Scrapbook of the Dead

Beatrice sat in her chair and looked out over her clan—Jon, Vera, Eric, Elizabeth . . . and Cookie. Cookie and Elizabeth were on the floor playing cards and Jon, Vera, and Eric were watching a football game. Cookie troubled Beatrice. Hell, she troubled everybody. Nobody knew when she’d show up and her short-term memory loss came and went, much like her long-term memory loss. She was not quite the same woman they had gotten to know and love a few years back.

“Go fish!” Cookie said to Elizabeth, who reached down for another card. Cookie had always been very good with Elizabeth, even when she was a baby. They had a connection.

Cookie’s long, black hair had been cut short—Beatrice preferred her short hair because her long hair had engulfed her tiny face. And Cookie was gaining weight—not that she would ever be fat or even plump, but finally the young woman was getting some meat on her bones. She looked healthy—most of the time. The doctor who was her caretaker made sure that she ate. Sometimes, she’d sort of slump over and get a faraway look in her eyes, but her spark was back as she focused on the game in front of her.

Bea could only take so much of the noise of the football game. She went to the dining room and switched on the computer.

“Go, Steelers!” Jon yelled, “Touchdown, yes!”

It was irritating, the way her sophisticated French husband was turning into a couch potato football fan. She bit her tongue—for the time being. Okay, the football culture was new to him; maybe it was just a stage.

She read over the local news headlines. HALLOWEEN PARTY TO BE HELD AT FIRE HALL. Hmm. That’s new. A News Flash streamed across the screen. She clicked on it and began to read.

The body of a young woman was found today along Cumberland Creek. It has been identified as the remains of Esmeralda Martelino, sister of Marina Martelino, whose body was found yesterday at Pamela’s Pie Palace. The bakery will remain closed until further notice.

“I’ll be,” Beatrice said. “Sisters? Their killings most assuredly had something to do with one another.”

“What’s going on, Mama?” Vera had gotten up to put the tea kettle on and was behind her mom. Beatrice filled her in.

“Whoa!” Vera gasped. “Another murder in Cumberland Creek.” She sat down at the table, her mouth agape.

“It’s nobody we know, thank goodness, but still a tragedy,” Beatrice said, her heart thumping. Her home. Cumberland Creek. What was becoming of it? What to do about it? There was a killer on the loose!

“Sisters.” Vera said as she pulled up the chair and looked over Bea’s shoulder.

“Odd, isn’t it? I never realized there were any Mexicans living around here,” Beatrice said.

“They sort of keep to themselves,” Vera said. “Several families live over at those Riverside Apartments on Druid Lane.”

“I had no idea.” Bea was ashamed that she didn’t know who was living in her community anymore. Though the apartment and mobile home dwellers were not quite in her neighborhood, she still considered them a part of her community.

“A couple of their daughters have started ballet lessons,” Vera said. “They pay on time and the children are so well behaved.”

“Well, that says a lot, doesn’t it?” Beatrice said and crossed her arms. “I don’t know half the people in Cumberland Creek anymore. I used to know just about everybody.”

“I know, Mama,” Vera said. “It’s changing. Some of it’s good. I’m really glad Elizabeth will be getting to know some kids from other cultures.”

“Some of it’s bad, though,” Beatrice said. “I mean look. Two women murdered. We went for years without any murders in our community. Now all of a sudden, it’s one after the other.”

Vera thought a moment, her mouth curled. “Yes, but most of the murders had nothing to do with the new people in town. Look, many of the murders were committed by locals or people with local ties.”

Beatrice nodded. “True enough.”

“At the same time, it kind of scares me. It doesn’t quite feel safe anymore. If I let myself, I’ll get paranoid about Elizabeth and won’t let her out of my sight,” Vera said, her brows arching higher over her eyes.

“But you’re lucky. The child has so many people who look out for her,” Beatrice pointed out. “No need for paranoia.”

Vera was already a bit overprotective of Elizabeth—a baby she thought she’d never have. Unfortunately, Vera’s relationship with Bill, the father of the baby, had run its course when she had found out she was expecting.

“Look Mama,” Vera pointed to the screen. “There’s a little article about Marina.

“The body of Marina Martelino, age twenty-three, was found at Pamela’s Pie Palace, Saturday at four-thirty AM. Marina, a recent immigrant to the United States, had been working at Pamela’s for eighteen months. According to Pamela Kraft, owner of the Pie Palace, Marina was from Mexico City and lived with her sister at Riverside Apartments in Cumberland Creek. According to Sheriff Ted Bixby, an investigation is pending,” Vera read. She looked at her mother. “Well, now is that all they are going to say?”

“Evidently,” Beatrice said.

The whistling tea kettle invaded their conversation.

“Tea, Mama?”

“You’d think they’d let people know what’s going to happen with her body or if she has any relatives around,” Vera grumbled.

“Well, we know about her sister.”

“Yes, but what about the people at home? Will we ever know? I feel like we should reach out to her family in some way.”

Beatrice beamed. Her Vera. A heart as wide as the sky. Trouble was, it got trampled on a lot. Beatrice used to worry more about her—but that had changed. She had a great feeling about Eric. He loved Vera and was showing an incredible amount of patience.

“We can ask the police or Pamela for some information on how to reach her family,” Beatrice said as Vera brought her a steaming cup of tea.

“What’s going on in here, ladies?” Eric asked, entering the dining room.

“What is it, halftime?” Vera rolled her eyes.

He grinned. “How did you know?”