Murder Under the Tree (21 page)

“Kay, something is going on here.” It was Sarah again.

“What?”

“I was in the hallway on my way to the library and overheard Dr. Lee tell the new nurse that Nancy will be taking a leave, and that he has been made the temporary director at the Hill. So I went past Nancy's office. She's packing her things. I came right upstairs and called you. Do you know anything about that?”

That was quick. I thought Kirk meant a search warrant. It must have been an arrest warrant. “Sarah, I have something I need to do. I'll get to the bottom of all of this. For now, I think you and Anne should lay low and let me take care of things. Okay?”

Again, I felt the desire for a little normalcy in my life. If only I had another wall to paint in Deirdre's shop; I wanted something normal to do. Well, almost normal...after all, it was Deirdre's New Age, tarot card, tea leaf reading, herbal shop I was referring to.

Throwing on my coat, I grabbed my digital recorder from Will and jumped in the car. The snow was falling down fast. I drove as quickly as I could over to Hawthorne Hills, lucky not to slide into any cars or street curbs along the way. The arrest must have taken place earlier, and the bail already posted, since Nancy was out. I wanted to talk to her before she left; I may never have another chance. Hoping she was still there, I went straight to her office.

Nancy looked surprised to see me. Before I could say a word she spoke. “Mrs. Driscoll,
whatever
it is,” she held up her hand,
“
now
is not the time.”

Short of breath from hurrying and being nervous, I rattled off, “I know you did it!”

She took more papers out of her desk and and put them in a box. Then she looked up. “I'm afraid to ask…did what?”

Trickles of sweat ran down the small of my back under my clothing. Conscious that my hands were trembling, I crammed them into my coat pockets. “I know you murdered Les.”

She stopped what she was doing and gave me an incredulous stare. Then laughed. “Really?” Her voice rose in pitch. “How ridiculous! And
why
would I do that?”

I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. “Because he killed your godson, Bobby. You must have planned this for some time.”

Her mouth opened but then she waved her hand as in a dismissal. “What, for almost five years? Les had been in my employ for almost five years.” She shook her head and returned to putting things into her box. “I see you and 'Miss Marple', Anne Niven, have been busy.”

“Les was planning to move on. You waited for the opportune time and then struck. You knew about his peanut allergy. And I know, Sheila Harris is your niece, Bobby's sister.”

She looked up from packing her box and suddenly turned bright red, looking more worried at this statement than anything else I said. Anger appeared in her face, hardening her eyes, her hands drawn into fists. “Get out of here! You're out of your mind!”

She stammered as she marched over to the door. “Out! Stop making accusations! And leave Sheila out of this! Or else!”

The door slammed behind me. Or else what? Or else I was next?

Out in the hallway, a few of the residents looked over at me and whispered to each other as they walked by. I smiled at them. Lola, standing outside the dining room putting up the menu, stopped and glanced in my direction. Guess Lola wasn't the only one with anger management problems.

Sorry and upset that I hadn't gotten a confession from Nancy, I started for home, stopping first at the grocery store, where I picked up some chicken breasts for a quick stir-fry.

* * * *

It was dark by the time I turned onto our block. Our neighborhood took pride in their abundant Christmas light displays. Robert Peterson was going into his house when I pulled into the driveway. As I approached the house, I noticed a string of lights that weren't lit halfway up our yew tree. Once parked, I left the grocery bag in the garage and came back out front, proceeding to test each of the bulbs in the string.

I heard Phil playing his guitar in the lower level just on the other side of the yew tree, and could even make out his shadow through the blinds. As I pushed in each light on the string, I thought of Les when he did the same thing, the afternoon of the tea. Then I thought of Martin, poor Martin, teasing Les about the lights being upside down. And now they were both dead. I continued testing each bulb, lost in my thoughts, when all of a sudden, I heard the crunching footsteps of someone approaching from behind me. I turned my head.

Two dark arms came from behind and grabbed the string of lights out from the tree, and strung them around my neck, pulling tight, squeezing my throat.

Intense fear overcame me, then panic. Couldn't breathe! I was going to die at the hands of an assassin; probably the same one who tried to skewer me! A few seconds later, my movements seemed automatic, each linked to the next. I grabbed at the string around my neck and tried to loosen it with both hands. The person clawed at my fingers, then pulled all the tighter. I desperately sought to draw air into my tortured lungs, but I was denied by the decorative noose that strangled me. Oh, the pain!

Struggling, I managed to twist my body around and saw a person dressed all in black, wearing a ski-mask. I wanted to reach for that mask and reveal the identity of this person who had twice assailed me, but I had both hands occupied, fighting the wire around my throat. The person pulled the string of lights even tighter. I kept hearing Phil's guitar. Would this be the last thing I heard: Phil playing that damned guitar? Then he started singing. My strength began leaving me and so I steeled myself for one final push for freedom. I kneed my attacker in the groin. That seemed to work; the person loosened their grip and took a step back for a second, moaning.

Tears streamed down my face as I gasped for air. A fleeting feeling of hope came over me having bought myself a brief reprieve from the onslaught. And then, with everything I had left in me, I went for the eyes with my thumbs.

I heard a scream. I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. The attacker let loose. Lightheaded, I fell to the ground acknowledging that not many moments lay ahead for me. Next, I heard footsteps retreating in the snow, towards the wooded area behind our home. Why hadn't they finished me off? In the distance I heard another sound. Angels singing. The angels kept singing, coming nearer. Singing. Maybe I was dead. Whomever it was, must have finished me off. Why else would there be angels? The angels kept singing, then everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I was lying flat with a group of girls, teen-angels, starring down at me. Relief came over me when I recognized Rebecca's daughter, Angie. Angie, with braces on her teeth, from two doors down. I felt the texture of the sofa with my hands and realized I was in the living room.

Someone said, “Mr. Driscoll, she's coming around.”

Phil came over. “Kay! Kay! Are you all right?”

Despite the blankets I was wrapped in, a wave of shivering overcame me. I closed my eyes again just for a few moments, waiting for it to pass.

I heard a clunk. I opened my eyes. Phil had dropped his cellphone on the coffee table next to the sofa. “Kay, I was so scared!” Tears flowed from his eyes. “The girls were coming down the street and saw you lying in the snow. They helped carry you inside.”

Focus, Kay. I heard my raspy voice as if it were another person's say, “Thank you, girls.” If they hadn't have come down the street at that precise time, I would most likely be dead.

The girls looked between Phil wiping his eyes and me. “Mr. Driscoll, I think we better leave now.”

The door closed. Phil's hands were on my face. Then he gathered me in his arms, hugging me so tight, that for an instant, I felt like I was going to suffocate again. He pressed a kiss into my hair.

Phil's face had turned ashen. His chin trembled. “Kay, I thought for a second I might lose you.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks.

He looked down at me. “Kay, your neck...bright red with gouges.”

Coughing, I said, “Someone tried to strangle me. With the Christmas lights.”

Phil's mouth opened. “Strangle you? Why?” He kissed my head again. “Did you see who it was?”

I looked at Phil. So many questions. He was so concerned, but I just wanted him to hold me, imbuing me with his warmth and protection.

“I was just about to call an ambulance. I'm calling them now.”

“No, call the police,” I rasped.

Phil started to argue, but just then the front door opened and Deirdre came rushing in with Mike behind her. “Angie told us...”

I sat up again. Deirdre hugged me. I started crying again. The full horror of what had just happened suddenly hit me.

Phil was on his cell, dialing 9-1-1. He looked over at them and said, “Someone tried to strangle Kay.” His voice trembled. Then turned away. “Hello? Hello? I need to report a violent crime...”

A violent crime
...I thought. The target of another evil, violent crime.

Deirdre went into the kitchen to grab our first aid kit. Mike made Phil and himself a drink.

The police sirens came in a matter of minutes. I wiped my cheeks. Chief of Police Kirk arrived with another police officer, who looked skeptical as he entered my home, but that look disappeared when he saw the marks on my neck. I guess I had a reputation at the police station from coming in so often. I told them what happened and how I tried to defend myself, including driving my thumbs into the person's eyes. “I pressed hard enough for the person to scream out. I would think it would leave some bruising.”

Kirk looked at me. If he asked me if I got myself tangled in the Christmas tree lights, there was going to be another strangulation. But I only saw genuine sympathy in his eyes. Instead, he asked about the suspect and recommended that I be taken to the emergency room. I declined.

He made a call to start patrolling the area and gave the description of a suspect dressed all in black.

I shook my head. Kirk was really going to get somewhere with that description. But that was all there was to go on.

Later in the evening, after everyone left, I huddled beneath the shower, my tears mingling with the warm water pouring over my body. The water did nothing to wash away the fear that lingered inside. I heard the bathroom door open. Instinctively, I tensed up. Then Phil slipped into the shower and with a soft cloth he proceeded to pat the gouge marks around my neck.

“Kay, I love you. I don't know what I would do if...” He stopped.

Words were no longer needed. He kissed my wet eyes, my cheeks, my lips.

Monday, January 5

Throughout my mostly sleepless night, uncontrolled feelings of peril flashed through my mind. When I did sleep, I dreamt of being chased by a faceless person dressed in black, and then another person joining them in my pursuit. Just as they were about to catch me, I flapped my arms, which lifted me up into the air, and I started flying. I looked down at them, reaching for the sky. I was able to take control. As I awoke, I reflected on the good sign I received in my dreams. I would get through this, I thought, as the morning light appeared on the window panes.

It was to have been Phil's first day back to school for the semester, but he decided to stay home with me, saying it was only a half day and the class wouldn't be starting on a project yet. He was attentive, bringing tea while we read on the sofa together, making our lunch. It meant a lot to me even though I started to feel a little guilty for not telling Phil what I had been up to.

I was upstairs reapplying antibiotic ointment to my neck, which had turned purplish and midnight blue, when Deirdre and Elizabeth came by mid-afternoon to see how I was doing. Phil was downstairs in his workroom while we sat in the living room, sipping tea, and discussed who might have attacked me. I told them about my confrontation with Nancy.

“I think she could be either mad or scared enough to have done it,” Elizabeth said. “Or another obvious suspect is Sheila.”

“Late yesterday afternoon I saw our new neighbor outside,” Deirdre offered. “Could be, we have a murderer living next door?”

“Get off it, Deirdre,” Elizabeth said. “You haven't liked him from day one.”

“Is he still stalking you?” Deirdre asked, ignoring Elizabeth's comment.

My jaw clenched. I could feel my face getting red. I had confided to Deirdre about John's visit. I hoped she wouldn't mention that to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth shook her head. “I'm going to try and forget you even said that.”

I heard sounds coming from the kitchen. A few minutes later, Phil came into the room with the teapot. “More tea, anyone?”

Elizabeth and Deirdre both looked at me. Phil definitely was doting on us.

“Thanks, Phil. I'd love some,” Deirdre said.

“This is great,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Deirdre, why don't you think of something productive,” Elizabeth said. “Go read some star charts to divine who the killer is.”

“I should. Do you know Robert's birthday,” Deirdre replied icily.

Phil looked towards me and raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged my shoulders.

An awkward smile started to build on his face. Perhaps because he knew how Deirdre and Elizabeth could go at it with each other. Then he asked, “Killer?”

Deirdre bit at her lips then closed her eyes, probably thinking calming thoughts.

I opened my eyes wide at Elizabeth.

“Don't mind me, Phil.” Elizabeth smiled at him and then turned to us and said, “After we are finished here, let's go to the patisserie. Phil, don't you think Kay should get out of the house?” Then she added, “Besides, I'm due for a chocolate infusion.”

I looked up at Phil. He had been so great about staying home from school. How could I now go to the patisserie and leave him here alone?

Phil must have figured out what I was thinking. “Kay, if you feel up to going out, don't worry about me. I'll keep going over the plans for my new guitar.”

“Thanks, Phil. I think I'll be fine. I won't be gone long.” Phew, that was close.

When we pulled up to the patisserie, it took us exactly one second to realize Nancy was not the person who assaulted me. We could see her through the window, sitting at a table alone, looking miserable. Well, not quite as miserable as she looked when she saw the three of us enter the patisserie. She immediately began to inhale her torte. I recognized the rich truffle torte, covered with chocolate ganache and fresh raspberries. It was my favorite item on Marissa's menu.