Fiction Friday

Chapter XI

Vivian stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide, arms still full of extra clothing. Her mouthed opened and closed a couple of time before tears began running down her cheeks. She collapsed on to the chair nearest to her dropping the armload of laundry partially on the table and partially onto Susan’s lap. Vivian covered her face sobbing.

“I didn’t mean for anything to happen to her—you have to believe me!” Vivian cried, uncovering her face to look imploringly at Susan then Vivian. Her shoulders shook as she fell into another wave of tears.

Susan reached over and patted Vivian’s nearest shoulder awkwardly. She looked at Jackie and raised her eye brows making a face that said, now what?

Jackie reached behind her and retrieved a box of tissue from the counter, pushing it to Vivian as she rubbed her nose furiously with one sleeve.

“Vivian,” Jackie began gently, “why did you ask McKenzie to work for you tonight?”

Vivian looked up, hesitating for a moment as if she wasn’t sure how much to tell them.

“Vivian,” Jackie pressed, “we’re the only ones who can help you now. I think the people who killed your sister are after us too—they think I know who killed her. It’s probably only a matter of time before they decide you are a threat too. We have to report the crime to the right people before the wrong people find us!”

Vivian swallowed, “okay. I was planning to deliver another letter to Wayne and one to Max while they were working. I thought if they thought I was working too, they wouldn’t suspect me when they found letters in their rooms later. My shift would have kept McKenzie away from the dining room so they never would have had a conversation with her—they never would have realized it wasn’t me. They would have known from the schedule that I was working the outer bar most of the night. McKenzie would have confirmed my story if anyone had asked her later. We’ve done that for each other before; you know if we’ve been sick or tired or something…it was a good system.” Vivian dropped her head wiping another tear off her cheek.

“How late was she supposed to work the outer bar?” Vivian asked.

“She started at four. She would have worked until the last person left to go to dinner—usually around 7:30 or 8:00. Sometimes there is a straggler or two who wants to finish watching a game before they go into the dining room. The latest it’s ever been is 9:00.”

“And what time did dinner get delayed?” Jackie asked, turning to Susan.

Susan sat up a little straighter trying to remember six or seven hours earlier in the night. “I came and got you at 6:30,” Susan sad counting on her fingers. Her eyes searched the ceiling for her memory, “usually the dining room opens at 7:00 but when we got down there at quarter to, they had just announced that dinner would be delayed and they kept the bar open for an extra hour…or more.” Susan smiled as if remembering a very fond memory.

“So,” Jackie said leaning forward on her elbows, looking at Vivian again, “McKenzie was killed before she was off work. She must have been attacked before 6:30. But wouldn’t there have been witnesses?”

“Not necessarily,” said Vivian, her brow creasing with intensity, “the outer bar is across the Rose Garden. You have to walk outside to get to it—on a night light tonight; she may not have had a single customer—it wouldn’t have been the first time.”

“So someone attacked her while she was tending the bar, and brought her body to the dining room before the doors were supposed to open. Who is in the dining room before the doors open?” Jackie asked Vivian.

“Usually it’s finished being set for dinner by 5:00. Then the dining room is empty until 6:00 when Max comes in to do a final walk through before opening the doors at 7:00. He must have found her body around 6:00.”

“Unless,” Jackie said slowly, “he was the one who brought her body there.”

There was a long silence that was finally broken by a startling snore from Trevor, still sleeping soundly on Vivian’s small couch.

Vivian looked paralyzed. Her thick, dark eyebrows were knit together in sorrow. Her dark red lips turned down in a frown. She sat drumming the painted nails of her right hand on those of her left. The rest of her was as still as a statue.

Jackie cleared her throat softly, daring to go on, “You were leaving notes for Mr. Carson too right; about his affair with your sister? Might he have…?”

“It wasn’t for the money you know,” Vivian shook her head slowly, her dark hair fell around her shoulders, “I just wanted him to stop seeing my sister. I thought I could scare him into breaking up with her. I thought he would think it was Mrs. Carson—that she knew and maybe he’d get scared of being cut off from her family money,” Vivian ran both her hands through her hair, stopping with her forehead hidden in the palms of her hands.

“Then why blackmail Wayne?” Susan asked bluntly.

Vivian chuckled, her head still down, “I don’t know, I guess I was just sick of the lies, the secrecy. I just wanted the truth to come out—wanted to stop having to cover for my sister…” Vivian trailed off, still shaking her head. “I never meant for her to get hurt.”

“I know,” said Jackie soothingly, touching her arm.

Susan and Jackie looked at each other over Vivian’s bowed head. They were both thinking the same thing.

“Do you think it could have been Mr. Carson?” Susan pushed.

Vivian looked up. “It must have been. I mean who else…?” Suddenly Vivian froze, “Wait.” She got to her feet, pushing the pile of clothing across the table to Jackie and Susan, “Get dressed,” she ordered without explanation.

Jackie and Susan got to their feet, doing as they were told, Jackie began peeling her soaked black dress from her goose-bump covered legs. From the pile of fabric, Jackie selected a pair of Jeans that looked like they would fit and a black hooded sweatshirt which she zipped over her chest. Susan did the same, removing her high heels and the rest of her wet clothes.

Vivian was already at the door, tying sneakers onto her feet. She threw a pair of clogs and a pair of thick, brown sandals towards the two women who stepped into them gratefully.

“Where are we going?” Jackie asked meeting Vivian at the door.

“Vivian pulled a raincoat from her coat rack and zipped it on, pulling the hood over her hair, “we’re going to the outer bar.”

***