating in their attempt to commit the perfect murder, that they only increased my stress. I shut the film off halfway through and, despite the early hour, headed to bed. I was so tired in my bones, I thought I might sleep for a year.

Click. Turn off the lights in the living room. Was “The Point Killer” as clever as the killers in the film? Click. Turn off the lights in the hall. Would the plot to frame me succeed, or was there a flaw in the plan? Click. Turn off the lights in the bedroom. If you find the lights on in the morning . . . you’ll know. You’ll know if a frame-up is wishful thinking. Or if you’ve started sleepwalking again.





Pitch this after Ben cools down?

Tips for Living

Piqued? Do Your Civic Duty

Ever wonder if instead of protecting you, the local police are out to get you? I’m talking about those speed traps, peppered all around Pequod. Nice way to fill the town’s coffers, eh? Where are the police when a Summer Person in an Escalade speeds through a crosswalk and nearly flattens a pedestrian? They’re lying in wait at one of those back-road snares hoping to ambush one of us. Why not take your morning coffee, cruise by a few of the setups until you discover where the cops are hiding? Then park a half mile ahead and flash your lights to give drivers a heads-up. No problem if you’re caught. Just say, “Officer, I’ve got an electrical short and I’m testing my headlights.” Vive la Resistance!

WHAT are you thinking? Are you insane?





Chapter Eleven

I closed my black-and-white composition notebook, put down my pen, and finished my coffee. I’d woken up in the morning, reassured. All the lights were still off. Nothing out of place. No new marks on my skin. And for the first time in ages, I felt rested. I’d slept deeply and well. It was good to be back in the world feeling human again.

After dressing, I walked out of the Coop under a sunny sky of saturated blue—the rich hue of an old Technicolor film. A blanket of white spread over the front yard. Glimmering, gossamer white. I stopped short, exhaling cloud puffs. That lacy covering on the lawn was frost. It meant there was no chance to plant daffodils anymore—the earth was too hard and unwelcoming. The bag of bulbs would have to stay in the garden shed until next year. My mood took a dip.

As I backed the Toyota out of the drive, “Unknown Caller” rang. Another reporter, I was sure. It rang again moments later. My landlord. What did he want? Had he seen my statement on TV? Did he suspect me, too? Would he make up an excuse about why he couldn’t rent the Coop any longer? I let the call go. Another ring as I reached the paved road. Grace again. I picked up.

“Listen, you really need a break from all this stress. The kids and I are going to Charlotte’s Cove Farm this afternoon to walk the corn maze and watch them make cider. It’s their reward for not biting the dentist’s fingers. We miss you. Come with us.”

I wished I could. It would be a soothing distraction.

“I’d love to, Gracie, but I’m going to see Aunt Lada today.”

“Oh, I’m glad, Nor. That will be really good for both of you. Then let’s plan on Pilates tomorrow.”

“I don’t know . . . the thought of facing everyone in class . . .”

“I get how you might be nervous about going. But you can’t give up exercising and turn into a slug. Besides, exercise helps fight depression.”

“Um. Let me think about it.”

“The women there know you. They’ll be supportive.”

“I hope you’re right.” Grace usually was.

“So you’ll come?”

“Okay. But let’s meet out front. I want to catch up before we go inside.”

“Seven thirty in the lot?”

“I’ll bring the coffee.”

I spotted Lt. Crawley on the opposite shoulder.

“Gotta go. Phone bust.”

I dropped the phone into my lap and put on my poker face as I drove past him, even though I was certain he’d seen the cell at my ear. Crawley lived for the cell phone traffic stop, the easiest bust aside from speed traps. But when I checked the rearview mirror, his car hadn’t moved. What a mensch, I thought. He’s giving me a break. He knows the trauma I’ve been through. But by the time I reached the bridge, I decided Crawley was a spy. The police never monitored speeders that close to my house—not enough traffic. Crawley must be keeping tabs on my comings and goings for Detective Roche. If I was right, then Gubbins was wrong about me being off the hook.

Flustered, I crossed the bridge and drove through town without stopping for breakfast at Eden’s. I’d rather avoid the stares, and I felt anxious about running into Ben. He often grabbed breakfast there. Another distressing thought popped into my head: if Ben hadn’t called because he woke up mortified about the kiss, would he fire me to avoid dealing with me at work? No, he would never do that. We’d both have to find a way to cope with the discomfort and embarrassment.