Mixed Messages (A Malone Mystery) Read online

  Mixed

  Messages

  Patricia Gligor

  Post Mortem Press

  Cincinnati

  Copyright © 2012 by Patricia Gligor

  Cover Image copyright © 2012 Aleksejs Polakovs | Dreamstime.com

  All rights reserved.

  eBook Edition

  Post Mortem Press Cincinnati, OH

  www.postmortem-press.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedicated

  To Theodore Gligor and Jean Rineair,

  the best parents a girl could ever have.

  Dad, I wish you were here with me now but I know that

  you’re smiling down at me.

  Thank you for everything you taught me

  and the qualities you instilled in me.

  Mom, you’re always there for me.

  I thank God every day that I have you.

  Chapter 1

  Monday, October 27th, 2008

  ANN SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE, biting her thumbnail and trying to figure out what she would say. This was it; this was the morning she would confront her husband. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

  David trudged into the kitchen. His complexion was pasty and when he mumbled, “Morning,” to her, his voice was raspy. Ann knew the signs all too well: too much alcohol and too many cigarettes the night before.

  When she looked up at him and saw the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and the sour expression on his face, she briefly considered postponing their talk. No, she decided, I have to talk to him now whether he’s in a good mood or not. If I wait for the right time, well ...

  He headed straight to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.

  She took a deep breath. “David, I need to talk to you. I want to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “Is something bothering you? Lately, well, for a while now, you seem different. You’re out later and later and I know you’re drinking a lot and ....”

  He slammed his mug down and coffee sloshed over the lip onto the counter. “Damn it, you’d drink too if you had all the responsibility I do.”

  “What do you mean? Is it your job?”

  “No, it’s not my job! My job is the only thing that puts food on the table around here! Don’t worry about it and stop trying to mother me!”

  Ann felt as if she’d been slapped. “Please don’t say that. I’m not trying to mother you. I love you and I’m just trying to help.”

  “‘I’m just trying to help,’” he mimicked her in a singsong voice. “If you really wanted to help, you’d get a job. Now that would help,” he said, smirking. “There’s a job at the church that could be yours if you wanted it. My mother would gladly recommend you and Father Andrew would hire you in a second. He thinks very highly of my mother.”

  “I know your mother worked the whole time you were growing up but I thought we’d agreed that it was more important for me to be home with the kids.”

  “Look around, Ann. Do you see the kids? The kids are in school! And, Mommy, did you ever consider the fact that I might not have to drink if I didn’t have to worry about paying all the bills?”

  “Don’t call me that!” she snapped. “I am not your mommy!”

  “Well, that’s what you act like. You sure don’t want to hold up your end and be a wife! And while we’re on the subject, I’d like to know what you do with all the money I bring home. I hand over my paycheck to you but that’s never good enough.”

  “That’s not fair! Everything’s so expensive. Prices keep going up. I write out all the bills, buy groceries. The money you make barely covers our expenses.” The second the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back.

  “Oh, so now I’m not even a good provider?” he shouted, slamming his fist down on the counter. “All the more reason for you to get a job, my dear!”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I just meant that money’s tight but you never said anything about me working before. How was I supposed to know?”

  “Do I have to spell everything out for you, Ann? Can’t you ever think for yourself? How many women these days are stay-at-home moms? Think about it.”

  “Well, I … .” she stammered.

  “I don’t have time for this now. I gotta go. This is pointless!” He slammed the kitchen door as he left and she heard his tires squeal as he backed out of the driveway.

  She leaned forward and put her face in her hands, massaging her throbbing forehead with the tips of her fingers. Why can’t David and I ever have a decent conversation anymore? she wondered. Why does everything turn into an argument?

  After a few minutes, she stood up and walked to the kitchen sink. She got a glass from the dish drainer, filled it with cold tap water and rummaged through a kitchen drawer to find her bottle of aspirin. She pried open the bottle and removed two pills. She popped them into her mouth, raised the glass to her lips and took a long gulp of water.

  The phone rang, startling her, and she dropped the glass. It hit the counter and shattered.

  She reached for the wall phone, picked up the receiver on the second ring and answered with a breathless, “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Kern, this is Amanda Williams. Is this a bad time?”

  “No. No.” Visions of all sorts of playground accidents flashed through Ann’s mind. “Is something wrong? Is Davey okay?”

  “Davey’s fine, but there is something I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “What is it? Is there a problem”

  “I think it would be better if we talked about it in person. Could you meet with me at, say, one o’clock tomorrow? And please, don’t worry. It’s nothing to be alarmed about.”

  Ann agreed to the time and frowned as she hung up the phone. “I wonder what’s wrong now,” she said aloud. She liked her son’s teacher and she knew that Ms. Williams wouldn’t call her if it weren’t important. Now she had another thing to worry about. She retrieved her dust pan and whisk broom from the cabinet under the sink, quickly cleaned up the broken glass and shoveled the tiny shards into the trashcan. What else could go wrong?

  I’ve got to get in a better mood, she decided. She knew what would cheer her up: music! She turned on the portable radio that was perched on the small built-in shelf above the sink and tuned it to the local Oldies station. She opened the kitchen window and pushed the curtains aside. Sunlight streamed in, making the room, which she’d painted a bold shade of yellow, even brighter. She could hear the laughter and cheers of kids playing soccer at the YMCA a couple of blocks away.

  As she listened to the last few bars of “Elvira,” sashaying to the music, she began to feel better. The song ended abruptly and the DJ announced a news update.

  “Another woman was found strangled in her Westwood home today. Police are withholding the name of the victim pending the notification of family members. They’re urging all women to exercise extreme caution.”

  Chapter 2

  ANN TURNED OFF THE RADIO. That’s it, she decided. I can’t deal with any of this right now! She walked through the apartment and out the front door. She heard the sirens the second she stepped onto the porch. She hated the sound; it evoked too many bad memories. As she hurried down the steps and into th
e yard, anxious to see what was going on, the wails got progressively louder, coming closer and closer. She couldn’t tell which direction the cries were coming from but she was sure that something bad had happened to someone.

  She looked up and down the tree-lined street but couldn’t see any flashing lights or emergency vehicles. Abruptly, the screams stopped. It was almost as if they’d never existed, as if she’d imagined hearing them. Everything seemed normal again.

  She took a deep breath, walked over to where she’d left her rake propped against the house and began to rake the front lawn. After she’d accumulated a large pile, she reached down and scooped up bundle after bundle of dried leaves, stuffing them into a large plastic bag.

  She stood up and tucked a strand of her short, dark brown hair behind her ear, pausing to rest. In the distance, she could hear the electronic carillon from Westwood Methodist Church playing the theme song from the ‘60’s television show, The Ad d am’s Family. She began to hum along with the music.

  She looked up, cupping her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun. The sky was a vivid blue without a cloud in sight. She stood there, gazing at the three-story, cream-colored Victorian, admiring its multi-gabled slate roof, turret and wrap-around veranda. She heard a noise and looked up. Olivia, her landlady, was tapping on the glass and waving to her from the living room window of her second floor apartment. Ann smiled and waved to her.

  She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a black , plastic tie. In one quick motion, she picked up the bag of leaves, twisted it around and secured the tie. Wiping the beads of perspiration from her forehead with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, Ann walked toward the house, dropping the bag at the foot of the stairs in line with several other orange bags with black pumpkin faces. She leaned the rake against the railing and climbed the few steps to the shady porch.

  With a sigh, she sat down in one of the white wicker armchairs, sinking into its soft, padded cushion, rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. She began to relax as she breathed in the crisp autumn air. It was so cool and peaceful on the porch. The only sounds were the birds chirping, the steady whirring of a leaf blowing machine, which sounded as if it were coming from the street behind her, and occasionally, the soft scraping of tires on pavement as a car rolled slowly down the street. A squirrel dashed by and scampered up the trunk of the huge oak tree in one corner of the yard. She watched, mesmerized, as the little trapeze artist glided from branch to branch.

  After a few minutes, she started to doze off. She forced herself to open her eyes and sit up. Across the street, a young mother was pushing her baby in a stroller and, a few yards behind her, an elderly man and woman were holding hands as they strolled leisurely down the sidewalk. You can tell they’re in love, Ann thought. She watched them until they were out of sight. I always thought David and I would be like that when we got old but the way things are going, I’m not so sure. We used to have so much fun together but lately … .

  Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She looked out at the yard and saw that more leaves had already fallen where she’d just finished raking. No matter how hard I work, I can’t seem to get ahead, she thought. Like my marriage. No matter how hard I try, things keep getting worse. The scarlet, orange and golden leaves shimmering in the sunlight reminded her of the poem, “Nothing Gold Can Stay,” by Robert Frost. Maybe that’s true, she thought. Maybe those days are gone and I’ll just have to accept it.

  She glanced down at her wristwatch and realized that her children would be home from school soon. She rose slowly from the chair and turned to go into the house.

  As she opened the front door and stepped inside, she let out a small gasp as she nearly collided with the neighborhood handyman.

  “Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Kern,” he said, backing away from her and looking down at the floor. “Didn’t hear you comin’ in.”

  She smiled up at him. “No problem, Charlie. You just startled me.” She pointed to the toolbox he was carrying. “What’s Olivia got you fixing this time?”

  “This and that. You know how Mrs. Berger is; she likes everything kept in good workin’ order. There’s always somethin’ needs fixin’ in this old house,” he said, running a bony hand through his sparse graying hair.

  “I’m sure that’s true. Well, as much as I hate to, I’d better get inside. It sure is a beautiful day though.”

  “Praise be to God,” he said as he turned and went out the door.

  Ann went into her apartment. Charlie is nice enough, she thought, but there’s something about him … . As she walked through the living room, she stooped down to pick up a few of her son’s Hotwheels that he’d left scattered on the floor. “One of these days, someone is going to break their neck on one of these,” she mumbled as she went into the kitchen. She set the cars down on the long oak table that took up only a small portion of the large eat-in kitchen and sighed. She walked over to the sink and turned the radio back on.

  Chapter 3

  BY THE TIME THE KIDS GOT HOME, Ann was feeling better. She smiled as they charged through the back door and tossed their backpacks on the kitchen table.

  “So, how was your day?” she asked them.

  “Fine. Fine,” their voices echoed as they raced through the kitchen and down the hallway to their bedrooms.

  “Change your clothes,” Ann hollered after them. She picked up the two backpacks and hung them on the pegged shelf near the door. She hummed a few bars of “The Monster Mash” as she poured milk into two glasses and arranged cookies on a large plate, carrying two smaller plates to the table.

  Within five minutes, the kids came back, wearing old jeans and sweatshirts. They sat down at the table and began munching on homemade chocolate chip cookies.

  Ann stood back, watching her children. Eight-year-old Danielle had her dark brown hair and brown eyes while six-year-old Davey looked just like the pictures of his father at that age, with his pale yellow hair and blue eyes. I love them both so much, she thought, but they’re opposites in every way. Just like David and me.

  “Oh, Mom, I almost forgot,” Danielle said, as she pushed back her chair and walked over to the kitchen door. She yanked her backpack down from the hook and unzipped the top compartment, all in one motion. She reached in and pulled out a stack of papers. “Can you read my report? It’s not due till Friday but I want you to check it for mistakes.”

  “Sure. Just put it on the counter,” Ann replied. “I’ll read it later.”

  “I need you to sign my permission slip too,” Danielle said. “We have to turn them in tomorrow.”

  “What’s it for?”

  “Our class is going on a field trip next week, on Monday.”

  Ann read the details on the slip of paper her daughter handed her. “It says here that you’ll need a packed lunch and five dollars for miscellaneous.”

  “Yeah. We’re doing a leaf project. Mrs. Cobb wants us to start collecting some now. I have another paper here somewhere,” she said, rummaging through her backpack and pulling out books, papers and markers in the process. She set them all neatly on the table, finally locating what she was looking for. “This tells how to keep the leaves from getting all dry and yucky. We have to put labels on ‘em and iron ‘em and everything.”

  “We’ll work on it this weekend,” Ann said.

  “Mrs. Cobb said we’re going on our field trip late this year and she hopes there are still enough leaves for us to be able to identify them.”

  Ann laughed. “I can help you with that. I’ve got five bags of leaves out front you can have.”

  “Oh, Mom!” Danielle said, rolling her eyes. “They have to be on the trees.”

  Ann read the instructions. “Looks simple enough. I did this when I was in school. I remember I had a crush on my sixth grade teacher. Mr. Tarvin had the nicest smile and … . ”

  “Davey! Stop it!” Danielle screamed. “Those are mine!”

 
Ann watched as Danielle grabbed a red marker from her little brother’s hand and quickly gathered up the rest of her markers and removed them from the table.

  “Look what he did, Mom!”

  “Davey, you get in the bathroom right now and wash that off of your arm! You know better than that!” Ann scolded him. “And Dani, you’d better go start your homework. Here,” she said, picking up Danielle’s report from the counter and handing it to her, “please put this on the coffee table so I don’t forget to read it.”

  * * * *

  An hour later, just as Ann finished setting the table, David walked in the back door. He strolled over to Ann and put his arms around her waist, pulling her toward him.

  “Dinner smells good and so do you,” he said, nuzzling the back of her neck. “What are we having?”

  “Pork chops, rice and baby limas with applesauce for desert,” she replied.

  “Sounds good but I’d rather have some of you,” he said, gently grasping her shoulders and turning her around to face him. He ran his fingers down her cheek, then tilted her chin up toward him. He put one arm around her, holding her closely against him, and kissed her passionately. He caressed her neck and shoulder, slowly moving his hand down her arm and resting it on her breast, stroking it softly. He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and murmured, “Couldn’t we postpone dinner?”

  “David! The kids!”

  “Come on, Ann, a quickie? You know you want to.”

  She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “We can’t do this now. It’s time to eat. Will you please call the kids?”

  “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t try,” he said, backing away from her and sitting down at the table. “Dani! Davey! Dinner time!” he yelled.

  She giggled. “Thanks. I could’ve done that.”

  When dinner was on the table and everyone else was seated, Ann sat down to eat.