CHAPTER EIGHT
“I didn’t want to be alone in the house
tonight,” Kay Garvey admitted, over her third glass of cabernet.
“I’ll admit it, these cul-de-sac killings have made me a nervous
wreck.”
Molly sat on the other side of the sofa
from her. Between them was an open Pagliacci Pizza box—with three
pieces remaining. In front of them, the big flat-screen TV had the
frozen images of Paul Newman and Eva Marie Saint. Kay had gabbed
throughout the first forty-five minutes of Exodus until Molly finally put the movie on
pause.
She’d planned to work on a new painting
and then treat herself to pizza and a movie to keep her mind off
being alone that Saturday night. Jeff had a seminar in Denver, and
Chris and Erin were at their mother’s boyfriend’s house in Bellevue
for the weekend.
Molly felt even more isolated and
anxious, because she’d said good-bye to Hank and Frank that
morning. Her only true friends on the cul-de-sac had moved away.
Hank had been her designated Neighborhood Watch “Call Me If You Get
Scared” buddy. They’d shaken hands on it two weeks before, during
the potluck at Lynette Hahn’s place.
Now, Hank and Frank were gone. Their
house at the end of the cul-de-sac stood empty and
dark.
Kay had phoned her this afternoon,
“just to chat,” mentioning several times that she was all by
herself, because Madison had gone to her dad’s and stepmother’s
place for the weekend. Of Angela and her two gal pals, Kay was the
easiest to tolerate. At least, she came across as friendly enough.
Molly figured a surface friendship was better than nothing. She
just wouldn’t share anything personal with Kay.
That had been her resolve when she’d
halfheartedly invited Kay over for dinner. “I’m by myself tonight,
too,” she’d admitted. “I rented Exodus, and
was about to order a pizza. You’re welcome to join me,
Kay.”
“Paul Newman’s in that, isn’t he?” Kay
had replied. “Well, I’m all over that! I’ll bring some red wine. We
can have a regular slumber party.”
With a little red wine in her, Kay had
started talking during the movie about the brief period when
Angela’s and Lynette’s kids had dated. Apparently, when the class
heartthrob had dumped her, Courtney set her sights on Chris. He
wasn’t as popular as her ex, but Chris was handsome and well-liked.
It seemed like a pretty good match. But all the while she and Chris
were dating, Courtney shamelessly flirted with their guidance
counselor.
“Madison told me that Courtney used to
come on to Ray Corson like gangbusters,” Kay had said while
slouched in the corner of the sofa, finishing her second glass of
wine. “She thought it would be really cool to hook up with a
teacher, especially one who was so popular. But old Ray wouldn’t
give Courtney a tumble. He kept their counseling sessions strictly
professional. I used to think he had morals, but—well, obviously,
he preferred teenage boys to teenage girls. I think that’s why
Courtney really let him have it with her Facebook postings. Hell
hath no fury like a teen queen scorned. . . .”
At that point, Molly had put the movie
on pause. “I noticed Madison had a few choice comments about Mr.
Corson on her Facebook page, too,” she’d pointed out.
Kay had just laughed. “Oh, that
daughter of mine certainly has a wicked sense of
humor!”
“Well, personally, I thought Ray Corson
may have gotten a raw deal,” Molly had said, frowning.
That was when Kay had poured a third
glass of wine and changed the subject to the Cul-de-sac Killer. She
was pretty inebriated. “When’s the last time he killed somebody?”
Kay asked.
Molly knew—exactly two weeks ago, when
he’d murdered that Madrona couple. But she didn’t want to admit she
was keeping track. She felt silly enough checking the NO OUTLET sign at the end of the cul-de-sac earlier
tonight. She just shrugged.
“He’s probably overdue to strike again,
isn’t he?” Kay said.
“Let’s hope the police catch him before
that happens,” Molly replied. She got to her feet and took the
pizza box. “Last call before this goes into the
fridge.”
Kay shook her head. She turned quiet
for a few moments while Molly put the pizza in the refrigerator.
“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” Kay said, glancing down into her
wineglass. “But I have a feeling someone’s been in the house while
Madison and I aren’t there.”
Her hands on her hips, Molly stepped
into the family room again. “What do you mean?”
Kay gave a pitiful shrug. “I’m not
sure. It’s just a feeling I get. I know for a fact someone has been
through our garbage. I’ve double-checked. I can see stuff has been
rearranged in the bins.”
“Are you sure it’s not just
raccoons?”
Kay frowned. “Raccoons don’t put the
trash bin lids back in place.”
“Well, when I was living in an
apartment building in Chicago, we used to have these Dumpster
divers.” Molly sat down on the sofa again. “They look for credit
card or bank statements or anything with a Social Security number
on it for identity theft—stuff like that. Maybe that’s what’s
happening.”
“Lately, I’ve been getting these really
strange phone calls, too,” Kay murmured. “This woman with a
scratchy voice has been calling me and saying these weird
things—and then hanging up.”
Molly squinted at her. “What kind of
weird things?”
“The last two times, she asked me,
‘Kay, do you think you’re a good mother?’
Just like that, she said it. I don’t know who she is or how the
hell she knows my name. I think it might be Ted’s wife—or a friend
of hers. From what I hear, Madison’s new stepmother doesn’t think
much of my parenting skills. Well, screw her and the horse she rode
in on.”
Molly didn’t say anything. She was
thinking it was a very valid question. Kay wanted everyone to like
her—including her own daughter. As a result, she was a pretty
ineffectual mother. She spoiled Madison rotten and let her do
whatever she wanted.
“Anyway, thanks for having me over
tonight,” Kay said. “I’d just as soon not be home in case that
creepy bitch calls again.” She drained the rest of her wineglass
and sighed. “So—this apartment you had in Chicago, were you living
there alone or did you have a roommate?”
Molly hesitated. “I—ah—I was living
alone.”
“No boyfriend?”
Molly shook her head.
“With your face and figure?” Kay
pressed. “I can’t believe it. What were you doing there, your art
thing?”
“Part-time,” Molly said, nodding. “And
part-time temp work wherever I could find it.”
“Aren’t you from Chicago originally? Do
you still have family there?”
“Not anymore,” Molly said. She picked
up the remote and switched off the TV. “You know, speaking of my
painting, I really need to work on this new piece. I hate to be a
party pooper, but it’s getting late. . . .”
Kay just stared at her, looking a bit
confused. “What about the movie?”
“Oh, it’s an epic. It has another three
hours to go. I think I’ll finish it up tomorrow.” Molly stood up.
She took the empty wineglass from her. “Anyway, I’m really glad you
could come over, Kay.”
She stayed seated. “Will you be okay by
yourself in this big house? Because, listen, I could crash in
Erin’s room tonight—”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I’ll be
fine,” Molly said.
With a defeated little shrug, Kay got
to her feet.
“You’ll be okay, won’t you?” Molly
asked, walking her to the door. She knew Kay was a bit scared to go
back to her empty house. She wondered how Madison being there could
make much of a difference in how secure she felt. Maybe Kay was
just lonely. It would have been neighborly of her to invite Kay to
spend the night, but Molly just didn’t want her there. She didn’t
want to answer any more questions about Chicago.
“You’ll be okay?” Molly asked
again.
“Oh, sure, I—I’m hunky-dory,” Kay
said.
Molly opened the front door for her,
and Kay gave her a hug. It seemed sincere, too—unlike the phony
hugs she’d seen Kay share with her pals, Angela and Lynette.
“Thanks, Molly,” she said. “Let’s do this again,
okay?”
She nodded. “Of course, that would be
nice.”
Kay teetered a bit as she stepped down
the front stoop and continued along the walk.
Her arms folded, Molly stood in the
doorway, looking after her. The night air gave her a chill. “Kay,
listen,” she said. “Call me if you get scared or anything, all
right?”
Stopping near the end of the driveway,
Kay turned. A streetlight was behind her, and she was just a
silhouette. But Molly saw her nod.
“We’ll be Neighborhood Watch buddies,”
Molly said.
“I’d like that,” Kay replied. Then she
moved on.
Molly watched her from the front stoop.
She could tell Kay was drunk. She weaved a bit as she walked up the
darkened cul-de-sac.
For weeks, someone else had been
carefully watching Kay Garvey. And Kay had no idea. She was
clueless—as were her neighbors on Willow Tree Court. None of them
knew how vulnerable they’d become after a month of constant
observation.
The intruder on their cul-de-sac had
already figured out that Kay Garvey kept an extra key under the
flowerpot by the screen-porch door in the back. That was just one
of many things this uninvited visitor to Willow Tree Court knew
about its residents.
Kay drank a lot, too. Her daughter,
Madison, had once confided in Mr. Corson about the woes of having
an alcoholic mother. Ray Corson had taken extensive notes on his
sessions with Madison, who had repeatedly gotten into trouble and
been sent to him for guidance:
When she has
an “audience” of any kind, Madison too often lapses into a
Catskills comedy routine—full of bile about her classmates &
teachers. She’s very insecure, probably due to her borderline gawky
looks. Madison must know, at some level, that if it weren’t for her
close friendship with Courtney Hahn & her affectation of
wearing Converse All Stars 24/7, no one might notice her at all.
There must be some truth to Madison’s claim that her mom has a
drinking problem & tries too hard to be her best friend. . . .
Madison loathes her stepmother (often the brunt of her comic
quips). I believe this “bitch on wheels” isn’t at all cruel, but
rather stuck with the thankless task of correcting years of
unchecked bad behavior. More time with the stepmother might help
Madison become a better person, but that would mean she would have
to move away from her indulging mom & attend a different
school. Her whole social identity is wrapped up in being Courtney’s
best friend. Without that, I believe Madison would see her
popularity plummet & she’d be utterly miserable. . .
.
At this very moment, Kay Garvey had no
idea someone planned to make her daughter, Madison, a better
person—and for a while utterly miserable.
Kay started up her driveway and glanced
back at Molly, still standing on the front stoop of the Dennehy
house. It was sweet of her to make sure she got home
safe.
Kay kind of felt guilty for all the
nasty things she’d said about Molly to Lynette and Angela. She
really never had anything against Molly, but had to go along with
the others. Until last year, when Angela and Jeff split up, Kay’s
two best friends had treated her like a second-class citizen,
because she was a divorcee. Both Angela and Lynette had considered
themselves happily married—as deluded as that notion might have
been. Poor, pathetic Kay, seemed to have
been their attitude. But since Angela and Jeff’s marriage had gone
kaput, the second-class citizen on Willow Tree Court was Jeff’s new
wife. Anything Kay could say to tear down Molly to her two friends
raised her stock with them.
“You should see how she fawns over
Erin,” she’d told Lynette two weeks ago. “I have a view of the bus
stop on the corner. Honestly, she acts like Erin’s her own child. I
want to tell her, ‘Hello, you know, her real mother is still
around!’ Angela would be livid if she saw how Molly smothers that
little girl. It’s creepy.”
Now, Kay felt bad for saying that—and
for all the other embellished bits of gossip she spread about Molly
Dennehy.
At the front stoop, she paused by some
bushes that blocked her view of the Dennehy house. She heard Molly
step back inside and close the door.
With the sound of that lock clicking,
Kay suddenly felt all alone.
She’d left a few lights on inside the
house—as she always did when she stepped out. Pulling her keys from
her purse, she put the key in the lock but realized the door was
open. “What the hell?” she murmured.
She was almost positive she’d locked it
when leaving for the Dennehys’. But that had been a few hours and
three glasses of wine ago. She wondered if Madison had come home
from her overnight. Kay warily stepped inside. “Madison?” she
called. “Maddie, honey, are you here?”
No answer.
For a moment, she stood in the front
hallway, listening. The lights were on in the living room and
kitchen. She didn’t see any movement in either room, nothing out of
place, either. “You’re fine,” Kay told herself. She closed the
front door and double-locked it.
Heading into the kitchen, she went
right for the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of wine. “A dose of
courage,” she murmured, taking a hearty gulp. She always hated it
on these rare occasions when Madison spent the night at a friend’s
house. Usually, it was Courtney spending the night here. The
Garveys’ house got to be known as Party Central. Kay actually liked
having a lot of teenagers around. She didn’t mind the
noise.
It was being alone in a deathly quiet
house that she hated.
She switched on the TV in the family
room—just for company. Some movie with Sarah Jessica Parker came
on. Kay wasn’t sure what it was; she’d check it later. Right now,
she just needed the noise.
Her wineglass was already down to the
last few sips. How did that happen so fast? Kay retreated toward
the kitchen for a refill. Weaving slightly, she bumped against the
edge of the kitchen’s entryway. She knew she was drunk, but that
didn’t stop her from emptying the bottle. There was only a little
bit left anyway.
On the TV, Sarah Jessica Parker stopped
talking for a moment. Kay heard something upstairs. It sounded like
water running in one of the bathrooms. She told herself it was just
the toilet tank refilling. She must not have flushed it right
earlier. That had to be it. Still, she couldn’t relax until she
went upstairs and checked it out.
Setting down her wineglass, Kay grabbed
the empty cabernet bottle by the neck and brandished it like a
weapon. A few drops spilled out and slithered down her arm. She
quickly licked it off, then headed up the stairs.
She’d left the light on in the
second-floor hallway. In the bathroom at the top of the stairs, the
toilet wasn’t making any noise. It seemed to be coming from the
master bathroom. It sounded more like a faucet running than a
toilet tank.
Moving down the hallway to her bedroom,
Kay tightened her grip on the empty wine bottle. She stepped into
the bedroom. She’d left the bedside lamp on, but it was still dim
in there.
She didn’t see the man standing in the
shadowy corner until it was too late.
“Oh, my God,” Kay gasped. Staggering
back, she knocked over the nightstand lamp. A brief flash of light
blinded her as the shade flew off. Kay dropped the bottle. The lamp
hit the carpeted floor, but the bulb didn’t break. The wine bottle
rolled next to it, also unbroken.
“Take it easy,” the man whispered. He
wore a black jogging suit with a hood—and surgical gloves. He had a
gun pointed at her. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re a little
unsteady there. Have you been drinking?”
Terrified, Kay quickly shook her head.
She backed into the edge of the bedroom doorway.
She couldn’t really tell what he looked
like. The light on the floor cast strange shadows all over the
room—and on his face. He stepped toward her. “You look pretty drunk
to me, Kay,” he said. “Were you guzzling that wine? Were you a
naughty girl? Did you drink the whole bottle, honey?”
Tears stung her eyes as she stared at
him. “Yes, I—I’ve had several glasses of wine,” Kay admitted. “In
fact, I probably wouldn’t even be able to describe you to the
police later, if they asked. I’m so—I’m really so
drunk.”
It wasn’t true anymore. She’d been
tipsy a few minutes ago, but he’d scared that right out of her. She
couldn’t move. Her back was still pressed against the edge of the
doorway. “Listen, you—you can help yourself to anything,” she said,
her voice cracking. “There’s a silver service in the dining room
downstairs. It’s worth a lot. And—and—and my daughter has a new
laptop computer in her bedroom. I have some cash and credit cards
in my purse. Take whatever you want, really . . . please. . . .”
She started sobbing.
“This works out perfectly,” he
said—almost to himself. He pointed the gun at her. “Take off your
shoes and unbutton your blouse.”
Kay shook her head. “Please . . .” she
repeated.
“I just want you to be comfortable,” he
said, with a tiny smirk. “C’mon, Kay . . .”
Her hands trembling, Kay struggled with
the buttons of her lavender blouse until it was open. She had a
camisole beneath it. Bracing herself against the doorway, she pried
off her shoes. All the while, she kept glancing over at the bedroom
closet and wondered if they’d find her body in there.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Kay,” he
cooed. “But I do need you to sit there on the floor, right by the
nightstand. Okay? There’s a good girl. . . .”
Tears streaming down her face, she was
obedient. She fell to her knees and then sat down on the floor. He
stood over her and began to stroke her hair. “There now, Kay, there
now. . . .”
All at once, he grabbed her by the hair
and slammed her head against the corner of the nightstand. Stunned,
Kay flopped down on the floor. Blood from the gash on her temple
began to soak the plush, pale yellow carpet. She started blacking
out.
“I’m supposed to make it look like an
accident,” she heard him murmur as he stood over her.
It was the last thing Kay Garvey ever
heard.
Minutes later, her killer took out a
small pair of scissors and carefully cut off a corner from the
shirttail of her lavender blouse.
It was such a small cutting, no one
would notice.