Chapter 16

16

"We need to talk," I said.

Rosalyn placed a hand on her hip and sighed. "All I want is to have a calm, peaceful day with my dog on his birthday. I understand what you're trying to do, and I'm sure you're questioning all of Cordelia's neighbors, but I don't have anything else to say."

"Are you sure? Because I think you do. I was just taking a look around Cordelia's house, and I found something interesting, something I'd like to show you. Can I come in?"

"Why do you want to talk to me about what you found?"

"I believe it might be of interest to you."

"Why? I didn't know her. Not well, I mean. It's sad that she's dead, but I don't see how anything you could show me would be of interest."

"You might, if you hear me out."

Rosalyn ran a hand through the long strands of her straight brown hair and rolled her eyes. "All right. I guess you can come in but make it quick."

I nodded and followed her to the living room.

"Is your husband home?" I asked.

"No, why?"

"I'd like to speak to him. Have either you or your husband ever seen Cordelia peering into your house from her bedroom window?" I asked.

Rosalyn raised a brow. "Peering through … what?"

I stood a moment, assessing her tone of voice as well as her body language. She was twitchy and unstill. And while it seemed like she was unnerved by what I'd just said, she was avoiding eye contact, so it was hard to tell for certain.

"I found a book in Cordelia's library," I said.

"I heard she owned hundreds of them."

"She did, and I've just been through them all."

"Why would you go through every single one of her books?"

I sat in a chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Seems crazy, right? You might want to sit down for what I'm about to say next."

She shrugged. "I'm good where I'm at."

Where she was at was across the room, leaning against the wall, holding the doggo in her arms.

"Before I tell you what I found, I'm going to share something Cordelia's sister told me when we met yesterday to discuss her case," I said.

Another shrug. "Okay."

"Cordelia was a people watcher."

"What do you mean?"

"When they were younger, Claudette said her sister used to take notes about things she saw and heard around town."

Rosalyn's eyes dropped to the floor. She chewed on her lower lip and then pet her dog. Without looking up, she asked, "Why would she do that?"

"I don't know. I guess she was a curious person. Since this was something Cordelia did many years ago, Claudette wasn't sure whether her sister had continued doing it throughout her life. They hadn't spoken in a long time."

"I'm guessing this has to do with the reason you're here?"

"It does. Inside one of Cordelia's books, I found a few pages of notebook paper. She'd written some detailed notes. Based on those notes, it looks like she hadn't given up on her habit of people watching and documenting what she witnessed."

"How do you know the notes aren't old, like from before, when she was younger? If they were tucked away in a book, anything she wrote could have been written a long time ago."

"The notes had dates."

She peered up at me. "Dates? From when?"

"They're from this year," I said. "The first entry on the page was written in June, and the last entry was a few weeks ago. I'd like to read a few of them to you, if you don't mind."

"Can you just give them to me? I can read them for myself."

"I'd rather not," I said.

I proceeded to go over the highlights of Cordelia's notes. At the end, I drove it home with the final words, where Cordelia thought she'd been caught spying. And that she wondered if she could help the woman … help her get away.

When I finished, I folded the notebook pages, tucking them into my bag. Then I glanced at Rosalyn to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were watery, like she was fighting off the urge to cry, but she didn't.

She walked over to where I was sitting, sinking into the chair across from me.

"Whoever Cordelia was spying on, she felt bad for what she'd seen," I said. "She also felt the urge to help the woman, which makes me wonder if she ever got the chance."

"The woman she was talking about could be anyone."

"I'd be inclined to believe you if Cordelia had gotten out of the house more often, but based on the entry dates, the notes were taken after her husband died. And from what I've heard, Cordelia was so distraught over his death, she didn't leave the house often. It was only when my mother pushed her to take the volunteer position at the library that she started getting out more."

"So, she did get out. Maybe she overheard or saw something that concerned her at the library."

It made sense why she'd suggest such a thing. When I'd read the notes to her, I skipped around and hadn't shared much more than the highlights.

"If you think about how Cordelia set the scene, I don't believe it's possible for what she witnessed to have taken place in a library—or a public place, for that matter," I said.

"Why not? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I didn't read all the notes to you. In truth, I debated whether I should share them with you or anyone else before they're handed off to the police."

"Then why did you?"

"When I was in her house, I realized Cordelia had a perfect view from her bedroom window into your house."

"I'll bet she had just as good of a view of her neighbors who live on the other side."

The neighbors on the other side.

Why hadn't I thought of that?

I'd been so focused on the woman in the notes being Rosalyn, I hadn't thought to check the windows on the opposite side of the bedroom to check whether Cordelia could see into her other neighbor's house too.

"Is there a reason Cordelia would have spied on one of the neighbors who live on the other side?" I asked.

"Have you talked to them?"

"Not yet."

She shook her head, disappointed. "Well, maybe you should before you come over here insinuating the notes are about us."

"Are you suggesting they aren't about you?"

"I am. I don't know much about the neighbors a couple of doors down, but I heard they're getting a divorce."

"Since when?"

"I don't know. They're still living together in the same house, though. I saw them together yesterday, and I haven't seen anyone move out."

"How did they seem?"

"All right, I guess." She went silent for a moment. "Are you married?"

"I'm marrying for a second time next year."

"Then you're aware that no marriage is perfect."

"I am."

"What was written on those notes of hers … it could have been opinion rather than fact. Either way, it wasn't about us."

She was looking at the floor, again avoiding eye contact.

If she had something to hide, not looking me in the eye was smart on her part, even though it increased my overall suspicions.

"Do you expect your husband to be back today, or tomorrow, or this week?" I asked.

"He's out of town for business. I'm not sure when he's going to be back."

"Don't the two of you communicate about his work schedule? I feel like most people know when their partner is coming and going."

"Eddy's job is complicated. He works in shifts. Sometimes his jobs go short, sometimes they go long. Sometimes he walks through the door without even talking to me first. It's his way of surprising me, I guess."

Was it a good surprise or a bad one?

"I don't know how you do it," I said.

"Don't know how I do what?"

"Handle his crazy schedule. I don't think I could do it."

"I've gotten used to it."

"How long have the two of you been married?"

"It will be two years in December."

"Not long then. I imagine you two must still be in the honeymoon phase."

"I suppose it still feels that way at times."

"Are you from around here?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'd never been to Cambria before we bought this house."

"What caused you two to settle here?"

"My husband used to come here a lot with his family when he was a child, back when his grandmother was still alive. She lived here all her life. He has fond memories of those times, and he always wanted to have a home here one day. So here we are."

"I hope he considered where you wanted to be before a decision was made. Are you happy living in Cambria?"

She narrowed her eyes like she didn't understand why I cared about her happiness. It gave me the impression she wasn't used to others taking her feelings into account.

"I'm happy enough," she said.

"It's good of you to care about your husband's hopes and dreams. You just don't seem enthusiastic about being here. Am I right?"

Rosalyn set Boomer on the floor, and he scampered off to the kitchen, making a beeline for his water bowl. "I haven't lived here long enough to know what I think about it yet. For a small town, Cambria is all right. Maybe it's not the place I thought we'd end up, but there is a quaint sense of community here. People are nice. It's the reason I decided it was worth giving it a try."

"Did you know Eddy wanted to move here before you married?"

"I guess not, no."

"Seems like that would be something he'd want to discuss. Why do you think he never mentioned it, given his family memories here and all?"

"He was working for another company at the time, and he wouldn't have been able to relocate, so there was no point talking about it. He quit that job and found a new one, and his boss said he'd be fine with us living here if my husband didn't mind traveling for work."

"How far is the commute?" I asked.

"To San Luis Obispo and some of the surrounding areas."

"What does your husband do for a job?"

"He's an environmental scientist."

"I have no idea what one does in that position."

"He collects samples from different areas, things like soil, water, and food, and then they're analyzed."

"Who is his employer?"

"Eco Earth."

She turned, looking out the window.

I was losing her.

"I need to give Boomer a bath," she said. "So, if we're done here …"

"Sure, thanks for taking the time to talk to me."

We were done, finished with the conversation … for today.

But it wouldn't be long before we spoke again.