My Killer Vacation — Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Taylor

’m wrapped in a blanket, awash in the glow ofI flashing blue lights. This is not supposed to happen in real life. I’m trapped in an episode ofEtched in Bone. I’m the innocent bystander who stumbled upon the macabre scene. Of course, the years of therapy I will need to recover won’t even be mentioned in the show notes. The pithy hosts won’t pronounce my name correctly. But me? I doubt I’ll ever forget the sight of that murdered man as long as I live.

Unless…maybe this is a very vivid nightmare?

Nope. There is definitely a huge black bag being wheeled out of the house by medical examiners. Out of the crime scene while Jude and I watch it all happen with our jaws in our laps. We’re trying to focus on what the police officer is saying from his seated position on the coffee table in front of us, but we have now given him our statements three times each. Not a single detail has changed. And now that the adrenaline of discovering a murder victim is

beginning to wear off, I’m getting a strong case of the get- the-hell-out-of-heres.

“It has to be murder, right?” I say, mostly to myself. “He couldn’t have shot himself straight on in the forehead like that.”

“No,” admits the officer—a man in his early forties named Officer Wright who bears a striking resemblance to Jamie Foxx. So much so that I did a double take when he walked through the front door. “It’s next to impossible.”

“So the killer…they are still out there,” Jude says.

“Maybe even next door.”

The officer sighs. “Well, yeah. Another possibility. And that’s going to make our job pretty tough. Damn near all of these places become rentals in the summertime, meaning it’s not locals in residence. Could be anyone from anywhere. A visitor of a visitor of a visitor. These rental sites like StayInn.com have become a goddamn nuisance.

No offense.”

“None taken,” I say automatically, watching the final stretch of the body bag disappear out the front door. That’s when it hits me. Why the man looked so familiar. “That was the owner of this house. Oscar. I remember now.” I fumble for my phone. “His picture is on the listing—”

The officer rests his hand on mine, stalling my actions.

“We already know he’s the owner. Matter of fact, we know all too well that he lived here.”

A different police officer passes by and clears his throat

loudly.

Officer Wright’s mouth snaps shut.

As soon as the other man has walked out of the house, Jude and I lean forward almost simultaneously. “What did you mean by that?” Jude asks. “You know all too well that he lives here?”

Wright checks over his shoulder, sighs, pretends to be writing something on his notebook. “Someone at StayInn.com should have gotten in contact with you. We communicated at length with them over the whole situation. They should never have let you come here.”

“Wait, slow down.” Jude drags a hand down his face, visibly regrouping. “What situation are you referring to?”

“We were called here a few nights ago for a domestic disturbance.” The officer’s voice is low enough that we have to lean even closer to make out his words. At this point, I can basically count the hairs of his goatee. “One of the renters down the block phoned it in. Reported shouting.

Loud crashes.” He taps his pen against his thigh, checks side to side again. “Turns out, a bunch of girls were renting this place and they came across the peepholes upstairs—”

“Oh my God!” I slap a palm against my forehead. “I forgot about the peepholes.”

“You were pretty distracted,” Jude says, patting me on the back, but keeping his attention on the officer. “So we weren’t the first to discover that little bonus amenity?”

Wright shook his head. “The girl who found them called her father. Big, long-haul trucker type. Well he showed up pissed as hell, understandably, but instead of calling the police, he had his daughter call the owner and bring him over. The father got a few punches in before we arrived to break it up. The girls agreed not to press charges as long

as they got a refund and no assault charges were filed against the father. But StayInn.com was contacted about this by Barnstable PD. You should have been informed.”

“Yes, we should have.” Mentally, I’m already writing a stern email to StayInn.com. It might even include a few choice words, likeemotional trauma andlegal counsel… andaccount credit. “Did they actually catch Oscarlooking through the holes?”

“No.” Wright chews on the next part before spitting it out. “But there was a camera. Set up on a tripod.”

Without looking at my brother, I know our faces are identical with disgust.

Shaking off the chill it gives me to know a man had been spying on women illegally in this house—and I was about to embark on six days here—I go back to finding an explanation. “I guess the altercation with the angry dad explains the bruises on Oscar’s face, but the father of those girls didn’tmurder him, right? Oscar was alive when the whole situation was resolved?”

Wright shrugs. “My lieutenant thinks the father was still revved up after all was said and done. Came back to finish the job. Homeowner gets his ass kicked by one suspect, then winds up getting killed by another? In the same damn week? Nah. We don’t believe in coincidences. Not that big.”

“Yeah, except…”

Something about the scenario is bothering me, though.

Not sitting quite right. And I really, really should just stop trying to fit everything together neatly when nothing about this is neat or tidy, but I’ve always had a hard time leaving

puzzles unfinished. However, usually my puzzles come with five thousand pieces, not peepholes and bullet wounds.

Still, my inquisitive nature is the only thing I inherited from my parents. I definitely wasn’t born with an ounce of their courage. A fact that they’ve lamented several times over the years, patting my hand and giving me forced smiles.

That’s our little schoolteacher. Always playing it safe.

Jude has been surfing in Indonesia. Skydiving in Montana. He works in an animal sanctuary, mostly with the pandas, but sometimes he actuallyfeeds lions. There is a video of him online actually cuddling one of the big cats.

Like, rolling around in the grass with the giant creature while he laughs and scrubs the lion’s mane. I almost dropped dead when someone emailed it to me. Of course, no one even thought about consulting Jude’s big sister about the whole dangerous business, but I’mnot salty about it anymore. Mostly.

So, okay. Courage is not something I have in large supply. This vacation is one of the most adventurous things I’ve done in a while. I actually had to chew on a throw pillow when I clicked “book” on this reservation. But something happened inside of me when I walked into the laundry room and saw poor Oscar staring blanky into

space.

Or rather…nothing happened.

The world didn’t end, despite the terrifying circumstances.

I stayed standing, right there on my own two feet.

Maybe now…I’m curious about whatelse I can do. Maybe

I’m curious if I can help. Be brave like my parents and Jude.

Or the hosts ofEtched in Bone, who infiltrate the scenes of the small-town murders they investigate, asking the tough questions. Can I be brave like that? Am I braver than I’ve always thought?

Jury is still out, But Ido have a super strength and it involves overthinking everything to death. Which is what I am doing now. Gnawing on the facts…and finding the plot holes. Perhaps this is not my job, maybe I should focus on finding us another place to stay, but I can’t help but feel personally involved, having been the one to discover Oscar’s body. I found him. And while it sounds crazy, I feel a certain responsibility toward holding the murderer accountable and completing this puzzle. I’m not sure I can move on from this whole ordeal until the lid has been

properly sealed on the facts.

“Officer Wright—”

A wail of grief rattles the windowpanes, followed by a shout of denial. “No! Not my brother!Oscar? Oscar!”

Jude and I blink at each other and whip around to face the open front door. At the open doors of the ambulance, a woman collapses into the arms of an emergency medical technician, her head thrown back in a howl of anguish. A voice crackles over the radio attached to Wright’s shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ve got the vic’s sister here. Can someone send down the social worker?”

“Oh no.” The tip of my nose begins to burn and I reach for Jude’s arm without thinking, squeezing. “That poor woman. She’s just lost her brother. Can you imagine what she’s feeling?”

The officer in front of us grunts. “She’s probably going to feel a lot different when she finds out what he’s been doing.”

“Confused, maybe. But still sad,” Jude mutters, falling back against the cushions, visibly exhausted. Poor baby never got to finish his nap. I need to find him a safe bed for the night.

“Yes,” I agree with my brother. To Wright, I ask, “Are you positive Oscar is the peeper, though? The holes—”

I’m cut off once again when the weeping woman stumbles into the house. Using the wall to support herself, she takes one step into the living room, followed by two more, then falls boneless to the couch on our left. My eyes are welled up now and on the verge of spilling, just imagining her grief. If I lost my brother, I wouldn’t know up from down. “I’m so sorry for your terrible loss,” I offer.

Her attention zips to mine and… I don’twant to. But I notice that her eyes are dry.

Everyone experiences grief differently. Paging Amanda Knox. I’m not judging. I just make an entirely casual, non- judgmental mental notation. A cactus could thrive on those arid cheeks.

“Do you mind telling me your name, ma’am?” Wright prompts her.

“Lisa. Lisa Stanley.” She pins me and Jude with a look.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Taylor Bassey. This is my brother, Jude. We were staying here. Or supposed to be staying here, rather. But we…found Oscar right after we arrived.”

“Oh. Well, I’m so sorry my dead brother ruined your vacation,” she snaps. Before I can rush to reassure her that we’re not complaining, her face crumples. “I’m sorry, I’m just…I don’t mean to be unkind. I just can’t believe this is happening. They say he was shot! Who would shoot my brother? He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. No enemies…”

No one says anything. But Wright obviously missed poker face training at the academy, because he looks ready to explode.

“What?” asks Lisa, spine straightening. “What is it?”

The world’s most uncomfortable conversation ensues while Wright tells Lisa about the confrontation with the renter’s father over the peepholes and camera. When he’s finished giving the details, Lisa stares off into space. “Why wouldn’t he tell me he’d gotten beat up?”

“Probably embarrassed, considering the circumstances.”

With a sigh, Wright hands us his card and stands up. “Let me know if you think of anything else. If you’re looking for a place to hang your hat for the night, there’s a DoubleTree in Hyannis. Pool is decent.”

“Thanks,” Jude says, taking the card. As soon as Wright has left through the front door, my brother stands. “I’ll go call the DoubleTree.”

“No need to do that,” Lisa interjects quickly, seeming to catch herself off guard. When we only stare at her blankly, she digs in her purse and takes out a large assortment of keys crammed together on a ring. “My brother owns three other rentals on this block. I schedule maintenance for him.

Inspect the premises before new renters arrive. Etcetera. I

was late getting here to double check this place orI would have found him.” She lets out a long exhale. “He is…was… pretty hands-off with the whole business. A normal guy.

Used to deliver mail for a living, before he got into real estate. God love him, my brother was lazy. He delegated.

That’s why…” She shakes her head a little. “It just doesn’t make sense. Oscar wouldn’tspy on people.”

“No. It doesn’t make sense,” I blurt, before I can stop myself.

“Taylor,” Jude says out of the corner of his mouth.

“Pump the brakes.”

“It’s her brother,” I whisper back. “I would want to know everything.”

“I love you, but please don’t get involved in a murder investigation.”

“I’m not getting involved. I’m just passing along some

specifics.”

“Textbook involvement.”

Lisa drops down in front of us on the coffee table, occupying the spot where Wright once sat. Elbows on her knees, she leans forward, and up close, I can see the physical similarities she shares with Oscar. Both in their fifties. Slightly hooked noses. High foreheads. Graying hair.

But Lisa is more on the petite side, while her brother was… “Too big. Oscar was way too big to fit into that crawl space.”

Lisa’s antenna goes up. “The crawl space where you found the peepholes?”

“That’s right.” I ignore Jude’s groan. “No way he could have gotten up there.”

“He could have used a ladder, T.” My brother joins the conversation with nothing short of reluctance, adding, “Hypothetically, of course,” for Lisa’s benefit. “It would have been pretty easy to drill those holes from either side.

And he didn’tneed to get inside the crawl space. All he had to do was slide in the camera.”

“Yes. If he never intended to look through the holes.”

For a single, fleeting moment, I feel likeSVU’s Olivia Benson. All I need is the overcoat, fathomless brown eyes and Stabler by my side looking broody and fine. “Why did he drilltwo of them?” I split a look between my brother and Lisa. “Those holes were drilled for the express purpose of a person looking through them. If Oscar—hypothetically— only wanted to film his guests, he would have needed a single hole. Not two.”

Jude frowns down at his hands for a moment. “You’re right. At the very least, it’s odd.”

“You’re saying whoever drilled those holes is small enough to fit in the crawl space,” Lisa says slowly, beginning to nod. “A woman, perhaps?”

Don’t think about the fact that she still hasn’t cried. Not

a drop.

“Maybe.”

Jude is beginning to get a weird vibe. I can tell because he’s doing that thing where he can’t stop arranging and rearranging the shaggiest section of hair on top of his head. “We should call the DoubleTree, Taylor. I’m sure Ms.

Stanley has a lot of calls to make—”

“The police are already so positive it’s the father of the last tenant.” Lisa tosses a glance out the window where

officers are standing in a huddle at the end of the driveway.

“And let’s be honest, there is no way they’re going to go above and beyond for someone they believe is a pervert, right?” Cogs are turning behind her eyes. “Maybe I should look into a private investigator. My boyfriend is currently deployed, but he grew up with a guy in Boston. Some former detective turned bounty hunter. Someone who could give these locals a run for their money and maybe clear my

brother’s name in the process.”

See? We all grieve in our own ways.

I cry. Lisa avenges her loved ones.

Moral of the story, everyone is braver than me.

“I don’t think a private investigator would hurt,” I say, finally taking pity on Jude and rising from the couch, letting the blanket slide off my shoulders. “Once again, Lisa, I’m so sorry for your loss.” I hold out my hand for a shake. “I wish we’d met under better circumstances.”

She pulls me into a hug. “You’ve given me hope, Taylor.

Thank you. I don’t want him to be remembered as some sleazebag. I’m going to find out what really happened.”

Something cold and metallic is pressed into my hand and I look down to find a set of keys. “It’s only down the block.

Number sixty-two. I insist.”

I try to hand back the keys. “Oh, we really couldn’t—”

“Are you sure?” She waggles her eyebrows. “It has a

clawfooted bathtub.”

Am I wearing a sign or something?

“Oh,” I breathe. “Really?”

Jude hangs his head a moment, then heads reluctantly for the suitcases. “Number sixty-two, you say?”

On the way out of the house, I stop short at the console table just inside the door.

While I was reading through reviews of the house, I saw pictures of a guest book. Obviously this makes me a total dork, but I was looking forward to writing our own message on one of the pages, for future guests to read. I was going to draw a squid in the margins.

Sliding open the drawer or the table, I spy the white leather book with gold, embossed lettering.Guest experiences. I’m not sure what possesses me to take it. To quickly slide it into my purse and cover it up with my hand sanitizing wipes and sunglass case while Jude rapidly shakes his head at me. Maybe I’ve surprised myself by being so coherent tonight after discovering a body…and I want to know what else I can do. If I have what it takes to solve a mystery and locate the mettle I’ve always been missing. Or maybe I’m dubious of the police’s motivation to inspect this murder beyond their original theory. And let’s face it, Lisa’s lack of emotion won’t stop poking at my sixth sense. I didn’t even know Ihad a sixth sense.

Whatever the cause of my impromptu evidence heist, I’ll return the book tomorrow after I have a little peek. No big deal, right?