Halloween: Storytime Bloghop

I know I’ve been quite absent from my website, and I’m sorry. But so many things happened that hit me like hammers. First, my friend Holly Lisle died at the end of August. Then, another close friend’s husband got the news that he’s dying too and there’s nothing that can be done about it. And as if that wasn’t enough, my daughter moved, my grandson needs to be tested for ADHD and Autism, and a ton of minor distractions. Just RealLife(TM) at its best.

BTW, if you want to follow my progress on Holly Lisle’s Moon & Sun series, here’s a link to the signup for the newsletter.

With all that’s going on in my life right now, I struggled a lot to write my Bloghop story. Considering the low number of participants this Bloghop, I wasn’t the only one. But I did it and here is my story:

How I Lost Tom

I first met Tom when I was three years old. We were best friends since then. He seemed so grown up back then, and he helped me with everything. His wide eyed smile that went from one jug ear to the other gave me a focal point to talk to, and people never noticed I didn’t look into their eyes for they could not see Tom.

The biggest blessing was that he didn’t talk. Still he helped me face my fears and encouraged me to go for whatever I wanted to do, despite the overwhelmingly loud world. I remember his proud and happy smile at my graduation from police academy.

Of course by then I’d noticed that I’d grown older and he remained ten or eleven but he was still my best friend in the world. I never noticed how much our friendship had changed until I sat in an untidy beige kitchen with thirty year old Amanda, trying to ferret out details about my most important cold case: Tom’s death.

“Did you never have any suspicion who might have murdered your brother?” I’d asked the same question phrased differently many times, and her answer was always a variant of no, clipped and short as if she didn’t really want to know.

“What about your father’s ex-girlfriend.” I studied the surprisingly symmetrical face with eyes as blue as Tom’s and long, auburn hair tied into a tight bun. Her slender frame shifted on the chair like she wanted to run.

“She would have kidnapped Tom, not killed him. She always went on about how underappreciated he was and that he needed more love.” Amanda’s voice held an edge. “She favored him all the time, and that’s the reason Dad didn’t marry her. He wanted to, you know?”

Of course I’d known. And I’d learned a lot from my interview with her father’s ex. “He did ask her but she declined.”

Amanda sat up very straight and shook her head to underline her words. “That’s not true. Dad said that he couldn’t accept a stepmother who played favorites.”

“Maybe your father remembers a bit more about that fateful day.” I hadn’t been able to find a recent address and he would surely know more. After all, Amanda had only been thirteen when her brother was murdered and their house burnt to the ground. Her mind must have been on other, more important things, like boys, before the catastrophe. “Do you have any idea where he is now?”

“Of course.” She gave me an address in a nearby trailer park, a sad choice for living for a once successful real estate agent. Back then, his finances had been in shambles and even the money from his son’s life-insurance had not covered all of his debts. Clearly, he’d never truly recovered.

I hated trailers. They were suffocating and you could hear all your neighbors every time of the day. At least this one was clean. Mr. Dell had asked me and my partner in and we sat on the worn seats of the lounge—not that it deserved such a grand name—recording equipment at the ready. It was clear he knew that this was about Tom again.

“I’ve already told you everything I know, all those years ago,” he said.

Before I could say something, Tom stepped right into the middle of the table between us. “Hi Dad.”

Mr. Dell paled. His eyes widened and he seemed to have trouble breathing. My partner reached for his mobile to call an ambulance while I watched in fascination how Tom’s friendly, blue eyes turned dark and his expression angry. I’d never seen him like this and it scared me to the marrow.

“Why don’t you tell my friend here,” he pointed at me, “how you strangled me as I was eating my muesli until I vomited all over the kitchen? Why don’t you tell her how you stuffed my dead body into a rubbish bin and dumped it in the woods? Why don’t you tell them about the insurance policy you hid in our neighbor’s shed so it wouldn’t spoil when you set fire to the house?”

Mr. Dell complied. Speaking as fast as he could, he told us everything down to the tiniest detail while Tom stood, watching him with those scary black eyes.

Not even an hour later, Mr. Dell was safely locked up in a holding cell. I was just about to sign out, when my colleagues ran around like busy ants, screaming for help. It was total overkill for my senses. I pressed my hands over my ears but still heard that the detainee had tried to commit suicide. He hung himself but his belt had broken from the weight he’d put on it.

When the noise died down after the paramedics had taken comatose Mr. Dell away, Tom appeared right in front of me. “Thank you.” His eyes were back to normal and his smile reassured me. “Dad will remain in a coma for the rest of his life, and I will keep him company. Thank you.”

This time, I didn’t talk. I just nodded, knowing that more justice would be metered out this way than any available in our judicial system. I waved goodbye as Tom faded. After all, that’s what friends did, right?

Visit the others:
Existential Conundrum by T. R. Neff
Harvest by Barbara Lund
The Big Red Eye by Gina Fabio
Broken Hearted by James Husum