isn’t a desirable destination.
— The Lighter Side of Death
THE KILLER WASN’T THERE. THE POLICE RUSHED INTO THE APARTMENT AND searched every room and examined the windows, all of which were locked from the inside. The police questioned me, Anatoly and Maria separately, grilling us about every detail of our discovery. I knew they considered us to be suspects, how could they not? But no one was arrested or even detained down at the station. Maybe it was because all of our stories were consistent, or maybe it was because none of us looked stupid enough to make up a story that involved a chained locked door when we didn’t have to. After all, it would have been easier to say that the chain lock had been broken before we showed up.
In the end they let us go with the promise of more questions in the near future. Toby offered to let Maria stay at his place since she was “clearly unfit to drive,” but she refused and opted to take a cab home instead. She didn’t want to be in the same building in which her husband had been killed. We all walked out together and waited on the sidewalk for the taxi that Toby had called.
For several minutes we stood there in silence, the other neighbors now back in their own apartments, with furniture barricading their doorways, no doubt. There were plenty of police cars double parked along the street, but most of the officers were inside dusting for prints.
It was Maria who eventually broke the silence. “I know who did it,” she whispered.
I let out a little noise of surprise, and Anatoly snapped his head in her direction.
“It was Jasper Windsor.”
“Who’s Jasper Windsor?” Anatoly asked.
“He’s the owner of that scythe.”
Impulsively, I reached out and grabbed her arm. “You did tell the police that, right?”
“Yes, but they didn’t take me seriously.”
“Why the hell not?” I asked. “If he was the owner of the murder weapon I’d say that’s pretty damn serious!”
“You’re right,” Maria agreed. She had become so pale that her skin seemed to actually glow. “It’s very serious…. Even more serious, considering he’s dead.”
Anatoly and I exchanged looks. “Maria,” Anatoly said gently, as if he were speaking to a panicked child, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. When you say he’s dead, are you referring to Enrico?”
“No.” Maria’s eyes seemed to be focused on an invisible object before her. “I’m referring to the man who took Enrico’s life. Jasper Windsor is dead. He’s been dead for over three hundred years.”
Anatoly and I both gave her silence as a reply. The cab came, and in less than a minute she was gone.
“Do you think she’s crazy?” I asked quietly.
“She’s not sane.”
I agreed. I had to I agree because disagreeing would require me to change my entire outlook on life and death. I watched the steam of Anatoly’s breath float into the night. I was losing my bearings. I needed to get back to my own turf, where I could feel safe. “Take me home, Anatoly.”
He draped his arm over my shoulders. “We’re going. I’ll be by your side all night long.”
I pretended to sleep until I was sure Anatoly was dead to the world, then I allowed my eyes to pop open and laid there, staring at the ceiling. Mr. Katz had planted himself on my stomach as usual, but like me, he seemed to be holding on to at least some semblance of consciousness. His yellow eyes blinked at me and I could feel the gentle vibrations of his body as he purred. He hadn’t had any problems adjusting to his new home. I hadn’t, either, not really. Yes, I was having a little difficulty resigning myself to the fact that I was going to have to spend time with Venus twice a month for a year, but even after that disastrous séance I still thought it was a fair price to pay for the house.
This evening I had seen something truly horrible, gruesome and undeniably frightening. I had expected to carry that fear with me into the morning
— The Lighter Side of Death
THE KILLER WASN’T THERE. THE POLICE RUSHED INTO THE APARTMENT AND searched every room and examined the windows, all of which were locked from the inside. The police questioned me, Anatoly and Maria separately, grilling us about every detail of our discovery. I knew they considered us to be suspects, how could they not? But no one was arrested or even detained down at the station. Maybe it was because all of our stories were consistent, or maybe it was because none of us looked stupid enough to make up a story that involved a chained locked door when we didn’t have to. After all, it would have been easier to say that the chain lock had been broken before we showed up.
In the end they let us go with the promise of more questions in the near future. Toby offered to let Maria stay at his place since she was “clearly unfit to drive,” but she refused and opted to take a cab home instead. She didn’t want to be in the same building in which her husband had been killed. We all walked out together and waited on the sidewalk for the taxi that Toby had called.
For several minutes we stood there in silence, the other neighbors now back in their own apartments, with furniture barricading their doorways, no doubt. There were plenty of police cars double parked along the street, but most of the officers were inside dusting for prints.
It was Maria who eventually broke the silence. “I know who did it,” she whispered.
I let out a little noise of surprise, and Anatoly snapped his head in her direction.
“It was Jasper Windsor.”
“Who’s Jasper Windsor?” Anatoly asked.
“He’s the owner of that scythe.”
Impulsively, I reached out and grabbed her arm. “You did tell the police that, right?”
“Yes, but they didn’t take me seriously.”
“Why the hell not?” I asked. “If he was the owner of the murder weapon I’d say that’s pretty damn serious!”
“You’re right,” Maria agreed. She had become so pale that her skin seemed to actually glow. “It’s very serious…. Even more serious, considering he’s dead.”
Anatoly and I exchanged looks. “Maria,” Anatoly said gently, as if he were speaking to a panicked child, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. When you say he’s dead, are you referring to Enrico?”
“No.” Maria’s eyes seemed to be focused on an invisible object before her. “I’m referring to the man who took Enrico’s life. Jasper Windsor is dead. He’s been dead for over three hundred years.”
Anatoly and I both gave her silence as a reply. The cab came, and in less than a minute she was gone.
“Do you think she’s crazy?” I asked quietly.
“She’s not sane.”
I agreed. I had to I agree because disagreeing would require me to change my entire outlook on life and death. I watched the steam of Anatoly’s breath float into the night. I was losing my bearings. I needed to get back to my own turf, where I could feel safe. “Take me home, Anatoly.”
He draped his arm over my shoulders. “We’re going. I’ll be by your side all night long.”
I pretended to sleep until I was sure Anatoly was dead to the world, then I allowed my eyes to pop open and laid there, staring at the ceiling. Mr. Katz had planted himself on my stomach as usual, but like me, he seemed to be holding on to at least some semblance of consciousness. His yellow eyes blinked at me and I could feel the gentle vibrations of his body as he purred. He hadn’t had any problems adjusting to his new home. I hadn’t, either, not really. Yes, I was having a little difficulty resigning myself to the fact that I was going to have to spend time with Venus twice a month for a year, but even after that disastrous séance I still thought it was a fair price to pay for the house.
This evening I had seen something truly horrible, gruesome and undeniably frightening. I had expected to carry that fear with me into the morning
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