Page 4

Chapter 4

Elise

Two weeks later

“ I ’m so sorry I’m late,” I called as I burst through the garage door with an armload of groceries.

The clink of Bessey’s claws against linoleum announced her arrival from the living room to greet me.

Distractedly, I patted her back, then returned to stuffing the milk, eggs, and lunch meat into the fridge. Since the other food could wait to be put away until after the rest of The Grans went home, I grabbed the bag of M and M’s from one of the sacks and shuffled out of the kitchen.

Waiting where she always was on top of the overfilled bookcase, Snowball, Grandma’s demon of a black cat, hissed at me the moment I entered the room. I glared at the creature, giving her a wide berth as I headed to my usual spot at the small folding table.

The closer I got to the three elderly women who sat waiting for me, the stronger the scent of denture cream and musky perfume became.

Grandma, with her red as a tomato short hair, firetruck red lipstick and skin that flapped every time she raised an arm, patted my hand, then tore open the bag of M and M’s. The multi-colored candy clinked into the waiting glass bowl, and without hesitation, all three women dug their fingers into the dish.

“We almost gave up on you,” Edna said. The woman’s wrinkled dark skin was a stark contrast to the white shirt with “I’m not a crazy cat lady, I’m the crazy cat lady” printed across its front, as well as the tightly curled white hair she kept cropped close to her head.

“Sorry. I got stuck in traffic on my way home from practice, and I had to grab groceries.”

“You still coaching that team, even after what’s happened to your father?”

“Edna, what kind of a question is that?” Bernice, the Gran wearing an artfully combed silver wig and gray sweats, squawked.

My face and neck burned. This was why I’d skipped last week’s game night— to avoid the blunt questions I’d known would be coming. Rather than answer, I turned my attention to the hand of cards lying face down before me. It was difficult to see the numbers and suits through the haze of tears pooling in my eyes.

Today, just like every other Wednesday, was pinochle night with Grandma’s two friends, Edna and Bernice. Together, they made up The Grans, a formidable force of geriatric women who could easily defeat any evil with a perfectly seasoned casserole and an arsenal of pantyhose.

Seeing as how I was more often with them than anyone else, I could be considered their tennis shoe wearing sidekick who could do in a pinch if the rest of the gang happened to be napping, or Matlock was on.

After sorting my hand, I looked up to catch Snowball slinking across the maroon carpet. She caught my gaze and gave a throaty moan, paused to lick her thoroughly matted black mane, then continued stalking toward Edna who sat across the table from me. Instinctively, I drew my feet up to my metal chair. That furball could shred someone else's toes if she got angry tonight.

“Pete dropped by some tomatoes from his garden while you were out,” said Grandma. “He wanted to tell you good luck on starting college next week, and that the offer to run on his team still stands if you’re interested.”

I gave a noncommittal nod in response to Grandma’s raised eyebrows. Aside from Bessey, she was the only one who knew I still ran and would be in any kind of condition to compete at that level.

Coach Pete, Dad’s best friend and longtime running buddy, coached Cross-Country at the college I’d be attending. It was sweet of him to offer for me to run on his nationally ranked team when for all he knew, I hadn’t run a day since my not so accidental collision with his freakishly competitive daughter on the racecourse, which had resulted in a sprained ankle and multiple torn ligaments.

The man was like an uncle to me, but being on his team would mean being in close quarters with his viper of a daughter again. For now, I would run on my own terms, for my own satisfaction and no-one else’s.

Across the table, Edna slapped her hand of cards onto the gray plastic surface. “Who dealt this garbage?”

Seconds later, a black ball of fluff jumped into her lap and immediately began purring. The cat’s golden eyes, as malevolent as death itself, glared across the table at me. Edna was the only person in the world Snowball liked. They were two grumpy peas in a pod.

“How can you stand to pet that thing; it’s filthy,” grumbled Bernice. “You’re kicking up fur, and it’s getting all over me.”

Edna scrunched her nose, and her glasses rode the wrinkling wave, nearly falling off her face. “Excuse me Miss Holier-than-Thou-Animal-Hater.”

Bernice laid a hand on her heart and gaped.

“That’s right; I said it. For someone claiming to be so religious, you must not have read your Bible very thoroughly.”

“I read it daily; thank you very much.” Bernice tossed her cards down as well.

Would this turn into an outright brawl? Edna had the clear advantage with a cane that could reach across the table and whack Bernice senseless, but Bernice was infinitely more fit and agile.

“Well, you must have skipped the part that said God made all the creatures. That makes this cat every bit as good as you and me.” Edna gave a decisive nod of her head.

“You can’t be serious. You may be no better than that flea-bitten thing, but I certainly am.”

Grandma cleared her throat. “Alright, I think that’s enough. Edna, have some M and M’s and stop putting your foot in your mouth. Bernice, that’s my flea-bitten thing, and although she may not be the cleanest, I’ll thank you to keep your opinions about her to yourself.”

Both women harrumphed. Grandma leaned closer to me and whispered, “Bernice does have a point. Snowball stinks to high Hades. Do you think you could help me give her a bath later?”

I gulped. The devil cat narrowed its eyes, and my arms already burned with the sting of yet to be made claw marks. Too bad I hadn’t started school yet, or I could claim I had homework.

Our weekly game of pinochle went pretty much as it always did. Edna and I won the first game, but only barely, and only because she bid so many points at the beginning of each set that Grandma and Bernice didn’t dare bid above her and risk losing all their points by not winning enough cards that round to equal their bid.

Then, Bernice got her wig in a twist and decided to outbid Edna no matter what the cost. The resulting bid ended up being far more than she could win, putting her and Grandma in the negative.

During the third game, Bernice and Edna took turns outbidding each other while Grandma and I alternated petting an eager Bessey and rolling our eyes. Finally, Grandma and Bernice were about to claim victory when a knock sounded at the door.

Barking, Bessey rushed to the entrance. With Grandma’s stiff arthritic legs, it was always a given that I would answer the door.

I opened it to a fiftyish man with thinning blonde hair and an extra round middle, wearing slacks and a blue dress shirt.

“Hello, are you Elysium Sudbury?”

My stomach did a flip and landed in my throat. Was this about Dad?

“I am.”

“Hello, Miss Sudbury; I’m detective Fulsom. I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.”

“Umm, yeah, sure. Come in.”

Bessey hovered next to the detective all the way from the front door to the living room couch where I invited him to sit. A throat clearing reminded me that there were other people in the room.

“Oh, um Detective, this is my grandma, Lola Sudbury, and our friends, Edna Banks and Bernice Walker.”

The detective momentarily stood. “It’s nice to meet you ladies. Ms. Sudbury, I have some questions for you as well, if you don’t mind, after I finish up with your granddaughter.”

He retook his seat. When Bessey nudged his knee with her snout, he laid his hand on her head and rubbed behind her ears.

“Nice dog. I had a golden retriever growing up. He was patient, and great with us kids.”

I just nodded, my hands fisted, my body rooted to the edge of the forest green couch cushion.

One more rub and the man moved to clasping his hands and leaning closer to me. “I’ve been told you’re the one who discovered your father’s body two weeks ago.”

Biting my lip, I nodded again.

“I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. I’m so sorry, but I have to ask about things related to the body.”

Spry Bernice scooted out of her chair and trotted to where I sat. She grabbed one of my hands and took it in hers. Then, sitting, she rubbed circles on my back with her free hand.

I cleared my throat and chose to focus on the detective’s watch. It twitched with each second, ticking a pattern that marched through my brain, sifting my thoughts into organized, though clunky words.

“It was his skull. Bessey was digging at the spot like crazy, and when I pulled her back, I saw two empty eye sockets.”

Silence rang through the house like air through an empty seashell. I hadn’t told Grandma, or anyone, these things. I’d given her so few details, and even though Dad was her only son, she didn’t press me. Didn’t push for information. Just waited. Waited and hugged me. Watching for the tears I refused to let fall— at least not as long as anyone was around to see them.

“Um, the sheriff took pictures of the… bones and that was it.”

Long blonde hairs draped over the pearl faced watch on the detective's tanned wrist.

I gulped down a breath that caught in my throat. Coughing, my eyes truly began to water. I choked and swiped at my eyes. These were not tears. Just a visceral reaction. I was not crying.

Bernice thumped my back, and I took a more cautious breath.

“There wasn’t much left. Just bone. I don’t know if there’s more to tell you…Oh, except that it seemed awfully suspicious, all those rocks piled like they were on top of his body. It’s not like they should have stopped rolling in the middle of the hill if there’d been a rockslide.”

Detective Fulsom’s face remained impassive. “We’re looking at all possibilities right now. Did your dad go into the mountains often?” He took a small notepad out of his shirt pocket, along with a pen.”

“Actually, yes. He loved to trail run. He even had a special pair of shoes dedicated to it. He’s run the Wasatch-One-Hundred mile race that goes over the tops of the Utah Rocky Mountains at least five times.”

“Wow. Did your father often run the Silver Lake trail?”

“He liked to run all of the trails in those mountains, but it would be weird for him to go running out there the day of the biggest race of the year, especially since he was one of the main people in charge of hosting it.”

The detective cracked his knuckles as he mulled over that piece of information.

“Miss Sudbury, as I said, we’re investigating all possibilities related to your dad’s death. When we searched his bank account history, we found a pattern of large amounts of money being withdrawn regularly. Did you know about this?”

“No; what do you mean by large amounts?”

“Well, for a long time, it was about a thousand dollars a month, but over the last few months before his disappearance, that amount went up. Can you think of anyone who might have been blackmailing your father?”

My mouth gaped open. Dad was the nicest guy in the whole city; who would want to blackmail him, and over what?

“No, I don’t. My dad’s a good guy. He’d never do anything that would give someone a reason to do something like that.”

“Alright. Was he the type of guy who liked to pay for things in cash?”

“Not that I remember.”

Eyebrows raised, the detective jotted some more in his notebook. “We’re trying to recreate the events leading up to his disappearance. When was the last time you saw him?”

“November 21 of last year. We said good night to each other and headed to bed early.”

“And why is that?”

I struggled to swallow. “Because the next day, November 22, was the day of the biggest race of the year for our team. It was supposed to be a huge day for both of us. It was the Sea Lions Invitational, one of the biggest high school Cross-Country races in the nation. My dad founded it over twenty-years ago as a way for his team to get national recognition. He never would have missed that race willingly. Never.”

It took Bernice laying a steadying hand on my knee for me to realize my legs were shaking. Grandma’s slippered feet shuffled toward us. When had she gotten up? As she finally reached us, she offered me a weak pat on the cheek before gingerly lowering herself into her electric recliner. Edna joined us as well, taking a seat on the other couch.

With the press of a button, Grandma’s chair lowered and the foot support eased out, raising her swollen legs.

“Do you see that painting behind you, Detective?” she asked.

The piece she was referring to was a long oil painted canvas depicting La Jolla beach at sunset. That one had always been my favorite of Dad’s works. That and the portrait he’d done of Mom when they were first married.

Detective Fulsom swiveled in his seat to view the painting mounted to the wall behind us.

“My son painted that picture. He was a talented and good man. This world lost a great light when he died and so did I.”

“The painting’s beautiful,” he said, still studying the landscape. “I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Sudbury.”

“I’m not naive enough to think that every single person felt the same way about David that I did,” Grandma continued. “He was a wonderful man, but I doubt anyone makes it through this life without gaining a few enemies. If there’s anything I can do to help you find his killer, I’ll gladly do it. I think it’s time you turned the questions to me and let Elise take a break.”

“We haven’t ruled his death as a homicide yet, Ma’am.”

“You will. Like Elise said, Dave wouldn’t have missed that race for anything, and he was as healthy as a horse. Now let’s get to the point. The people you should really be looking into are our back door neighbors.”