Chapter 17

17

There wasn't a clear view from Cordelia's house into her other neighbor's home, not from the bedroom, anyway. The living room, however, offered a different angle. From there I was able to see into the bedroom, but the view wasn't as good as the one from Cordelia's bedroom into Eddy and Rosalyn's room.

Still, what if Rosalyn was right?

What if I'd pointed my finger in the wrong direction?

I needed to know for sure.

I didn't know much about the neighbors in the white house. My mother had once mentioned that the wife was an energetic, spirited woman, while the husband was plainer than a stale piece of bread—her words, not mine. The wife was outgoing, active in the community. The husband kept to himself, preferring to stay indoors, curled up with a good book or in front of the television.

I locked Cordelia's front door, and I walked next door, pausing when a strange sensation came over me, a sensation of being watched. I turned, canvassing the neighborhood. I saw nothing and no one, but the feeling didn't pass.

I knocked on the door, and a short, petite woman answered, offering me a wide smile. She looked to be in her thirties and was dressed in pink from head to toe, including the glittery headband atop her head.

She batted her eyelashes a few times and said, "Hi! You're Georgiana, Darlene's daughter, aren't you?"

"I am. How did you know?"

"Your mother and I chat every now and then. She loves talking about her kids. We've had lunch a few times, and she's shown me photos of y'all. She's a proud mom, to be sure."

"Have you lived here long?"

"A few years now. It's a fun neighborhood, lots of cookouts and block parties."

"Do you attend many of them?"

"I try. Most times, I have to go by myself. It's one of the reasons why I appreciate your mom. She always makes me feel included, like I'm not alone."

"Don't you have anyone to go with you to these neighborhood get-togethers?"

"I'm more of an extrovert, while my husband is more of an introvert. Well … my soon-to-be ex-husband, I should say."

She huffed a nervous laugh and went quiet.

"Soon to be ex-husband?" I asked. "Are you two getting divorced?"

"Sad to say, but yes."

"Why?"

She circled her finger around, pointing at me. "Well, aren't you a curious one? Your mother said as much about you."

I wondered what else my mother had said.

"I don't mean to pry into your life," I said.

"Oh, not at all. I'm an open book, and I've had so many conversations with your mother about you, I feel like I know you."

Terrific.

The subject of oversharing was a conversation I'd had with my mother on many occasions, asking her to respect the fact that I liked to keep my private life private. Privacy was a gray area for her, an area she tried to respect, but oftentimes, she ended up blurring the lines.

I was feeling bothered by the fact a woman I knew almost nothing about seemed to know a lot more about me, details I wouldn't want her to know about. Then again, it was clear she was a Chatty Cathy, which gave me an advantage.

"It's too bad you and your husband can't make your relationship work," I said. "Where did things go wrong?"

She gave the question some thought. "It's difficult to pinpoint. A lot of little things started adding up until they became much bigger things. We're so different. I like to get out of the house and meet new people. I like getting involved in the community. He likes being at home, where it's quiet, so he can snuggle up on the couch with our two cats."

"I may not know you, but from what you've told me so far, it seems like you have a healthy attitude about getting divorced."

"It's been a long time coming, and it is sad. We have a great time together. When I'm at home, and we're just hanging out, we enjoy each other's company. It's just not a lifestyle I want to live day after day. I want someone who will go do things with me. I'm tired of going it alone."

"Does your husband know how you feel?"

She nodded. "He's known for a while. It's just … I feel stifled. I stay home too much because I know it's what he wants and needs. I wish he'd agreed to go out with me from time to time, but I feel like he wouldn't be happy if he did."

"It sounds like you still feel a great deal of love for him."

"I do."

"Are you sure a compromise can't be reached between the two of you?"

A Siamese cat attempted to slink between her legs and escape out the front door. She bent down and picked it up. "And just where do you think you're going, Major Whiskerton? Nowhere, that's where."

Major Whiskerton?

The name was a bit strange, but I gave her points for creativity.

"I need to put Mr. Whiskerton here in the bedroom," she said. "You want to come in for a minute?"

"I do."

She turned and pointed to the left. "Kitchen's that way. I'll meet you there in a few shakes."

I walked to the kitchen. While I waited, I looked around, noticing most of the windows in my vantage point were open, making the house a lot cooler than I would have liked. Maybe it was what she preferred, a crisp chill in her household air.

The home was spotless. Not a single item in my line of sight was out of place. As far as decorations went, other than plants, there wasn't much to see. And the house had a pleasant aroma of vanilla, which I attributed to a candle I saw burning in the living room.

I stepped into the room for a moment, peering out the window at Cordelia's house. I'd left Cordelia's blinds open and the lights on, but I couldn't see much. Given Cordelia's house was at a higher elevation than both her neighbors' homes, it made sense that she could see things they could not.

"Georgiana? Where have you gone?"

"Sorry, I was in the living room, admiring your plants," I said.

I turned, joining her in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself before," she said. "I'm Kayla Collins, and my husband's name is Seth. As to the question you asked before my naughty cat tried to make a run for it, the crazy thing is, I think my husband and I will be a lot happier as friends than we ever were as marriage partners."

It was the most responsible, healthy attitude I'd ever heard from someone going through a divorce. I suspected many, many people remained in relationships when they knew they weren't right for each other for a myriad of reasons, Many people stayed, even when the marriage and the partnership between them was over.

"What does your husband do for work?" I asked.

"He's a yoga instructor."

"Teaching yoga is a job that would require him to work around people, so he must like at least a little bit of social interaction."

"He's been doing yoga since high school. It calms his nerves. It's the one thing he realized he could do out in public that doesn't give him social anxiety, so he got certified, and now he teaches. He loves it. The place he works at is lowkey and has a chill vibe. It's the perfect place for him."

Though we'd never met, I'd started forming a picture in my mind of what I thought he'd be like.

"I guess I should tell you why I stopped by," I said.

"I guess you should, although I bet I already know, since I'm aware of what you do for a career and all."

"I'm sure you've heard all about what happened to your neighbor, Cordelia Bennett, and the murder at the local library."

"We heard. Our heart breaks for her. We just hope the killer is caught soon so she can move on in peace. I imagine her soul won't rest until the man who killed her is brought to justice."

I found her comment curious.

I, myself, didn't know if I believed in such things as spirits not being able to cross over to the great beyond, or wherever it was people went when their time was up. Even so, the idea of being able to offer someone peace through justice put a smile on my face.

"I've been hired to investigate Cordelia's homicide," I said.

Kayla's eyes widened. "Oh? I didn't know."

"It just happened. Cordelia's sister is in town, and she's not interested in the investigation being drawn out any longer than it needs to be."

"Makes sense. I'd want the same thing for my sister."

"I was hoping I could ask you a few questions about Cordelia, since you and Seth were her neighbors."

"You betcha. I'd be glad to help in any way I can, and I expect Seth will feel the same way. Before you knocked on the door, I was just about ready to make a salad for lunch. I have plenty to make two salads. Would you like one?"

"I appreciate it, but I have lunch plans a bit later today. Why don't you go ahead and make your salad while we talk?"

I took a seat at the kitchen table, and she opened the refrigerator, pulling out a variety of veggies and a handful of other items. She grabbed a bowl out of the cabinet and started throwing everything in.

"How well did you know Cordelia?" I asked.

"Not super well. When we saw each other, I was polite, and she was polite in turn. She was … how do I say this … a bit standoffish. And you know what's crazy? I'm the extrovert, but she talked to my husband more than she talked to me."

The revelation was unexpected.

"I got the impression Seth avoids people whenever he can," I said. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Oh, no. You're right on every possible level. Except, he recognizes a fellow introvert when he sees one. Kindred spirits, as they say. They both liked to read, and when she learned that about him, they struck up a conversation with him one day, and then she started loaning him some of her books."

"Did he ever talk to you about her?"

"Not much. He's never been a big conversationalist, though. He keeps a lot of his feelings close to the vest."

"It must be difficult for you," I said.

"It can be."

Kayla had been outgoing and spirited from the moment we met, but now I was starting to see a different side of her, a somber side. I had no doubt she'd married for love, and maybe Seth had too. But her needs had never been met, and the day had come when she couldn't lie to herself anymore. I wondered if part of her outlook and optimism with the divorce was a front or a fa?ade to mask the true pain she was feeling.

"When you said Cordelia was a bit standoffish, you aren't the only one who felt that way about her," I said. "It doesn't seem like she allowed many people into her inner circle."

"Your mother was as inner circle as it gets."

"My mother has never seen a challenge she wasn't willing to accept. When it came to Cordelia, I'll bet she pushed her way into her life, whether Cordelia wanted her to or not."

Kayla drizzled some Italian dressing over her salad and laughed. "Your mother does have a way with people. It's a quality few of us have, not to the degree she does, anyway."

I supposed I was like my mother when it came to persistence, except we excelled at it in different ways. I'd always considered myself an introvert, but when push came to shove, I shoved when the need arose.

"I don't have many leads to go on so far in the case, but I did come across something this morning that could mean something," I said.

"Oh? What is it?"

"I was looking through Cordelia's novels. In one of them, she'd stashed a few pieces of notebook paper. She'd written notes, which I believe were about one of her neighbors."

Kayla grabbed a fork, stuck it into her salad bowl, and then she walked over to the table and sat down next to me. "What did she write in the notes?"

"It seems she may have been spying on one of her neighbors for some time, either Rosalyn and Eddy Westwood or you and your husband, I'm not sure which."

"How can you be sure it's one of us?"

"Because of the way she described what she saw. The notes were taken over a five-month period, and they describe a husband and wife who weren't getting along. There's even mention of physical abuse."

Kayla pressed a hand to her chest. "I can't believe Cordelia would have been the type of person to spy on her neighbors. But if she was, I can assure you, Seth and I would have been a snore. Boring ."

"In what way?"

"In every way. At home, we're not excitable people, I'm afraid. We're more of a dine together, watch television, read books in bed kind of people."

Nothing Kayla had said so far made me question whether she was being honest or not. And yet, there was a nervousness about her now that I did not detect prior to telling her about the notes I'd found.

It was easy to assume Kayla and her husband were getting a divorce under amiable circumstances. But were they as amiable as she had led me to believe? Or was she a good actor?

"What can you tell me about your other neighbors, Rosalyn and Eddy?" I asked.

She stabbed at a bit of salad with her fork. "I haven't had the chance to get to know them on a personal level, so I can't tell you anything. They seem nice, always give me a wave when we see each other in the front yard."

"Have you ever witnessed anything off between them, any arguments or spats? Has there ever been anything that would make you question whether their relationship was on the rocky side?"

"I haven't. Like I said, as far as couples go, we don't have a relationship with them. I suppose I've been feeling bad about it."

"Why?"

"I used to be the first one to welcome someone to the neighborhood. But I've been so caught up in my own life for a while, I haven't had the energy to put time or effort into anyone else. Why? Is everything all right between them?"

"I'm not sure. I'd like to speak to Eddy, but he works random shifts at his job. I asked Rosalyn when he'd be back home. She said she didn't know. I find it a little suspicious, living together with someone but not knowing their schedule. It doesn't make sense to me."

"I agree, it's strange. I may not have the perfect marriage, but we always talk about our plans for the day. I can't imagine a relationship where a couple doesn't communicate those things."

I couldn't either.

But just because it was foreign to us didn't mean it was foreign to them.

She went on. "You said Cordelia's notes talked about abuse. What kind of abuse? Physical, or verbal, or both, or …?"

"As much as I'd like to share more details with you, I don't think I should say anything else until I've had the chance to discuss it with the police department. I hope you understand."

"Yes, of course."

I was about to ask another question when I heard the sound of the front door opening. A moment later, a man entered the kitchen. He had a rolled-up yoga mat slung over his shoulder. He looked unnerved to find someone he didn't know in his home, and he turned toward Kayla, a concerned look on his face as he said, "Who is she ? And what's she doing in our house?"