Page 54 of Too Old for This

I tear through Norma’s luggage. Every pocket, every corner, inside and out. I rip through the lining of her suitcase and do the same with the toiletries bag. I find everything from her house keys to a pack of gum so old the sticks are crunchy.

The problem is I don’t know what I’m looking for.

No. The problem is Burke has surprised me.

Again.

I yank all the clothes off the hangers and throw them down.

Only then do I stop. Panic never helps. I sit down and close my eyes, forcing myself to be still for a minute. To stop acting like I have no self-control.

I am better than this.

Back to the question at hand. What does Burke want Norma to hide?

Two options come to mind. The first is planted evidence, something that would prove I killed Plum. But for Norma, that doesn’t make sense. She isn’t looking to frame someone. She wants to find out what happened.

Which leads to option two. Something to gather evidence, to prove I did what Burke thinks I did. A camera or a listening device, perhaps.

Could Norma have hidden it in my house the night she was there? Unlikely. She was desperate to find her daughter, but it’s hard to believe she would have planted a camera before drugging and tying me up. And she was drinking too much afterward.

Another cup of coffee, a few minutes of rest, and I search all over again.

I pick up her clothes and empty the pockets.

Next, I go through her handbag, the same one she brought to my house.

I dump it out and check everything. Makeup bag.

Lipstick tubes. Pill bottles. Packet of Kleenex.

I look in her wallet, change purse, every compartment of the bag, and I inspect each item. Right down to that orange lighter.

And the box of cigarettes.

I turn it upside down, and a handful of cigarettes fall out. The clink comes next.

It’s a little metal container, round, with a lid on top. The kind you might use for cosmetics or lotions when traveling. Inside, I find a small black square with a lens on one side and a power button on the other.

—

I try to go back to the same computer store where that clerk was nice enough to set my laptop up with a VPN, but he isn’t there. Neither is the store. Now it’s just an empty space in a strip mall.

At home, I inspect the camera with a magnifying glass. Something I use more often than I’d like to admit these days. Over the years, the fine print has become microscopic.

Along the edge of the casing, I find a model number and a logo. Not something I recognize, but the internet does.

A cellular camera.

Until a minute ago, I didn’t know such a thing existed. It doesn’t need to be connected to my Wi-Fi; the camera connects to the cellular network. The data will go straight to whoever is hooked up to the app.

This is what Burke is waiting for. To spy on me. It’s illegal, and he knows it, yet he’s desperate enough to do it anyway.

I have a few choices. The first is to do nothing. Never turn the camera on, never activate it. Tomorrow, Norma will tell Burke she didn’t get a chance to put it in my house.

But he isn’t going to stop trying. He hasn’t stopped for forty years, so I can’t imagine Burke will shrug and give up. Not when he thinks I’ve killed someone else.

My second choice is to set the camera up in my house.

I walk around, trying to find the most reasonable place. Presumably, a guest who comes over for dinner would be in the dining room, kitchen, the formal sitting room, and the first-floor bathroom.

I use my phone to check all the angles, trying to find one that’s logical for Norma to reach, and one that works for me. I have to live with this camera in my house, at least until the battery dies. Since it’s motion-activated, that could take a while.

I finally choose a spot in the corner, facing the formal sitting room. Off to the right, a portion of the dining room is visible. I aim it away from the front door and the foyer so it won’t record every time I walk down the hall.

But I don’t turn it on. Not yet.

Since he thinks Norma will be here for dinner tonight, I can’t turn it on until after we would have eaten, so it will look like she was here. It will appear as though Norma placed it in the corner while I was in the kitchen or otherwise occupied.

I make dinner and check the news. I still do that every day to see if anything shows up about Plum or Kelsie, but nothing has shown up in a while. Kelsie is long gone and buried. Plum is another missing woman with no clues and no story. And no one is looking for Norma.

Which is rather impressive, even for me. Three people are dead, and no one is banging on my door. It would all be perfect if not for Burke. You’d think by now he would’ve moved on, found another obsession or a new case to solve.

It’s exhausting being the one .

At approximately nine o’clock, I walk over to where the camera is positioned.

The dining table is already set up, two chairs have been pulled out, a couple of plates and glasses are on top.

A few burned candles are blown out. It looks like the real dinner Norma and I had right before the sleeping pill hit.

I reach over from the side so I can’t be seen, and turn on the camera. I wiggle it a little as if putting it into place. Once the motion activates it, the camera transmits both picture and sound. After twenty seconds without motion, it stops.

“Thank you so much for coming over,” I say.

“I’m so glad we got to have dinner before you left.

It’s been such a trying time…Yes, I know, I know!

Please let me know if you hear anything.

Your daughter is such a smart, wonderful girl, and hopefully she’s just chasing a story to turn into a docuseries!

…I know, I know. Thank you again…Yes, yes. Drive safe now!”

I pause, imagining the time it would take for Norma to walk out to her car and start it up. I shut the door and lock it.