CHAPTER ELEVEN

C HAPTER E LEVEN

Chloe’s thoughts were running wild, making her head spin. Horrible thoughts about the neighborhood. About her husband. About the kids. Even their Frenchie, Carlin, had somehow gotten thrown into the mix.

What had happened to Rosella had rocked the neighborhood like a comet crashing right into the street. From where she stood, even she could throw a Frisbee to Rosella’s house. She had to get her mind off it. And there was only one thing that would help.

Cleaning.

The NPR podcast blared from her iPad in the background as she worked, organizing the random crap inside her junk drawers. She’d already taken care of the larger drawers holding the pots and pans. Wesley and the kids stayed out of her way when she got on a cleaning spree like this. Nothing could stop her.

She walked over to the iPad she kept on the kitchen counter and cranked the volume even louder. An elephant in India had learned how to help schoolkids cross the street, and now the local authorities were trying to put a stop to it.

After the junk drawers were sorted, she headed for the pantry to grab a bottle of Windex and the step stool so she could clean the window above her sink. She started scrubbing. The voices blasting from her iPad had become white noise.

Rosella was dead.

The bottle of Windex fell from her hand and spilled all over the floor.

Half a roll of paper towels later, she found herself back on the stool, staring out the window. She could see four or five houses down in each direction. She was like the warden of some neighborhood prison, with a view of the whole yard.

It wasn’t her place to be worried, she knew that. But deep down, she didn’t care. Every neighborhood had a cop. Not a real cop, but the neighbor who knew if one of your mailboxes had been hit by a car. Or saw the plumber earlier and wondered whether everything was all right. Every neighborhood needed that cop.

Chloe fancied herself as the cop for Forty-Fifth Street. She was okay with it. Hell, if she was being honest, she couldn’t help it. Her daughter had once accused her of being nosy and fearful of strangers. But it wasn’t that at all; it was the neighborhood itself. She felt a sense of responsibility toward its well-being. And to be perfectly honest, watching over the neighborhood gave her purpose.

Movement down the street caught her attention. Holly Bateman stepped out of her and Becky’s Victorian rose cottage. At least that’s what Chloe called it—the Victorian rose cottage, with its stained-glass windows depicting vibrant roses. Holly appeared to be fidgeting around with the unfinished, decorative front yard fence, a cute picket fence she worked on whenever she wasn’t being a nurse over at Sutter Hospital. Holly turned, and for a moment there, Chloe thought she might have to duck out of view. But Holly wasn’t looking her way. She was staring at Rosella’s place. A whole minute passed. Holly still stared, and not any normal kind of stare.

Chloe nearly fell off the step stool when her phone buzzed. She pulled her cell from her back pocket. It was some random number, so she muted the call. By the time she looked back at the Bateman house, Holly was gone, leaving Chloe to wonder what was going on with her.

Maybe it’s time I pay them a visit and check in? Before she could inwardly tell herself to mind your own business , she was out the door, heading toward the Bateman house. A flash of yellow captured her attention—the caution tape still wrapped around Rosella’s veranda.

It took her only a hundred steps before she was knocking on the door. “Hi, sweetheart,” said Chloe warmly to the little girl in Becky’s arms. “Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Becky said. “Come on in.”

“I was taking a stroll and thought I’d stop by and check in to see how y’all were doing with everything going on.” Chloe brushed a finger over Charley’s pudgy cheek. The little girl smiled shyly at her. Her five-year-old brother, Ethan, was sitting on the floor in front of the television. “Hi, Ethan.”

No response.

Becky shut the front door, locked it, then put the chain lock on the bolt. Even tested the door to make sure it was shut tight. “What happened to Rosella is just so scary,” Becky said. “Holly and I have been shaking our heads all morning. We can’t believe it. We feel like we’re in a Netflix crime documentary right now. Only, you know. It’s happening right here. And it’s real.”

“I know,” Chloe said. “I feel horrible for everyone. Imagine being brand new to the area, like Shannon Gibbons.”

Becky winced. “Oh, I hadn’t even considered that ... moving into a new house on the block and then, wham, someone is murdered. That would be frightening.”

Chloe looked around the room. “Where’s Holly? How’s she doing?”

“Holly, are you coming down? Chloe’s here.” Becky set Charley down.

“Hey, Chloe,” Holly said as she made her way down the stairs. Her hair was all over the place. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.

“Hi,” Chloe said, giving her a hug when she reached the landing.

“I’m sorry about Rosella,” Holly said. “I know you two were close. Or you used to be close.”

That was a long time ago, Chloe thought but didn’t say. “Thanks. Like I was telling Becky, I’m sorry for the whole neighborhood. It’s weird, you know—not normal to have someone murdered right next door.”

Becky nodded along.

“Yeah,” Holly said. “Now we’re gonna be known as the murder block, or something like that. Kids are going to avoid biking past this street.”

Becky peered through the blinds. “This whole thing scares me to death.”

“She’s having a tough time with it,” Holly said, gesturing toward Becky. “I’m trying to tell her it was probably a break-in. They were probably looking for cash or jewelry, saw Rosella, and panicked.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Becky said. “That’s just as scary.”

Chloe wondered how much she should prod. Nobody in the neighborhood had a good relationship with Rosella. And because of that, she figured she was safe to ask. Besides, she’d come all this way. “What did you guys think about Rosella?”

Holly and Becky shot looks at each other. One grunted. The other seethed.

“You want to take this one, or do you want me to?” Becky asked.

Holly plopped onto the couch and curled up next to Charley. She ran her fingers through her dirty hair. “I mean, it’s nothing.”

“Tell me.” Chloe pushed Holly to speak.

Holly sighed. “I’ve had this weird thing going on with the CDPH. I wanted to confront Rosella about it. I needed to know if she was the one sending complaints to them.”

Chloe frowned. She wanted to play it cool, act as if she weren’t being nosy, just curious. But who was she kidding? “What’s the CDPH?”

Holly said, “The California Department of Public Health is like the oversight board for nurses. If you complain about the hospital staff, they’re the people you talk to. I got a complaint recently, saying I’d been unprofessional and that the patient could smell alcohol on my breath.” Holly shook her head. “I was finally able to talk to the director. He said an internal investigation was being done and I just needed to be patient and focus on doing my job.”

Becky folded her arms. “Holly doesn’t even drink.”

“Right,” said Chloe. “You always have soda or whatever when we get together.”

“Yeah, Cactus Cooler if I can find it. Anyway, we both think Rosella could have been the one sending the complaints.”

Nothing Rosella might have done should surprise Chloe, but this did. Holly was one of the nicest people on the block. “Why would she do that?”

“Because,” said Becky. “Because of what happened with Rosella’s husband at Holly’s hospital. Holly works in ICU. Lance was one of four patients she had to tend to, and Rosella blames her for him dying there.”

“Yep,” Holly said. “She told me exactly that at my last fundraiser.”

“No!”

Charley was now sitting next to her brother on the floor, watching a Magic School Bus episode. The little girl cast a sideways look at Chloe when her voice escalated. “Sorry, sweetheart. Go back to your show.”

“Yeah, so yesterday I went over to Rosella’s house,” Holly said.

Becky snapped her head around so fast it reminded Chloe of a scene from The Exorcist . “I’m sorry. You did what ?”

“I thought I would be able to peer into Rosella’s eyes and know whether or not she was lying.” Holly glanced at Becky. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what? Like you’re an idiot? Why didn’t you listen to the director? Even if it was Rosella who filed a complaint, did you really think she would admit to any wrongdoing?”

Chloe was caught in the middle, like a spectator watching a tennis match where one of the opponents wanted to maul the other. If Rosella had been the one sending the complaints about Holly, she could understand her frustration. The complaints would be enough to not only lose a job but also lose a house, ruin a family.

Holly rubbed the back of her head. “Well, you probably won’t like the next part, either. When Rosella didn’t answer the door, I went inside.”

Becky’s eye twitched. “When were you going to tell me this?” She glanced at Chloe, who suddenly felt like she’d overstayed her welcome. “You should have called the police, like any normal person would have done under those circumstances.”

“I was worried about Rosella.”

“You couldn’t stand that woman.”

“True, but I never wished her harm. I just wanted her to leave me alone,” Holly said. “I called her name, and when no one answered, I walked out the door and left for work.”

Chloe wondered whether Holly was telling the whole truth. Her foot wouldn’t stop shaking, as if nerves were getting the best of her.

There was a knock on the door. They all froze. Becky was the first to make a move. She took a breath before walking to the door. Chloe peeked through the blinds. “It’s the detectives working Rosella’s case.”

“Why are they here?” Becky wanted to know.

“Don’t worry,” Chloe said. “I’m sure it’s standard procedure and they’re simply making the rounds. They’ll probably come to my house next.”

Becky exhaled and set about opening the door, which took a minute since the woman kept the house locked down. After introductions were made, Detective Seicinski asked if they could speak with Holly Bateman.

The house was small, making it easy for Chloe to listen as she quickly gathered the kids.

“Who is it?” Holly asked.

Becky turned to face Holly. “Detective Seicinski and Detective Toye with the Sacramento Police Department would like to speak with you.”