Chapter 21 – A Dismal day for discoveries
The day of Joey’s funeral was a miserable grey, the heavy clouds up above only interrupting their heavy deluge of rain with what sounded like the warning rumble of oncoming thunder. Danni had dressed in a quiet, sullen silence that morning, feeling as if she were drowning in a nightmare that she couldn’t wake from. It had taken her fifteen minutes to decide on what to wear, unsure if she could do with the traditional black or buck the trend with something colourful. That was what Joey would have wanted, she reasoned. Eventually, she settled on the black but took the lavender packet from the trousers he had lent her, pretending that the sight and smell of it didn’t make her eyes burn behind her glasses. She slipped it into her pocket, pulled on his thick jacket and swallowed the bitterness clawing up its way up her windpipe.
Pulling the hood up over her head as she left the house, she locked the door behind her and patted the wall. “I’ll see you later… Poppy. Hold down the fort for me…” She didn’t know if Poppy could hear her out here, but she hoped that the house could feel her.
The procession leading up to the church was a wall of black-clad folks and seemed to encompass the entire town, those she had met already and those who were strangers to her still. She slipped towards the back of the line slowly marching towards the church, keeping her head bowed against the wind beating down upon them. She had spotted Maggie standing at the head of the line, her husband towering at her side but her face had been buried in her hands. She hadn’t seen Danni, but she was sure that some of the others had noticed her moving past them. The inside of the church smelled of candles and dust, the hard drumming of the rain against the windows echoing off the walls, the ceiling, seeming to shower down upon them. It did little, however, to drowning out the howling of Maggie’s sobs.
The line marched up one side of the church, past the coffin and then people would take their places in the pews. As she approached, Danni paused. Seeing Joey, bright, smiling, generous, caring Joey, reduced to something so small made something in Danni’s chest shatter like a glass cup dropped from a great height. People had covered the coffin with wreaths of all sizes, vibrant flowers making it seem more like a blanket but the peaks of amber brown peeking out from underneath still made her choke. How could he be in there? Why couldn’t she make sense of this? Why wouldn’t the world make sense? Why couldn’t he tap on the cover, push it up with his laughing smile and shining eyes? Unable to look a moment later, she ripped her eyes away and walked away down to the furthest pew from the front. No one else was there and she sat down silently, pulling out her notebook and pen as the vicar took his place at the front.
He was dressed in solemn black that didn’t befit the person Danni knew him to be, covered in stark white and a purple sash over his shoulders. In one hand, he held a bible but instead of opening it, he took a deep breath and looked over the congregation with quiet dignity. “Welcome… everyone. We are here to honour and remember… Joey. Our dear friend and loyal grocer—”
Maggie let out a shrill howl that pinged off the walls, making a few of the gathered wince.
Undeterred, the Vicar continued. “He was a kind man, a dedicated worker and truly will be missed. But something we must remember that though he has passed on, he would not want us to mourn him. He would rather that we remember him as he was and what he did for us. Joey was the kind of man who would go out of his way for everyone, friend or stranger.” A few of the assembled blew their noses noisily, swiping at tears with tissues or handkerchiefs.
“You know,” the vicar started, the beginnings of a hopeful smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes appearing on his face. “I remember when I first came here, I didn’t know anyone. I’m not sure how many of you remember, but I made myself something of a hermit because I was absolutely terrified that I wouldn’t fit in. So, imagine when I came down in the morning and found a basket, I swear, an honest to goodness picnic basket, of food! Like I was grandma and Red Riding Hood hadn’t met the wolf! I couldn’t believe it!” He let out an attempt at laughter that sounded like it verged on tears. “I came down the next day and found another one. Day after day, I found food on my doorstep and I tell you, these kept me alive whilst I was getting settled in. Then, one day, I woke up and came down to find a stranger I’d never seen before standing on my doorstep, his hand over the basket. I had no idea who this stranger was, I just saw a homeless soul searching for food. So, without really thinking about it, I took him inside and I made him food! I didn’t realise that it was Joey at all nor that he had been the one giving me food! You can imagine my face when he finally told me, which wasn’t until after we’d eaten everything in the basket and he’d insisted on doing the dishes. We had a good old laugh about it.” This time, the laughter came a little more freely. Something about the soft sounds lifted the heaviness that had settled over them like a heavy layer of snow. Bit by bit, the cold was falling away.
“Joey was a dear friend to us all. He would come to us, rain or shine, with his doors open and unafraid to cut us a bargain. I didn’t know much about him, as he didn’t like to talk about himself. But I do know that he loved this town enough to stay far longer than most would think sensible. I mean, if you think about it, our town isn’t much to sneeze at. We’ve got rivers in our streets—…”
“Grumpy farmers!”
“Winter storms!”
“Widow Samuels!”
This elicited a real burst of raucous laughter and even Danni found herself joining in. What was the saying? ‘I may take the piss out of my town but only I can.’ It went something like that, she was sure. It was the kind of jabs and roasts that siblings would usually reserve just for those that they had spent their whole lives around, to the point that everything they did only served to piss the other off.
The merriment didn’t last long, unfortunately, as Maggie let out another screaming sob, beating her fists against the pew like a toddler throwing the mother of all tantrums. Her husband was rubbing her back, whispering soothing things Danni couldn’t hear above the screams. Danni had never been on a plane, but she had to think that this was the kind of sound that sent shivers up and down the spine of passengers as soon as the engines started to rumble. The villagers in the pews were either staring at her or doing whatever they could to not look at her and even the vicar looked like he wished he was anywhere else. Climbing down from the stage, he approached her and Danni could tell that he was trying his soothing counsellor voice. He wasn’t touching her, but she seemed to sober up quickly. With an energy that didn’t befit her previous hysteria, Maggie leapt to her feet, pushed past the vicar and marched straight up to the stage. The lights threw her face into a sharp relief and Danni gasped.
Before, her makeup may have been immaculate, Danni had no idea. Now, it was a ghastly mask. Her lipstick had been smeared into a crimson Glasgow grin and what wasn’t flushed red had been covered by dark streaks, perhaps a mix of mascara and eyeliner left to run by the buckets of tears Maggie had already shed. It would have been horrific, if not incredibly hard to look at. Maggie withdrew what looked like a handkerchief from her pocket and delicately touched at her eyes, though it did nothing to clean away the mess, her shoulders still heaving as if she were about to be sick or burst into another crying jab.
“My brother…” She swallowed down a gasp, “was a good man… always everyone’s favourite. Our parents… yours and… I… I…” Fresh tears rolled down her face but to her credit, she soldiered on. “He and I grew up together, doing everything together and though I was the never the one to stand in the spotlight, he always made me… and everyone else… feel…” Danni braced herself for the inevitable. Out of respect for the day, she had neglected to bring her headphones with her, so she pressed her fingers into her ears, muffling the fresh wave of screaming tears. Glancing around, Danni spotted faces of equal discomfort all around her and a few of the smaller individuals had plugged their ears as well. The vicar seemed to grow weary of her repeated attempts to speak again and tried to gently usher her away from the podium, except she appeared to be resistant to move away.
“If she goes on any longer, someone’s going to have to call an ambulance.” Whispered someone in the pew in front of Danni. It was a woman Danni hadn’t noticed in town before, wearing all black like everyone else with an elaborate hat covered in white lilies and black roses. It was the kind of thing that someone would wear to a gothic event… though that was pretty fitting in this case.
“For dehydration? She was crying all the way up the hill.” Her partner remarked. Whatever she was wearing, she’d covered herself in a thick black raincoat that hid her fairly effectively.
“No, for head trauma. I’m about to fall asleep!” The pair shared a small giggle.
“You’re being really rude.” Danni didn’t know what had possessed her to say it. The words had come unbidden and if Maggie hadn’t still been speaking, she was sure she would have been overheard. “Why are you saying such horrible things at a funeral?” She snapped in a hard whisper, crossing her arms, chin lifting as if she was looking down at the two.
The two women exchanged a glance, before turning an infuriatingly pitying look onto her.
“Don’t worry about it too much, dear. We’re not being mean, not intentionally. Nicholas is doing the same thing. This is just a bit of humor that we use rather than well… put on a performance like that.” One of them explained. She jabbed her thumb towards the front and Danni didn’t need to look to know who she was meaning.
“Still, she just lost her brother. She should be allowed to grieve as she does…”
“And she is. It’s why no-one’s tried to make her leave or told her to calm down. We’re just the kind of people who reach for a candle in the darkness, so to speak.” The woman with the grand hat explained gently.
“Still… I feel bad for her. She first lost her parents than her brother… this has to be hitting her hard.” Danni insisted, wincing at another shrill whine.
“Aye, aye, that it must. But please remember this, Danni,” The one in black gave her a consoling look as Danni tried to recall if these two had been in attendance at the house party as that was one of the few ways they could know her name. “We all mourn in our own way.”
Danni rolled her eyes, picking up her pen and beginning to write.
Suspects
- Widow Samuels
Motive: ???
Reason for sus: Last person to see Joey alive???
Need to ask around
It was a tragically short list, and she didn’t want to suspect someone she had never met of something as horrific as this. Plus, there was something in this that didn’t make sense! No matter how many times she had run it over in her head, the facts didn’t fit. Shifting back in her seat, she looked around, point of her pen poised above the page. Who, in this room, could be that cold blooded? Who would have it out for Joey that they would do this… was that mother of three in the corner secretly a deadly killer? What about one of the farmers standing towards the front, presumably the ones who had carried the coffin inside. They were strong enough, would know where to cut… what reason could they have? Maybe there was some merit to what the vicar had said? Maybe she should stop looking at this like a crime investigation but, instead, broaden her mind? Look at things more like a story… She had a massive cast of characters; all she needed was to… think outside the box.
She began, though it broke her heart, by beginning to jot down the reasons why Joey might have been the one to take his own life. Financial… secretly hidden depression… she had to stop as two fat tears blurred her vision and splattered onto the page, smearing the words. Cleaning them away on her sleeve, she accepted the proffered tissue that appeared in her peripheral vision. Looking back as she cleaned away the tears burning her eyes, she found herself looking back up into the face of one of the women who had been talking about Maggie’s crying just moments ago.
“Here, you looked like you need it.” She mouthed.
“Thank you.” Danni whispered in response, blowing her nose. The woman gave her a warm smile before turning back to face the front.
Something about the interaction triggered something in Danni’s mind. Something about how they had been talking just now.
What if… it was a ghastly thought but what if Joey had been hiding something deeper, something darker behind his smile? That was what depression did, right? Forced you to keep up a smile, even when it felt like the world was about to crush you? What if… something had been too much? What… what could have triggered this? This was not something done spontaneously, not with how much… damage had been done? If Joey had done, the mental strength, the desperation… no… no… she desperately didn’t want to think about that.
Maggie was being gently escorted back towards her seat, but as Danni was carefully replacing her notebook, now feeling more like a brick than the small bundle of pages it was, into her back, she looked up to find the Vicar had retaken his position at the podium. Trying to look as innocent as she could, Danni dabbed at her eyes and tried to work her face into an expression of deepest sorrow.
“We’ll be taking him out soon, if you would all like to pass by the coffin and give some final words, if there’s no one else who wants to speak.” The vicar looked over the congregation, and a tremor passed across the room. She’d never work out what possessed her to do it, but Danni’s hand rose into the air. Her whole body seemed to be moving without her permission, each step carrying her first out of the pews, up the aisle and, passing Joey’s coffin with only a moment’s pause, the final fleeting prayer that something would happen, something would stop her, she climbed the stairs. The podium was the same height as her yet seemed to dwarf her. All she could do was stand awkwardly at the side, looking over the sea of faces and feeling like a minnow staring down a pod of killer whales about to rip her limb from limb. Then her eyes moved towards Joey, buried underneath all those flowers. Like a key in a lock, something shifted. That which had held her back all these years had moved its gargantuan weight from her. She was going to speak.
“Hello… I didn’t know Joey for long. I imagine that out of all of you; I knew him for the least amount of time…” She looked towards the Vicar, who gave an encouraging nod. “But he always made me feel welcome. When I came here, he brought up a truckload of food to my house, the one up the road. It seems that this was something of a habit of his!” No laughter but she could spot a few smiles gracing the faces around the room.
“Of course, this time he was paid to do it!” Titters of laughter rumbled like the thunder they were waiting for outside. “I…” She inhaled. She was not going to break. She was not going to cry! “From there, he came to my rescue every chance he got, even in the middle of the night. Famously, at 4 in the morning! I ran out of my house in my pyjamas, convinced I had caught someone sneaking inside. Joey was the very first person that I went to!” She was never much of a comedian, but if she could get some kind of reaction, that would be enough for her. “He came down, in his pyjamas no less, threw his coat over me and looked through the whole house. He didn’t find anyone, but he did find what I seem to lose all the time. My glasses.” She pushed them up for emphasis and what were smiles, broke out into grins. “Then when I fainted, which I swear had nothing to do with him, it just happens that you start seeing things at 4 in the morning, he apparently carried me all the way back to his place! On his back, no less! I woke up the next morning in his bed! Made me breakfast and everything and I swear to you all, I have never seen or smelled so much lavender in my life!”
Something about this tickled the crowd more than what she had said before. Unsurprisingly, the priest was in the lead, laughing into his sleeve. Others were following, covering their mouths and a few were openly laughing, the sound ringing around the rafters. Danni breathed a sigh. After the sobs and screams, it was a welcome reprieve. But when she looked towards Maggie, she was taken aback by the positively venomous glare that both she and her husband were shooting her way. Rather than continue, she stepped down from the podium, placed a hand on the box, swallowed and said, “Joey, we’ll all miss you… Sleep well.”
Before she could break down into tears of her own, she hustled towards her spot at the back, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay. Only when she was hidden at the back again, did she let them fall. They burned as they went down her face, but it was a strangely soothing feeling to finally be able to let everything that had built up inside of her go. Like clearing debris from a river, the gradual release was left her feeling empty yet, somehow, better. Like when the vicar had been cleaning her face, her whole body felt raw but better.
The church emptied quickly after that, people passing, pausing before the coffin, leaving through a side door. Danni was the last of them, watching as people started to mingle in the space outside. Not having the heart to join them, she hung back, arms wrapped around herself as the farmers passed, the coffin, flowers and all, held aloft on their shoulders. The vicar gave her a glance and she smiled at him, though neither made a move to approach the other. He wondered if he had spotted her writing. People were beginning to make tracks back to their houses, now that the metaphorical party was over and the rain was still coming down hard all around them, but something kept her rooted to the spot, even after the coffin had faded from view and the space had cleared out. Only when there was a momentary pause in the cold and blustering wind, did she find it in her to move. All the while that she had been standing there, all she could think about was how dearly she wished she could go back to Joey’s place again. Would he have made her breakfast again? Would he have helped her? What would he have said? Could he help? Somehow, that made her laugh a little. Imagine, Joey helping her to solve his own mystery… that sounded like a promising story waiting to happen…
The walk back to the house left her soaked to the skin and at once miserable and lighter than she had ever felt before. Patting the wall as she approached, she stepped inside and stripped off her coat, sweat sticking her hair to her forehead. She cleaned off her glasses which had suddenly fogged as soon as she had walked into the warm room. Offhandedly, she said, “Poppy, is it possible for you to let me know when the uh… Salamanders need more food?”
A thumbs up appeared on the board on the fridge and a small smile graced her face. She had taken to feeding logs into the pipes every night, enjoying waking up to warm walls and heated floors when she opened her eyes every morning. “Thank you…”
“You’re welcome…” She knew that voice and her smile faded.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep? I thought that you didn’t like the day!” She complained, replacing her glasses on her face and glaring at Victor where he sat in the breakfast nook.
“I should be, yes. You might call this insomnia, some days I just can’t nod off.” He replied grumpily. Then she realised what was sitting on the table before him.
“Is that my book?” She snapped, glaring at him.
“Yeah, it’s easily better than some of the chronicles of nowheresville Cesare’s made me read. This is at least in a writing style I can get with!” Victor remarked, turning a page.
“You were in my damn room? Is nothing sacred?!” She made a mental note to herself to rub some garlic over her doorknob. In this case, that might be better than a glitter bomb or a bucket of water.
“You wouldn’t believe how bogus it gets when you have nothing t do and an eternity ahead of you. You do anything for a blast.” His flippancy towards the issue set her teeth on edge.
“You didn’t even ask! Is this just a habit that you have? You just take and assume permission?”
“If you’re so concerned about this book, don’t worry. I haven’t scratched or bent any of the pages. I’d never do that and I swear, I’ll put it back the first chance I get it. I was just bored and needed something to think about that wasn’t how I couldn’t sleep.”
“If I find blood spots on that godforsaken thing, I swear, I’ll—!”
“Throw me out into the sun, shove garlic down my throat, nail my coffin door shut, blah, blah, blah KEEPER!”
Arrogant punk!
Without the energy to fight any longer, Danni poured herself some cereal, a cup of tea and sat down at the table, pulling her notebook from her bag and looking over the wild meanderings she’d scribbled down. But it all felt too… disparate. Desperate even. Like she was trying to find a way to keep reality from being what it was right in front of her eyes. But even that avenue didn’t make sense to her.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to work something out.” Danni said, offhandedly. She had more focused on eating than reading, but her eyes hadn’t left the pages except to cross off names or jot something down that happened to flash across her mind.
“You writing a book?”
“No… something… else… Hey!” Victor’s hand had shot out of nowhere and snatched the notebook from the table.
“What’s the story, morning glory? Suspects? Is this about that funeral you went to?” He asked casually, flipping over the pages, shifting over when she tried to grab at it. Danni ground her teeth together. Damn it all to hell, was this what having a younger sibling was like?
“Yeah, now give it back you pain in the ass!”
“Yeah, yeah, put a lid on it.” He tossed it away when he was finished with it, sitting back up right and going back to the book he had taken from her room. “You know, if you want to get some real information, you should ask around the pub. That’s where people usually go when they want to ask questions without looking suspicious because everyone is too drunk to notice. In vino veritas, as they say.”
“In vino… what?” Was that supposed to be Latin? Where had he heard that? Maybe ‘when’ was the better question?
“In Vino Veritas, means in wine, truth. Another way to say it would be ‘Drunken words are sober thoughts.’ People will tell you just about anything if you know how to phrase things right and act casual whilst you do it.” He said it all so casually, she could only stare.
“You sound like you’ve done this before. Do you regularly go around asking drunk people invasive questions?”
“Let’s just say that I was radioactive when I was alive.”
“You use some really weird words, is that slang?. Just when the hell were you born?”
“1940.” That stopped her dead.
“You… what? You… you’re almost 100 years old!”
“I turned 15 in 1955, best time to be alive. After the war, Rock was king, greasers ruled and being in the wrong place can get you shafted. Found that out the hard way. Thank God for Cesare.” He remarked, crossing his arms.
“You say things like that, I’m going to assume something weird, and it’ll be on you to clear things up.” She remarked, snatching up her book and putting her empty things in the sink to clean up. As soon as they had been put away, she went up to her room and, for some reason, Victor followed.
“If you’re going to ‘help’, then I need to stay down there for a moment.” She instructed as they were halfway up the stairs. “I can’t see what Poppy has to say if I can’t see that board, so you need to tell me.”
“Why not ask her when you’re downstairs?” He inquired, looking back towards the kitchen.
“Because I’m already here. You can come up when I have my answer.” With that, she went up into her room and shut the door behind her. Standing in the centre, she looked up towards the ceiling, rolled her shoulders back and spoke loud and clear, hoping Poppy could hear her. “Hey Poppy, is it okay if I stick things to the walls? It’ll be temporary, and I’ll do my best to keep it from taking any of the paint off.”
“Poppy says that you can but be careful. Whatever that—… what are you doing?”
As soon as she had heard the first few words, Danni had set herself to work. On fresh sticky notes, she had scribbled down individual names and attached them to the wall. First, unfortunately, was Widow Samuels.
“Who’s this?”
“Currently… my prime suspect. As far as I know, she was the last person to see Joey alive last night.”
“Widow… how old is she?”
“According to the housewives, she’s pretty elderly. But she’s also pretty spritely, so I’ve heard.”
“How do you know that?”
“Apparently, she was one of the first victims of a rash of break-ins and—!”
“There’s your culprit. Someone broke in, things went sideways, there you go.”
Danni went quiet. In all the excitement of the vampires appearing, and later Joey’s discovery, she realised that she had completely forgotten about the break ins. She hadn’t heard anything about there being any more that might have occurred. That was something else to ask.
“I’ll put them up… here as well. Just until I can get some more information about who or what they might be.” She looked over her shoulder to give Victor a hard look.
A second sticky note went up.
Burglars???
- Who? When? How?
- Why? Accident?
Above it all, a third sticky note was titled with ‘Joey’. This was going to be painful.
Joey
- Wrists and throat slit
- Found: Bathtub
Seeing those words made her feel sick.
“Grundy as hell writing there.”
“Pick a time period, you mix slang so often, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Victor scoffed, turning away to peruse the shelves again. “No appreciation for good speech anymore.”
This time, it was Danni’s turn to scoff. “If I said anything in the slang of my time, it would make your eyes cross, old man.”
Victor looked ready to hurl obscenities at her and surely would have if the door hadn’t opened. “She’s got you there, Victor.” Cesare stepped inside, grinning widely. Like a well-trained puppy, Victor went quiet, crossing his arms and adopting a sulky manner.
“Does anyone sleep through the day?” Danni complained, turning away from the wall to stare at the new presence.
“My apologises. I found myself waking to find that Victor had disappeared and I garnered from the noise that he was making a nuisance of himself. Please accept my apologises on his behalf.” Cesare gave Danni a slight half-bow. Victor scowled and marched out of the room.
“So… what is all of this?”
It took her some time, but Danni explained the situation. To his credit, Cesare didn’t speak until she was finished.
“It seems that you have a widow to interrogate then.”
“I jjust can’t believe that someone like her, someone so old, could do something like this. I mean… this had to have been something insane…”
“Have you ever heard of mothers who gather the strength to lift cars or even trucks off their children? In the heat of the moment, I once saw a man of 80 years beat a group of men to death all because they attacked his granddaughter. I admit that I have yet to be as terrified as I was that day.”